When Dogs Cry by Markus Zusak Page B

hands
    â€˜What is it about the sound of clapping hands?’ I ask.
    The dog continues walking but I don’t care. I just keep talking.
    â€˜Why does it seem like an ocean of sound, breaking like waves on top of you? Why does it make a tide turn in you?’
    Now I just think about it.
    Maybe it’s because it’s one of the most noble things humans do with their hands.
    I mean, humans make fists with their hands. They use them to hurt each other and steal things.
    When humans clap, it’s the one time they stand together and applaud other humans.
    I think they’re there to keep things.
    â€˜They hold moments together,’ I say quietly, ‘to remember.’
    The dog isn’t too impressed, and the darkness crouches down.
    I shut my mouth and keep walking.

11
    â€˜I T’S THE BEST THING ANYONE’S EVER GIVEN ME,’ SHE SAID, holding it up and looking at me through the hole. She kissed me again, lightly on the mouth and once on my neck. She whispered in my ear. ‘Thanks Cameron.’ I loved her lips, especially when the sun hit them and she smiled at me. I’d never seen her smile like that when she was with Rube, and hoped it was a smile she’d never been able to give to anyone else alive. I couldn’t help it.
    The people were gone now and we collected up the money from Octavia’s jacket. It was just over fifty-six dollars. In my left jacket pocket, I still held all my words, including what I’d just written when she’d returned to playing. My fingers held them tightly, guarding them.
    â€˜Let’s go,’ she said, and we started walking along the water towards the bridge. Shadows of cloud lurked in the water, like holes the sun forgot about. The girl next to me still looked at the shell, and my heartbeat seemedto be climbing over my ribs. Even when it slowed down, there was still a force to it. I liked it.
    Under the bridge, we sat down against the wall, Octavia with her legs outstretched, me with my knees held up to my throat. I glanced over at her and noticed the way the light touched her skin and handled the hair that fell into her face. It was the colour of honey. She had ocean-green eyes, like saltwater on an overcast day, and she had tanned skin and a straight-teeth smile that got crowded on the right side when she opened her mouth further. She had a smooth neck and the shins of her legs wore a few bruises. Nice knees and hips. I like girls’ hips, but I liked Octavia’s especially. I . . .
    It was there again.
    Between us.
    The silence.
    There was only the sound of water throwing itself against the walls of the harbour, until finally, I looked over at Octavia and said quietly, ‘I just wanted to . . .’
    Pause.
    A long pause.
    She wanted to speak, I could sense it. I noticed it in the pleading of her eyes, and the slight movement of her lips. She was dying to say something but held back. I finished the sentence.
    â€˜I just wanted to say . . .’ I cleared my throat, but it remained cracked. ‘Thanks.’
    â€˜For what?’
    â€˜For . . .’ I hesitated. ‘For wanting me.’
    She looked over and placed her eyes in mine for justthe briefest of seconds. Her fingers touched my wrist and made their way down to hold my own fingers in hers. She then said something very deliberately.
    â€˜I’d want you even harder if you’d tell me more about who you are.’
    The words opened me completely.
    I could have pretended not to understand what Octavia was talking about, but I knew that all the waiting was done now. She would have waited. I knew that, but no-one can wait forever.
    So I said, ‘What do you want to know?’
    She smiled a moment and calmly said, ‘I like your hair Cameron. I like how it sticks up no matter how hard you try to keep it down. It’s the one thing you can’t hide.’ She swallowed. ‘But the rest of you is hidden. It’s