Anna Snoekstra - Little Secrets

Swirling the wax with a Paddle Pop stick, Mia scooped up a globule. It felt warm and nice on Rose’s thigh and smelled like honey. She rubbed a bandage down on top of it. They both took a swig of Bundy, enjoying the burn of it in their throats.

They nodded at each other and Mia pulled Rose’s strip off at the exact moment that Rose pulled off Mia’s.

“I always forget how much it hurts,” Rose said.

They both took another swig.

By the time they’d finished they each had shiny, hairless legs. They were also a bit drunk. They lay on the floor giggling, staring at the cracks in Rose’s ceiling. Slowly, the giggles subsided and their breathing became even.

“My mum will be home soon,” Rose said, the impending argument playing out in her head. “I’m going to ask her if I can stay a few more weeks. She won’t be happy.”

Mia propped herself up on an elbow.

“One of the Friday the 13th films is on telly tonight. Do you want to come to mine?”

* * *

They decided to stop off at the gas station for snacks. Rose was in the mood to really gorge. She was sick of planning and worrying. Watching a shitty movie and eating junk sounded like absolute bliss.

Rose rolled down her window, and they turned up the radio, letting the girlie pop song blare. Turning the corner, Mia braked hard for some kids crossing the road.

“Paper-plate kids never even look,” she said, shaking her head.

One of the kids poked his tongue out through his mask at them. Mia, like most people, thought they were cute. Rose found them disturbing. There were around ten of them, both boys and girls from the local primary school. They wandered around together, sometimes even at night, wearing those dumb masks they’d made in class. Paper plates with eye and mouth holes cut out of them and silly noses and eyebrows painted on. They wore them constantly, the strings tied tight around the backs of their heads.

“So creepy,” Rose said.

“You just think that cos they got you!”

“Shut up!”

It was true. The kids played a game where they’d hide around corners and jump out at people, yelling boo. They scared Rose so much one day she’d actually screamed. Mia didn’t understand how Rose could hate the poor kids. Really she should hate their parents for kicking their children out for the night while they got loaded.

Mia pulled in to the pumps slightly too fast; the brakes squeaked when she stopped.

“Whoops!” she said. “Usually I’m a good drunk driver.”

Rose laughed and they got out of the car, snapping shut the doors. Mia left the keys in the ignition so the pop song would continue playing. She hummed along as she unscrewed the lid to the tank, pulled a ten-dollar note out of her pocket and flicked it to Rose. It seemed to hesitate in the air for a moment before floating down into Rose’s hand.

“Thanks.”

Dusk hung heavily around her. The air retained the heat of the day and felt sticky against her bare skin. Walking toward the service station, she breathed in: freshness, mixed with the tang of petrol and hot cement. The automatic doors opened for her and goose bumps rose on her arms as she walked into the air-conditioning.

There was a line, as usual, at the counter. Since the grocery store had burned down, the service station had been doing great business. Of course, the place was a chain, so the profit it made was being filtered straight out of the town. To another country, probably. Rose plucked two large packets of corn chips, a jar of spicy salsa and a family-sized block of Dairy Milk chocolate from the shelf. Holding the bundle, she grabbed a large plastic cup and put it on the grille of the frozen Coke machine. She watched as the shiny brown icicles filled the cup. Really, she should have picked savory or sweet. They’d probably both feel ill later, but oh well.

“Pump four,” she said to the clerk when she reached the front of the line, “and these.” She dropped the packets and a frozen Coke she’d been awkwardly cradling onto the counter.

“Having a big night?” a voice behind her said. Bazza. He was smiling at her and eyeing the assortment of snacks.

“Yeah,” she said, putting down Mia’s note and matching it with one of her own, feeling a twinge of guilt like she always did when she spent money unnecessarily.

“How’s your sister?” he asked.

“Cranky, but fine.”

“Frank had my bollocks for telling you we were worried at the station.” He laughed, but she noticed a sour note in his voice.

She smiled at him, then took her change and the bag from the cashier.

“I appreciated you telling me,” she said, waiting while he took out a credit card to pay for his milk, bread and chocolate biscuits. Now that Frank wasn’t here, maybe she could get a bit more information out of him.

“So,” she said casually, “how many other families got dolls?”

He thought about it as he put the card back in his wallet. “The Rileys, the Hanes and the Cunninghams... So, just three.”

Rose half expected him to count on his fingers, the idiot. He’d just told her the names of the families without her even having to ask. They walked out of the service station together, Bazza holding his plastic bag in one hand and swinging the large bottle of milk in the other.

“Are you with Mia?” he asked, looking over at her car. Rose was just about to snigger, there was a definite eagerness to his voice, when she saw Mia’s face drop as she spotted them. It took all of three seconds for Rose to grasp how stupid she was being. Mia was more than tipsy, and they both probably stank of rum. Bazza was off work, but he was still a cop. Rose had been so focused on trying to get a lead she hadn’t even thought of it.

“I’ll come say hi,” he continued.

“Sorry, I forgot we were in a hurry. See you later!” she said and ran back to the car, pulling on her seat belt and waving at Bazza. They drove very carefully out of the gas station and then veered quickly around the corner. Mia’s house was only two streets away.

* * *

Rose had met Mia on the first day of kindergarten. She’d been wandering around at lunchtime, looking for a good place to eat her lunch alone. Even as a five-year-old, she hadn’t been great at niceties, so meeting new people hadn’t come naturally to her. Holding her lunch box, her backpack a strange new weight on her back, she’d staked out a small flowering bush. If she sat behind there, she’d been sure no one would bother her. But as she turned the corner, she saw that there was already a little girl sitting behind the bush. She was crouched on the ground, holding her arm up at a strange angle, staring at it.

What are you doing? Rose had asked.

Mia had smiled. Look, she’d said.

Rose had got down onto her knees and looked at Mia’s arm. There was a tiny red ladybug on her wrist.

Fairies, Mia had whispered.

No, they’re ladybugs, Rose had said.

Mia shook her head solemnly, looking at Rose as though she was the silliest person in the world. Ladybugs are fairies. Didn’t you know?

Rose had looked from the ladybug back to Mia. Really?

Yeah, and if you sit here long enough, they’ll climb all over you, Mia said. I already did it this morning. This is their fairy house.

So Rose had sat. They’d sat in silence to begin with, watching as the beautiful little red bugs timidly made their way onto Rose. It tickled a little bit. Eventually they’d started talking, and upon finding out that Mia had no mum, and Rose had no dad, they decided they should be best friends.

* * *

“You’ll have to feed me,” Mia called from the couch. She was lying on her back, arms above her head, eyes closed.

Mia’s house was even smaller and shittier than Rose’s, although it was always impeccably tidy. The place sort of resembled a caravan, without the wheels. Her kitchen cupboards and small table were covered in laminate, printed with a fake wood grain. The couch, which doubled as Mia’s bed, was squeezed tight in the small lounge room, the main room of the house. On the left were two doors. One to the bathroom, the other to Mia’s father’s room. Both were closed.