Page 17 of Like Fathers, Like Son
I was pretty sure I’d seen Anneka use a key that was hidden in a pretend rock in the garden before, so I waited until it got really dark after they’d been gone a few days, and I crept outside to find that key. It took me ages to find it, because the rock was hidden among others in a muddy patch, but once I had it, that tingle of excitement had me checking the street for anyone who might see me.I was going in.I’d find her room, find her diaries, and fill my head with her thoughts and wishes and dreams.
I checked my feet before I stepped up onto the welcome mat outside the door, because my dads had taught me to always be careful to leave no trace of myself behind, when I’m doing things I shouldn’t.
My shoes were a little muddy, so I scraped them on the far edge of the step, before I risked muddying the mat. I turned the key in the door, and listened just in case there was an alarm, because I’d seen on TV that some people had those.
There were no beeping sounds, so I stepped inside and closed the door. The house was dark and too silent without people in it, but it was what I needed for right now. I dug my small torch out of my pocket and switched it on, flashing it down the hall and up on the walls.
There were photos on the wall, so I carefully made my way off the inside mat, checking my shoes again with the torch before I went to look at the photos. Anneka as a little kid, probably my brother Ash’s age, and then her at various ages after that.
Her hair was always that glowing red colour, although it was brighter when she was really small. Would it keep getting darker until it no longer glowed? Would it end up a muted red-brown like her mother’s? Why did that make me feel a little cold inside? Her hair was what reminded me of fire, of burning flames, curling and flicking at the walls as it devoured everything. I shook my head, because I could almost hear daddy Gray’s voice in my head when I thought about fire like that.
I dug out my phone, and took some photos of the pictures on the wall, documenting Anneka’s life before she met me. I wished we’d grown up together, so I’d be in them with her.
I turned my attention to finding her bedroom, locating the stairs and heading up them, the thick carpet muffling any sound I might make. I could have done this with them sleeping, and they’d never know.
There were several doors, and it took two tries before I found the room that must have been hers. It was painted in purple and white, and I could smell her. That sweet perfume I’d caught scent of the few times I’d been close enough.
I headed straight for her pillow, pressing my face into it, the scent of flowers and apples filling my nose. It was faint enough that I had to press my face deep into it, but it was worth it to be able to smell her. I roamed her room, opening drawers, and trailing my fingers through her clothes, and even her underwear, which was mostly white and plain.
“Diaries… where would they be?” I checked under her bed, and there was nothing, but then I looked at her pillow again. Would she hide them there, where they were close to her? She could have taken them with her, but I figured if mum had loads, maybe she did too. Maybe I could read older ones, just to get a sense of who she was inside her own head.
“Yes!” There was a single diary under the pillow, and when I lifted it up, I pictured it in her small sweet hands, and sniffed it. I could smell her perfume again, and I liked how it made me feel. Sitting cross legged on the floor, I opened the diary to the start.
Anneka Wilson, age 13
That meant it was pretty recent, because she had only turned fourteen a few weeks ago. I decided to flip to the back of the diary, and started looking for my own name. Had she thought about me? Wondered about me? Did she like me too?
Blaze… there! Oh.
Dear Diary
Blaze was the one who set the fence on fire, and dad was so angry about it. I mean, not that he wasn’t always yelling at us, but this really set him off. Thanks to Blaze being so obsessed with the fence, and doing something so crazy, I was paying the price.
I couldn’t blame Blaze, could I? Technically he was just a kid, acting out for attention. He didn’t realise what he was doing, because how could he know that my dad would take it out on mum and me? I think it might have been better if they’d never moved in next door to us. There was something weird about them, wasn’t there? Who has three parents? Why do they all have weird names? Who compares hair to fire? It’s all so weird. Isn’t it?
I felt sick. She thought I was weird. She said I was just a kid. She thought my family was strange because we had more parents than most. Why was that weird? It made more sense, because there were more of them to look after us, and keep us safe. It was easier to have their attention when there were more of them.
I wasn’t acting out for attention. I was trying to remove the thing that caused the arguments. But she said… she said he took it out on them. Did he hurt her? Did he hit her? My dad had suggested he did that, right? Was she safe with that horrible man in her life?
I read a few more entries, some not saying such mean things about me, and one that really worried me. Her dad had reported my family? What if the mean lady came back? She said I wasn’t normal before. That was why we’d had to move here in the first place. Something to do with me being around other kids, like that would somehow make me ‘normal’.
Suddenly I realised I could hear something downstairs. Voices. Oh my god. Did someone else break in? I sat up, shoving the diary back under her pillow as I stood. What should I do? Where should I go?
I suddenly realised I could hear Anneka’s voice, and she was running up the stairs. Oh no! I glanced around her room in a panic, suddenly diving under her bed as she came in and slammed the door. She was breathing hard, like she’d been running. No wait, that wasn’t it at all.She was crying.
She sat on the bed, her legs and feet so close to me that I could have touched them. She was crying so hard that she was gasping for breath, and everything in me made me want to climb out from under the bed to try and comfort her. To hug her. To try and make her happy again.
I almost did it. I was starting to edge out from under the bed when I remembered her diary. Those hurtful words of hers. Calling me and my family weird. Saying I was just a kid.
Just in time I realised that my sudden appearance wouldn’t comfort her at all. It’d scare her. It’d make her think she was right about me. I couldn’t let that happen, so I pressed my hands over my ears, to try and drown out the sound of her pain and sorrow. If I couldn’t help her, I couldn’t bear to hear it.
11
Anneka
Bythenextmorning,dad had moved out. He loaded his car in the night, and just left. How could he just leave like that? How could he just walk away from his family, without a care for how we’d manage without him?
The holiday I’d looked forward to had turned out to be the most painful experience of my life. I felt like I hated him for what he’d done. I didn’t want to hate my own father, but I couldn’t help it.
