Page 36 of The Vanishing Place

“Lewis!”

Effie shouted against the wind, but it was pointless.

The cold sea air bleached her words of sound, leaving her gaping like a mute fish.

She stepped off June’s bike and threw it to the sand.

The stupid saddle had thumped the feeling from between her legs, bruising her girl bits, and the bones in her butt ached.

“Lewis!”

Effie waved, flailing her arms this time, but he was too far down the beach to notice her.

He was just a little red smudge, the only red smudge on the whole beach.

There was just miles of white sand and icy gray sea.

Bloody Lewis . Of all the days to go for a walk down the beach, he had to pick a day that was colder than the Arctic.

Effie trudged along the never-ending beach with her hands tucked under her arms, the cold blowing through the broken zip of June’s jacket.

She removed her sand-filled shoes, swearing as she stepped on a sharp twig.

“Ouch.”

She lifted her foot and rubbed at the stinging skin. There was more driftwood than sand, the beach half-made of dregs and dead things. And space, so much open space, like the beach and the sky might never end. In the bush, there was no space.

Effie chucked her shoes next to the carcass of a tree and picked her way through the labyrinth of twisted driftwood.

Lewis hadn’t appeared at June’s that morning.

It was almost the end of the school holidays, and he had been teaching Aiden to kick his ridiculous egg-shaped ball.

Lewis turned up outside June’s every morning with his rugby ball under his arm.

Four joined in too, running after them and shouting, “Punt it,” whatever the heck that meant.

June made them all eat breakfast—Lewis too—and put on shoes and jackets before they were allowed out.

But that morning, Lewis wasn’t there, and Effie had cycled around for half an hour before she’d found someone who’d spotted him walking down the Haast-Jackson Bay Road.

Effie blew warm air into her hands, her fingers turned white in the biting salt breeze.

“Lewis!”

Effie splashed through the shallow water toward him.

Lewis was standing alone, arms crossed, looking out at nothing.

As if the winter air had frozen him there.

On the sand behind him was his rugby ball, abandoned, and the approaching waves were threatening to scoop it up.

Lewis was in shorts and his red Crusaders T-shirt, his pale skin the same gray-white as the sky.

“Lewis, it’s freezing.” Effie reached out for him. “Aiden was—”

He flinched and pulled away. “Go away,” he said. “Just go home, Effie.”

“Lewis?” She stood there, not understanding.

“I don’t want you here,” he said, without looking at her.

“But—”

“ Go home! ” he shouted. “Go back to June’s.”

“You’ll freeze,” said Effie, her words shaky. “You should come back.” She reached for his hand. “Please.”

But Lewis shoved her away, hard, his new muscles strong and untested, and Effie stumbled back, her twelve-year-old self nothing but air to a fifteen-year-old boy.

Her heel caught on a piece of driftwood and she landed with a hard thud.

The salt water seeped into her shorts, and her butt bone throbbed.

For a second she just sat there, looking up at him, seeing him differently. The strength and anger in him. Just like Dad . Seeing the adult growing beneath his skin.

“Effie.” Lewis rushed forward, offering his hand. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…”

He pulled her up, his eyes swollen from crying, and started brushing the sand from her. The right side of his face was an explosion of purple and blue. There was no white to his right eye, just a pool of blood.

“Your eye,” said Effie.

Lewis jerked back, turning his head away. “I didn’t want you to see.”

“What happened?”

“It was my dad,” he said eventually, his voice wobbling. “He came to visit me and Nan last night.” Lewis wiped a hand across his mouth. “Hitched here with some hunter.”

Effie couldn’t look away.

Lewis shifted from one foot to the other. “Dad likes to drink.”

“I thought your dad died in a car crash?”

“My stepdad.”

She hesitated. “I never thought about you having another dad.”

Lewis gave a sad smile.

“Where does he live?”

“Greymouth, I think.”

“Why was he…”

Lewis shrugged. “Money.”

Effie didn’t understand. She’d never had money, never really known what it did.

“Apparently,” said Lewis, “Nan didn’t have enough.”

Effie frowned. “Is he still…”

“Nah.” Lewis shook his head. “He’s gone.”

She glanced at the ground, her toes peeking out of the sand, and thought about telling Lewis about the anger inside her dad. About the sting of his palm across her face. About living with someone who scared her sometimes. About what Asher had said.

He’s lying. I saw him .

Effie dug her fingernails into her hand. Lewis wouldn’t understand. He’d just overreact. And besides, her dad wasn’t anything like Lewis’s dad.

“Griff drove Dad up the road to Fox,” said Lewis. “Told him to catch a bus there.”

“Constable Griffiths?” she asked. “The old police guy?”

“Yeah. Griff spotted Dad walking down Pauareka Road and followed him to Nan’s.” Lewis picked up a shell and chucked it into the sea. “Griff’s often hanging about Nan’s, fixing up the caravan and dropping off deer and pig meat for the freezer. Reckon he’s keeping an eye on us.”

“Why?”

Lewis looked at her. “Dad left me with Nan when I was seven. Parenting wasn’t for him apparently.

Him and Nan got in a big fight about it, about him being a piece of shit, and Dad left Nan with two broken ribs.

” He turned back to the water. “I think Griff and Mum were friends too, before Mum died. Anyway…Griff barged in before Dad could make a mess of my left eye too.”

“Isn’t Griffiths, like, real old?” Effie frowned. “Is your dad strong?”

“Ain’t nothing strong about a grown man who hits kids and old women.”

Effie stared, not knowing how to respond.

A smile tugged at Lewis’s mouth. “Griff says that Dad is nothing but a puffed-up weasel in gum boots.” The smile faded then, and he looked at her funny. “But I guess you’d understand that.”

“I don’t,” she said, too quickly.

Lewis looked at her like she was lying, but Effie didn’t react, and he kept his mouth shut.

“Right,” he said, pulling his T-shirt over his head. “I’m done feeling shite about this crap. Done feeling sorry for myself.”

He tugged off his shorts, naked but for his gray boxers, and threw his shorts onto the sand. “You coming?”

Effie gawked at him.

“It’s just a bit of water,” he said through chattering teeth.

His lips had gone blue, and he was clenching his fists at his sides, jumping.

“You’re mad,” said Effie.

“Suit yourself.”

“You’ll probably die.”

Lewis gave her a quick salute, then ran at the water, his knees pumping up to his chest.

“I’m not dragging your body back to Koraha,” she shouted. “I’m going to leave it here for the birds.”

Lewis bopped and jumped in the waves, and Effie watched, unsure where to look.

The shape of Lewis, the lankiness that she knew, had changed.

His arms and legs were more solid, and his chest was puffed out—his body suddenly more man than boy.

Like he’d been blown up. As Effie watched, a warm sensation moved through her, a feeling she didn’t have words for.

“The birds will eat your eyes first,” she shouted.

“Oh god. Oh god.” Lewis bounded back toward her. “It’s bloody freezing.”

Effie rolled her eyes.

Lewis grabbed his clothes, the material sticking to his wet body—clinging to the strange new mounds and bulges—as he pulled his T-shirt on.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this cold.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Lewis smiled at her, then he opened his arms. “Fancy a hug?”

“Don’t you dare.” Effie stumbled back. “Get away from me, you big wet idiot.”

“Just a—”

“No!” She laughed and spun around, dodging his outstretched arms, and he chased her across the beach.

They ran, cursing their way through the maze of sharp driftwood. Eventually, they collapsed onto the sand, the cold air peppered with their wheezed laughs and insults.

“I reckon June runs faster than you,” Effie panted.

“Yeah, well, June doesn’t have to run with a huge pair of frozen balls bashing between her legs.”

“Yuck.” Effie stuck her tongue out and hit his arm. “You’re so gross.”

“I’ve probably got bruises the size of soccer balls.”

“You don’t know nothing about bruises,” Effie spluttered. “Try pedaling that death trap, then you’ll…” She turned, the right side of Lewis’s face shining purple, and wanted to swallow her words back.

“Come on.” He pulled them both up. “Aiden’s going to be right pissed off with me.”

“I forgot to tell you.” Effie slapped a palm to her forehead. “Aiden was running around the garden when I left, kicking that stupid ball into the air and trying to catch it—”

“Good lad. No slacking while his coach was off.”

“But he tripped,” she said. “And fell into that pile of old planks. One of the nails went right into his foot.” She grimaced. “He sure made some noise about it. But really, the hole was tiny.”

“Shit. I’ll be getting blamed for that too.”

Effie tutted. “Reckon he’ll probably sack you as his coach.”

“Never.” Lewis smiled. “Your brother reckons he’s going to be the next Jonah Lomu.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“He was the youngest ever All Black,” said Lewis. “Just nineteen.”

Effie faked a yawn and Lewis tried, and failed, to push her to the ground.

“Yep.” She grinned. “You fight like June too.”

Then she stuck her tongue out and sprinted back to the bike. But Lewis caught her after ten meters and took her hand. He slipped his fingers into hers like they’d done it a thousand times, like she was his, and Effie’s heart beat wildly.

“Why don’t you just stay in Koraha with June?” asked Lewis. “Rather than going back?”

Effie shook her head. “I couldn’t leave Tia and the young ones.” Not with Dad . “And they love the bush.”

“And what about me?”

A smile filled his face, his eyes tunneling into her, and Effie’s body warmed.

“Hanging out with you every day…” She let out a puff of air. “I’d rather throw myself in the sea.”

“Liar.” Lewis grinned.

They didn’t speak after that. They didn’t look at each other. They just walked hand in hand along the beach.

Of all the moments of happiness Effie had known, none had felt like this.