The Missing Pieces of Us Read online

  ‘I know! Actually,’ she glanced at the clock on her bedside table, ‘Skye should have been home by now. I wonder where she is. Have you heard from her?’

  ‘No, not today.’ He gave her bum a gentle slap. ‘Go on, off with you, before I lose control.’

  ‘Is that a promise?’ Lauren looked up at him coyly, enjoying hearing him laugh.

  For a while there was nothing but Lauren, the pavement, her breathing and her music. It pumped through the headphones, filling her mind, and she ran in time with the beat. Hey Violet was her band of choice at the moment—their highly energised music made her feel as though she could run forever.

  Sometimes that was exactly what she wanted to do. If Skye had been particularly awful or there was a problem at school, her run gave her time when she didn’t have to think about how she was going to fix the problem. The track she followed was the same as always: through the park, across the bridge, towards the freeway. It was just footstep after footstep, breath after breath, beat after beat . . .

  Until she turned for home. It was then that worries crowded back in again.

  Dirk was first. Poor little man. Her mind replayed the conversation that she’d had with Zoe at afternoon pickup.

  ‘I’m concerned about Dirk,’ Lauren had said, once they were in her office.

  ‘Why?’ asked Zoe, looking at her passively.

  ‘He’s very tired, and you keep telling me he’s not well.’

  ‘Oh, we’ve had that many colds go through our house in the past few months. Can’t believe how unwell we’ve all been, and it’s not even winter!’

  Lauren leaned forward and spoke quietly. ‘Zoe, the bruises on Dirk’s wrists that I saw today—they’re not caused by colds.’

  Zoe gave a little laugh. ‘Oh, them. One thing about Dirk is that he bruises so easily. He probably just bumped himself when he was playing outside.’

  Lauren couldn’t understand why Zoe was laughing about it. Surely there was a problem here? But she hadn’t wanted to ask more without someone else present. So she’d nodded and smiled, telling Zoe that she was relieved to hear Dirk was going okay before steering the conversation into small talk.

  Taking a ragged breath, Lauren wiped a hand over her forehead as she kept running on autopilot. Even if Zoe was telling the truth—and really, other than the bruises and the long sleeves, she didn’t have reason to think otherwise—there had to be a reason why Dirk did bruise so easily. Didn’t there?

  And what about the ambulance? Of course, she should have cleared that up! Her apprehension about Dirk was sitting like a stone in her stomach.

  From the back of her mind, she heard Fran snort. ‘Kids are nothing but rough and tumble,’ she would have said. ‘You’re making a mountain out of a molehill, Lauren. And be careful that Dirk doesn’t take over your whole mind.’

  Is that what Lauren was doing? Overreacting? Obsessing?

  She remembered her words to Holly: ‘I’m a professional.’

  Yes, she thought, let’s keep it that way.

  The song changed and its drums brought Lauren into another memory—this song had started her argument with Skye on the weekend. The two of them had driven to Connie and George’s for a visit, and Skye had been given control over the car music. Despite her preference for the loudest possible volume, the journey had started off well, both of them singing along and laughing whenever Lauren sang a wrong word.

  Then ‘I Can Feel It’ started, and Skye changed as quickly as a cold front sweeping across the city. ‘Don’t pretend you know the words,’ she sneered as Lauren started to tap the steering wheel and bounce in her seat.

  ‘I’m not pretending,’ Lauren said, looking at her daughter, not understanding. ‘Why would I—?’

  ‘This band is a bit too modern for you, Mother.’ Skye’s sarcasm put Lauren’s teeth on edge.

  ‘What’s got into you?’ she asked. ‘We were just having fun.’

  ‘Is that what you call it?’ Skye turned away and stared out of the window.

  Then Lauren snapped. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Skye. Your behaviour is appalling. One minute you’re lovely to have around, the next you’re horrible. This isn’t how your father and I raised you to be.’ She turned to look at her daughter’s profile, which was set in anger. ‘Anyway, you might think I’m a dinosaur, but I’m not. I’ll prove it, shall I? The song is “I Can Feel It” by Hey Violet.’ Lauren started tapping her fingers again and singing along. ‘Satisfied?’

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Skye shift in her seat. Her face had darkened, resembling a thundercloud about to burst. Lauren had hoped to make her laugh, but she saw her daughter’s lips form what looked like the words ‘fuck you’.

  ‘Sorry?’ Lauren asked in a tight voice. ‘I didn’t catch that.’

  ‘Nothing.’ Skye crossed her arms and turned her back to Lauren.

  A new song began to play. This time Lauren didn’t know the track or the artist. Not another word was said during the drive to Connie and George’s place, and by the time they arrived, Lauren was anxious for a talk with her mum.

  ‘I don’t know what to suggest,’ Connie said as they wandered around the backyard, pointing out new agapanthus blooms. ‘You were our only one. None of our friends had any major trouble with their teenagers.’ Connie snipped a couple of summer roses to take back inside. ‘Do you think she’s taking drugs?’

  A heavy feeling sat in Lauren’s gut as the question penetrated her brain. Instantly, without thinking, she answered no. She scratched her arm in distress and felt the small pimple back there. Quickly she took her hand away—she didn’t want to make it bleed on her white shirt.

  ‘Can you be sure?’ Connie asked. ‘After all, the TV shows and newspapers all say the same thing: their behaviour changes. They become withdrawn and secretive, don’t they? From what I see, that’s all happening here.’

  Lauren crossed her arms. ‘She hasn’t got any money, Mum. How could she buy drugs?’

  Connie turned to Lauren and smiled reassuringly, and Lauren couldn’t help but smile back. Connie was getting older—she was nearly eighty. Not able to imagine what she’d do when her mum and dad weren’t around anymore, Lauren quickly put that thought from her mind. They were both active and spritely, so she shouldn’t have even been thinking along those lines. They’d been her rock for forty-seven years.

  After reading horror stories of adopted children being treated as second-class citizens, Lauren had often questioned what her life would have been like if she’d ended up with a different family.

  Connie gave her arm a gentle squeeze. ‘I’m not saying that she is on drugs. She’s most likely being a normal, pain-in-the-neck teenager. You just need to keep loving her, but with boundaries in place. It’s all you can do.’

  How does Mum always know the right thing to say? Lauren thought now. I never seem to. Look how I reacted to Skye that day.

  She slowed to a walk as her street came into view. Tonight she’d try to have a proper chat with Skye. She wished that, back in the car on the weekend, she hadn’t reacted so quickly and sounded so irritated. She had to be patient with her daughter.

  At her front gate, she pulled off her headphones, put her hands on the fence and stretched out her calf muscles. A few more cool-down exercises and she was ready for a shower. ‘I’m back!’ she called as the smell of dinner hit her from inside.

  ‘I’m in the study, catching up on a couple of work things!’ Dean called back.

  ‘I’m off for a shower. Is Skye home?’

  ‘Yeah, she’s in her room.’

  Lauren tapped on Skye’s bedroom door and waited for her to answer before opening it. ‘Hi,’ Skye said from her bed. She was stretched out, one earbud in, the other trailing over her shoulder. Her legs rested high on the wall.

  ‘Comfortable?’ Lauren asked. It didn’t look that way.

  ‘Yup.’ Skye turned around and sat up.

  Lauren noticed that she slid her iPhone under her leg as she did so. Was she h
iding something? ‘What have you got there?’ Lauren pointed at the iPhone.

  ‘Nothing, just my music,’ Skye said protectively.

  ‘How was your day?’ Lauren tried again.

  ‘Fine. Nothing different. What about yours?’

  ‘It was okay. Very busy, you know—reports, keeping an eye on kids, talking to parents. I’ve got a lot of responsibilities this year.’ She thought if she talked more, maybe Skye would too.

  But her daughter just crossed her arms and flopped down on the bed.

  What? Lauren wondered. What did I do wrong there?

  Skye had completely shut down. Lauren could see it in her face. It was as though she’d been receiving a lecture for ten minutes and didn’t care anymore—she wasn’t going to listen. Why?

  What Lauren wanted to do was sink down on Skye’s bed and talk to her—really talk, not just exchange monosyllables. Ask her why she didn’t want to open up. Ask what was bothering her. Tell her that her parents loved her more than life itself.

  But Skye wasn’t inviting that. Not at all.

  Lauren remembered what it was like to be a teenager. All the mixed-up feelings and uncertainty. Being stuck halfway between childhood and adulthood. It was no man’s land—a world swimming with emotion, passion, hatred. Every tiny feeling was exaggerated and intense.

  If only she could tell Skye that she remembered. But no teenager could ever believe that their parents had been young before them, so Lauren just let her hand rest on Skye’s upside-down head and hoped her gaze conveyed everything she wanted to get across to her daughter.

  Then, as she left the room to have a shower, her thoughts returned to Dirk and his mother. She couldn’t seem to help mulling it over. She’d need to do everything she could to protect that little boy. He was partly her responsibility.

  ‘Hey Dad, what’s goin’ on?’ Stu asked as he came through the kitchen door and slapped Dean on the shoulder. He smiled at Lauren, who was slicing a capsicum for a salad. ‘Hi Mum. Mmm, something smells good.’

  ‘Nothing special—just spaghetti and meatballs in tomato sauce,’ Dean said, stirring the rich red mixture in the saucepan.

  ‘How was your day, Mum?’ Stu asked as he tried to grab a piece of cucumber she’d cut, but she knocked his hand away.

  ‘Get away with you! Dinner’s nearly ready. Great. And how was yours?’

  Stu gave a detailed description of how a little girl he’d been teaching had had an ‘accident’ in the pool, and the powers that be had needed to ‘shit, sorry, shut the pool down’. The laughter around the kitchen filled Lauren with happiness.

  She looked at Dean, and they shared a secret smile. This is what she thought being a family was all about—being friends too. Now all they needed was for Skye to join them.

  As if Lauren’s thoughts had summoned her daughter, she heard a door slam and footsteps on the stairs. Stu made a frightened face and said, in an exaggerated whisper, ‘She walks . . . Which beast will we face today?’

  ‘Stu!’ Dean growled at him just before Skye came in. ‘Give it a rest.’

  Skye threw herself into a chair at the table and slumped forward, her head resting on her arms, a pout on her face. ‘What’s for tea?’

  ‘Hi family, it’s good to see you. How are you?’ Stu said.

  Skye fixed him with a hard stare.

  ‘Spaghetti and meatballs,’ Dean said. ‘Are you hungry?’

  Silence filled the room, and it became quite clear that Skye wasn’t going to respond. Stu exhaled and got up from the table with a grumpy sigh.

  Lauren glanced over from the bench where she was still preparing the salad.

  ‘Skye?’ Dean asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It would be nice if you could answer my question.’

  ‘Like any normal person,’ Stu put in.

  ‘Get stuffed, Golden Boy.’

  Lauren quickly raised her hands and moved between them. ‘Steady on, kids. You’re at each other’s throats, and you haven’t been in the same room for five seconds. At least try to last a minute, please!’ God, this was the last thing she needed tonight—bickering between the kids. All she wanted was to have a nice meal with her family, then watch TV and go to bed. She hoped she’d be able to forget her anxiety about Dirk when she was asleep. Maybe it was making her more snappy than usual.

  She looked at Skye. ‘How about you answer the question?’ she said evenly.

  Skye shrugged. ‘Yeah, I’m a bit hungry, okay?’

  ‘Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?’ Dean said.

  Lauren put her hands on her hips. ‘If you weren’t fourteen, I’d send you to bed without any dinner. Really, Skye, you could be civil.’

  After dinner, when Skye went back to her room and lay on her bed, she wondered if she’d seemed any different to her family. Could they tell what she’d been doing with Billy? She was sure her mum had looked at her strangely as everyone had sat down to eat. What would her mum do if she did, in fact, actually know? More to the point, what would her dad do?

  And why had her mum come into her room earlier? That had just been weird. Usually she was too busy rushing here, there and everywhere to do more than put her head in the door and say hello. Why had she stopped to talk today? Especially considering that she then rambled on about how busy and responsible she was. Skye didn’t care: she already knew that. Meanwhile, her mum might have guessed that something had changed, but really she had no clue.

  A couple of hours ago, Billy had skipped basketball training so he could pick her up behind the school. He’d loosened his tie and untucked his shirt. To Skye, he looked like the ultimate Bad Boy. A Bad Boy who liked her—a teacher’s daughter!

  Billy’s best mate, Tristen, had winked at her this afternoon, when they’d passed each other in the hallway between classes. Skye hadn’t understood why. Was Tristen saying that he knew what was going on between Billy and Skye, or was he flirting with her? She’d thought about asking Billy, but he was never keen to talk about his mates or his life outside the time he spent with her—he just wanted to kiss.

  Sometimes that annoyed Skye. She wanted to talk about school gossip and where the two of them would be in a couple of years. She wanted to joke about teachers and schoolwork. But aside from the way Billy kept asking her to hide their relationship, she did most of the talking and he did most of the stroking.

  Tonight, he’d dropped her off at the bus stop closest to her house. He would have taken her right to her front gate, but he thought it was too dangerous. ‘Your mum and dad might be home, and they can’t see us. I’d get into trouble.’

  ‘I can make my own decisions,’ she said. ‘Mum and Dad won’t stop me.’

  Billy put his hands on her face and stared straight into her eyes. ‘Listen to me. You can’t say anything to anyone. Promise me.’

  Grudgingly, she promised. But why should she have to? Hadn’t he told Tristen? An insistent little voice whispered that if Billy really loved her, he wouldn’t mind being seen with her. She still had a horrible, nagging feeling that she wasn’t ‘cool’ enough for his mates and that this was all some kind of joke.

  But, no, it couldn’t be—Billy loved her. He’d told her so. And she loved him. She needed to tell those little utterings in her head to shut up.

  When Adele had made a flippant comment about Billy and a heap of others in his group being ‘fuckboys’, it had taken everything in Skye’s power not to say anything. He isn’t! she wanted to scream. You don’t know the real him!

  ‘I heard,’ Adele had leaned over and whispered, ‘Billy’s mate, Dicko, made it with two tarts last weekend. As if any girl would go near that lot.’

  Skye had wanted to put her hands over her ears. But she hadn’t, and she was very proud of her self-control. That made her more mature than the others. She was mature enough for Billy, wasn’t she? Once she’d proven it to him, he would finally agree that she could tell her friends.

  Lying on her bed, she remembered the way he’d run his hands
over her neck and shoulders and then across her breasts. She hadn’t wanted to tell him that she felt funny about that—all excited and scared and apprehensive and guilty. So, instead, she’d taken deep, shuddering breaths and concentrated on how it felt.

  She’d read about sex in all her gran’s secret Mills & Boon novels. One day, when the two of them had been searching for a piece of family history in her grandparents’ shed, Skye had opened a box full of thin, small books. The covers featured ladies in beautiful dresses, swooning into the arms of handsome men. ‘Don’t tell your grandfather,’ Gran had whispered. ‘These are my little secret—my escape from real life.’ She held a gnarled finger to her lips.

  After that, whenever they’d visited Gran and Gramps in Margaret River, Skye had snuck down to the shed and slipped a couple of books into her backpack, reading them furtively back at home. Even at fourteen, she knew that Mills & Boon romances never happened in ‘real life’. But it was fun to read the graphic parts and learn.

  Skye had also watched a bit of porn on her iPhone. She’d googled it when nobody had been in the house, because she was sure her mum would have got that self-righteous look on her face if she’d walked in. The one she always got when Skye did something she didn’t approve of—the one she rarely used on Stu.

  Anyway, those porn videos were a bit yucky. Skye couldn’t imagine how that kind of sex would feel nice, but the women’s moans made her think it must be okay. Watching it had given her a funny feeling between her legs. When she touched herself, she couldn’t believe the pleasure that rippled through her whole body. But she was sure it would be a hundred times better when she and Billy did it together.

  Tonight they’d come very close. They’d parked under a deep grove of trees in the abandoned quarry. Skye was so nervous; she pressed herself against the door of the passenger seat. ‘Hey, I won’t hurt you,’ Billy said. ‘I love you.’

  It was on the tip of her tongue to say that she was scared, but she didn’t. She wanted him to think that she was a woman of the world, one who could match his seventeen years, even at fourteen.