The
Hutt Valley was a wedge scooped out of rolling hills. The triangle
began with the long Petone shoreline, where the settlers had landed, and
continued north between eastern and western hills. To the south, across
the large comma-shaped harbour that tailed out into the Cook Strait,
was Wellington city. Richard had been a bit surprised when he discovered
that the Hutt had a reputation for black jeans and brown faces.
Eventually he realised that was because most of the Hutt’s white middle
class spent all their time in the city. Lower Hutt wasn’t a suburb, but
wasn’t quite its own place either.
St
Francis was on a long street lined with green lawns and high walls and
European cars in the driveways. Richard walked it with Adam. They were
in basketball casuals, school uniforms stuffed in their bags. Another
shoot-around after school, this time with James Travers and a couple of
guys from form six who were going to try for the team, Lio Manuele in
his beanie with his jacket zipped up to his chin, and Ray Atoa,
impeccably groomed as always. Richard figured Lio for a good strong
forward, especially sharp with rebounding. Ray was a ball handler, with a
few nice moves and a deft hand at passing. It had been a promising
session. It was coming together.
Richard
hitched his thumb under a bag-strap and kept an eye on the clouds. Cars
whirred past, the beginning of what passed for rush hour in the Hutt.
Sunlight filtered down through the clouds and a breeze rippled the
leaves on bushes and trees. Richard could walk this route with his eyes
closed if he wanted to. Every weekday he walked to and from school,
since he’d arrived five years ago.
And soon he’d be leaving.
‘Rich?’
‘Mmm?’
Adam stared at his feet and coughed. ‘Have you been thinking about the ball?’
The
ball. Prom night. God, not even the slightest, given the other things
he had pressing into his thoughts all the time. The ball was a very long
way away. ‘No, I really haven’t.’
‘Oh.’
Richard
waited for three cars to pass before following up. He figured that was
enough time. ‘You’re asking about the ball because...’
‘Oh,
I was just thinking. You know.’ Adam shrugged, his shoulders rising and
falling heavily. ‘We’re going to go, though, aren’t we?’
‘I would guess so.’
‘And, well. We’ll go all four of us together?’
‘Sure.’
‘We have to find partners. To go with.’
Richard had figured where this was headed a few questions back. ‘Yeah. That won’t be a problem.’
‘Maybe
not for you,’ Adam said. ‘I mean, I was thinking about it all last
night, and I don’t even know where I’d find someone to ask.’
‘There are girls all over the place. Don’t worry about it.’
‘But
I don’t know any girls any more. I mean, I can’t talk to any of them. I
just end up being that tall guy who follows you and Dennis around. They
don’t see me like that.’
‘Like
what? Listen, if you’re comparing yourself to Dennis, don’t. They don’t
see any of us like they see him. Dennis has that aura thing going on. I
don’t know anyone else who has that.’
‘Yeah,
well, I know I don’t. And I just keep going around with you guys, and
that’s not going to get me anywhere. But I don’t know what will. I don’t
know how I can meet anyone else, I don’t know anyone at church now the
youth group’s gone. It’s stupid, I know, but I can just see that it’s
going to be a disaster.’
‘Don’t
stress,’ Richard said. ‘It’s ages away. You just need to find some girl
you’re friendly with and ask her. Not even friends, just friendly.
Girls love to go to these things and you’re a nice guy, so just relax,
okay?’
Adam nodded gloomily as they walked. ‘Are you going to go with Kirsty?’
‘It’s a bit early to start making plans, isn’t it?’
‘She’s nice, isn’t she.’
‘Yep.’ Richard nodded. ‘She is.’
Richard
had no idea if she was going to be waiting for him to call. He wasn’t
sure he wanted to dial her number. Standing there with the phone in his
hand and the number in his head – it was like the number wanted to be
dialled. It felt inevitable.
Things
over the weekend had been kind of crazy. He hadn’t felt like himself,
and everything had gone maybe a little bit too far, too fast. Maybe. He
wasn’t sure he did think that. He had no idea what she would be
thinking. And he had no idea what he’d say if he called her. Maybe he
should ask if she wanted to go somewhere? But then where would they go,
and what would he say when they got there? Friday and Saturday had gone
in a rush but now they’d both had time to reflect, and he’d reflected.
He’d pretty much done nothing else but reflect for the last three days.
As if he didn’t have enough to worry about.
His
parents were trying to be relaxed about the move but it wasn’t helping.
He didn’t want to start thinking about that, and thinking about Kirsty
was a good distraction. Maybe too good. He was overthinking Kirsty and
underthinking the fact his life was going to turn completely upside
down. He was supposed to be handling this, not falling apart like a kid.
And he still hadn’t told the guys. How could he when he didn’t even
know how to handle it himself?
He’d
always known exactly how it should go. His parents would have said
‘we’re going home’ and he would have nodded sagely and begun folding up
his life person by person, telling each one of them how it was going to
be, clear and calm. The girls would cry and he’d let them hold him, but
only for a little while. Life would grind to a slow and perfect halt,
and then he’d turn away from them all and walk on to the plane without
looking over his shoulder. That was how he’d always planned it.
Except
that life was refusing to stop for him. It was like a fire in the bush,
raging out of control. Funny how he hadn’t noticed its tendency to do
that.
He
couldn’t leave calling too late, or she’d not be waiting. He couldn’t
call too early or he’d seem overeager. He couldn’t sit still, which left
him pacing helplessly around the room in his socks.
He liked her, of course. And she liked him. It was just everything else that made it complicated.
There
was mud in the white carpet. He must have had mud on his shoes. How had
he not noticed the mud on his shoes? How distracted was he by all this?
Mud in the carpet. On top of everything else it seemed a ridiculous
tiny nuisance. This wasn’t how he was. He was meant to be always on top
of things, even the little details. Doing things. Making it happen. He
snatched up the offending shoe and opened the window, banging it outside
to knock the mud away.
The
cold air hit his face in a rush. It was dark and the houses were lit up
like lanterns. Sods of earth arced away from the shoe, twisting down
through the air. Everything was distant. Richard looked sideways and he
could almost see her piece of hill.
Handle it. Make it happen. No-one else is going to.
He left the window open and dialled her number.
