Friday Brown by Vikki Wakefield Read Free Book Online Page B

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    Only Joe nodded and smiled encouragement.
    ‘I can’t stay long,’ I said. ‘I need to find my father.’ It felt like a lie as it left my lips.
    Arden pounced. ‘I thought you said nobody was looking for you.’
    ‘He’s not looking. I’m looking. He doesn’t know I exist.’
    ‘Then why do you want to find him? Look, we have a good life here. Nobody tells us what to do or when to do it. It’s perfect.’
    It sounded perfect. So why did I feel like somebody had walked through my web, like all the strands of my life were just floating in the breeze? It seemed wiser to hole up in a hotel until my money was gone or until I found a new beginning, whichever happened first. I could at least sleep in a real bed and live by my own rules.
    Silence timed his beseeching look perfectly.
    My resolve slipped. ‘Maybe I could just stay for a while. If that’s okay with everyone, I mean. I have enough money for a couple of weeks.’ I looked around. ‘Just until I can sort out something else.’
    Arden glanced at Malik.
    Darcy got up and flounced off.
    Malik shrugged as if he didn’t care but his eyes were blinking like a camera shutter on high-speed. I sensed violence curled up inside him, waiting for a nudge. I couldn’t erase the image of him lying with Arden on the bed. He made me squirm, even though he was perfect, aesthetically—built like a fireman on a calendar. His expression was indifferent but he was wound tight.
    More rapid, reptilian blinks. He twisted one of Arden’s dreadlocks around his finger and brushed the end over his chin stubble. He looked straight through me.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    When Arden dismissed us all like children at nine o’clock, I discovered that Darcy had made up my bed with a blanket and pillow. My backpack was lying next to the mattress and a corner of the blanket had been turned down. This unexpected kindness left me confused but grateful. I climbed in and waited for my body heat to build up, but the cold kept getting colder and my toes went numb inside my socks.
    Nights were the worst. Insomnia came when Vivienne left—just as I felt the descent into sleep a switch would trip in my brain and my eyes would spring open. My body had turned traitor. The harder I chased sleep, the further it drifted away.
    I’d been lying awake for hours. I shivered in bouts and remembered vaguely that it was the body’s wayof increasing blood flow and temperature. It wasn’t working. My jaw was clenched so tight I was waiting for a tooth to crack.
    Outside, a branch scraped against the window, caught by the wind, and the headlights of passing cars projected shapes and shadows onto the walls like a scratchy silent movie. When it was quiet, I could hear the rhythmic breaths of Carrie and Bree.
    I couldn’t count the number of different beds I’d slept in. Mostly they were motel mattresses, warped and flattened by too many bodies. Often they were doubles and Vivienne and I shared. We’d drifted from town to town for sixteen years before she finally took me back with her to Grandfather’s house. The way she’d spoken about him, like he was a ghost of the past, I’d assumed he was dead. That first night, I couldn’t sleep. I wasn’t acquainted with luxury. The sheets were new and slippy and everything glowed white in the dark, like I was drifting in a cloud.
    I sneaked into Vivienne’s room.
    She was still awake, lying on her back and staring at the ceiling.
    ‘Can’t sleep? Me neither,’ she said and made room for me beside her. ‘Damn ghosts.’
    I could feel her bones through her skin. She stroked my hair because she had none of her own, and I prayed. I prayed to rewind back to the last time she was whole, really alive, jigging to her favourite song while her beer slopped all over the dance floor and men turned to watch. Sometimes I got tired of moving on and all I wanted todo was stay—if I found a new friend, or settled into a school where the teachers found some promise in me,