Looking Glass Sound by Catriona Ward

Author:Catriona Ward
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Profile
Published: 2023-08-15T00:00:00+00:00

When we get back to college, Sky drops me out front. ‘I’m starving,’ he says. ‘You go get us a place for dinner. I’ll meet you in commons. Got to put the car in the lot.’ His finger grazes the back of my hand gently. The touch runs right through me.

‘OK,’ I say.

After a minute he says, ‘I think you have to get out of the car to do it, Wilder.’

‘Sure,’ I say. I can feel how stupid my smile is, so wide it almost hurts my face. ‘I’m going.’

I go to commons and I save two places. It’s early, there’s plenty of room. Someone’s made a token effort with holiday decorations – there are wreaths and ivy on the walls. I think they’re plastic, but it still looks green and glossy. There’s a small plastic tree in the corner with lights, paper chains. I feel festive. I look for mistletoe and then feel flushed. A few more students trickle in as I wait.

Sky’s taking a while, and I wonder what’s keeping him. Maybe there was a problem with the car – a tyre or something? I don’t know much about cars. Time passes, and still no Sky. To hell with it, he can catch up when he gets here. I take a plate and load it with food. They have sweet potato with marshmallows.

I’ll call my mom later, I think, to wish her happy holidays. And I’ll call my dad. Everything will be OK. We can move on. We don’t have to be chained to the past anymore. We can all be free.

The hall empties out. They start to put the food away so I quickly grab some turkey and bread for a sandwich and wrap it up in napkins. Sky will just have to make do, it’s all I can sneak out of here. He never seems to care what he puts in his mouth anyway. I think about what happened last night and his mouth and suddenly everything feels very hot again. I feel transparent, like anyone who looks at me can see what I’m thinking.

Someone taps me on the shoulder. Time to go, they have to clean up.

I carry the sandwich carefully across the quad and up the stairs. The fire door hits my shin painfully as it swings closed, but I don’t care.

The door to our room is slightly ajar. Maybe Sky fell asleep. We didn’t sleep much last night.

I push open the door. The room smells strongly of turkey from the nearby kitchen. The bag I took up to the prison is neat and dead centre on my bed. Sky’s side of the room is bare. All his stuff is gone. I look in the cubby. The little doll with teeth for eyes is gone. His closet and cubby look dingy, slightly dirty, in that way empty things do.

A folded note lies on his pillow. I seize it and open it with fingers that can’t quite seem to grip (degloved). All this is becoming slippery as a dream.

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