The Boy and His Ribbon (The Ribbon Duet, #1)(118)

“I miss it, too. But you know why we can’t go back…not yet, at least.”

“I know.” She sighed. “But it’s hard when I feel so…” She shrugged. “Look, I know I can’t tell people the truth about where we came from or mention my real last name or tell people that we aren’t truly related, but sometimes, I just wish I could blurt out everything.” Liquid glossed her eyes for a second before she swallowed and smiled bright. “Sorry, like I said. One of those weeks.”

My hands clenched into fists, holding myself in place not to go to her. “What do you want to talk about that you can’t discuss with me?”

She barked a laugh as if I’d said something hilarious. Rolling her eyes at the ceiling, she chuckled in a tortured-exasperated way. “Gosh, everything.”

The hair on the back of my neck stood up, hating that she felt trapped and alone. “I’m always here, Della. If it’s girl stuff or periods or whatever. I can handle it.”

Her nose wrinkled. “I’m good. Thanks.”

“If it’s not that, then tell me what’s bugging you.”

She dropped her gaze to her bedspread, her fingers plucking the pages of her text book. “I can’t.”

“Why?” Despite myself, my feet stepped into her bedroom, needing to go to her when she seemed so forlorn. “What’s wrong?”

Her blue hair shivered as she shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Something’s wrong.”

Her eyes flashed with warning not to push her. “Like I said, I’m good. Don’t worry about it.”

My legs locked in the centre of her carpet. “Don’t get mad at me. I’m only trying to help.”

“Yes, and look at the great job you’re doing!” She launched upright, kneeling on her bed. “Just…I can’t do this right now. I need to study and you—you just—”

“I just what?”

“You make it worse, okay?”

I froze. I had no reply. Only the pain she’d caused and the knowledge that I’d somehow failed her. Nodding curtly, I backed toward the door. “Fine. Study. You know where I am if you need me.”

I turned around and left before the argument could fall into trickier territory.

*

The very next day, our lives changed once again. The catastrophe hit with lashing accusations and howling consequences.

I was commanded to visit the high school where Della attended. When the phone call came, I was herding seven hundred plus cattle into the milking shed and could barely hear the snippy tone of the principal’s assistant ordering me to pop in for a ‘chat.’

I’d barked back, asking if Della was hurt or lost or missing. Did I need to save her from yet more Social Service agents or was it not as dire as that? The urge to run and vanish into the protection of the forest sprang into an undeniable urge.

All the woman would give me was Della had been served detention for her blue hair, and they wanted to discuss the matter.

My need to grab Della and disappear faded a little. I’d told her she’d get in trouble for such a ridiculous colour, and it turned out, I was right. Frankly, she deserved a bit of punishment, and if being detained after class and earning a stern talking-to by the principal was the price, then hopefully she’d learn her lesson.

For the rest of the day, I lived with a recipe of uncertainty and curiosity, and by the time I sped my way on a beaten-up motorbike that needed new parts and some serious care, I was wired and ready to kill someone.

I didn’t care I had grass stains on my work jeans or my plaid shirt was covered in dirt. I made an honest living, and the scents of earth and cow were more acceptable to me than asphalt and metal.

Striding through the school corridors, I peeked into classrooms full of posters with correct etiquette and current assignments. A science lab smelled of sulphur. A lecture room still hummed with a projector someone had left on even though no students were there to learn.

The place was foreign, but I wondered what it would be like to attend. What did Della think when she arrived early in the morning and soaked up knowledge in different environments?

I got lost in the labyrinth of corridors and cut across the wrong campus forecourt until I found the admin building where the principal’s office was housed.

The moment I stepped into the stuffy, low-ceiling building, a woman with spectacles and greying hair looked up from typing something on a computer. “Ah, you must be Mr. Wild?” She said it as a question, but with a knowing gaze that unsettled me.

“I am.” My eyes drifted over the space, instinctually seeking exits and keeping a safe distance from myself and this new stranger.

“Great. Della’s detention is almost over. She’ll head here accordingly. Please.” She nodded at a closed pine door where a bronze plaque announced a Marnie Sapture was in command of this establishment. “Ms. Sapture is expecting you.”

Gritting my teeth, I strode to the door and opened it without knocking. The principal would’ve been pretty once upon a time, before she let stress pile on the pounds and too much makeup try to hide the heavy lines on her forehead. “Mr. Wild?”

I nodded.

“Good. We need to talk.”

“As I’ve been told.”

“Please, sit.” She waved at the chair in front of her. A moment of déjà vu hit me of entering another principal’s office and hearing a tale of how Della informed a bunch of five-year-olds how to skin and gut a rabbit.