Give Me Four Reasons by Lizzie Wilcock Page A

couple of days is real.
    I go to the kitchen and start eating fruit rings straight out of the packet. When my fingers are stained pink and blue and purple, and the packet is empty, I start thinking about the long summer holiday ahead of me.
    Dad has gone away, and none of my friends are around, either.
    I have no one to talk to about Dad leaving.
    And then it occurs to me that maybe I’m the reason why everyone has gone away. I’m so boring, they don’t want to spend any more time with me. Even my own father can’t take it. He couldn’t even look me in the eye when he left.
    What if my mother and sister decide to leave me, too?
    I can’t let Mum and Felicity forget about me. And I can’t let them walk out on me, either.
    So I make them both a breakfast tray with toast and cereal. I make herbal tea for Mum and pour out some orange juice for my sister. I run outside to the frangipani tree and pick two flowers. Then I place a flower on the corner of each tray.
    I take Mum’s tray in first.
    She is sitting cross-legged on the floor in the spare room and her eyes are closed.
    I put the tray on the table beside her crystal ball. I glance into it, but all I see is my wonky reflection. Mum hasn’t opened her eyes. I cough quietly.
    Mum answers me with an ohm . It’s the noise she makes when she’s meditating. She says she goes inside herself to find inner peace.
    I cough again.
    ‘ Ohm ,’ Mum chants. ‘ Ohm .’
    ‘I brought you some breakfast.’
    ‘Thank you, darling,’ Mum whispers, but she still doesn’t open her eyes.
    I get Felicity’s tray and knock on her door. There is no answer, so I open it and tiptoe to the bed. Again, I cough quietly.
    Felicity’s eyes snap open. ‘Dad?’ she says. But when she sees me her face crumples.
    ‘He’s gone,’ I tell her.
    ‘I know,’ Felicity wails, ‘and it’s all my fault!’
    ‘It’s not your fault, Fliss.’ I put the tray on her bedside table and cradle her head, swiping her hair off her face.
    ‘It is,’ she moans. ‘He left because of me. Because of my stupid party. He’s tired of all the drama. Tired of having to rescue me and put up with having noisy teenagers in his house. That’s why he’s been spending so much time at work. And last night was just the last straw.’
    I feel sick. I jump up. ‘I’ve got to go, Fliss,’ I say.
    I run through our bathroom into my bedroom and shut the door. Is it true? Is that why Dad left? I know he hates drama and confrontation. If he left because of the trouble at Felicity’s party last night, that means he really left because of me. I caused the fight by telling the older kids about Willa kissing Adam.
    I lie in bed, thinking and crying and cuddling my bears.
    Felicity lies in her bed, crying and making phone calls to her friends.
    Mum sits in the spare room, chanting.
    * *
    When evening comes, I make dinner. I’m determined to become indispensable to my mother and sister. As I try to separate the strands of gluggy cooked spaghetti I wonder what Dad is having for dinner. He can’t cook to save his life. I spoon the bolognaise sauce onto each pile of spaghetti, add a sprinkle of parmesan cheese, and a glass of water to each tray, then take the first tray to Mum in the spare room.
    ‘Thanks, Paige,’ Mum says. I wait for her to say more, to start eating, but she doesn’t. She just sits and stares at a pile of shiny black rocks etched with strange inscriptions.
    Felicity allows me to place her tray on her lap. She picks up her fork and starts pushing at the lumpy bits of mincemeat. Then she drops her fork. It clatters onto the tray. She glares at me. ‘Spag bol is Dad’s favourite. You know that, don’t you?’
    ‘It … it’s the only meat we had in the freezer. And it’s the only thing I know how to cook.’
    Felicity pushes her tray away. ‘I’m sorry, Paige. I can’t eat this. Not without Dad here.’
    I sigh and take my sister’s tray back to the kitchen. I sit at the bench, staring into my