I’d rather die than admit I don’t know what sex is. Every time I’m at the computer I forget to Google it. She could be right. At least I’m not too stupid to learn and try out new things. If she’s so clever, how come she never comes out anymore since we left school? Scaredy-cat!
I hear his truck approaching even before I see it. My heart goes all boom, boom, boom when he pulls up at the gate. We don’t really have a gate; it would be silly to put up a gate in the middle of a clearing in the bush. But Luke put two fern trees at each side of the path from the road to our house. I call that a gate. I walk up to the truck and he rolls down the window.
“Hello, good morning,” he’s squinting at me and his greeting is hanging in the air like a forgotten sheet on the washing line.
Can’t he see it’s me? Miss Marple said outside people only see a person looking like Elise. How can they only see the body of a forty-two-year-old woman with shoulder-long brown hair, dark brown eyes and some odd scars down both of her forearms? I stopped arguing with her about it long ago because she’s wrong. I look in the mirror and I look nothing like Elise.
For starters, I don’t have long, brown hair. It’s short, curly and it’s blond. My eyes are blue. And Maddie is only forty inches tall! How can people not see the difference? Sometimes I have my doubts about Miss Marple.
“Lilly,” I coach him. His eyes light up just as quickly as my heart sinks. If Miss Marple is right and he doesn’t see me, but the body of Elise, I can forget all my hopes of becoming his girlfriend. Elise is a museum piece, an old woman with nothing much going for her. Who would want to have a girlfriend like that when you are such a fine-looking man like Scottie?
“Is everything okay? No disturbances at night?”
“Nothing unusual. Do you want to come in?”
“No, I’m on my way into town. I had an idea for some surveillance stuff for your place and want to check it out. I’ll drop in around midday on my way home.”
“You don’t have to go out of your way for us.”
“No big deal. I’ll be damned if I’ll stand by and do nothing when a bloody group of child abusers is messing about in my territory.”
Oh, we are his territory now? I’m not sure how I feel about that and I won’t find out soon because he waves and turns his truck around. I feel sorry for the Tribe. All morning they’ve been building up expectations and courage to talk to him. Now that bubble bursts into nothingness like one of those water foam bubbles you blow through a tiny ring.
Puff. Gone.
There was joy about expecting to see Scottie again. More than anything, there was a new sense of pride and realness because he now sees us. Being recognized and acknowledged in our own right, as the people we are, was an amazing step of growth. At least that’s what Miss Marple always said. I don’t understand what she meant by it, because when she talked about it, I didn’t pay attention. Growth? What does it even mean?
This psycho stuff is not my scene. But watching Toby I see how he’s getting more color, becoming more defined, like a photo in the developing tray of a darkroom. I’m not sure if that is a good thing, but Toby likes it. I have to ask Sky what Miss Marple meant with this recognition business.
Back in the house, I slump on the couch feeling deflated. I had it all mapped out in my mind, how to approach the question of boyfriend and girlfriend. How we would fall into each other’s arms and remain in an everlasting embrace. We would kiss and rejoice in each other’s presence. I’ve seen it often enough in the movies. Often enough. This is not going how I pictured it in my mind. And it’s not fair.
I take a seat at the table and pull the black book closer. Nobody has written anything since last night. That’s typical. As always, I have to do all the work.
To All!
I don’t ask for much and I’m always happy to help. So now I have a request for the Tribe. I want to ask Scottie to be my boyfriend and I would appreciate if everybody helps. Some might not like the idea. I don’t know if I like it. I want the chance to find out, rather than being told it’s rubbish.
Thanks, Lilly
Chapter Twenty-Two
Elise: 1 December 2015, Late Morning, Wright’s Homestead
I can’t run much farther. They are still after me. The barking is coming closer and closer. I’ve reached the part where the forest is dark and impenetrable. The light is falling through the dense canopy just enough to show me where the narrow path is. It’s overgrown with ferns and littered with rotting branches and roots. My feet are bleeding. I lost my shoes miles back. My clothes are torn to rags by thorny bushes that snatched at me like hungry wolves.
I’ve lost the fight. The dogs are catching up to me. A loud bang puts an end to it.
I cry out. It takes me a few moments to realize that I’m sitting at my dining table. I must have dozed off and dreamed. Still, the barking continues. Outside, Prince is creating a racket loud enough to wake the dead, if there were any. Fear grows in the pit of my stomach and for a moment I wish I could curl into a tiny ball of fluff and hide in a corner, unseen by the entire world. But that would be childish.
I brace myself, get up, and walk to the door, nervous of what’s awaiting me on the other side. I hear steps of more than
