Free When Dogs Cry by Markus Zusak Page A

it
is
real, nothing breaks your fall. Nothing gets between you and the ground, and that night, in the park, I had never felt so real. I’d never felt so lacking in control. It seemed to be the way it was, and the way it always would be.
    Before, life was about getting girls (or hoping to).
    Not about getting to know them.
    Now, it was much different.
    Now, it was about
one
girl, and working out what to do.
    I thought for a while, trying to climb through my mind to the elusive breakthrough of what to do. Thoughts pinned me down, leaving me there, to think about it. In the end, I tried convincing myself that everything would turn out all right. Nothing turns on its own, though.
    All right,
I told myself, trying to pull myself together. I even started listing the things I’d actually done right.
    I’d chased her down on the train the day before.
    I’d spoken to her and said I’d stand outside her house.
    God, I’d even kissed her hand.
    Now though, I had to talk, and I had nothing to say.
    Why don’t you have anything to say, you stupid bastard?
I asked myself.
    I begged inside me.
    Several times.
    The disappointment in myself was bitter as I sat on a splinter-infested park bench with her, wondering what to do next.
    At one point I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
    In the end, I could only look at her and say, ‘I’m sorry Octavia. I’m sorry I’m so bloody useless.’
    She shook her head, and I saw that she was disagreeing with me.
    She said quietly, ‘You don’t have to talk at all Cameron.’ She looked into me. ‘You’d never have to say a thing and I’d still know you’re big-hearted.’
    That was when the night burst open and the sky fell down, in slabs, around me.

    Â 
    silence
    I’m standing in the dark.
    Shivering.
    The wind stops blowing.
    It dies.
    It falls on its hands and knees and slumps into silence. I stop.
    The dog stops.
    And.
    All.
    There is.
    Is silence.
    It sounds like failure, like a heart beginning to tear front the inside.
    Inside, it stalks me.
    It chains me up and watches me try to break free.
    I’m half-expecting it to try and wash me.
    I can bark and try to throw myself away from it, but it never lets go.
    In a way, I hope these written words will speak. I hope they’ll burn and shout and cry out.
    I hope they’ll cry out.
    To break my silence . . .
    I turn with the dog and we keep going.
    Our footsteps.
    Are silent.

10
    S ARAH KNEW.
    She could tell by looking when I came in that night, she reckoned. She told me right away, when I tried to slip past her on my way down the hall to Rube’s and my room.
    It was funny.
    Unbelievable.
    How could she be so sure—so sure that when I came in, she could stop me and shove her hand to my heart and say with a grin and a whisper, ‘Tell me Cameron. What’s the name of the girl who can make your heart beat this fast?’
    I grinned back, shocked and shy, amazed.
    â€˜No-one,’ I denied.
    â€˜Huh,’ and a short laugh.
    Huh.
    That was all she said, as she took her hand off me and turned away, still smiling.
    â€˜Good for you, Cameron.’ That was what she said as she walked away. She faced me, one last time. ‘You deserve it. You really do, I mean it.’
    She left me to stand there, remembering what happened right after the slabs of sky fell down around me.
    For a while, Octavia and I remained on the bench, as the air grew colder. Only when she started shivering did we stand up and start walking back to her house. At one point, her fingers touched mine, and she held on just faintly.
    At her gate, I knew I wasn’t going inside. I could feel it.
    Before she went in, she said, ‘I’ll be down the quay on Sunday, if you feel like coming. I’ll be there around noon.’
    â€˜Okay,’ I replied, already imagining myself standing there, watching her play the harmonica with people throwing money onto her