Saving Francesca

Luca sits on the arm of her chair and shows her his art portfolio.

“Eddings, obviously, and Irvine. Heard of him?” Jimmy asks. “And of course the Obernewtyn stuff.”

Mia looks up from the portfolio as I put some toast in front of her.

“Are you a fantasy reader, Rob?” Jimmy asks my dad, who’s been standing at the door, watching.

“I don’t have much time to read, Jim.”

I can see my mum’s mouth twitching and it gives me a bit of hope. My father always seems a bit tense when Jimmy is around. I don’t know whether it’s because Jimmy’s a guy or because Jimmy gets more of a reaction out of my mum than anyone else, but his coldness makes me feel on edge.

“I’d read fantasy if they had simple names like Jane and Bob from Wagga,” I say. “Why does it have to be Tehrana and Bihaad from the World of Sceehina?”

Jimmy looks at my mother and rolls his eyes. “No wonder they call her a bimbo behind her back.”

And my mum laughs.

And because of that, Mark Viduka, the soccer player, stops being my brother’s hero, and Luca and Pinocchio run after Jimmy like he’s their idol.

“Don’t you ever wonder why she’s always in her nightgown?” I ask Jimmy as I’m walking him up to the bus stop. He looks at me. Not like Will looks at me or the way Thomas perves. He just looks, and I don’t know why, but I get tears in my eyes.

“It just means she’s not going anywhere. What’s wrong with that?” he says with a shrug.

“Did your mum go somewhere?” I ask.

“Mine? She’s … just a loser, you know.”

I’ve never known someone with a loser mum.

“Does she live with you?” I ask.

“I’m with my grandpop these days.”

“Do you miss—”

“No.”

He shrugs again, as if he doesn’t give a shit.

I just stare at him. I want to ask him a thousand questions, but I can tell he doesn’t want to be asked.

“We make weird friends,” I say instead.

“I’ve never been into the f-word with people.”

“I’m privileged, then? Why me?”

He thinks for a moment and then shrugs again.

“You’re the realest person I’ve ever known.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“It’s fucking awful. There’s not much room for bullshit, and you know how I thrive on it.”

We laugh for a moment and begin walking again.

“You girls are weird in a way. I would never have spoken to Trombal or Mackee or even Shaheen, whatever his name is. They would never have spoken to me. Everyone used to be so different to each other, but with you girls here, everyone kind of just hangs out.”

“Maybe it’s just Year Eleven or being somewhere new. I was the same with Justine and the girls.”

We sit at the bus stop for a while, just talking.

“I don’t miss her,” he says, thinking about my earlier question about his mum. “But I miss … I don’t know. Being held, you know?”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a blush thing happening on his face.

“Do you want to hear something that will cheer you up?” he asks.

I shrug.

“Are you ready?”

I nod.

“I played Captain von Trapp in Year Four.”

“You did not.”

“Yeah, I did.”

The bus comes toward us, and as we stand up he breaks out into “Edelweiss” and he sings it loudly and dramatically, his voice wavering with mock emotion.

And I hug him, holding him tight. At first I think I’m doing it for him, but then I don’t want to let go, so he does the letting go.

He gets on, singing to the bus driver, and the doors shut and I can see him walking down the aisle serenading various people, who look on, bemused. He sits in the back row and opens the window.

“By the way, I just remembered what Trombal told me that was so important.”

The bus pulls away and I’m jogging beside it.

“He split up with his girlfriend,” he yells out.

He breaks out into song again and I stand there, hearing it all the way up the road. And then I bolt, straight home, my heart singing. Will Trombal has no longer got a girlfriend. I dance around the kids skating on their grind pole and race straight up to the house and I call Justine. Because we have men in our lives and there’s much to talk about.

chapter 26

MEMORY IS A fu

Today I’m in the music room, waiting for Justine, watching her play a piece for her music teacher. The tune isn’t important, although I recognize it as one of the classical pieces from an advertisement, but it’s watching her that fascinates me. Her fingers are on keys and buttons, at the same time knowing exactly when to squeeze the accordion in and out, and for a moment I think she’s making it up, that all she’s doing is putting her fingers anywhere and yanking it back and forth, but then all of a sudden it works and it blows my mind. Her eyes are closed and there’s a look of absolute bliss on her face. When have I ever felt that peace?

It was the first week of Year Ten. Restless with my friends gossiping about the guys on the 8:00 a.m. 438 bus, I was walking past the drama room, where they were having tryouts for the Year Ten musical, Les Miserables . I stood at the door and watched as five musicians played an overture, and I remember Justine Kalinsky, her eyes closed, that look of bliss on her face, those fingers flying over the accordion keys.

When Mia came to pick me up from school that afternoon, there was something different in the air. It was two months after her father had died, and I remember how beautiful she looked that day. Not that I wasn’t used to her looking beautiful, but No

It was like some fantastic aura was surrounding both of us. “So give me a rundown,” she said as I fastened my seat belt.

That’s what she always said, and I usually shrugged because I had nothing new to tell her. But that day I turned in my seat to face her as she drove through the suburbs, and I took a breath.

“I’m going to tell you something, but I don’t want you to get excited,” I said.

“I can’t promise lack of excitement, Frankie. You know that.”

“Okay, the school’s going to do Les Miserables and I’ve decided to go for the part of Eponine.”

She nodded approvingly. “Interesting.”

I was crushed. I stared at her, hardly believing her reaction.

“Aren’t you excited?” I asked her. “You’ve been nagging me for years to get involved in a musical.”

We stopped at the lights and she looked at me, laughing. “You told me not to get excited!”

“As if I mean it! You’ve ruined my moment.”

“I’m not excited, I’m ecstatic,” she said, pinching my cheek.

“It’s not as if I don’t know all the songs by heart,” I explained, getting the information out of my bag.

“Eponine is a big role.”

“You don’t think I can do it?”

“I’m petrified that you can and I’m going to be in the audience blubbering.”

I gri

“You know how No

She looked at me for a moment, and there were tears in her eyes, and she nodded and then laughed.

“I know exactly what you mean.”

I looked at her knowingly. “So what’s your news?”

“What makes you think I have news?”

“I don’t know. You seem different. You have a glow.”

“What would you think if I told you that I’m not going to take the UTS job just yet?”