I’ve been called to the office a few times before and it’s always the same. Your mother is in hospital. Your mother is at the police station. Your mother left a bizarre message on the answering machine, and we just want to check that everything’s okay at home.
A handful of times in the last seventeen years but it’s enough to send me straight to panic mode.
When I arrive in the outer office, Em’s sitting on a chair, hands clenched in her lap, crimson flaming across her cheeks.
She glances up, does a double take, then frowns so deeply her forehead looks in danger of caving in upon itself. Then her eyes flick across to the school secretary who purposely avoids her gaze, trapped behind her Perspex window, the connecting door to her tiny, enclosed office a metre to my left.
“I was told to come here,” I say slowly, trying to read Em’s body language to find out how much trouble I’m in. “Caylon Mercer.” My mind flicks through the orders I’ve issued, the pranks and games that I know about.
Nothing serious enough to warrant this little field trip. A few bouts of name-calling. A couple of bumps in the hallways. As far as I know, there hasn’t even been destruction of property yet, though that’s next on the list.
“Please take a seat, Caylon.” As I head straight for Em, she clears her throat. “On the chair opposite if you don’t mind.”
I mind. I mind very much.
It is to do with the bullying then. This junior level ploy of keeping us apart until the big gun can talk to us says that more clearly than if she’d just told me.
The secretary glares at me until I move to the far side of the room. When I appear ready to sit, her gaze returns to her computer keyboard and I alter direction, stopping a metre short so if the woman does notice she won’t get too panicky.
“Didn’t pick you as a squealer.”
When Em glances up, I see a shadow on the side of her forehead. Under the long sheath of her hair and the extra helping of makeup it’s hard to see, but the skin also looks puffy.
“You think I want to be here?” She shakes her head. “None of this is down to me.”
I catch the edge of blame but don’t respond. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of time for he said, she said once we get called inside.
She’s too skinny. She looks like she hasn’t eaten anything for a week.
I dig into my pocket and pull out two muesli bars. Sometimes I forget to eat for long enough that my stomach will suddenly scream bloody murder, so I always keep a few snacks on hand. The yoghurt coated one looks like the best bet and I hold it out to her.
“What’re you doing, Mercer?”
“You don’t look like you’re eating properly and I—”
“Have a feeding fetish?”
My chest fills with warmth at the speedy quip, and I have to turn away, feeling faint with longing. It’s so good being with her, I don’t understand why I can’t have this.
Even if we take a rain check on anything physical, why doesn’t she want this for us?
Her sharp ears poke through the long hair as she wrinkles her nose, and she looks like a shy exotic creature who might frequent a wooded glade in the evenings. When she doesn’t take the bar, I unwrap it, break off a piece as I take the seat next to her and hold it to her lips.
Why isn’t someone taking care of her? Even when she’s bristling with spikes, surely her parents, her siblings, her… My thoughts come to a dead end. I don’t know who she has.
She pushes my hand away.
“You need to eat something.”
“Mr Mercer.” The secretary raps on the window. “I told you to take a seat opposite.”
My eyes don’t move from Em. “I’m fine here.”
The woman gets to her feet, and I reluctantly switch to the other side of the room, catching Em as she rolls her eyes, making my smile widen and my lungs feel a size too small.
Keith Madden walks in, glances at both of us, and suddenly his expression seems a lot less thrilled with the day. He announces his presence to the secretary, then a moment later Principal Solesi opens the door and waves us inside, three seats already waiting for us on the far side of her desk.
Talking to all of us at once. That’s reassuring.
