Free Darkwater by Georgia Blain Page A

whether she knew Amanda at all.
    I guess they all felt like that.
    Cassie had no trouble believing that the rumour about Amanda and Lyndon was plausible. Sonia and I weren’t so sure.
    We sat on the street, once again talking about her and how she could have died. The jacarandas were still, but to the south the clouds were condensing as a storm built, moving slowly towards us. The first fat hot drops would soon sizzle on the bitumen, leaving slicks of rainbow oil smeared across the tar.
    I had been showing Cassie and Sonia my skateboard moves, which consisted of little more than being able to roll precariously for a few metres, then leaping off before the steep incline that led to the waterfront. Despite practising, I hadn’t improved all that much, but I persisted, partly because I wanted to learn but also because when I got on the board, I felt like I was closer to Nicky, foolish as that may sound.
    â€˜So that’s it?’ Sonia shrugged.
    I handed the board to her. ‘You give it a go.’
    The deck rolled too fast, and she wobbled, hastily jumping off, leaving it to race all the way to the bottom of the hill.
    â€˜Go get it,’ I grinned, pointing to the end of the street, ‘Miss So-That’s-It.’
    As she carried it back up towards us, Bradley Parsons came out of the gate with his mother. Each Saturday she took him off to a sheltered workshop, picking him up again in the late afternoon. Squeezing himself into the front seat, he rolled down the window, peering out at the darkening sky, while he waited for his mother to start the car.
    â€˜Hi,’ he called out to Sonia, who did her best to ignore him.
    With the window still down, he continued to call out as Mrs Parsons pulled the car out onto the road and began to drive up the steep incline towards us.
    It was Cassie who responded – ‘Hi Bradley’ – and she waved.
    â€˜I love you,’ he told her, leaning out the window as the car picked up speed, his voice loud and booming.
    We giggled.
    The branches of the trees overhead began to stir, and with the onset of the wind, the first rain fell, finally breaking what had felt like weeks of unbearable heat. Cassie screamed as a crack of thunder shattered the stillness and the birds, twittering wildly, flew off in a great arcing swoop.
    â€˜Lets go to the caves.’ I made the suggestion out of habit, because this was where we hung, but it was only as we were running down the hill, leaping the stairs two at a time, that I wished we’d just gone to my place. The waterfront now held a menace it had never had before.
    The river was choppy, tiny white waves crisscrossing its once smooth surface, the water a deep lead green. As we reached the shade of the first desert oaks, each needle glittering with rain, the storm picked up in intensity.
    We made a run for it. Across the burnt grass, whipping our ankles like paper cuts, to the rocks, the sandstone a deep orange swirled with cream and ochre as it soaked up the wet. My thongs were slippery and I had to be careful now, not wanting to fall on the sharp oyster blades, while the other two, who were in their sandals, ran ahead of me.
    It wasn’t until we were right near the entrance to the first cave that we saw Lyndon. He was sitting on his own, knees to his chest, a half-empty bottle of what looked like Brandivino next to him, a pack of cigarettes beside it. Seemingly oblivious to the downpour, he hadn’t moved back under the shelter of the rock lip, but had stayed where he was, his dark brown hair slicked across his forehead, his shirt soaked through, and his faded jeans a deeper blue from the rain.
    The tide was high and unless he moved back, our knees would literally brush against his face as we tried to edge through to the next cave.
    It was Sonia who summoned the courage, asking him if we could get past.
    â€˜Nothing stopping you.’ He didn’t look at her and it was hard to make out his words