Being Jazmine (Invisible Series Book 3) Read online

  It comes to me immediately. It’s perfect, but I have to think for a second, to get the right signs before I show her.

  What do you love?

  “You always say it,” I tell her. “At meals. Now you can sign it.”

  I show her again, more slowly. She copies me, intent on getting it right.

  “Show me that part again?”

  I do it once more. “Like this. Yes, that’s it.”

  She gets it, and she signs it three times in a row.

  What do you love?

  What do you love?

  What do you love?

  I drop my hands and go to reach into the cupboard for a glass — I’m thirsty — when she says, “Well, aren’t you going to answer it? I asked you a question.”

  “Oh,” I say, and I smile. “I mean, right.”

  I think hard for a moment. What did we eat? I skipped dinner, and I can’t think of the sign for sandwich, from lunch time. There’s a pomegranate in the fruit bowl, so I point to it, and then shake my head.

  “I don’t know what it is.” My hands and arms feel heavy suddenly. Pressured. Like I’m a puppet and someone is trying to move them around with strings or rods. “You can ask the question but I can’t answer it. Because I don’t know.”

  And then the old weight and tiredness comes down on my shoulders again.

  I don’t know enough sign language. I don’t know enough about anything.

  All I know is that things need to change, but I don’t know how to make that happen.

  Chapter 6

  After ten more days of sleeping, eating, Gabby and beach, Grandma drives me up the coast.

  Home.

  Even from the outside, when we pull up in the car, it looks different for some reason. Mum and Geoff are back; both their cars are parked in the driveway. There’s a new potplant on the front steps — an azalea. I stop to read the label, because I always read plant labels. It says it will be bright pink when it flowers. I slide my hand into the pocket of my jeans and play with Mum’s bracelet.

  “Do you want me to come in?” Grandma asks, and I’m not sure what to say. How is this all going to work, now that Geoff’s here? I open my mouth, but Grandma cuts in over me.

  “I’ll come in,” she says. She reaches over and pats my hand. “The worst thing about doing something for the first time, is doing it for the first time. After that, it’s easier.”

  We knock, just to let them know we’re there, but I turn the handle anyway, at exactly the same time someone else turns it inside, and then the door is swung widely open and both Grandma and I are caught up in a hug, big and warm, from Geoff.

  “Yes, it’s them,” he calls out, back down the hallway, into the kitchen, where Mum must be. I didn’t hear her question, but when he lets us go, I’m looking past him to find her, and then she’s rushing out of the door, towards me, and she hugs me so hard she nearly picks me up. My feet are barely touching the ground.

  “Jaz!” There’s a kiss on my cheek, and another hug and then she lets me go, holding me out so she can see me properly. “Have you grown?” she says, with delight. “Look, Geoff. I think she’s even grown. In just two weeks.” She takes Grandma’s hand in hers. “And thank you, Gloria, for all you’ve done. For having her, for the driving… everything.”

  “Yes, thank you.” Geoff’s voice booms in. “We really appreciate it.” He puts his arm around Mum. “Come in. Can we get you a drink?”

  Grandma stays for three minutes, drinks a glass of water, and then she doesn’t stay any more; she says she needs to get back because she doesn’t like driving in the dark. She leaves, and I hug her before she goes. I know she’s happy, but I know she’s sad, too, and I understand, because I feel the same way.

  Happy. Sad.

  Different.

  Changed.

  Mum’s changed. It’s in the way she speaks — quicker, and lighter perhaps. She smiles more; when Geoff walks into the room, she’s all alert, like someone’s pressed a button in her that reads ‘Be Happy Now’. But it’s not fake happiness. It’s actually real. My mum is happy, and I’ve never seen her like this before.

  I’ve changed too. I notice it as I watch her cook dinner, and as the three of us eat together ‘as a family’ for the first time. Mum says the words out loud; she wants us to hold hands and give thanks, and Geoff gives her a sappy smile in reply. I feel choppy, all in pieces, somehow. My appetite falls away and I have to take deliberate bites and chew determined mouthfuls of the schnitzel Mum serves up.

  After I ask to leave the table and stand up, I notice the change in the way I see things — as though everything’s shifted slightly, or it’s shifting even while I’m looking. Maybe the extra centimetre Mum reckons I’ve grown has given me a different perspective, but I think it’s more than that. It’s everything; the new potplant, the piles of wedding presents I caught out of the corner of my eye, in Mum’s room, the smell of Geoff’s aftershave, just lingering. It’s the way the light catches differently with the furniture moved around. It’s Mum herself. I knew things would be different, even though she told me that they wouldn’t be, almost every day, for weeks before the wedding.

  “Nothing’s going to change between us, Jaz. I’m still me. You’re still you. We’re just getting an addition, that’s all.” She said it over and over, but she must have known it could never be true.

  I touch the bracelet in my pocket. “I’ll go unpack now, okay?”

  There’s a tiny pause where I can see Mum give Geoff a look, and him return a similar look to her.

  Is she okay?

  Should I say something?

  Do you want me to…?

  No, just leave her.

  “Of course, sweetheart,” says Mum.

  “Do what you need to do,” says Geoff.

  Both their voices are happy. But suddenly, all I want to do is to sleep. I unpack my bag, go outside and water my garden, and then get into bed.

  “Are you alright, Jaz?” Mum sticks her head around the door. “Tired from the drive up?”

  “I guess,” I say.

  She comes in and sits on my bed. “How was it?”

  I shuffle up so I can see her better. “Good. I mean, fine. I saw Gabby a lot.”

  “Did you get to the beach?” she asks. “Were there any warm days?”

  “Not really,” I say. “Not for swimming. But we walked there a lot.” Immediately a picture of five teenagers comes rolling into my head. Five teenagers, laughing and joking together. Five teenagers, like me.

  “I saw some other kids,” I say, but Mum has turned her head, like she’s listening.

  “Coming,” she says loudly, in the direction of the door. “I’m just in with Jazmine.” She turns back to me. “Other kids? Gabby’s friends, you mean?”

  “Not really,” I say. “They were kind of on the beach…” but Mum’s attention has gone again. She’s scrolling through her phone.

  “Did you see any pictures from the wedding?” she asks. “There was a lovely one someone texted through, of you. You looked very soulful. Here, I’ll show you…”

  “Are there any more of you and me together?” I ask, and she stops scrolling for a moment.

  “Ohmigosh, you know, I don’t think there are.” She looks worried. “I can’t believe that got missed.” She goes back to the phone. “But here’s the one of you.”

  I look at it. She’s right. It is ‘soulful’, whatever that means. Maybe a combination of alone and — I hardly like to admit it — beautiful?

  “It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” says Mum. “That dress was just right for you.”

  I nod. I can’t take my eyes off the picture. Is it really me? If it is, I’ve changed too.

  But I already knew that.

  “The kids I saw, on the beach.” I put my hand on Mum’s arm. “They were doing…” But it’s too late. Mum is already looking past me and standing up. “I’m sorry, darling. I’ve just got to go out and take a phone call. Geoff’s calling me.” She rushes fo
r the door. “I’ll be back in a minute, okay?”

  “Don’t worry,” I say. I shuffle back down in my bed, so my head is on the pillow again. “I’m going to sleep.”

  She peers back at me, like she’s worried or something. “Are you sure?”

  “Sure I’m sure,” I say. I put it in a happy voice so she doesn’t get worried. “I’m just tired. From the trip, you know.”

  “Okay.” She steps forward and kisses me on my hair. “Well, good night then.”

  “Good night.”

  Chapter 7

  For a while, everything goes back to normal.

  I’m back at school. Up in the morning, getting dressed, packing my lunch, out the door with a kiss to Mum and a wave to Geoff, who are on their way to work. I’m on the bus, in the playground, working in class. Then back on the bus, back through the door, back in my room. Dinner, homework, out in the garden. Bed. Wake. And around it goes again.

  And then, Miss Fraser turns up.

  It’s been a whole year since I’ve seen her, since the play. Since she changed everything about me. And then she went on leave, and I’ve missed her every single day.

  I see her first in the drama room, through a classroom window. My heart does a front flip of joy, but I have to hold it down. Olivia and Caitlin, on their way with me to the canteen to get a sandwich, might think I’m weird. Excited about seeing a teacher again. Really?

  But then, I’m not really normal, right?

  I run into Miss Fraser again in the H block corridor, leaving maths and heading to English.

  “Jazmine.” She taps me on the shoulder. I swing around in surprise.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello,” she laughs. “How are you?”

  I’m a mixture of confused and delighted, but I’m not telling her that. “Good, thanks.” I look down at her stomach. I thought maternity leave was supposed to make people fatter. She looks exactly the same as she did before. “Did you have the…?” I begin. “I mean, where’s the…” I stop in confusion and grin, because I know she won’t mind what I say. “Did you have a baby?”

  “I did.” She digs in her bag and pulls out a phone. “A little boy. See?”

  The picture of him is so gorgeous it makes me feel all gooey and melty. “So cute,” I tell her.

  “I’m only back part-time,” she says. “Doing Year 7 and Year 10 drama. So I won’t have you in my class, unfortunately.” She makes a pretend sad face, but I know she actually is sad, so I feel warm inside.

  “Are you doing any more plays?” If she is, I’ll try out for a part. I’ll even just turn up to practice and move boxes around if that’s what’s needed. Apart from my mum, Grandma and Gabby, Miss Fraser may just be my favourite person in the whole world.

  “No time,” she says. “Plays take up all the extra hours on your weekend, and babies need time. I just can’t do it right now.” Around us the crowd of kids is thinning out. I need to be going to English, but I don’t want to go.

  “Things all good with you?” Miss Fraser asks. “Going well?”

  “My mum got married.” I blurt it out, like I’ve been holding it in for far too long. “And there were kids speaking Auslan on the beach.” I stop, confused. “I have to go, sorry. English. I’m going to be late.” And then I hoist my backpack up on my shoulder and walk away quickly. I’m embarrassed, with a sick feeling in my stomach. Not because of what I said, but because of the way I said it. Like I couldn’t stop, I just had to say those things. Like I would have burst if I didn’t.

  In English, I quietly turn off my hearing aid. I sit at the back, write in my book, and pretend to look busy so the teacher won’t call on me. I’m missing class, even though I’m there, but I can’t help it. I just need to be quiet for a little while, before I turn everything on and have to start pretending to be me again.

  At home, that afternoon, Mum has news.

  “The date for settlement has come through,” she says, with a massive smile right across her face.

  I look at her like she’s crazy. “Settlement?”

  “The house!” She makes a face at me, like I’m the crazy one. “You know? The date we get to move into the new house.”

  “Oh.” I try to smile. “That’s good, right?”

  “It’s not good, it’s great.” She’s smiling so hard, it’s like she’s trying to make the corners of my mouth turn up just by sheer force of will. “We get to move. Finally.” She gestures around her, like she’s showing me our kitchen for the first time. “So much nicer than this.”

  My eyes follow her hand. Our little green kitchen, with its simple white curtains at the window, paint scratched off the cupboard doors, lino coming up at the corners. I like this kitchen. It’s plain. It’s simple. It’s not… trying to be what it’s not.

  The kitchen at the new house is bigger, that’s true. It has tiles. It has a bench top that’s cold, and hard, maybe some kind of stone? I don’t know. Mum loved it when we first had a look at the place. She gasped and cooed and held Geoff’s hand super tight. I smiled too, because I knew she’d want me to. And yes, it was beautiful. Of course it was.

  It just wasn’t my kitchen.

  “It’ll be lovely,” I said.

  “I know, won’t it?” Mum buzzed around, finding things for tea and a piece of toast. “I’m so excited. So much more room. Your bedroom will be twice the size. And more storage! I might even get to set up the spare bedroom to do yoga.”

  My mum has never done yoga in her life. Not that I’ve ever seen, anyway.

  “And the garden! You’re going to love it.” She’s so enthusiastic. Words are pouring out of her mouth and her eyes are all bright. Almost as bright as when she looks at Geoff. “No need to try and make things grow out of concrete any more. And the space! So much room.” She stops and looks at me. “You could have anything you like. Vegetables. Shrubs. The whole nursery, if you want.”

  I breathe in heavily and smile. “Great.”

  Mum puts a piece of honey toast in front of me. “You must be hungry. Here.”

  I put it up to my mouth, and I bite and chew, but I can’t really taste anything. The thought of moving is filling my stomach, coating my mouth.

  More change.

  More things to get used to.

  All over again.

  I eat half the toast, and then hold the plate out to Mum. “I’ll take it with me and finish it, okay?”

  She nods. Fine. So I go to my room, and then out to my garden, where I pull sixty three separate weeds out, with more energy than the task really deserves. An hour later, I notice the half piece of toast still unfinished on my desk, next to my phone. And it’s then that I realise that I didn’t even find out about the main thing that Mum was so excited about.

  I didn’t ask her the date of settlement.

  I have no idea when we’re moving.

  Out in the kitchen, I can hear the grumble of Geoff’s loud voice and deep muffled scrapes: chairs moving around. There are smells of deliciousness seeping in through the cracks around my door. Dinner time. I put my phone in my pocket and go to open the door, but something stops me.

  A buzz, by my hip.

  My phone.

  I pull it out and look at it. A text. From Grandma.

  A smile comes over my face, and I go back to my bed, to sit down and read it.

  But I don’t sit. When I read her words, I jump up, and I keep jumping up and down while I read. And then I stand very still, nervous. Hardly daring to breathe, with terror and delight fighting each other in my chest.

  I carefully put my hand on the door knob and open it. And then I go out to talk to Mum and Geoff.

  Dinner is butter chicken, but not the kind that Mum used to make, straight out of a packet into the oven, with heated up frozen vegetables on the side, easy and quick. Butter chicken, the way Geoff makes it, is something different entirely. It fills the house with amazing smells, sizzles its way onto our plates, and makes our mouths happier than they’ve ever been before. Geoff make
s salads, he makes dressings, he pours wine for Mum and sparkling water for me.

  My appetite is back.

  I wait until we’ve started eating before I talk about Grandma’s text. No point ruining the mood before I need to. Not that the mood has to be ruined, and not that I think it will be definitely ruined, but I feel nervous about what their reactions might be. Not just Geoff’s reaction either. It’s Mum’s reaction too.

  I take a deep breath.

  “So Grandma sent me a text just now.”

  “That’s nice,” says Geoff. He gives me a big smile. Trying hard to be nice, I find myself thinking. Keeping things pleasant in the new family. I kick myself. That was mean. He is nice. And I appreciate that he’s trying.

  “She told me about a camp, near her.”

  Mum turned her head to me, eyebrows up. Interested. “Who’s it for? Is it like, an outdoors kind of thing?”

  I keep my head low, face to my plate. “Teenagers. That’s all I know, really. I’d like to go.”

  Mum shrugs, like, why not? She looks at Geoff with that adult question-answer face they do.

  Do you think so?

  I don’t see why it would be a problem.

  “I think it would be great, sweetheart,” she says. “You know I’m always happy for you to get out and meet people. It’s nice to see you interested in things.” She wipes her mouth with her napkin. “Is there a website with the information? What are the dates?”

  This is one of the parts I don’t want to tell her. I put my head down again, trying to avoid her eyes. “From a Thursday to Saturday. The fourteenth, I think.”

  There’s a pause. I can’t see them, but I know Mum and Geoff are looking at each other again.

  “The fourteenth of next month?”

  “Uh huh.” I swallow. Mum doesn’t seem to be focusing on the part I was worried about: the fact that the camp means I have to take two days off school.

  “But the fourteenth is the settlement date. That’s the day we move. We were just talking about it.” Mum’s voice is rising, with a tone of frustration.

  I raise my head and see Geoff making calm down signs at her. Trying to keep the peace.