Max Read Free

to get it looked at.”
    “Well, maybe we should wake her—”
    “Don’t.” Bluey broke me off mid-sentence. “She
doesn’t sleep real well, not since, you know…” Bluey’s words tapered off.
    I didn’t need for him to tell me, to say
since ‘the accident’. I knew all too well about that night, about the not
knowing if the car my little sister had been travelling in had been involved in
a fatality or not. As much as I remember from that night, I will never forget
the phone call from my mum telling me Miranda and Melanie had been in a car
accident, that they had rolled it on the Sheehan’s back road on the way home
after a night out in town. I recalled the way my world fell away. Vaguely aware
of the disbelief of what Mum was saying—the numbness I felt in the pit of my
stomach—and how unnerving it was for me to summon the question as to whether
they were alive. Remembering the answer that they would both be all right and
the relief that flooded me hit me again like a physical blow. I felt it now
looking down at a sleeping Melanie, the half-crescent, moon-shaped scar near
her eye that served as a constant reminder of that night. If she wanted to
sleep, let her sleep then. I would carry Bluey’s reluctant companion up the
stairs and to her bed; I would do it because Bluey asked me to, and I would do
it because of an inexplicable feeling of guilt—the same guilt I knew my sister
felt—knowing that her being behind the wheel was the direct cause of so much
pain. So much fear: I saw it in Bluey’s eyes. I could sense that it was exactly
why he had dragged his daughter everywhere with him, why even a year later she
was still being taken to faraway destinations instead of just staying at home.
It wasn’t like she could get up to much trouble anyway. Miranda had been
shipped off to boarding school; the bad influence was gone.
    Okay, how am I going to do this?
    Grab a sleeping girl, not wake her up, and
carry her into the Onslow and see the priceless look on Chris’s face. None of
this was going to be easy.
    “Remember hands where I can see them, young
fella,” called Bluey.
    Yep, this was definitely not going to be
easy.

 
    Chapter Three
     
    Melanie
     
    Maybe it was because I could think of
little else that afternoon than knowing that with every white line we left
behind us, we were drawing nearer toward Onslow, toward Max.
    But I could have sworn I had heard his
voice, smelt the deep, rich tone of his aftershave, felt his warmth. It was a
good dream, a nice dream, and a smile slowly pulled at my lips as I stretched
joyously in my bed … wait, what?
    I was in a bed?
    My eyes sprung open wide and roaming,
fixing onto that of a ceiling fan that flicked shadows across my face. I sat
bolt upright in bed, whose bed I was yet to know, as my eyes darted around the
empty room.
    Where the hell was I, and how did I get
here?
    I pulled back the blankets and saw I still
wore my day clothes, but my shoes and socks had been removed and placed near
the door … door!
    I scooted out of bed, diving for the door,
hoping that if I whipped it open fast enough it might shed some light onto
where the hell I was; there might even be a map with a fluoro, flashing arrow
saying … you are here.
    No such luck, as I opened the door and
found myself standing in the middle of a corridor, a long, carpeted corridor
with a series of doors on either side of it. It felt like I was in a horror
movie. I half expected some creepy little kid to be standing at the end of the
hall, staring at me with his dead eyes. I dug my thumbnail into the palm of my
hand, thinking that if I were dreaming the pain would jolt me awake;
unfortunately, there was just pain and the sudden realisation that I was very
much awake.
    I tentatively moved along the hall, my bare
feet skimming along the wool carpet as I made my way to what looked like an
open landing and a staircase. For a moment I had considered that maybe we were
in Onslow, that perhaps we were at