Ignite

Chapter 48

The rest of the Melbourne trip passes uneventfully, and before I know it, I'm back in Sydney and sitting under one of the school gumtrees for Monday lunch, reading a book I'd brought in for the occasion.

Usually, I spend my breaks with Emmy and Aleisha, but today they're both away on a choir trip, and I've resigned myself to a lonely half hour with nothing but The Catcher in the Rye to entertain me. And it wasn't quite doing its job.

When I'd got back yesterday evening, still riding on the high that was Lewis Kozak, Jake pulled me aside, his eyes wide and worried.

"I saw Matt this weekend," he'd said urgently. "I didn't talk to him, but I swear he was at the beach and then again when I went for groceries with Sylvia."

"Did anyone else see him?" I asked.

"No, I asked Sylvia if she noticed anyone, but she hadn't. I think he's following me, Claude."

I told him he must be imagining things, predicting the worst, but all night the endless possibilities of how Matt D'Cruz's presence in Sydney could ruin our lives had kept me awake. Even seeing Lewis again this morning hadn't settled my nerves.

My head is buried in the book as these thoughts run through my mind, my attention caught somewhere between Holden Caulfield's problems and my own. But then someone clears their throat, and I look up to find Heather Zivkovic hovering near me.

"Hey Claudia, do you mind if I sit?"

Our school can't afford a watering system, and our oval is brown and dusty except for a few sparse sprouts of green underneath trees. She gestures to one such patch next to me and I shuffle aside so she has more room.

"Yeah, of course."

Heather gives me an awkward smile and then perches on the edge of the green patch, smoothing her skirt down as I close my book and put it into my bag.

For a second, we sit there quietly. I'm waiting for her to say whatever she's come here for, but she's just looking at her hands.

"So, um, are you excited for the ball?" I ask.

Heather starts, as if she's forgotten I'm there.

"Oh, yes, very much so. That's why I came to talk to you. Every year, Principal Humphrey gives out awards to students who've excelled during the semester, and she wanted me to check that the recipients were planning to come."

She looks at me, eyebrow raised, and I take a moment to realise what she's implying.

"Oh. You're checking if I'm coming?"

"Yes."

I blink at her, certain I've misunderstood. "Because I'm getting an award?"

"Yes, Claudia."

"For what?"

The astonishment in my voice is louder than I'd planned, and Heather lets out a huff.

"You're getting the Outstanding Improvement Award."

I turn and look out at the oval, mulling that information over. Either every single person in our year-group has done more horrifically this semester than I thought possible, or this award resulted from more bushfire sympathy from Principal Humphrey.

The first option seems unlikely.

"Well, that's surprising," I say.

"Yes, it is."

Heather's voice is riddled with disapproval and I grin at her.

"I suppose I set the bar pretty low by punching someone on my first day, didn't I? Maybe you could try something similar next semester?"

Heather's brow furrows. "It would be improper for the school captain to receive any of the awards."

"Of course. We wouldn't want to be improper, would we?"

Heather shoots me a glare, but there's not much heat behind it.

"Well, you can tell Principal Humphrey I'm coming," I say. "She might be happy to know I'm going with the boy I punched too. Really reinforces my suitability for the award."

Heather grimaces and stands.

"No, it really doesn't. But I'll see you there. Enjoy Catcher in the Rye."

She's about to walk away, but then she hesitates and turns back to me.

"I've got a date too. He's from St. Paul's, very popular and rich."

I frown at her, certain this information isn't meant for my ears, but someone who I might pass it onto.

"Right," I say. "That's great, Heather."

"I only mention it because their school has an extensive library," she says quickly. "They have a first edition copy of your book. I could ask him to borrow it if you want."

I blink at her, unsure whether she's taking a dig at me in some weird, upper-class way, but she just stares back with a blank expression.

"Oh. Ah, I think I'll be alright with my..." I pull the book out of my bag and check the title page, "... 2019 print copy. Thanks, though."

Heather nods and then walks off, her sleek pony tail swishing back and forth behind her as she goes, and I frown after her, wondering whether I should relay the information she's given me.

I've just decided to tell Aleisha and get a second opinion when I feel a prickling along the back of my neck, a sudden certainty that someone is watching me. I scan the oval, searching the girl's side and then the boys. But no eyes meet my own.

It's only when I look out to the road, sweeping over the street, the neighbouring houses, that my eyes snag on something.

A guy stands in the shade of a bus stop across the road, cap pulled down low over his head. He has a bag slung over his shoulder, his posture casual, and though I can't confirm it, I'm positive he's staring at me.

Suddenly, the panic I'd seen in Jake's eyes last night worms it's way into me. The words he'd whispered ring in my ears.

I saw Matt this weekend.

I look away, taking a deep breath, trying to convince myself I'm being paranoid. There's hundreds of girls out on the oval, all in skirts and white shirts and high socks. Guys look over all the time. It doesn't matter how old they are, or whether they know anyone here. It was a fact of life, a guarantee. As constant as breathing.

This guy was probably just waiting for his bus and didn't have anything better to do.

I glance over again, looking more out of my peripherals than anything else, and study him. My heart sinks as I realise he could be Matt. He's about the right height, the right weight. Even the dark hair curling out from under his hat is similar.

I stand up, caught half way between running inside and going to the fence to confront this guy when a bus pulls in, masking him from view. And when it pulls away again, he's gone.

...

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