I hastily unlock the stiff door and yank it open, finding another note dropped onto my stack of tattered textbooks. Zac must’ve pushed the note through the door vents.
Look under the poo table in art class
I snicker into the back of my hand. Zac’s got geography on his timetable now while I have art, so I hurry across the quadrangle to the art rooms to get to what I guess is going to be another note. In the rear corner of the art studio, one of the high wooden desks is permanently stained with an unfortunate splatter of orangey-brown paint that looks like a diarrhoea explosion. Chewing my bottom lip as I smile, I unstick the note from beneath the table.
Check under the guide dog coin tin at the canteen
That note, which I quickly retrieve between art and history, turns into two more.
Look inside Mr Roland’s ugly vase that’s always empty because living things die around Mr Roland
Something special awaits you inside your favourite library book
With no sign of Zac anywhere at recess, I practically run to the library, saying a quick hi to Amy and Emily who are lounging on the inside couches, escaping the summer heat, before heading right forThe Book Thiefby Markus Zusak. It strikes me that Zac could’ve gotten mixed up over which book is my favourite, but pressed between two pages is a small, thin packet of wrapped pink paper. My lips part, and my heart swells in my chest.
I peel back the tape and fold open the paper, a delicate silver bracelet tumbling into my palm.
‘Oh my gosh,’ I whisper as I brush my fingertips over the bracelet, finding a little charm of a sun dangling from one of the links.
‘That’s for “sunbeam”,’ murmurs a familiar voice, and I spin to find Zac leaning against the shelves, his arms crossed, and a trace of a smile on his lips.
‘Zac.’
Lost for words, I stare at his flushed face because I hadn’t expected him to get me a birthday present at all, let alone something so …
‘It’s beautiful,’ I say, my throat closing up. ‘Iloveit. Thank you.’
‘You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to,’ he mumbles, but relief warms his eyes.
‘Of courseI’m going to wear it. I’m gonna wear it right now.’
I drape the cold chain around my wrist while Zac pushes off the shelf and says, ‘Spoiler alert, but I’m gonnaget you a charm for it every year on your birthday. At least, that’s the plan.’
I’m struggling to close the clasp, so he takes over with his long, deft fingers and clips the bracelet on for me.
A deep wash of affection warms me up inside as I stand on my toes and loop my arms around Zac’s neck before he can escape. He smells like boys’ deodorant and mint chewing gum.
‘Thank you, favourite,’ I say against his shoulder. ‘The best present of all is having met you.’
He drops his chin into the nape of my neck, squeezing me a little tighter. ‘I hope we’re friends forever, sunbeam.’
CHAPTER 44
Today
I rest my shoulder against the apartment window that faces Hunter Street while staring at my phone’s live-stream of Mum and Dad’s distressed faces. My admission that I’ve just had a health scareandbeen diagnosed with severe anxiety seems to have stolen all the words from their throats.
‘I’m going to be fine,’ I say, aware that I’m at risk of falling back into my usual pattern of pretending I’m A-OK and that my life is a Hallmark movie. But I’m done ‘faking it until I make it’ to my own family. Last night, I unloaded to Lola about my severe anxiety over dinner, and she burst into tears in the middle of the sushi bar, then hugged the breath out of me. How can I open up to someone I’ve only known for a few months and not to my parents? It’s time to admit that my life isn’t made up of a series of adorable little ducks sitting in a perfect row. My ducks are injured and losing feathers, and onehas a bung eye, but that’s OK. That’s me, stumbling through life.
‘Actually, no,’ I correct to Mum and Dad, ‘Idon’tknow that everything’s going to be fine. I actually think I have quite a long road to recovery ahead of me, if Doctor Singh’s advice is anything to go by. But I’m going to work really hard to give it my best shot.’
‘Oh, Josie,’ Mum says tearfully. ‘We had no idea. I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s not your fault. It’s mine for not telling you. I didn’t want to worry you or upset your beautiful retirement life over there.’
‘Don’t you ever worry about that.’ Mum peers closer at the screen while Dad’s pained frown behind her pierces my heart. ‘You are more important to us thananything, Josie,’ Mum says. ‘And I’m so sorry we haven’t been back recently to visit.’ She exchanges a regretful glance with Dad.
‘It’s OK,’ I reply. ‘It makes me happy to see you guys having such a good time over there; it really does. The medication I’ve just started should settle my catastrophic thought spirals, and I’ve got the phone numbers of some recommended counsellors in Sydney. I’m working on it. And I’m really, really sorry that I haven’t been more honest with you.’
