Paradise Road

  For my mum, for sharing her love of black and

  white movies and the beauty of the written word.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Hachette Australia

  Copyright

  Prologue

  ‘You’re not going back to Paradise.’

  I remember it all so clearly. The words tumbled out of my mum’s mouth as if in slow motion. It was the equivalent of someone pulling the rug from underneath me. The violent, unexpected jolt of that one sentence had my head reeling with panicked thoughts: memories of sneaking out windows, driving in cars with hot surfer boys … of Ballantine’s head between my thighs on his couch.

  Oh, my God, had they found out about all this? I wondered. Had my grades slipped so badly that this was the drastic solution? I quickly blinked and laughed nervously.

  ‘W– what?’

  It had occurred to me that maybe my parents were just having a laugh. They did, on the odd occasion, try to be funny, but as I took in their serious stares I felt my world slipping away from me.

  They were deadly serious.

  The words that followed were nothing but white noise to me as I stood there gaping. From what I could gather, Uncle Peter had scored his dream job up north and was relocating his family from Paradise. They would rent out their home to another family, effectively leaving me homeless and unable to finish my Year Twelve at Paradise High. There was really no delicate, non-diva-like way to put it – I was devastated.

  The weeks that followed weren’t pretty; in fact, there is a significant amount of cringing I do merely thinking about it. The festive season came and went in a blur. Awake all night, asleep all day: in many ways I was your typical teenager. I lay in bed, curtains drawn, buried in a cocoon of despair – pretty standard stuff. I was like one of those tragic heroines from a Jane Austen novel, staring across the field, sobbing in the rain.

  Ballantine, Ballantine.

  It was rock bottom. And what was worse, I couldn’t even call him to make it right. Trust me, I’d tried. I lasted all of two weeks in Red Hole before I dialled his digits, but there was no answer. And when I tried again a few days later it said his phone was unavailable. I’d obviously been dumped.

  Welcome to Pity Town! Population: me.

  I spent far too much time sitting in my darkened room wearing elastic-waisted tracksuit pants, a sloppy t-shirt, no makeup and my hair swept up on top of my head like a bird’s nest. My desk was littered with fun-sized Snickers wrappers and countless packets of Starbursts. Any time there was a knock on my door, and a slither of light peeped through, I avoided the instinct to scurry into the furthest corner of my room and hiss at the intruder, which was usually my mum bringing in a tray of something not saturated in sugar for me to eat.

  Dad just kept out of my way – like, literally. He would see me storming down the hall and do a complete about-face like a frightened villager escaping a natural disaster. There were days when it was his duty to make sure I was kept alive, so on one occasion he knocked on my door and opened it a crack. I quickly reduced the window on my computer and snapped my head around. My hooded eyes glowered at a tray sliding into my room, shifting its way across the floor with the aid of a broomstick handle.

  A small smile curved the corner of my mouth at my dad’s not-too-subtle joke. ‘Very funny,’ I called out.

  The broom simply retreated and the door closed. It was at that point that I started toying with the idea of getting my shit together.

  The next day there was a knock on my bedroom door. I didn’t answer, hoping that whoever it was would take it as a signal to leave. But the door opened and the aroma of mouth-watering roast chicken with rosemary and garlicky goodness hit me hard. I recognised it for exactly what it was: Mum cooking my favourite meal as a bid to lure me out of my cave. My stomach rumbled. Someone switched on the light, causing me to flinch. I had been staring at the computer screen so intently and for so long I hadn’t even realised that the sun had gone down. I was still mad, mad as hell, and I swivelled in my chair like a villain, arching my brow with an air of ‘Yes, can I help you?’

  ‘G’day, Smudge!’

  Oh sweet Jesus.

  My Uncle Eddie stood in the doorway dressed in his Sunday best (even though it wasn’t Sunday). He wore a powder blue ’70s-style safari suit, acquired, no doubt, from one of his op shop sprees. He nodded his head out to the hallway. ‘Carn, Smudge, your mum says grub’s up.’

  I cringed at every mention of my childhood nickname, which Uncle Eddie had come up with after a messy Vegemite-sandwich-eating incident when I was about three years old.

  I dragged my feet to the table, took a seat next to Dad’s brother, and began to eat. Damn, it tasted good.

  ‘So, Smudge, how did you like the big smoke?’ Uncle Eddie finally broke the uncomfortable silence, speaking with his mouth full and a dribble of gravy running down his chin.

  I grinned past the pain of watching him eat like a caveman. Flicking a knowing look to my parents, I straightened in my seat, cutting into my chicken. ‘It was amazing: made lots of friends, learned so much in school, everyone was really nice.’

  Uncle Eddie nodded. For all of my uncle’s mortifying public displays, he was at least interested in what I had to say.

  ‘So when does school start up?’ he asked, wiping up the excess gravy off his plate with a piece of bread.

  ‘As in, when am I going back?’

  I could feel my parents’ eyes boring into me, although I made a point of not looking at them.

  I sighed, stabbing my piece of pumpkin. ‘Apparently I’m not.’

  ‘What? Not go back?’ Uncle Eddie yelled, outraged. You had to hand it to Uncle Eddie. He knew how to create a scene. What a legend.

  ‘I know, right?’ I gave him my best look of despair.

  Eddie turned to my dad. ‘What’s the go, Rick? You heard the girl, she loved it.’

  ‘Stay out of it, Eddie,’ Dad warned wearily.

  ‘Pfft, I’m the head of the table, ol’ mate, and I demand to know why my niece is on the verge of tears.
’

  Mum took this as a cue to start clearing the table, even though I wasn’t finished. ‘Blame my brother-in-law, Eddie,’ she said. ‘He’s moving the family up north for a new job.’

  Uncle Eddie looked lost in thought as he dug a toothpick between his teeth, foraging around for leftovers. Ew. His eyes darted from my dad to me and back again. He shrugged casually. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

  Dad rolled his eyes. ‘Lexie was supposed to be staying with Jen’s sister.’

  It took a moment for that to sink in. He looked resigned to the fact that my situation was impossible. ‘Well, Jen, that was an absolute triumph, what’s for dessert?’

  Mum smiled, relieved the subject of conversation had changed. She brought over a piece of mango cheesecake to a very appreciative Uncle Eddie. ‘Lexie, did you want some, luv?’

  I moved to stand. ‘No, thanks, I think I might just call it a night.’

  I made it halfway across the room when Uncle Eddie’s voice rang out. ‘Hey, Smudge, how old are you?’

  I paused in the doorway, turning to see him shovel a fork of creamy mush into his face.

  ‘You’re, like, nineteen?’

  ‘Seventeen,’ I corrected him. ‘Well, eighteen on the eighteenth, actually.’

  ‘This month?’

  I shrugged. ‘Yeah.’

  My dad’s head shifted from me to Uncle Eddie, uncertain where this was going.

  ‘Well,’ Uncle Eddie said, licking each of his fingers clean of cream, popping one at a time from his mouth with satisfaction, ‘I don’t want to state the obvious, but why do you need Jen’s sister? Surely you’re old enough to get your own place; I mean, you’re of age, and from what I can tell, you take after your mother in the brains department, so what’s the problem?’ Uncle Eddie lifted his hands, palms up, as if it was an obvious no-brainer.

  My eyes widened, looking at my uncle, who, most of the time, embarrassed the hell out of me and seriously grossed me out, but who, right now, left me in complete awe of his genius.

  Of course. Why hadn’t I thought of that?

  Trying to contain my excitement, I glanced hopefully at Dad, who had closed his eyes, and then at Mum, who stood frozen in the kitchen wielding a spatula, as if battering Uncle Eddie to death was a real temptation.

  ‘Well, no need to thank me. Great dinner, Jen, as always.’ Uncle Eddie belched as he stood from the table. ‘Best call it a night. Good luck with your new venture, kiddo,’ he said, rubbing my head on the way past. He paused at the screen door, looking back and shaking his head. ‘Oh, to be eighteen again.’

  Silence loomed in the wake of Uncle Eddie’s departure and genius suggestion: awkward, hear-a-pin-drop silence. It took everything in my power not to look happy or smug. I remained calm and cool and innocently shifted my gaze towards my dad, who, before I could even utter a word, shook his head and said, ‘No! Absolutely not.’

  And that’s when the silence ended and all hell broke loose.

  ‘What do you mean, no? You didn’t even give me a chance to speak.’

  ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ he scoffed.

  ‘Oh, right, I forgot you have become really adept at reading my mind lately.’

  ‘Lexie, don’t go running wild with any ideas that Eddie has. They’re not exactly based in reality most of the time,’ added Mum, certain I would laugh, roll my eyes and agree. And, yes, under any other circumstance I would have, but not this time.

  ‘On the contrary; I have never heard anything simpler, or more perfect.’ I replied.

  ‘Oh, right, and where are you going to stay, and how are you going to afford to live? I suppose that’s where we come into this grand scheme of yours.’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ll get a job, find a cheap place to stay. I can figure it out.’

  My mind was reeling, and the excitement in me built. This could happen, this could really happen. On January eighteenth I would be an adult and I could do what I liked, and if that meant taking a bus and two trains back to Paradise, then so be it.

  A small smile broke across my face, and it was the worst thing I could have possibly done. Dad got up from the table and stalked out of the room towards his man cave.

  Mum came to stand next to me. There was no rage, only sadness. ‘You really want this?’

  Hope grew inside me. ‘More than anything.’

  Mum’s lips pressed together in a thin line, as her eyes darted across my face, taking in the pleading depths of my eyes.

  ‘Mum, please. I have to grow up some time.’

  She glanced at the closed door of Dad’s man cave, before looking back at me. ‘I’ll talk to him.’

  My lungs filled with air. I was ready to explode in jubilant squeals.

  ‘There will be rules.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ I said, trying to control my excitement.

  ‘You’ll have to find a job.’

  ‘Done.’

  ‘A place to stay.’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘And you will have to behave.’

  I swallowed, smiling sweetly, trying my best not to flinch. ‘Of course I will.’

  Well, two out of three ain’t bad.

  Chapter One

  My bag dropped to the floor, along with my jaw.

  I stepped back out of the doorway, wondering if I had entered the wrong room. No, this was definitely the right room, although I would never have guessed it. Gone were the Blink 182 posters, gone was the dressing table crammed with nail polishes, Impulse cans and Lip Smackers. And instead there was a queen-size bed (the one bed – seriously, where was my bed?) with a tasteful cream-coloured cover and tasteful scatter cushions, and two new matching bedside tables with matching lamps. Where was I supposed to fit in with all this?

  ‘What do you think?’

  Aunty Karen’s voice near my ear caused me to jump. How had I not heard her shoes, I thought, glancing down at her bare feet and polished ruby red manicured toes?

  ‘It’s different,’ I said, my eyes roaming and settling on the big aluminium window with sliding glass, the very one that I used to sneak out of, the very one I had followed Ballantine out. A pang of nostalgia hit me, but then looking around at the unrecognisable space only cemented how things had changed; even in such a short space of time, life had gone from familiar to the unknown.

  Aunty Karen walked in, swiping her hand across an invisible wrinkle on the bedspread before fluffing up the already perfect cushions.

  ‘We thought we’d make the bedrooms more comfortable, more user-friendly, for the new tenants. They’re Dutch, you know?’ Aunty Karen looked at me as if their nationality should mean something to me.

  ‘Oh, right.’ I nodded, feigning interest.

  I wonder what Amanda had to say about this.

  ‘So am I not sleeping in here, or –’

  ‘Oh, you girls will have to sleep together; we haven’t painted Gus’s room yet.’

  Whaaaaat? Me and Amanda sleeping in the same bed? We could barely stand being in the same room as each other.

  ‘It’s just until you sort out your accommodation arrangements.’ Aunty Karen smiled, patting my cheek as she left the room.

  The way Aunty Karen had said ‘until you sort out your accommodation’ suddenly had me feeling very alone. Mum said Aunty Karen would help me find a job and a room, but I started to feel like I was in the way here, that I was just an additional complication they didn’t need right now.

  •

  I was afraid to unpack. Even having my new mobile on charge in this crisp white room looked unseemly and out of place. There was nowhere to go and nothing to do without getting in the way or making a mess. Aunty Karen didn’t say as much, but her thin smile said it all when I pulled out a stool at the kitchen island and placed my elbows on the marble top.

  ‘Um, I think I might go for a walk,’ I said.

  ‘Good idea! Go stretch your legs,’ Aunty Karen said with enthusiasm, as she scrubbed at an invisible mark on the countertop.<
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  I slid off my chair, making sure to place it back in perfect alignment with the others, even though I was certain that Aunty Karen would wipe any evidence of me having sat there away with her cloth.

  ‘Okay, back soon,’ I said, making my way out of the kitchen, half expecting a ‘Don’t be long’ or ‘Be back before dark’ but there was nothing except the distant sound of a Dustbuster whizzing to life as I closed the door behind me.

  •

  I walked into a darkened room; the loud animated beeps and pangs rang out from the television screen, followed by a smattering of gunfire as James Bond successfully warded off a series of would-be assassins.

  My eyes shifted from the screen to a figure slumped in a beanbag, stubble lining his jaw, dark circles under his bloodshot eyes and empty bowls by his side of what looked like day-old Weeties.

  I turned to Laura, raising my eyebrows in a question.

  ‘Amanda and Boon broke up,’ she whispered so low I almost missed her words. I blinked as what she said slowly registered in my mind.

  Holy crap! Amanda and Boon were no longer?

  I wanted to press her for more information but my rampant thoughts were cut off by Laura’s voice.

  ‘Boon, look who’s here; Lexie’s back!’ Laura yelled over another burst of gunfire.

  ‘Hey,’ he managed, unblinking, eyes fixed firmly on the television.

  He looked awful, soulless, like a heartbroken zombie. Just like I did when I returned to Red Hill.

  This is what heartbreak looks like.

  ‘Come on, I think you’ve seen enough,’ sighed Laura, leading the way to her bedroom.

  ‘Poor Boon,’ I said. I understood what he was going through. If this is what he looked like I really didn’t want to see Amanda.

  ‘Oh, fuck Boon, he’s being ridiculous.’

  My head snapped around. I’d never heard Laura swear. Coming from the little pint-size slip of a creature, it didn’t seem right. She opened the door to her bedroom, which was in stark contrast to the darkness we left in the lounge. Flooded by natural light, and painted a cheery light yellow, her bedroom had a really cool series of white floor-to-ceiling bookshelves her dad had built her. Her room really represented her: bright and sunny – well, except for right now.

  ‘Ugh, he is driving me nuts,’ she said, flinging herself onto her bed. ‘It’s just so, so –’