Thyla - Kate Gordon [37]
Her head snapped up. ‘I just mean … arty types, I guess,’ she said. Her brow was furrowed and her eyes looked uneasy. ‘I mean, like us. You and me. People who are more into passion and creativity than logic. I thought you were into art and writing and stuff, too.’
‘I am,’ I said.
‘So, that’s all I meant,’ she said, shrugging. ‘Just “our arty kind”. That’s all.’
‘How was your night?’ I asked, changing the subject. ‘How was your bushwalk?’
Rhiannah shrugged again. ‘Okay, I guess,’ she said, her voice short and tense. She breathed out shakily. ‘Sorry, Tessa. I know I’m snapping. I just didn’t get that much sleep last night and the bushwalk … um, it was just long and there were, um, some other bushwalkers in our territory. They kind of got in the way. So, all in all, I’m a bit grumpy.’
‘Who were the other bushwalkers?’ I asked.
‘Just some other people. People who are trying to, well, to do the right thing, I guess,’ she said, shrugging. ‘And we should probably, you know, be grateful and friendly or whatever, but it’s hard because, it’s like, it’s our bushwalking territory, you know?’
‘But how can that bush be your territory?’ I asked. Rhiannah looked really uncomfortable. ‘Sorry,’ I said. I knew I was asking too many questions. I knew I was doing the exact thing I had been grateful to Rhiannah for not doing to me. I was prying. She had been so good in letting me tell her my secrets in my own time, and now I was trying to claw hers out of her by force.
Claw.
The word reminded me of what I had seen last night, attached to Rhiannah’s pale hands.
Claws.
I looked down at Rhiannah’s fingers now. Her nails were chipped and there was a deep scratch on her right hand. On the left one, the knuckles were black with bruises.
‘Did you fall?’ I asked.
Rhiannah followed my eyes down to her hands. ‘Something like that,’ she said, echoing my phrase from just a few moments ago.
‘Do you need to talk about it?’ I asked.
She shook her head. ‘No,’ she said, quickly. ‘No, it’s fine. It’s complicated. Don’t worry about it.’ Rhiannah bit her lip and rubbed absently at the bruises on her hand.
I swallowed hard and tried to forget what I had seen or imagined the night before, and remember the good, kind Rhiannah, who had made me feel so welcome at Cascade Falls. I tried to think of the Rhiannah who was in front of me now, looking so upset.
I decided to stop my questioning. I would show Rhiannah the same respect she had shown me. ‘You can tell me anything,’ I said. ‘But you don’t have to.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, forcing a small smile. ‘I might take you up on that one day. Maybe you can do the same.’
I nodded. ‘In the meantime … waffles?’ I asked.
Rhiannah shook her head. ‘No, ma’am. Today isn’t waffle day, Miss Tessa. Today is hash brown day!’
I had no idea what a hash brown was, but Rhiannah seemed excited by it, just as she had been about waffles. Which could only mean that hash browns were something to look forward to. I grinned right back at her and used a phrase I had heard you and Vinnie use when you were talking about your first morning coffees. I said, ‘Bring it on then, Rhiannah. Hit me up with some hash browns!’
‘Ah, Rhiannah! Just the person I was after!’
Ms Hindmarsh poked her head around the door of her office as Rhiannah and I walked back from our breakfast (which was, predictably, wondrously divine, and of which I had partaken, well, at least one too many ‘browns’. I was going to get fat at this rate).
‘Um, why?’ Rhiannah answered, nervously.
‘Nothing to worry about!’ said Ms Hindmarsh, smiling. ‘I just wanted a chat. Would you mind waiting here for a moment? I just need to send a quick email first. It won’t take long.’
‘Sure,’ said Rhiannah.
‘Hi, Tessa,’ said Ms Hindmarsh, turning to me. ‘How’s everything going?’
‘Really well, thank you, Ms Hindmarsh,’ I said.
‘Excellent,’ she said, her blonde curls bobbing as she nodded. She turned back to Rhiannah. ‘I won’t be long, Rhiannah. I promise I won’t make you late to class.’
She stuck her head back inside the door and said, ‘Perrin, thank you for your time. Rhiannah