“He can be a little moody sometimes, but he’s a really good guy. Besides, I’m probably the last thing Rad needs right now.”
“Or,” said Candela, giving me a long, meaningful look, “you could be exactly what he needs.”
I arrived home late that afternoon to the smell of chicken soup wafting through the house. My mother came out of the kitchen, undoing her apron and sliding it over her head.
“Oh good, you’re home. I was going to take some chicken soup over to Duck, but you can if you want to.”
“Okay,” I said.
I followed her into the kitchen, putting my school bag down on a chair. She ruffled through the cupboards and found an old thermos. After rinsing it in the sink, she carefully spooned in the soup with a ladle and screwed it shut tight. She wiped at the sides with a cloth and then handed it to me. “Here,” she said. I tucked the thermos under my arm and set out on the short walk to Duck’s house.
Duck’s mother, Zoe, answered the door on the third knock. “Audrey!” she said, smiling brightly. “Come in.” She opened the door wider and I followed her inside.
Each time I walked through Duck’s front door, I was greeted with a picture of the two of us that Zoe had hung in the entrance of the hallway. We were thirteen, and our mothers had entered us into a local ballroom dancing competition. In the photo, Duck was in a hideous powder-blue suit, and I was wearing a strange sequined dress my mother had sewn for me. It always made me cringe.
“How is Duck feeling?” I asked.
Zoe rolled her eyes. “You know what he’s like.”
“Man flu?” It was a private joke between us.
“Exactly,” she laughed. “He’s a bit grumpy, but maybe you can cheer him up.”
“I’ll try,” I said, with a weak smile.
Duck was sitting up in his bed playing Grand Theft Auto.
“Hey,” he said, eyes glued to the screen.
“Hi.” I sat down on the edge of his bed and put the thermos on the ground. “I brought Mum’s chicken soup.”
“Oh great,” he said, his tone sarcastic. “I’ve been craving chicken-flavored water all day.”
“You get so grouchy when you’re sick,” I said, ruffling his hair.
“So what’s the story about you leaving with Ana’s boyfriend after the reception?”
“God, word travels fast around here,” I mumbled, looking away.
He paused his game and put down his controller.
“So what’s the story?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. We were just talking. No big deal.”
“No big deal? You took off with some guy you’d never even met before, and it’s no big deal?”
“His girlfriend just died; I think he just wanted someone to talk to, okay?” I could feel Duck’s eyes boring into me, and I turned to meet his gaze. I could tell by his expression he had been brooding about it all day. He looked a little off-color, and there was a patch of rough stubble on his chin. Despite that, he was still as handsome as ever. His hair was dark brown and scruffy, and his eyes were a dreamy blue.
“What did you talk about?” Duck asked. He had always been jealous of me around other boys.
“Stuff, I guess. I don’t know. Things that friends usually talk about.”
“So you’re friends now?” he said, his tone irate.
I glared at him. “I’m allowed to have friends, Duck.”
“Sure, next time I’m at a party, I’ll just leave with some random girl and make her my new friend.”
“It wasn’t a party,” I said, my voice rising. “It was a funeral.”
“What’s the difference?” he challenged.
“It’s just different.”
“How?”
“Oh, forget it. You wouldn’t understand.”
“And I suppose he does?”
I stood up. “What’s the matter with you?” I said angrily. “We just hung out; it’s not a big deal. His girlfriend just died, and I think that would be the only thing on his mind.”
“Right,” said Duck, with a shrug of his shoulders. He looked away. “Whatever.”
“Look, you’re just sick and feeling like shit. I get it. But you don’t have to be jealous of Rad.”
“So, he has a name.”
“Can you stop?”
“Stop what?” He looked defiant.
“Stop being a jerk about this whole thing. I did nothing wrong, and you know it.”
He looked at me for a few moments, a blank expression on his face. Then, he sighed and said in a resigned voice, “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I said tightly.
“It’s just that I’ve been stuck in my room all day, and I hear all this stuff about my girlfriend going off with some guy. How do you expect me to feel?”
“It’s not like I planned it, you know. It just happened that way.” I threw my hands in the air and sat back down on the edge of Duck’s bed.
He picked up the PlayStation controller and began playing his game again. “So how is he doing, anyway?”
“He’s okay, I suppose. I’m sure he and Ana were really close. I mean, I can’t imagine how I would feel if I were in his shoes.”
“Me neither,” said Duck quietly. He glanced up at me. “You know, I still can’t get my head around what happened to Ana. She was there last week. She lent me a pen in English class. How can someone go from lending a pen to being dead?” I felt the room spin a little, and I clutched the sky-blue comforter on Duck’s bed. “Do you ever think about not existing?” he continued, missing my sudden bout of anxiety. “I mean, doesn’t the concept terrify you?”
“Of course it does.”
“I remember when I was twelve. My dad was talking about someone’s kid at work who choked on a piece of apple and died. I think it traumatized me. I mean, I kept obsessing about death after that. To the point where I was sick about it. Like, imagine that. Not being anything.”
“It’s a scary thought,” I agreed.
“It’s like The NeverEnding Story. You know, how the Nothing starts to take over.”
I nodded, thinking back to the day at the lake, my unconscious body settling down among the moss-covered rocks, an audience of tiny fish darting anxiously to and fro. How long would it have taken for my life to ebb away? What if Duck didn’t find me on the second dive down? What if it had been the third, the fourth? Would it have been too late? If Duck hadn’t saved me that day, would Ana still be here?
I looked at Duck, his eyes fixed to the screen. Sirens and radio static boomed from the television set. A car chase was under way. I tried to imagine how I would feel if the shoe was on the other foot and Duck had left Ana’s funeral with another girl. I felt nothing—not even a pang of jealousy. Was it because he never gave me reason to doubt his feelings for me? Why was he always doubting mine?
“So,” he said, casting a sidelong glance at me, “are you going to keep hanging out with this new friend of yours?”
I stood up, my fists clenched tightly at my sides. “Look, stop trying to pick a fight with me, okay? I’ve been having a rough time lately; you know that.”
“Audrey, you were never that close to Ana,” he pointed out. “I mean, Candela seems to be handling this better than you, and they were really close.”
“Hey,” I said defensively. “Some kid you didn’t even know died from choking on a piece of fruit, and it messed you up, so maybe this is the same thing for me.”
He was quiet for a few moments.
“I guess,” he said finally.
“Anyway, I should head back before it gets dark.”
“Okay.”
“Are you going to school tomorrow?” Duck and I were both in our final term at Barrett, one of the few co-ed private schools in North Sydney. It was a short bus ride from Three Oaks and where most families in our town sent their kids.