Cath Crowley - A Little Wanting Song

To Nancy and Joe Davis, and to Jessie and Tom Crowley
My beautiful grandparents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Dad and I leave town in the early dark. Its the second Sunday of the holidays, and we pack up the old blue car with enough clothes for summer and hit the road. Its so early hes wiping hills of sand piled in the corners of his eyes. I wipe a few tears from mine. Tears dont pile, though. They grip and cling and slide in salty trails that I taste till the edge of the city. Its our first Christmas in the country since Gran died.

At six oclock the sun rises and lights the car from the outside. Blinds us almost. Dad squints through his glasses at the road, but me? I close my eyes. I like things better when I listen. Everything in the worlds got a voice; most people dont hear hard enough is all. Sunrise sounds like slow chords dripping from my guitar this morning. Sad chords, in B-flat.

Open your eyes, Charlie love, Mum whispers. Youll miss out on the day. Not a lot to miss out on, really. My days have been sort of shaky lately. Like a voice running out of breath. Like a hand playing the blues. Like a girl losing her bikini top in the pool at Jeremy Magdens final party for Year 10 last week, if were getting specific. Mum says look on the bright side. Okay. I guess I was only half naked.

The thing that really kills is that the party started so well. I was talking and making jokes and the words were rolling easily, and I thought: Ive done it. Ive found that thing, whatever that thing is, that most people have but I dont.

Check out Alex checking you out, Dahlia said, and we laughed. I felt good because it sounded like she wasnt mad anymore. And a guy was finally looking at me, not straight through to the other side. There was this beat under my skin, a little disco weaving through me. Thats how it is when Im alone and playing the guitar, but thats never how it is in a crowd.

Only, that day it was. I had the first line of a new song in my head. A song about a guy and a party and a smile. The words were in my mouth and the tune was in my blood, and it felt so loud I thought: If Alex kisses me, hell hear it singing through my skin.

And I wanted him to hear. Because he grinned electricity through my bones, when most days I play solo and acoustic. Because Dahlias new friends might like me if I had something other than music to talk about during Louise Spatulas post-party analysis.

You look good. The sunglasses are working. You can do this, Dahlia told me. And I really thought I could. I was confident. I was ready.

Just remember, Louise said, a blow-up doll could get Alex.

I was stuffed. Thanks. I wont keep that in mind. But I did keep it in mind. If things went badly, Louise would make sure everyone knew it and Id be a step below plastic for the rest of my high school life. Dahlia took Louise inside so I wouldnt have an audience, but she did it too late. My disco disappeared. I walked across to Alex, humming a song I called Fuck because that was the only word in it.

The chorus was moving through my head and I was so busy humming I didnt see the football game. I walked straight through the middle. David Amar threw the ball; Joseph Ryan sprinted to get it and collected me on the way. I ran in front of him for a couple of seconds, and then I ducked and rolled into the pool. Unexpected, sure. But not entirely uncool.

It was kind of funny. Till I realized the force of the fall had loosened my bikini top and it was impossible to find in the middle of all the water-bombing that was going on around me.

Swimming along the bottom, I forced my eyes open and searched through legs. I could have done something creative with a couple of chip packets and a leaf at that point, but I had nothing. Absolutely nothing. Except a little voice inside me screaming out for one, just one, normal encounter with a guy. Or at least abnormal with clothes.

I figured my best chance was to move slow and hope no one noticed. Usually thats the way it goes for me at parties so it wasnt like I was asking for a miracle. I raised myself out of the water and walked to where Id left my towel. Louise was outside by then but I was elevator music behind her and she didnt notice a thing. I was feeling kind of lucky.

Till I saw a packet of tissues sitting on the chair where my towel had been. A packet of freaking tissues. Im not entirely lacking in optimism, though. I pulled out a couple. My hair dripped and a second later they disappeared in my hands. Turns out Fuck is a song for all occasions.

Oh my God, Charlie, your boobs are hanging out!

No shit, Louise, I said as every boy in Jeremys backyard fired up his tracking equipment and locked his eyes onto my chest. Boobs is one of those words, like fire or gun or free money. You just have to look.

And Alex looked.

And Jason Taylor let out this squealing laugh and Louise joined in and then so did everyone else. You should have shown me the bikini in the fitting rooms at the shop, Louise said as she stretched out on her towel. I would have told you not to buy it.

And that was it. I was sucked into the Louise Spatula time machine and spat out into Year 3 where Im handing over coins to kids because she told them I should pay to be their friend. I remembered Dahlia saying to me in Year 5, From now on, they pay you.

Her eyes said the same thing at Jeremys party as she handed me a towel. I took my clothes to the bathroom. I stared in the mirror for a while. I did that thing where you turn and spin back and try to catch yourself by surprise. See you how the world does. How a guy called Alex might. Not spectacular, sure. But not entirely unspectacular.

I got dressed and walked back to the pool thinking, Stuff you all. Youve seen my skin, big deal. Big fucking deal. Unless you were born wearing designer jeans and T-shirts, someones seen yours, too. I planned on saying exactly that, only Louise got in first. Welcome back, four-eyes.

It was breathtaking, and in the worst kind of way: it took my breath. Jason pig-laughed again and Dahlia shifted her towel toward Louise. Your hairs dripping on me, Charlie, she said. I told her I was leaving and she told me goodbye. Not see you tomorrow or see you later. Goodbye. A flat, hard endnote.