Lucy's life was going as smoothly as any

teenagers could. She was the state backstroke

champion, and swimming was her world. She lived
with her parents and her brother, Cam, in the small
coastal town shed known all her life. She had
friends, she had goals she had a life.
Now Cam is dead, her parents might as well be and
Lucy cant bear to get back in the pool. All she has to
look forward to now is a big pile of going-nowhere.
Drawn to Steffi, the wild ex-best-friend who reminds her
of her artist brother, and music-obsessed Evan, the new
boy in town, Lucy starts asking questions. Why did Cam
die? Was it an accident or suicide? But as Lucy hunts for
answers she discovers much more than she expects.
About Cam. About her family. About herself.

A soaring, uplifting novel about love

and loss from an exciting new voice.

ISBN: 978-1-76011-248-6

Cover design: Sandra Nobes and Trinity Doyle

Cover illustration: Paula Bonet

FICTION

9 781760 112486

A luminous debut Breathe it in and pass it on

VIKKI WAKEFIELD, author of Friday Brown

First published in 2015

Copyright Text, Trinity Doyle 2015
Copyright Cover illustration, Paula Bonet 2014
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including
photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval
system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The
Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter
or ten per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied
by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided
that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a
remuneration notice to the Copyright Agency (Australia) under the Act.
Allen & Unwin
83 Alexander Street
Crows Nest NSW 2065
Australia
Phone: (61 2) 8425 0100
Email: info@allenandunwin.com
Web: www.allenandunwin.com
A Cataloguing-in-Publication entry is available from the
National Library of Australia
www.trove.nla.gov.au
ISBN 978 1 76011 248 6
Cover design by Sandra Nobes and Trinity Doyle
Cover and internal type by Bianca Cash
Cover illustration: Neopreno by Paula Bonet
Set in 11.5/15 pt Garamond by Midland Typesetters, Australia
Printed in Australia by McPhersons Printing Group
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
The paper in this book is FSC certified.
FSC promotes environmentally responsible,
socially beneficial and economically viable
management of the worlds forests.

Mum painted my brothers coffin.

It was beautiful, if such a thing can bethe waves of
the ocean, gradients of green to blue mixed with the white
of sea foam. Despite the grim irony that the ocean which
smothered his lungs should cover him in death, it suited
him.
Cam was made with more water than most.
That was eight weeks ago and Mum hasnt painted a
thing since. The longer she leaves it, the longer the coffin
will remain the last thing she painted.
Eight weeks.
Eight.
Cam was caught in a rip off the coast of Byron Bay. It
was night, all his mates were drunk, and nobody noticed
my brother take his board into the dark oceanand
nobody knows why he did. It was a stupid thing to do
andsometimes my brother was stupid, even at eighteen.
Eight weeks.
I prefer weeks over months. A month is a long time.
1

Trinity Doyle

Eight weeks since Ive been in the pool. Ive never

tapered more than a few days before. Ive heard its hell
getting back in: your body drags like lead and the water
turns to mud.
I guess Ill find out this morning.

Big day, Auntie Deb says, flicking the indicator and

turning onto Lake Road. Idig my fingers into the edge of
the seat. Through my window the sky lightens to a dirty
pink. Even without the pool these past weeks Icant shake
the sunrise out of my days. Ill probably wake up at 5am
for the rest of my life.
Excited to be going back? Deb continues to fight for
conversation.
I grunt a response and hope itll satisfy. Theres a sharpness in my stomach Icant explain. Its a similar feeling
to race days, but this is training, not competing. Ilet go
of the seat and stick my hands under my legs. Must be
excitement.
You got your school bag? Igive her a hard look. She
saw me carrying my mesh swim bag and backpack. God,
Year Ten. She drums her fingers on the steering wheel. I
cant believe youre almost sixteen. Feels like just yesterday
you were calling me Beb and stealing lollies from my bag.
I roll my eyes at her reminiscing.
Auntie Deb is my dads sister. Shes a nurse or something and lives down in Newcastle. Before now Ionly
ever saw her at Christmas. And Iguess it was around
Christmas when she came up to help my parents with
2

Pieces of Sky

paperwork and processes and whatever else they needed

help with. And somehow shes still here, helping.
I turn the radio on, but she still hasnt programmed
in any local stations and Im met with country music or
static. Iswitch it back off.
I dont want Deb here. Shes a constant reminder
things are wrong. Ican look after Mum and the house
was doing just fine before.
This is the first morning, since Cam died, Iwont be
there to get Mum up.
Deb reaches across me, leaving one hand on the wheel,
and fishes around for her handbag at my feet. She hoists it
onto the centre console, finds a cigarette, sticks it between
her teeth and lights itall without taking her attention
off the road.
I reckon Imight go for a swim later myself, she says as
Icrank down my window. Need to get in the water more.
I left Mums green smoothie recipe on the fridge,
Itell her. She cant just swan off to the beach. Make sure
you use the frozen banana or itll taste crap.
Okay.
Try to get her to shower early or shell just be in bed
all day.
I know.
And if youre gonna clean the bathroom again theres a
chart on the wall to follow.
Lucy, she huffs, cracking her window and flicking out
ash, I know.
I lean into the cool morning air, away from her smoke
cloud. Whatever.
3

Trinity Doyle

We pass the welcome sign for Port Christie and the sharp
feeling in my stomach grows. Deb turns down the empty
streets and pulls into the swim centre car park. Without
me at home its likely Mum wont eat anything or leave her
room. Id just gotten her into a routine of sorts: eat, shower,
sit in the sun. Im sure shell be fine again soon. Right?
Oh, almost forgot, Deb unlocks the glove box, pulling
out a stack of flyers for the Meredith to South West ocean
race, can you leave these at reception for me?
A few weeks ago Deb decided we needed to do something, give back, honour Camsomething to help out
the surf lifesaversand she came up the idea of an ocean
race. Dad said it was a worthy cause and normally Id
agree with him but Icant bring myself to like anything
that came from Deb.
Im late, Isay, getting out of the car and grabbing my
stuff. She holds the yellow flyers out the window at me.
Igroan and snatch them off her.
Have fun, she calls after me as Ipush open the centre
doors.
I dump the flyers at reception and stalk down the long
hallway. The centre is half lit and quiet; the gym wont
open for another hour. Ibreathe in the familiar air but it
does nothing to ease the twisting in my stomach.
The day has already started wrong. Ishouldve insisted
Dad drive me to training, like he always did, but when
Auntie Deb offered last night he just shrugged it off like
me going back to the pool didnt mean anything.
Lucy! Alix barrels me into a hug as Ienter the change
room.
4

Pieces of Sky

Hi. Ihug her back but my arms are weak and shes all
bare skin and bony elbows.
Youre back, she squeals, letting me go.
I drop my bags on the bench.
We better get out there, Megan says, coming round
the corner. She stops short at the sight of me.
I havent seen either of them since the funeral, not
wanting anyone to set foot in my broken house, but where
Alix texted and called me almost every day Ive barely
heard from Megan.
Uh, hi, Isay.
She closes her mouth and rearranges her features into a
smile. Lucy! Youre here. Its so good to see you. We gotta,
um... She gestures towards the pool.
Ill see you out there.
She nods. Yes. Of course.
Alix shoots me a WTF look as they walk out and Ishrug.
When Idecided to have a break, Megan was pissed.
Iknow she wanted to confront me at the funeral, all
straight-backed and edgy, acting like she hardly knew me,
but she left it another week before she called.
You cant just leave us like that. What the hell are we
supposed to do?
Im not the only backstroker on the squad, Id told her.
You mean Alix? Megan scoffed.
Shes getting faster. This season was Alixs first since she
lost a year to glandular fever.
We may as well pull out of the relay now.
I pull off my hoodie and shorts and adjust my
swimsuit. My heart thuds like Ive been double-jumped
5

Trinity Doyle

on a trampoline. Ipress my hand to my chest and take

deep, slow breaths.
Cam couldnt breathe.
I close my eyesdont think about it, dont think
aboutit.
The stench of chlorine mixed with Dencorub envelops
me as Iwalk onto the pool deck. My squad is squished
in two lanes of the twenty-five-metre pool. Megan thinks
our pools a joke and wants to get into the program at
Coffs. Inever minded it; short laps are practice for your
turns. And my turns are flawless.
Phil, my coach, comes over to me. Phil swam for
Australia at the Commonwealth Games. Mens two-
hundred-metre backstrokehe didnt get a medal.
Ready to go, Lucy? he asks, fiddling with something
on his stopwatch and half looking at me.
Phil didnt think Ishould start back. He said Ishould
spend time with the Dolphins squad, a holiday compared
to the competitive Sharks. Id missed too many club
nights, Iwouldnt make up the points, Ihadnt been in
the water for two months.
But Iwouldnt have that.
I stretch my goggles over my cap. Yeah, Isay, ignoring
the sharpness now in my veins.
I cant make any allowances for you. Translation:
keep up or go home.
I dont care if it hurts, or if Isuck, or if Ineed to
double my training schedule to get back in form. Before
Cam drowned, swimming was my lifeand Iwant my
life back.
6

Pieces of Sky

Behind Phil, Megan stands at the blocks pretending

not to watch us. She looks away when Imeet her eye,
pulling her goggles down and diving off. Her stroke is
effortless, gliding her to the opposite wall in seconds.
I walk to the blocks, crouching over the edge to splash
water on myself. Laughter from my teammates echoes off
the pool walls and bounces around my skull.
A tremble runs through my left arm and Istretch out
my fingers to still it.
We got the call late, around 3am. The phone rang
for ages and Ikept hitting my clock thinking it was my
alarm. The sound my dad made when he answered, a cry
Ive never heard him make before or since, was enough to
tear Mum and me from our beds.
Cam had drowned.
Cam was dead.
I held onto Mum as she sobbed into the floorboards.
Eventually my alarm, signalling an hour until Iwas due
at the pool, blared out from my room. Ididnt go to
training, of course Ididnt go, and the days Iwasnt in
the pool stretched into weeks. Everyone knew Iwould
come back. They just didnt think it would take this long.
And today should feel righttoday school goes back
and my routine of train, study, train can start again.
The sticky air of the indoor pool sends my skin wet.
Imiss swimming at the baths, on my back under an open
sky. Ishake my head and step onto the block. Iget back in
today. Ipicture myself diving in and my head going under
the waterjust like Cam. No. No, dont think about it.
Im fine, this is fine.
7

Trinity Doyle

The water overtook him, choked him. But that was out
there, not in hereeverything is fine here.
My breaths go short and my vision tunnels. Ipull
at the straps of my swimsuit. Dive in, just dive in. My
breaths come fast and shallow. Iwrench my cap off and
my hair pulls loose.
Nooh god, whats happening? Get in the water, just
get in.
I cant
I cant breathe.
Everything bleeds together and Icant
I cant do this.
I run back to the change room and peel off my
swimmers. Sitting on the cold metal toilet, Idrag air
into my lungs. Igasp in and out, out and in. Its like my
chest is closing up and Im shoving my breath through
cracks.
Im going to die. Im going to die naked on a toilet.
Ineed to get out. Isniff back tears and press the heels of
my hands into my eyes.
Lucy? Alix knocks on the door. Are you okay? Her
voice is soft and cautious, as if Im a wounded animal she
doesnt want to scare.
I stick my head between my shaking legs and fight to
get my breath back. Im okay, Ichoke out.
Whats going on?
My clothes. Can you...
Alix slides my bag under the door. Igrip the strap, close
my eyes and count backwards from five in my head as
Ibreathe in through my nose and out through my mouth.
8

Pieces of Sky

Want me to call someone?

I unzip the bag and pull my hoodie, undies and shorts
on. Icant go back out there. Icant.
Just go away, Isay, leaning against the wooden door,
trying to keep the tears out of my voice.
Im not going anywhere.
Please. Ihate that please, it twists out of me, so weak
and pathetic.
Are you sure? Im gonna get Phil
No! Just... just go.
What are you gonna do?
I close my eyes. Ill see you at school, okay?
It takes her a moment to respond and when she does
her voice is small. Okay.
I wait until Im sure shes gone, then ditch my swim
stuff in my locker and grab my school bag. Ihurry out of
the change room. Megan is standing by the door, water
beading on her skin. She stares at me and Istop. She goes
to say something and moves to touch my arm but Iflinch
backif Italk Ill cry and Idont cry in front of people,
especially Megan. Irun out of the centre and into the
street.
Gripping the straps of my backpack, Istare up into
the sky, willing the world to stop. Iwipe my nose on my
sleeve and walk until Im out of sight of the centre. My
legs wont stop shaking. Isit in the gutter, then stand back
up and pace in a circle, raking my hands through my hair.
What happened just then? And how many people saw?
Maybe if Itry again this afternoon it will be okayor
maybe it will happen again.
9

Trinity Doyle

My hands shake and Ituck them in my armpits.

Iswallow tears. Its still happening.
I need to swim. Ineed something to be the same. No
home, no Cam, no pool.
No me.

10

Go, go, go, leave, leave, leave.

I hammer a path through the streets of Port. Ill have
to go back for my swim bag at some point but not now
now Idont want any of it near me.
The sun is still new in the sky and with it the small
town begins to stir. Ipass old guys with fishing tackle,
a few surfers heading for an early, determined joggers.
Idont have a direction but Ifind myself out the front of
the service stationthe only thing open this early. Itake
deep breaths but they come in laced with petrol fumes
and Ifeel sick.
Okay. Imake myself stand still, holding my arms
straight at my sides. Maybe if Ieat something this will
stop. All Ipacked for lunch is an apple and a cheese
sandwich but thats not what Ineed... chocolate! Ineed
chocolate.
I shoulder through the servos plastic-ribboned door
into the cramped shop and immediately duck out of
sight. Two of my brothers mates are in the next aisle.
11

Trinity Doyle

Ihide near the tampons and catch snatches of their

conversation.
Hey you got a dollar? Iam this close to a Red Bull.
Piss off. Im still waiting for you to pay me back. In
fact, everything you got on you, hand it over.
Dont be such a tightwad. Ill get your drinks Friday.
Pause.
Are you sure you want to do Friday? Imean itll be
weird without...
Look, Cammo loved the cove, sure, but that doesnt
mean we cant go there. The place needs one last hurrah
before everyone pisses off.
They walk up to the counter, pay for their stuff and
leave. Ilean against the shelvesthe cove. Cam made
that place infamous. Few people knew exactly where it
was, you had to be in with Cam and he loved being all
dramatic about it: giving secret passwords, making it the
most exciting place to get wasted.
It will still go on without him.
I find enough change in my bag for a Snickers, ignoring
Mums voice in my head rattling on about healthy choices,
and dont wait until Im even outside before Ibite into it.
Mm. Iclose my eyes as the sugar hits my brain and
takes the edge off my nerves.
Really satisfies, hey?
I open my eyes. A boy Ive never seen before, with my
schools crest on the breast pocket of his white buttoned
shirt, is half smiling at me near the packets of chips.
What?
He nods at my chocolate bar.
12

Pieces of Sky

Huh? Iblink at it. Oh, um, yeah.

Im more of a savoury man myself. He shakes the can
of Pringles hes holding. On his wrist is a pink, purple and
blue rubber band bracelet and two thin black leather ties.
Once you pop you cant stop.
He laughs. So they say. Hes tall and skinny with
thick brown hair, adding more to his height, and heavy,
serious eyebrows which contradict the smile on his face.
You go to my school.
He glances down at his uniform. Im still dressed in
my hoodie and shorts so its not apparent we belong to the
same anything. Uh, Iguess, he says.
The tension in my chest regroups and Itake another
bite of my chocolate bar. Ithink hes new or, could be, Ive
just never noticed him around before. Our high school
takes all the kids from the Lakes district, jamming them
into a campus that was too small as soon as it was built, so
its easy to get lost.
So, um... He moves to walk past me, pointing his
Pringles at the counter. And Irealise Im blocking the way.
Oh, sorry. Istep aside and our arms brush in this aisle
thats only one and a half persons wide. Are you
There are other things Id prefer, like sitting naked
on a nest of bull ants. Iturn around as a punk-looking
girl walks in. Oi, Evan! she calls past me. Blueys just
opened. Were grabbing scallops. You coming?
Yeah, hang on, says the guy behind me.
Whats going on, Lucy? She smiles at me, her hands
on her hips.
I, uh... Iblink at her. Steffi?
13

Trinity Doyle

She grins, all teeth.

Her usual long blonde hair has been bleached to almost
white and cut short, one side shaved close to her head and
the other skimming her chin at a sharp angle. I know Ive
been a hermit these past few months but last time I saw
her she didnt look like that.
Nice hair, Isay, walking past her and pushing my way
outside.
What are you up to? Gonna ditch school today? she
says, following me.
I keep walking.
God, if Iwas you Id take the whole year off.
I stop. Turn. What the hell is that supposed to mean?
She folds her arms and shrugs. No ones gonna care
what you do. Should take advantage.
My jaw tightens and Iopen my mouth to argue, then
Iclock Jeremy Haines behind Steffi with a cigarette
between his teeth. Are you insane? This is a petrol station,
do you want to blow us all up?
He holds it out to me. Its not lit, he says, smirking.
Steffi cracks up and heat flushes through me. The guy
Iwas talking to, Evan, comes out to join them and Istorm
off towards school.
Steffi Greggson used to be my best friend. Back in
primary school when her hair was normal and she cared
about going to class.
When Ireach the school gate Im hot, sweaty and have
almost emptied my drink bottle. Icheck my phonestill
got thirty minutes before school starts. My life is entirely
screwed up and its not even 8am. The edgy panic claws
14

Pieces of Sky

back at me and I slug down the rest of my water. Then

I head to the toilets to throw up and change into my
uniform.

Crowded.
The buses pull up and the students stream in. They
fill up the quad, the brick breezeways, the stairwells. A
tiny Year Seven girl gets lost in a pack of Islander guys,
emerging on the other side neck craned and eyes wide.
Fist bumps, squealing hugs, grasping arms, laughter,
shouting, cursing. Teachers shaking their heads.
I watch the first day of school unfold from the top of
our table in the quad.
A few people look my way, their thoughts all over their
faces. Thats his sister. Oh my God, how awful. Should Isay
something? What would Ieven say? Shes looking at me!
Smile, keep walking.
I take out my phone and grab my ear buds but Idont
play any music, my heads too full already.
I couldnt get in the water.
I couldnt do it.
Why? Iknow Im not going to drownI know it. But
my face going under, my breath going awayit would
come backI cant do it.
Lucy! Alix runs over and chokes me with a hug. Are
you okay? Where did you go? What happened?
Im fine, Isay, wriggling out of her hold.
She sits next to me. We were so worried.
Im fine, Isay again as Megan comes over.
15

Trinity Doyle

Sure, Megan says, folding her arms.

I have something for you. Alix grabs a round plastic
container from her bag. For your mum from my mum.
Thanks, Isay, taking the klepon. Als mum is Indonesian and cooks the most amazing things. Out of all the
containers of food given to us by friends and neighbours,
hers are the ones Im saving for when I can enjoy eating
again.
Oh, and Im to tell you that she used the good sugar.
Right. Ismile and tuck the container into my back
pack. My mums been standing between our family and
refined sugar for as long as Ican remember.
The bell rings and people head to the auditorium for
assembly. Ispot Steffi, Jeremy and Evan.
Did you have a panic attack? Megan says as Istand
to go.
Megan! I say as my heart rate picks back up.
Maybe it was too much pressure, Alix says.
But youve always been good with pressure, Megan says.
Maybe its different now, Alix suggests.
My mind races through the possibilities and Im dimly
aware Alix is mentioning Cam.
But why would that make a difference? Megan says,
hoisting her bag higher on her shoulder.
Megan, Alix scolds, placing her hand on my arm.
What if we tried again, just us?
I meet her earnest brown eyes. Shed do anything she
could to help me.
Yeah, maybe, Isay as we get swallowed up in the
crowd of students.
16

Pieces of Sky

Mums door is closed when Iget home. Itouch a crack

in the white paint. No one else is home but her door is a
thick barrier between us.
Did she miss me this morning?
I escape to my room, close my door and lean against it.
Ilove my room. Its on the side of the house shaded by a
massive jacaranda tree so its cooler in here than anywhere
else. Its smaller than Cams but Ihave a sliding door
that leads out to the deck and his doesnt. Everything is
white except for the right side wall, which is painted a
cool blue. My low double bed takes up one corner, fairy
lights Istrung up last Christmas then decided not to take
down and photos from my trip to New ZealandTeam
Australia Under 15smake a collaged bed head. My desk
is up the other end near the sliding door to the back deck,
and next to it a white wooden ladder holds my medals,
trophies, ribbons and plaques.
I sit at my deskswimming achievements burning a
hole in the side of my head, Ishould be at the pool right
nowand stick my new timetable inside my folder. Itake
my time, making sure its straight and the sticky tape is
exact, then Iunzip my pencil case and use highlighters to
colour code each subject.
Theres washing up in the sink. Ishould go do that.
I make maths pink, making it look friendly, and my
impulse is to make English blue but Igo against it and
make it yellowa feeble victory over my instincts.
When Im done, my subjects are an ordered rainbow.
17

Trinity Doyle

I spin in my chair, trophy shelf flicking in and out

of my eye line. Auntie Deb shouldve washed upthats
why shes here. Ireach over and grab a medal. Gold: State,
fifty-metre backstroke. Irub my thumb over the edges of
the swimmer, arm raised, mouth open. Running the blue
and white ribbon through my fingers, Iwind it around
my thumb until the tip turns white, then unravel it and
let it hang limp.
Everything worked that day. Ihung onto the wall and
swam the length in my mind, flawless. Ifelt connected
to the water, to the pool, to the starting buzzer. Ifelt the
edge of the win but didnt let myself think itonce you
think it then youve lost. Ipushed off from the wall and
everything else faded.
I miss winning, competing. Its a metallic taste in my
mouth, muscles tense for something thats not coming.
Iclose my hand over the medal, grab a box of old school
books from my cupboard and place it inside. Igrab the
rest and shove them in there too.
Grabbing my laptop, Isit on my bed. It opens to the
last thing Iwas looking at: Ryans blog. Ihit refresh as
if it mightve changed in the last twelve hours when it
hasnt changed in the last twelve days. The same photo
reloads: a ribbon of dark blue ocean against a lighter sky.
Iscroll through the others and stop before Ihit old ones
of Cam. From here Ive worked out Ryans somewhere off
the coast of Queensland. Iget my phone out and type a
text asking him when hes coming home. Then Idelete it.
Just like all the other texts Ihavent sent to Ryan. Because
my brothers best friend, who spent more time living here
18

Pieces of Sky

in the past few years than at his mums, whos more like
family than the auntie currently sleeping in his old room,
didnt tell me he was going anywhere. After the funeral
he hugged me so tight Icouldnt breathe, and then he
justleft.
I pull up iTunes and scroll through Cams playlists.
Funny how some things can change: a couple of months
ago all Iwanted to listen to was dance tracks and stuff to
pump me up while Iworked out or before a racedespite
Cams best efforts to educate meand now Ive taken all
my brothers playlists and I blare out the loud, sad songs
he loved. Ive found a connection in his music Ive never
felt before, and it keeps stabbing me in the heart.
I press play on PJ Harvey and stretch out on my bed.
At first the music washes over me and Im not paying
attention, but then Im looping This Mess Were In and
the notes are running through my veins, making me all at
once heavy and light.
And in that state Ilet myself miss my brother. Just a
bit, just a small amount that Ican take out of myself and
inspect. To say, ah, yes theres that shard of glass constantly
in my side, thats the one.
Nice music.
I scramble up and close my laptop. Mums leaning in
my doorway, the makings of a smile on her tired face.
Hi. Ibreathe out. Did Iwake you? Sorry, Mum. She
gives a slight shrug like it was nothing and walks down
the hall. Ifollow. The heat in the front of the house is
stifling. Iopen the windows and turn on the ceiling fan.
Mum slumps at the breakfast bar and flicks through
19

Trinity Doyle

the junk mail, piled up on top of the Bluetooth speaker

she used while she was cooking.
Crank it, Mum, Cam would say, turning the volume
up. Hed pick Mum up from behind, and shed laugh and
bat at him with her wooden spoon. Hed take her hand
and spin her round the kitchen to Fleetwood Mac.
You want a cuppa? Iask now. She doesnt respond but
Ipull out her mug anyway.
She stares at the IGA catalogue and runs her fingers
over her short dark hair. She cut it the day after the
funeral. Icame to the door of the bathroom to find her
standing there with these huge scissors, the evidence of
her once-long hair in the sink.
She looked almost satisfied.
Auntie Deb didnt say anything. She took the scissors
from Mum and led her out of the bathroom. Istood there
examining my own long brown hair, thinking maybe
Ishould do the same.
She looks up at me and Iwonder if shell look at me
like that for the rest of her life: all hollow like shes been
dug out by a spoon.
I fill the jug and switch it on. Then, because Im here
now, Ifill the sink and start doing the dishes.
Mum didnt grow up here. Her family lived on Sydneys
North Shore and she met my dad when they came up for
holidays. It gives her this different look, as if shes a bit
exotic. Or maybe thats just me.
Everyone says Ilook like my mum, but they only say
that because Ilook nothing like my dad. Cam looks
lookedlike Dad: blond hair, blue eyes, skin that goes
20

Pieces of Sky

brown in the sun. Iwish Ilooked like Mum. Where her

skin is fair and bright, mine is washed out and pale. Her
hair is thick and rich, dark brown mixed with copper.
Mine is thin and limp. Her eyes are clear and green, mine
sit on the yellow side of brown. Although now shes faded.
Now shes starting to look like me.
The jug flicks off and Imake us both peppermint
tea. Mum likes to give us a running commentary on the
benefits of different herbal teas: lowers cholesterol, detoxifies your liver, cures memory loss. She made me drink
green tea when Iwent to Zone last year; not sure it made
me swim any faster.
On the far wall behind her hangs the last piece she
made before Cam diedbefore the coffin. An oil painting
of the stormy sea. The waves are drawn in a Japanese style
and all the boats are upside down. If Isquint at her it looks
like the white tufts of waves are exploding from herhead.
Ive always been jealous of her art. Im lucky if Ican
make stick figures work. Cam got Mums genes; his
sketchbooks were filled with monsters, distorted portraits
of his mates and made-up characters.
I place the mug next to Mums hands and she looks up
at me. So. Idrum my fingers against my cup and have
nothing else to say.
Did you train this morning? She wraps her hands
around her mug and looks into her tea.
Yep.
How was it?
It was okay. Ishrug. A small smile tugs at the corners
of her mouth.
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Trinity Doyle

The front door opens and Dad walks in. Mum

stiffens.
Im home, he says, like we cant already see that, and
grabs a beer from the fridge.
Hows the shop? Mum asks but without any interest.
Still cant find anyone who knows the difference
between a Phillips and a flathead, Dad says. Itd help if
Ryand come back from wherever hes run off to. Whats
for dinner, Norah?
Whatevers in the freezer, Mum says, hugging her
elbows.
Deb walks in and plonks two bags of groceries on the
bench. She levels a glare at me. Where were you?
I frown at her.
I went by the pool to get you. You werent there. Ive
been ringing your phone the whole way home.
I look between Mum and Dad, my skin feeling like its
a size too small. I got a ride home with Megan.
You couldnt have let me know?
You know better than that, Lucy, Dad says.
Im sorry, Ilift my hands, I forgot you were picking
me up.
Okay, she says, tapping out a cigarette from her pack.
Tell me next time. Inod and she heads to the front door
for her smoke. Making rissoles for tea, she calls.
I grimaceyuk.
Oh, I say to Mum, remembering the klepon from
Alix, Ive got something for you. Hang on.
I head back to my room and grab the container from
my bag. Irun into Mum in the hallway.
Sorry, she says, Im not feeling great.
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Pieces of Sky

Okay. Ihand her the container. Here.

She takes it and goes back to her room, closing the
door. If she eats even one Ill take it as a win.

Later that night Ilie awake in bed.

For two weeks in June my brother didnt sleep. Most
nights, when my parents thought he was in bed, he was
out. Id catch him sneaking back in at five in the morning
when Iwas getting up for training. The other nights
hed be painting in his room. Bent over a canvas on his
ink-stained carpet, noise-cancelling headphones blocking
out the world. His room stank of oil and metho.
That was when he threw his major work out and
started again, when he told me he was channelling the
spirit of Salvador Dali and everything had to be melting.
One night Iwoke up to a loud bark of, Fuck you,
Dali, and he started again.
I tried not to pay attention to himwinter training
was already kicking my arse and Iwas about to leave for a
week-long swim camp in Sydney. When Igot back, Cam
had been asleep for two days.
Tonight the house is dark and quiet. Empty.
In the hallway a crack of light comes from under my
parents door. Istand next to it and listen for sounds, for
anything to assure me theyre still there.
When Iwas little, Istood here once because Id had a
nightmare. Iwanted to call out for Mum but Ipanicked,
thinking maybe theyd yell at me. Iopened my mouth
but nothing came out. Igasped Mums name until my
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Trinity Doyle

voice returned. Thats how Ifeel now. My stomach in

mythroat, blocking all my words.
I imagine Mum huddled under the blankets: shut
down, turned off, collapsed. Ineed her. Ineed her to
stroke my hair and tell me everythings going to be okay,
its just a nightmare, go back to sleep.
I stay for one more minute, but behind my parents
door theres nothing but silence.
Taking a deep breath, Icontinue down the hall to
Cams room. Ineed to talk to him about Mum; Ineed
toask him if shes going to be okay.
I open his door, wincing at the creak of the hinges,
and slip inside. This is where Cam exists to me. Here on
the walls of his stupid, dumb room. Where he would
smoke cigarettes out of the window and blast punk music
until Dad hammered on his door. His walls lined with
surfing and skating posters, his wardrobe covered in band
stickers. Now its all unused and smells damp.
I sit on the carpet and lean against the wall. The moon
lights up his room at odd angles, making menacing shapes
out of the shadows. Ipicture his face: he sucks on a cigar
ette and tells me with certainty none of us are okay. Then
he starts speaking in some made-up
French-sounding
language about the moon.
My mind always dresses him the same: grey jeans and
white Dinosaur Jr T-shirthe lived in that shirt. Iused to
find myself staring at the young girl printed on the front
with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth. She couldnt
have been more than ten but seemed so much older; shed
already seen it all, done it all and knew exactly who she was.
24

Pieces of Sky

I crawl over to his wardrobe and make myself a nest

among his shoes. His clothes tickle the top of my head.
Itug his shirts from their hangers and let them cover me.
Cam, in my head, calls me a weirdo. Imove his shoes
around, trying to get comfortable, and lose my balance.
My head whacks the back of the wardrobe, something
hard lands on my foot. Ow. Crap. Ikeep still, trying to be
quiet, listening hard for any signs of movement, but the
house is silent. Imove my foot, stretching out my toes one
by oneGod it hurts.
Getting out of the wardrobe, Ifeel along the wall for
the light switch. The brightness stings my eyes and Iblink
until my vision adjusts.
An unmarked black box sits on the floor. Inarrow my
eyes and suck in my bottom lip. Ibet its full of Playboy.
Please dont tell me Iwas struck by porn. Iopen it. Not
dirty magswell, one copy of FHM buried at the bottom.
Its filled with drawings, heaps of them.
Monsters: crows with distorted human heads, people
with crow heads, dogs with too many eyes, their tongues
jutting from their open mouths. Its no secret that my
brothers art creeps me out; it creeps Dad out too. Then
there are others Ihavent seen before. Charcoal drawings
of hands, Ryan looking pensive with his skateboard on
his shoulders. My insides buzz with each discovery. Ilay
them out, being careful not to smudge them.
When Im done, my hands are black and theres not
much floor left to stand on. Landscapes, trees, breasts,
skateboards, scary monsters. The new stuff is so different
from his other work, so much more real. A few of them join
25

Trinity Doyle

together, making bigger pictures. There are two Icant stop

looking at. Cam wearing his hoodie, one hand covering his
eyes and the other covering his mouth. And a bigger one
of a girl. Shes leaning forward, her hair hanging over her
shouldersbut her face is missing. All thats left is an ear
and a chin. It doesnt look deliberate but Icant find any
more pieces of the drawing. Where is the rest of her face?
Why did he hide these away?
Under his bed is the bag he took with him on the trip.
My stomach tightens. The things he had with him before
he died.
I pull it out and run my hands over the stitching.
Iknow whats in here. The bag was unpacked and packed
countless times, by us, by the police. Theres a typed list of
the contents of this bag but Istill want to look in it. Iedge
the zipper across, flinching at the sound.
T-shirts, boxers, pairs of boardies, a bent copy of Monster
Children, Zippo lighter, pencils, deodorantI take the cap
off and breathe it intoothbrush, socks, hoodie, jeans,
zincwe used to paint ourselves in that stuff, pretend we
were warriors and run about in our undies. Irun my hand
along the bottom of the bag and my fingers brush over
something cold and hard. His phone.
I take it out and stare at it. Iknow whats in here as
well. Ipress the home button but its dead.
A door creaks in the hallway and Ibolt for the light
switch. My heart pounds as Iwait for more sounds but
theres nothing. In the dark Ipocket the phone, stack
the drawings, trying not to smudge or crease them, and
put them back in the shoebox. Tucking it under my arm,
Isneak back to my room.
26

By Friday, Auntie Deb has caught onto the fact Im not

going to training.
Were you just going to let everyone think you were
still going?
I dont care what you think, Isay, filling the jug.
Did something happen?
I grab the English breakfast tea from the cupboard
and smack the door closed. No.
She sighs. Its fine to have some more time off, Lucy.
We all handle these things differently.
I hate how she says it, as if Cams death is one thing on
a long list of stuff to deal with.
Jim and Ihave started training for the race. Why dont
you come to the beach with us? Could be an easier way to
get back in.
I want to tell her to stop. Just stop trying. We are not
friends and Idont need her sympathy or good intentions.
Idont need anybodys.
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Trinity Doyle

The jug boils and flicks off. Ipour two cups of tea.
Ipick up the cups, heat burning my knuckles, and move
to walk past her.
What are you doing?
Bringing Mum her tea.
I already made her one, Lucy.
I stare at Auntie Deb, jaw clenched and heat boiling
up my back, then Idump the tea in the sink and push
past her.
I crack open Mums door: tea and toast are sitting on
the bedside table untouched. Debs used the wrong mug.
Mums is the blue and yellow swirly one, this one is just
brown. When will she go home? Were that well stocked
with frozen lasagnes she can leave without fearing well
end up drowned in our cereal.
I inch the door closed. A family photo hangs on the
wall outside their room. Itouch the glass over Cams face.
Eleven-year-old Lucy stares out at me, grinning with her
crooked teeth and hair in braids. You ll lose him, Itry to
tell her but she just keeps grinning.
I grab my backpack from my room and head out the
front door.

The bus always takes longer than it should. Twisting and

back tracking its way through the streets. Ituck myself
into the corner of my seat, shoulder pressed to the window,
and hug my knees.
I used to wish Icould catch the bus. Id imagine Cam
running things up the back and the tingly feeling Id
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Pieces of Sky

get whenever Iwas in the same place as Ryan. This bus

was always the one in trouble, having to stay back after
assembly, and Ihad no doubt that was due to my brother
and his friends.
Now a bunch of Year Eight kids have claimed the
back seat and whatever mischief my brother left has been
replaced by loud opinions on hairstyles and reality TV.
I stick my earbuds in and flood my head with The
Jezabels.
Tonight my brothers mates will light a bonfire and get
drunk at the cove. And Iwant to go because Cam always
let mehe wanted me toso Ialways did.

The day spreads out long and hot. Ispend my breaks

hiding in the air-conditioned library. Most of my classes
are in the newer buildings but my last class, English, is
in an old demountablenothing but a useless ceiling fan
to stir the humid air. A layer of sweat sticks the backs of
my thighs to the hard plastic seat. Megan keeps trying
to catch my eye but Icant look at her. Shell be training
after class, sixty minutes of laps in the cool water.
Ive been avoiding her most of the weeknot wanting
to relive my episode at the pool. Normally, Id ask her to
come with me tonight, and a part of me still wants to.
Idont know what itll be like without Cam but it wont
be the same. Nothings the same.
I want to disappear, to sink into the edges of this
room. Ipush back the layers and reduce myself to actions.
Sit, stand, breathe.
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Trinity Doyle

After it happened Ifelt Cam haunting me. Id catch

him out of the corner of my eye as Iclosed the fridge
door or walked out of the bathroom. His ghost burned
into my memory. But now he has started to fade and the
hole his absence created is swallowing me up all over
again.
I rest my head on the desk, the cool surface offering
a tinge of relief to my cheek. The noise of the classroom
blends together until its just a whirr in the background.
Someone taps my desk and Ijerk my head up.
Its the new guy, EvanEnglish seems to be our only
class together.
Have you got a pen? he asks. Mine just died. This is
our first conversation since we swapped junk food slogans
at the servo.
Ah, yeah. Ihand him a spare from my pencil case.
Cheers, he says and goes back to his seaton the
other side of the room. He gives me a quick look as he
sits down, then concentrates on his notes, my pen resting
absently on his bottom lip.
Mr Matthews clears his throat and Iblink at him. He
holds up the book were studying. Ishake myself and try
to focus.
Chapter one, Lucy. Any thoughts?
I give him a blank look and he lets out a long breath.
Ihavent read itItried but Icouldnt make my
brainconnect with the words. He moves on to the next
person.
The door opens and Steffi sneaks in. She takes the
empty desk a couple of rows in front then turns around
30

Pieces of Sky

and stares at meher eyes are unfocused and edged with

red. Iraise my eyebrows in response and she smirks and
turnsback.
At the end of Year Six, after the graduation dinner,
Steffi and Isnuck out to the bluff. We giggled at the cars
parked there, the couples making out, grossing ourselves
out with what they might be doing. We kicked off our
shoes and lay in the grass. We talked about high school
and all the grown-up stuff wed do together. Steffi gave
me our letter bookwe swapped it between us every few
weeks and it was my turn. Steffi always wrote way more
than Idid and most of it wasnt addressed to me. Shed
write to the neighbours cat, to the best climbing tree and
to the dad she never met.
I had big plans for the book this time. My family was
camping at Treachery for Christmas and Iwas going to
write all my letters from the point of view of a sea snail,
or a bluebottle, or seaweed... I hadnt completely worked
it out yet.
And Iswear Ipacked it but when we got there
Icouldnt find it. It wasnt at home eitherId lost it. It
drove me nuts because Inever lost anything. Steffi said
itwas no big deal but there was stuff out there somewhere
that shed only trusted me with.
We tried to start a new book in Year Seven but it
wasnt the samewe werent the same. Id been moved
into the top squad for swimming and Iwas training twice
a day. Steffi hated sport, all of it. She always picked beach
running for her elective and would lie on the sand and
read a book.
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Trinity Doyle

When Imade it to Zone for backstroke, Megan started

talking to me.
I kept asking Steffi to sit with us but she refused.
And Iwas a bit relieved. Steffi didnt get it: the constant
training and swimming obsession. But Megan did. We
were wrapped in each others lives and there wasnt much
room for anyone else.
I glance at Megan. Shes absorbed in the lesson,
forehead creased as she writes, her other hand on her head
smoothing back nonexistent stray hairs. She turns towards
me and Irefocus on my own work. All Ive written is the
lesson topic and Ive no idea what were supposed to be
doing. Itap the page with my pen, underline the heading
and draw a flower.
The bell rings and Iescape the classroom before Megan
can catch up to me. Everyone spills out into the quad and
Ijoin the swarm of students heading for the bus stops.
Hey Lucy, hey. Alix spots me in the crowd, bouncing
over and linking arms with me. She slugs water from her
sports bottle and offers me some. Isquirt the lukewarm
water in my mouth and hand it back.
You heading home? she asks, shaking her bottle over
her head and sending drops of water down her face. How
hot does it wanna be? Ineed to get in the pool before Imelt.
Oh sorry, she lets go of my arm, I didnt mean to
Its fine. You can mention the pool. Igive her a reassuring smile. Im not gonna freak out.
Youre sure?
Yes. Isteal her bottle and squirt her with it. She yelps
and jumps back.
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Pieces of Sky

Oh, wait, wait, she laughs, tying her hair back and
leaning forward. See if you can get it in my mouth.
We reach my bus stop giggling and half soaked. A
bunch of boys near us cut off their conversation to check
out Alix.
What are you doing tonight? Iask her.
Ooh nothing, why?
Well, theres this party and
There you are! Megan barges over to us. Ive been
looking all over for you, she says to Alix. Mums waiting
in the car park.
Oh, sorry. Iwas just talking to Lucy.
Megan directs her glare at me.
Hi, Isay.
So, youre talking to me again now?
Im sorry, all right? Its been a weird week. Idont
know why Im apologising when shes the one who barely
spoke to me for two months.
Anyway, we should get going. Her voice takes on
an odd, breathy note as if shes forcing herself to be nice
tome.
Ill text you about tonight, Isay to Alix.
Megans eyes narrow. Whats happening tonight?
Were going to a party, Alix says, her face lighting up.
At the cove? Her eyes slide to me. You have work
to do. With Lucy out of commission you need all the
training you can get.
Ill go after. Alix shrugs but her high voice betrays
her.
What was your best time this week?
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Trinity Doyle

Alix blows out a breath and focuses on the road beyond

Megan. 1.16.
Still so far from what she needs to qualify for Nationals.
You need to focus, Megan says, gently. Youre not
getting any faster, Al. Megan turns back to me. Enjoythe
party, she says and stalks off.
Shes right, Alix says, staring after Megan.
I squeeze her hand. Youll get there.
She turns back to me with her big doe eyes. Id rather
get drunk and kiss boys.

34