When Dogs Cry by Markus Zusak Page A

other bloke when she started up with me,’ he stated matter-of-factly. ‘And apparently that guy’s after killin’
me
for it. I don’t know why. It’s not like I did anything wrong. I can’t help it if the girl doesn’t tell me she’s already taken.’
    â€˜Just be careful,’ I told him. I think he could tell by the tone of my voice that I wasn’t a big fan of this Julia girl. He asked me straight-out.
    He said, ‘You don’t like her, do y’?’
    I shook my head.
    â€˜Why not?’
    You hurt Octavia to get her,
I thought, but I said, ‘I don’t know. I’ve just got a bad feeling about this one, that’s all.’
    â€˜Don’t worry about me,’ Rube responded. He looked over and gave me his usual grin—the one that always says everything will be all right. ‘I’ll survive.’
    As it turned out, I kept just the one shell from the beach. It was the one with the tiger pattern. At home, I held it against the light from our bedroom window. I already knew what I’d do with it.
    It was in my pocket the next day when I walked downto Central and caught the train over to Circular Quay. The harbour water was a rich blue, with the ferries trudging over it, cutting it, then allowing it to settle. On the docks, there were people everywhere, and plenty of buskers. The good, the brilliant and the hopeless. It took a while, but I finally saw her. I saw Octavia on the walkway to the Rocks, and I could see the people milling around her, drawn to the powerful voice of her mouth organ.
    I arrived when she was just finishing a song and people were putting money into her old jacket which was spread out on the ground. She smiled at them and said thanks, and most of the people moved slowly on.
    Without noticing I was there, she went straight into another song, and again, a crowd began to gather around her. This time it wasn’t quite as big. The sun surrounded her wavy hair and I watched intently as her lips slid across the instrument. I looked at her neck, her soft flannel shirt, and stole visions of her hips and her legs through gaps in the crowd. In the song, I could hear her words, ‘It’s okay Cameron, I can wait.’ I also heard her calling me big-hearted, and hesitantly at first, then without thinking, I moved to the crowd and made my way through it.
    Breathing, stopping, and then crouching, I was the closest person in the world to Octavia Ash. She played her harmonica, and before her, I was kneeling down.
    She saw me and I could see the smile overcome her lips.
    My pulse quickened.
    It burned in my throat, as slowly, I reached into mypocket, pulled out the tiger shell, and placed it gently onto the jacket where all the money was strewn.
    I placed it there and the sun hit it, and just as I was about to turn around to make my way back through the crowd, the music stopped. In the middle of the song it was cut short.
    The world was silent and I turned again to look up at a girl who stood completely still above me.
    She crouched down, placed her harmonica amongst the money and picked up the shell.
    She held it in her hand.
    She pulled it to her lips.
    She kissed it, softly.
    Then, with her right hand, she pulled me towards her by my jacket and kissed me. Her breath went into me, and the softness, warmness, wetness and openness of her mouth covered me, as a sound from outside us burst through my ears. For a moment, I wondered what it was, but fell completely into Octavia again as her spirit poured through me. We both kneeled, and my hands held onto her hips. Her mouth kept reaching for mine, touching me. Connecting. Her right hand was on my face now, holding me, keeping me close.
    The roaring sound continued around us, forming walls to make this a world within the rest of the world. Suddenly I knew what it was. The sound was clear and clean, and magnificent.
    It was the sound of humans clapping.

    Â 
    clapping