Invincible by Cecily Anne Paterson

Author:Cecily Anne Paterson [Paterson, Cecily Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cecily Anne Paterson
Published: 2018-06-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

I can’t shake this feeling that something’s going on back at home. I’ve been at Grandma’s for 11 days now but I’ve heard from Liam maybe three times at most. And that was last week. There’s been nothing since the middle weekend of the holidays. At home he texts me every day or even more. When you add it to the fact that Gabby’s apparently just disappeared off the planet, I’m feeling a bit weird. Dislodged, dislocated. Other ‘dis’ words too, I’m sure, if I could think of them. Having actual friends is still such a new thing for me that I’m not sure what’s going on. Or what I can do about it. Is this kind of stuff even normal?

It doesn’t seem to bother me in the day when I’m out with Grandma, doing things and going places, but at night when my hearing aids are out and I’m muffled in my own brain, going to sleep, I run through all kinds of scenarios. Liam hates me, or he thinks I hate him. Gabby’s never going to speak to me again because she thinks I made her get in a fight. What did I do wrong? How can I make it right?

The evil ghouls in my dreams have taken a little break but I know they haven’t gone forever because instead I’m taking part in nightly parades of shame. I turn up at school or the shops or even the movies, look down at my legs and realise I haven’t put my shorts on. As soon as I gasp with embarrassment and try to cover up, people turn to stare at my undies, pointing and laughing. All I can do is stand there and take the humiliation, which seems just as bad in dreams as it is in real life.

Everything’s better in the morning though. Grandma and I have breakfast in the sun and then plan our adventure for the day. Sometimes we discuss it and sometimes she just says, “Okay, we’re going to the growers’ markets today,” or, “You’ve got to come and see the botanical gardens this morning,” and that’s it. Our plans are made.

Today is one of those days. All week she’s been saying that we’ll have to do a hike and this morning, my fourth last day (yes, I’m counting, but only because I don’t want to go home) she announces: “So today we’ll head up to Trembler’s Rocks.”

“Okay,” I say. I can’t pretend I’m keen. Dad used to take me on bushwalks when I was little but he could carry me on his shoulders when I got tired, and I seem to remember getting tired a lot. Mum hardly owns a pair of running shoes, let alone something she could walk up a mountain in. She doesn’t really ‘do’ strenuous. I don’t much either.

“Is it far?” I ask.

Grandma laughs at my scared looking face. “Stop worrying Jazmine. I’m not going to kill you. It’s the perfect distance for this perfect day.” She throws her arms out towards the sky and breathes in deeply.

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