Finding the Pure Note

This Life of Easy Colours

"Clay, hold on. Stop. Yes, that's good. Back. A little further. Turn around. Good."

Crap. I face mum at the top of the stairs, putting on a grin I don't feel. She's got her hands to her hips, and she beckons me down with her index finger. I crane my neck, sigh, then take the steps two at a time. Best get this over with quick.

She leads me into her room, turning the light on to cut through the eight o'clock veil of night, and then closes the door behind her. I leap on to her bed, sitting with my legs stretched out, hands linked, acting very nonchalant when in reality I can feel sweat forming on my brow. I knew this was coming—can't survive on unbearable silences and closed doors forever, right?—just... Damn.

"We need to have a talk about your attitude," she says, and I scoff.

"Mum, I really should be doing homework. I've got an assignment due tomorrow." It was probably true, not that I'd checked. Mr. Quinn finally lost his cool today and had a chat with me after class. I told him the truth. I just don't know what's wrong, how things could be like they were. Naturally, he said that wasn't good enough and I had detention to "catch up". I probably should start trying again before mum finds out and freaks, but I just can't find the motivation.

"Your assignment can wait!"

I gawp at her in bafflement. "Are you feeling alright, mum? Should we see someone or...?"

She raises herself higher, her eyes perfect slits. "Don't give me that sass. Cut the crap, Clay. Hm? I—I've tolerated, no—ignored a confrontation because I didn't want a repeat of the other week."

"You mean when..."

"Yes," she snaps. "When you ran. You scared me. This... This isn't some game, Clay!"

I roll my eyes. "I know."

"Oh you know, do you? I—is that what you call this past week and a half? Disappearing on the weekends to god knows where. I can't control you, can't... Ground you. Not that I've ever felt I had to, but what's the point? You—you'd just wait for me to pass out and sneak away into the night doing... What the hell are you doing?"

"Nothing you need to worry about. Seriously, mum."

"Really? Okay then, so you can tell me where you pop off to, hm? I'm sure it's all legal and—"

"Mum. Life's tense. I'm still a kid. I feel like one, anyway. School is... Shit. Fletcher's been..."

"What's Fletcher got to do with this?"

"Fletcher is... He." Shit. I can't tell her that we're... I mean, we're not broken up, I think? I don't know. I just know he hasn't shown up at school, or he's just very good at avoiding me. I stopped looking, so it's not exactly that difficult. I'll find Sean at recess and lunch and we'll find somewhere for a quick smoke, and I'll turn my brain off.

"He... what?"

"Uh. Never mind."

"See? You're doing it now! Shutting me out! What's so secret, Clay? Why can't you tell me?"

"Not everything's your fricking business, Jesus!"

"Clay!" she barks. "Don't act like an ungrateful teenager; drop the sulky face. I expect this of Hunter, but not you. You're eighteen. Your life's right in front of you. I want you to succeed on that road, but that won't happen if you can't be open and honest with me. I thought we had an understanding that we'd become closer since your father's been hospitalised. Not push each other further away."

"Maybe..." I inhale, wrinkle my nose, then start again. "Maybe I just have my own shit I need to focus on. And sometimes I need to get out the house, but I'm still on top of schoolwork, so lay off it, mum."