Music From Standing Waves by Johanna Craven Page B

watch a video at my
place. Come on. Please.”
    I gave an enormous sigh. “Fine.”
    Justin grinned. “Aren’t you even a little bit
curious? You might get to meet Psycho George!”
    “No!” I wondered if he knew I was lying. The
truth was, I desperately wanted to believe a ghost roamed the
deserted house. It made life seem less black and white; as though
the world was mysterious and intangible, even within the confines
of Acacia Beach. Regardless, scouring someone’s scungy old
bloodstained bathroom wasn’t exactly the way I had envisaged
spending my Sunday.
    The house seemed to grow larger as we
approached; its purple shadows oozing over the street. The sky
darkened too; blacker with each step.
    A fat globe of water exploded on the tip of
my nose. “I have to pee,” I said.
    Justin ignored me. He pushed aside a mass of
weeds to reveal a gaping hole in the side wall of the house.
Tendrils of fern tickled my face. Justin scrambled inside as rain
began to pelt the garden.
    “Come on.” He reached out his hand. I crawled
reluctantly through the hole, jagged weatherboards scratching my
shoulders. I stood up. We were in the kitchen. Sink and wooden
bench, peeling laminate cupboards. Grimy fridge and microwave.
Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust.
    “Psycho George had a microwave?” A cockroach
scuttled across the lino and I leapt backwards into Justin.
    “Were you hoping for some scary paintings or
candles or something?” he laughed. “Cos that could be arranged.” He
poked my waist and I slapped him away.
    “Just go and find the stupid bathroom,” I
said, my voice coming out wobblier than I had hoped. “It’s
disgusting in here.”
    He squeezed my arm. “Are you scared?”
    “You know I am! And you’re really starting to
piss me off!”
    “Fine. You stay down here. I’m just going to
run upstairs. Look for Psycho George.”
    I plonked myself onto the bottom step.
Slapped at a spider as it scurried over my bare toes. The storm was
growing heavier. I pictured the barrels of grey rain as they ripped
across the reef. I looked down. My new dress was smeared with
mud.
    I knew I’d been stupid to think anything
could ever happen between Justin and I. That we could slide
smoothly from being primary school buddies to two halves of a
couple. No matter how hard either of us tried to see things
differently, I would never be anything but the dorky kid down the
street.
    Shutters smashed against the boarded windows.
I stood up and yelled into the empty house. “Justin? I’m going
home, alright.”
    No answer. I nibbled my thumbnail.
    “Jus?” Rain drowned out my voice. Hesitantly,
I climbed onto the first step. It groaned under my weight. I took
another step, and another, tiptoeing all the way to the second
floor. I peered down the gloomy corridor. The shards of daylight
were thin and pale. Shadows danced over the walls.
    “Justin? Where the hell are you?” Gingerly, I
pushed against the first door in the passage. The room behind it
was an empty shell.
    Justin leapt out and grabbed me around the
waist. I shrieked and whacked him hard in the stomach.
    “Fucking hell,” he spluttered. “I was just
mucking around!”
    “Yeah well it’s not funny! When are you going
to grow up? We’re not little kids anymore you know!”
    We glared at each other. The shutters banged
and the old house groaned.
    “I’m going,” Justin said finally. “There’s
nothing there. Just a bunch of empty rooms. Don’t know what Hugh
was on about.”
    I hurried downstairs after him, not wanting
his company, but wanting even less to be in the creaky old house
alone. We climbed out through the hole in the wall. The silver
marbles of the monsoon slapped against our skin as we sprinted up
the street. Water bubbled out of the gutters.
    Justin stopped suddenly and grabbed my elbow.
I squinted through the sheets of rain. His mum was arm in arm with
my parents, huddled under an umbrella and heading for his
house.
    “You don’t