Five Parts Dead Read Online Free Page B

scratches its hip with a claw as it chews. It seems to look straight at me.
    Pip’s face is only centimetres from mine. I lean back, watching her. She’s wearing a shoestring singlet top and light cotton pyjama pants. It’s funny, I’ve never really looked at her before—as in checked her out. I do tend to notice most of the girls in class, and make a point of ‘studying the form guide’, as Carlo used to put it. But I never looked at Pip that way. Maybe because she’s Mel’s mate. Maybe because she seems so feisty—as if she’s too busy saving the world or something. She always seemed sort of sexless.
    Not any more. One of the singlet straps threatens to slide off a freckled shoulder. I hold my breath, willing it downwards. Better still, I’d like to help it on its way. I’d like to move over and slip the other strap off, surf my hands down those curves I’ve never noticed before.
    Suddenly I remember I only have a T-shirt and boxers on. Not good.
    Get a grip, Dan. You’re her best mate’s brother. She’s your sister’s friend. It’s not as if anything could ever happen. No way.
    I lurch upright and topple back onto my bed. As I do, the blind hurtles upwards, scaring the crap out of me. The wallabies skip away.
    â€˜Sorry! Had to stretch this leg—or what’s left of it.’
    Pip grins and freckles dance. ‘Graceful as ever, Dan.’ She hooks a finger around the dangling singlet strap and pulls it up. ‘Remind me not to take you on any nature shoots. So, what was so odd about your night?’
    â€˜Actually, I’ve just remembered I’m a bloke, it’s breakfast time and I’m hungry. D’ya wanna eat?’
    She hurls a pillow at me and then follows as I hobble to the kitchen.

W: REQUIRE MEDICAL ASSISTANCE
    Bored, bored, bloody bored and it’s only 10.45am. Mum and Dad have pissed off to the bird sanctuary. The girls decided to see how far they could make it along one of the hiking trails. I’m sprawled on the couch, books and magazines strewn around me. So far this morning I’ve bathed, sampled almost everything edible in the kitchen and—community service announcement—even put the dishes away. It feels like the others have been gone a week. I stretch out my good leg, flexing the quad. My whole body is tense, twitchy with inactivity. Bugger it, I’m going for a ‘walk’.
    Dad’s left the key to the lighthouse on the kitchen bench. I swing the key ring around my index finger, debating whether to take it. I know Dad wanted me to wait so we could look inside together but he’s not here. I am and I need something to break the monotony.
    The cottage is surrounded by mustard gravel and sand drifts. There’s no actual garden, just mallee scrub slashed on an angle by the weather—Tammar topiary. Wrens titter and squeak from the tangle of twigs.
    I plod around the back of the house, heading for the lighthouse. It’s sunny today but the tetchy wind cuffs me around the ears to let me know it’s keeping an eye on me.
    Halfway to the lighthouse is a shed. I limp over and speed-read a sign in the doorway: the place was a stable for horses used to haul supplies to the lighthouse.
    Whump ! The wind creeps up again and king-hits the shed. Shit! It’s freaking me out, this wind. There are no gentle breezes, just random acts of violence.
    I hear a scrambling, scratching sound and flinch, turning in time to see a rat skitter along a rafter towards the corner of the roof. A rat, Dan. Just a rat. Or maybe one of the rare dunnarts Dad told us to look out for. Why am I so jumpy here?
    It’s the nightmare. Has to be. The goth girl, weeping. Reaching for me. What does it mean? More stuff about the accident?
    Should I have trusted Pip? I really, really don’t want to think about the accident again, let alone talk it over. I’m so sick of reliving that night,