‘It was.’
‘Especially since you worked so hard on it. So—for all your hard work to go to waste like that—and—I can see why you hate me.’
‘I don’t hate you. Honestly, Petra, I don’t.’
Petra gets a panicked look on her face and waves her hand down low, shooing. I turn and see Audrey and Brooke slink away. Girls are trickling into the corridor, so the bell must be close to ringing. Or maybe none of us are in our classes. Most of the Year Tens have been coming in this week, but the days don’t have their normal structure. Small groups have been sent to counselling sessions, movies have been playing in the Great Hall for anyone to attend, candles are being lit with the chaplain.
I haven’t seen Claire or Milla or Natalia all week, and Natalia still hasn’t replied to my message.
‘I know you thought you were doing the right thing.’ I’ve spent some time over the last few days trying to put myself in Petra’s shoes and not being that great at it. ‘I was trying to do the right thing too, in my own way. But I’m sorry I upset you with the subject matter of my photo.’
She dares to look at me. ‘Really?’
‘I’ve been wondering if I did the right thing. Maybe I should have thought about other people’s reactions more. Audrey said—’ I have no idea if this is a no-go topic or not so I tread lightly, ‘that Yin’s abduction might have brought up some family stuff for you.’
Petra sighs; I see her whole body inflate and then deflate completely.
‘I know that’s Audrey’s theory…and maybe she’s right. But. But.’ Petra grapples with something unseen. ‘I’m not a good person,’ she whispers eventually.
‘Let’s go outside.’ I grab Petra’s arm and take the doors outside to the breezeway. We lean on the waist-high balcony, looking down to the quad where the Year Sevens have been constructing a mandala out of flower petals. One breath of wind and the whole thing is going to blow away, which I guess is the point.
‘Why aren’t you a good person?’ I ask.
Petra doesn’t look at me. ‘Because…because I was always envious of Yin. She was first clarinet, I was second. We took all the same subjects and she always got slightly better marks than me. And everyone likes her—liked her—but I secretly thought of her as my nemesis. Even though she was so nice to me, so generous. She used to lend me her notes all the time, like we weren’t rivals.’
She falls quiet.
I try to understand what the problem is. ‘So you felt guilty when she went missing?’
‘A little.’ Petra wipes her nose and I see that she’s been silently crying. ‘I know logically that I have nothing to do with what happened to her, but I wish I had been nicer to her, accepted her friendship more. I can’t believe the things that used to matter to me.’
‘I get it,’ I say. I do. It’s hard not to pit yourself against other girls in the hothouse environment of Balmoral. ‘It makes sense.’
‘Thanks, Chloe. You’re the last person I would expect to listen to me.’
‘It’s done, right? Let’s try to move on, if we can. You might have to ignore Natalia for a while. She’s going through a lot, I think…’
‘I know.’
We’re both quiet. I had no idea I would do this but I step forward and give Petra a hug.
‘It’s been awful,’ she says. ‘The whole thing.’
‘I know,’ I say, and we separate. I’d feel embarrassed, but there’s been more hugging in the last three days than in the whole year combined.
‘I keep waiting to wake up and find out this has all been a nightmare.’ Petra extracts a tissue from her blazer pocket. ‘I knew what the chances were. Statistically speaking, you know. That whole thing about ninety per cent of kidnapping victims being dead within the first twenty-four hours isn’t a particularly accurate statistic, it’s more complicated than that, but it’s not far off.’
Something occurs to me for the first time. There’s something familiar about what she’s saying. ‘Petra—did you write the email about what to do in the case of an abduction?’
She flushes all over again. ‘Please don’t tell anyone. Not even Audrey knows.’
‘I won’t. You must have been worried to send that around.’
She nods, her eyes wide. ‘I was so scared. I just wanted to do something useful.’
DAY 67
Every bone in my body is screaming get away get away get away but somehow Mum and I pile in the car and follow Stephen and Chunjuan’s champagne-coloured Audi down the highway and into an area of the city I’ve never seen before.
‘You don’t have to do this,’ says Mum as we park our car and my heart goes pitter-pat or more like BANG BASH BANG and I think I’ve figured out how cows feel before they get led to the big chopper.
‘You don’t either,’ I say back, but neither of us stops moving as we get out, put our jackets on and join the Mitchells at their car because we were asked to do this and it wasn’t our family that lost a member and there are some things you can’t say no to.
The BBQs and wooden tables that I saw on the news and in the papers are everywhere around us. The scrubby trees too, the dodgy public toilets and the trail signs.
Even though it’s not that cold today, Albert and Nelson have so many layers on they look like round puff balls on sticks, robins before the winter. Stephen hands them knobbly supermarket bags and they heft them onto their shoulders with seriousness. They give me a solemn squeeze each, even though it’s been years since they’ve seen me.
We all look so grim we could be in one of those
