The Accident Read Online Free Page B

just don’t want to be here anymore. I suck in a breath to try to fight down the panic. Force my hands to stay steady as I lift my print out of the developer and drop it into the stop bath. ‘No. Just me.’
    I’m not prepared for the blinding sunlight. It’s a shock after the darkroom. I have to put a hand up to shield my face and wait for my eyes to adjust. The bell has just gone for the end of recess and there’s movement everywhere, pushing and shoving and noise. Too much.
    I’m supposed to have English now. I feel the anxiety rise back up at the thought of group discussions. Part of me can see it’s interesting, the intricacies of plot and theme. The rest of me can’t think of anything more pointless than discussing Othello’s evolving frame of mind. Part of me realises that, ultimately, stuff like that doesn’t actually matter.
    Almost before I’ve made a conscious decision I’ve started to push my way through the traffic. I duck around the corner of the library then head past the hall. I’ve never, ever jigged school before, but somehow the thought of getting into trouble for it doesn’t bother me. I’m not even worried that I might get caught. I just know I can’t sit through English right now.
    It takes me almost an hour to walk home. It’s stinking hot and I’m sweating, and my folder and bag are weighed down with books and textbooks, and my leg is really hurting, but I don’t care. I feel free again. I feel like I could easily just not go back. Maybe I won’t.
    The house is cool and quiet, but too empty. I change out of my uniform and take Iago and we head down into the bush, tramping along the overgrown path, trying to keep in the tree-shade. Even so, by the time we get to the creek I have sweat again in every crevice and Iago is panting, his whole body wobbling with the effort. I climb up onto my favourite fallen red gum and sit straddling it over the water, watching the insects zip across the water’s surface, darting and diving, while Iago snuffles in the undergrowth. My leg is aching from too much walking and I stretch it out along the log, trying not to think about it, about anything. The sweat on my skin starts to cool and my legs itch from the long grass, but I feel better than I have anywhere else. I close my eyes, listening to the birdsongs and cicadas and Iago as he scavenges.
    And I think about that stormy night, about the man. The one the doctors said saved my life. I wonder what he’s doing now, and if I’ll see him again.
    ‘Would he think that was weird, Yago?’
    He looks up at me, ears pricked. I smile. ‘What do you reckon? Or will he just think I’m a kid with a crush?’
    I don’t remember much, but I remember the way he talked to me. It hurt so much that I felt like I was drowning, and his words were the only thing I had to hang onto, the only thing that kept me from giving up and letting myself be swallowed up by the pain, giving up and going with Robbie. I remember his eyes and feeling like I could trust him, that I could literally put my life in his hands, and that he would keep me safe.
    I get home and Alan meets me at the door. ‘I’m going to pick up dinner. You want to drive?’
    He asks me that every time he goes on an errand, as if my previous flat-out refusals haven’t been clear enough. I shake my head. ‘I’m fine. I’ve got homework to do.’
    He won’t give up that easily. ‘You can’t avoid it forever, you know.’
    ‘You wanna bet?’
    He’s already tried all the arguments on me, the get-back-on-the-horse encouragement. It doesn’t work. Even with the way my leg is, I’d rather walk and catch public transport. Being in a car still scares me, even if I’m with Mum or Alan. I still catch myself sometimes, in the passenger seat, feeling the panic start to rise up as we approach an intersection, and I look down and realise I’m holding on so tight my fingers are white.
    I used to be spontaneous. Careless, Mum would say. Now I stress over