Chapter Seventeen – Andie
Chapter Seventeen
ANDIE
W e’re giggling as we creep down the side of Keith’s place. Jack has the bag of ice thrown over his shoulder like the Grinch’s sack of stolen toys.
‘What do you think they’re doing in there?’ I hiss as we duck to pass under the window.
‘I’m not sure,’ Jack whispers. ‘But aren’t they in their natural environment anyway?’
‘Huh?’
‘Primitive humans in their dark cave?’
I clamp a hand over my mouth to stop a bark of laughter from bursting out as another screw in my body loosens.
I admit, I was eager to get out of the house and away from the girls for a minute, but I wasn’t expecting our outing to be so eventful – so enjoyable . Jack’s whole ‘not a care in the world’ schtick is contagious. It’s addictive to be around.
We stand perfectly still under the window, our bodies pressed against the cold concrete. As Jack touches his finger to his lips, a fuzzy memory surfaces. Toby and I are playing hide-and-seek, waiting for our parents to get home. Six-year-old Toby has clambered under a table and I’m telling him to hush his squealing as a key jangles in the lock.
‘On the count of three,’ Jack’s whispers interrupt my thoughts. ‘One, two, three!’
He lets out a loud, menacing growl and I follow suit. My tone is higher and scratchier, so our voices meet in perfect, discordant harmony, like a tree branch scraping against glass.
Our eyes are laughing, but our vocal cords continue to make the most abhorrent noises, over and over, until we hear high-pitched screams from inside, and fall silent.
Seconds later, the front door creaks open. ‘Hello?’
The voice sounds like Garth’s, though it could be Ben’s? Typical Richie – leaving one of the other boys to do the dirty work.
We freeze in place. The silence is filled only by my pounding heart. I almost forget to breathe until I see a shit-eating grin strung across Jack’s face. Relief rolls through me, and I rock on my heels as my whole body goes slack.
His hand finds my arm. I think his intention is to keep me still, but his touch only makes me jittery.
‘Hello?’ Someone calls again.
Jack retreats closer to the wall, drawing me against him. He feels solid and secure.
‘There’s no one out here.’ The front door clicks shut.
‘I’m going to grab something from the shed,’ Jack whispers, his breath warm on my face. ‘Stay here.’ He doesn’t wait for my reply before he turns and disappears into the darkness towards the rear of the house.
Surely I should be panicking like just before at Clam Cove, but my heart is beating a steady march in my chest.
I wait for a few minutes, the wind howling behind me, before Jack reappears with what looks like a leaf blower in his hands.
‘I couldn’t find the chainsaw,’ he rasps, jaw muscles leaping as he regains his breath.
An excited thrill fizzes in my chest as it dawns on me what he’s up to – all that’s missing is Jason’s blood-splattered ice hockey mask.
Jack points the leaf blower up at the window. ‘Ready?’
I grin my response and almost immediately, the decibel-blasting sound blares like a jet engine roaring to life. Even over the thunderous noise I can hear the pure chaos inside.
‘WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!’
‘I TOLD YOU THIS PLACE WAS FUCKING HAUNTED!’
The door swings open again.
‘HELLO? WHO’S THERE?!’
My stomach twists, and Jack shoots me a frantic look.
Footsteps are approaching.
‘Quick! Run!’ he cries, tossing the leaf blower into the nearby shrubs and grabbing the ice. I almost miss a step as we race up the driveway but recover quickly as Jack grips my hand.
‘You good?’ he pants.
I nod, although my lungs are burning.
Then suddenly the bucks are right behind us.
‘WHO’S THERE?!’
We both startle, then drop each other’s hands and sprint in opposite directions as if our lives depend on it.
What feels like an eternity later, though it’s probably not even a minute, I’m alone on the dark path, a few hundred metres up from Keith’s place, when a deep, gravelly voice tickles my ear and a cold hand clamps over my mouth.
‘WhoooOOOooo!’
I don’t know if I scream first and then bite, or bite and then scream.
‘Fuck!’ Jack yells. ‘You bit me!’
‘Fuck you right back!’ I shout, my pulse racing in my ears. I spin around to face him. ‘What’s with the UNO Reverse card? I thought we were on the same team! You scared the shit out of me!’
He drops the ice, his expression softening as he gathers me into his arms. ‘Hey, hey, hey, I’m sorry, Andie. I thought it would be funny. I was wrong.’ I fight the urge to burrow into the nook of his neck.
How is it that he feels this familiar?
I realise then that I can taste blood. But there’s another distinct taste too – mixed with the metallic flavour is a sharp citrus.
‘Why do I taste oranges?’ I ask, moving away.
Jack shrugs. ‘I cooked fish for dinner. I use them to get rid of the smell.’
‘Ah, that’s why I could smell oranges earlier!’
‘Are you hungry?’ he asks. ‘I have leftovers.’
‘I should be getting back. Get those prawns on ice . . .’ I say reluctantly. I am starting to wonder if the girls even want me there. Jack’s right – they don’t seem to appreciate any of the effort I’ve made.
I reach for the bag of ice, but Jack intercepts it. ‘Did you really think I was going to let you walk back on your own?’
His intense gaze snags mine and warmth floods my body. I rush to circumvent the odd sensation with a snort.
‘So now you care about my wellbeing. After you’ve already caused my soul to up and leave my body.’
‘Don’t worry, it’s my wellbeing I care about, really,’ he says, lifting his injured hand and waving it at me, then sticking out his bottom lip. ‘I need you to look at this back at the house. Check there’s no signs of gangrene.’
I roll my eyes, but I can’t wipe the smile from my face. ‘Fine.’
Fortunately, the girls are in their bedrooms when we arrive back at Moorings, so I’m left to tend to Jack’s hand in peace.
I instruct him to sit on the closed toilet lid while I retrieve some cotton wool and a bottle of disinfectant from the cupboard he shows me.
‘Alright, let’s see what we’re dealing with.’ I crouch down to examine his hand. A collection of tea lights, evidently lit while we were away, bathes the space in a gentle glow. I’m not thrilled that they were left unsupervised, but at least there’s some light. I’m used to tending to scraped knees under the harsh playground sunshine.
The skin on his hands looks rough, like it’s never seen a drop of moisturiser in its life. His palms are calloused and decorated with a criss-cross of pink scars.
‘Oysters and fishhooks,’ he offers before I can ask. ‘And it’s this hand.’
He extends his right hand towards me. There are more scars and callouses, and on the back, between the thumb and index finger, is a very faint bite mark.
‘Hmm, doesn’t seem to be infected.’
‘Well, thank goodness my attacker appears to have good oral hygiene.’
I slide a tongue over my teeth. I know it’s only banter but still, the compliment feels nice.
‘Thank you. I’ve been brushing twice a day since 1990.’
‘So, thirty-four years?’ he asks carefully. I’m too impressed by his quick maths to feel self-conscious that I’ve just revealed my age. Not that it’s something I’m ashamed of; I just get a sense – even with his well-worked hands – that he’s younger.
‘Give or take. Apparently, I started teething early.’
A memory surfaces briefly – Mum telling me how she had to stop breastfeeding before I was six months because I wouldn’t stop biting her.
My mouth twists; maybe I’ve always been a biter.
Jack raises his chin to look at me. ‘Advanced, huh? Why does that not surprise me?’
My focus returns to his hand and I dab at the puncture marks with the antiseptic liquid, a strong eucalyptus scent diluting the citrus.
‘Ouch! That stings.’ He flinches, jaw stiff.
I stifle a chuckle. ‘Quit being a baby.’
He grins sheepishly at me. ‘You’re right. It’s not as bad as an oyster cut on the nuts.’
‘You did not just say that.’ My cheeks burn as I rummage around in the first-aid kit for a bandaid.
‘It seems, regrettably, that I did. And I’ll take a Snoopy one, please.’
It’s comforting that I’m not the only one fumbling over my words.
I remove the backing and adhere the bandaid to his skin. ‘Naww, your boo-boo is all better.’
‘Do I get a lollipop for being a brave boy?’
‘That depends . . .’ I couldn’t possibly be this bold, could I?
‘On what?’
‘On how long you’ve been brushing for?’ The question rushes out.
His lips press together as its true intention registers.
‘I’m not quite as experienced a teeth brusher as you,’ he says, not breaking my gaze. ‘Thirty-one years of brushing for me.’ I’m still cradling his hand as he murmurs in my ear. ‘What is it that they say about quality over quantity?’
His words send an excited thrill skating down my spine.
‘Excellent.’ It’s all I can manage. I figure it’s slightly better than enquiring after his cavity history.
‘Well, hello! What’s going on here?’
Taylor enters the bathroom and I drop Jack’s hand and step back, immediately flustered.
She narrows her eyes at me.
‘Ah, Jack injured his hand,’ I say. ‘So I was giving it a quick once-over.’
‘Would you believe your best friend here bit me?’ Jack says, eyes twinkling like the tea lights. ‘With a bite like that, I wouldn’t want to cross her!’
‘Really, Andie?’ Taylor sinks down on the edge of the bathtub.
I shrug. ‘Well, he deserved it. And it wasn’t a bite – it was a self-defence nibble.’
Jack straightens his shoulders to look squarely at me. ‘A self-defence nibble,’ he mouths so dramatically that laughter bubbles up my windpipe.
‘This is the best thing I’ve heard all day!’ Taylor exclaims.
‘Actually, Taylor,’ Jack interrupts. ‘I was hoping to have a quick word with you.’ My laughter gives way to tumbling insides. What is he doing . . . ?
‘I’ll be in need of a fresh bandaid tomorrow evening, so I’m afraid I’m going to have to steal nurse Andie. And then it would be rude of me not to treat her to dinner to thank her for taking such great care of my hand.’ The corners of his mouth flutter.
I shoot him a glare. ‘Tomorrow is spa night,’ I say, extra brightly. ‘I did mention that to you, Jack.’
‘Oh, yes, so you did. But I also recall us discussing the concept of changing plans – and occasionally even saying no to them if they don’t suit.’ He draws out the ‘o’ in ‘no’ to really hammer his point home. Frustratingly, he deliberately avoids looking at me.
My head swivels to gauge Taylor’s reaction but, surprisingly, she appears unbothered at the notion of my skipping out on our plans.
But we came here to spend time together, not apart. It’s already night three of our trip, and with all of the hiccups and side quests, we’ve barely spent any quality time together.
‘ No , Jack. I’m sorry, but no, I can’t make tomorrow evening.’ I take great satisfaction in repeating the word back to him.
‘What?! Ands!’ Taylor’s shrieks echo around the bathroom. ‘You have to go. It’s about time you got back out there.’
My cheeks flush. I don’t need her making me sound like such a dateless loser in front of Jack. There’s a good reason for my hiatus from the dating scene but he doesn’t need to know about that.
‘Right, well I’m glad that’s settled,’ Jack says, lumbering to his feet. ‘I’d better go now and check how Mum is getting on in the dark.’
As Jack exits the bathroom, he glances back over his shoulder, his glittering eyes finally meeting mine.
‘See you tomorrow, Andie. You, me and a bandaid, 5 p.m. on the dock. Can you make it one of the waterproof Little Mermaid ones, please? Snoopy will scare the fish.’