I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder and spun around, relieved.
‘Anna, I –’
Only it wasn’t Anna.
And in case you’re hoping for a nice romantic moment, sorry. This is real life, remember? Not a movie. So no, it wasn’t Sebastian Lee, either.
It was bloody Beamer.
That finally tipped those tears over the edge. I was not in the mood for his shit-stirring. I shook my head, wanting to shake the tears away, shake him away, shake everything away. I turned and ran to a nearby tree, sliding down to sit below it. Beamer followed and sat down next to me.
‘Can you just go away, please?’ I swabbed at my eyes with the edge of my cardigan sleeve.
He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t go away either. He silently reached into his pocket, pulled out a neatly folded hanky and held it out to me.
I screwed up my nose.
‘It’s clean, I swear,’ he said.
I took it from him, feeling really weird about literally everything that was happening, and mumbled ‘thanks’. I wiped my eyes and dabbed at my nose before trying to give it back, but it was his turn to screw up his nose.
‘Hold on to it for now, eh?’
I suddenly felt really embarrassed. Not that I cared all that much what Beamer thought of me – but what would he tell Sebastian?
‘Beamer –’
And then, because he’s Beamer, and because this is my life, he farted. FARTED. It was a really loud and obnoxious one, too. It was so unexpected (although I don’t know why, this was Beamer, after all), I just stared at him for a moment.
Then I woke up and gave him a whack on the shoulder. ‘God, Beamer, you’re so disgusting!’
He laughed.
‘Why are you so disgusting?!’ I gave him another whack.
That just made him laugh more.
‘It’s not funny! It’s gross!’ I grabbed his shoulder and shook him gently, but by that stage I couldn’t help it – I was laughing too.
That’s when he got quiet and said, ‘You alright, Maisie Martin?’
‘I was fine before you came.’ I gave him a shove.
‘Yeah, nah, it’s just . . . d’you-maybe-wanna-talk-about-it?’ Beamer has this way of speaking, like he can’t be bothered to open his mouth very far, and the words have to force themselves through his lips so that they either come out really slow and dragged out, or they all tumble through in a rush and get smashed together.
‘If I did, do you think it would be with you?’
He scratched the back of his head. ‘Nah, yeah, but uh . . . you could, y’know. F’you wanted to.’ Those words sounded extra painful to let out.
I sighed, twisting his hanky in my hands. ‘Beamer, not to sound ungrateful, but who carries a hanky around these days?!’ (Yes, DJ, I will accept points for that smooth subject change, thank you very much.)
Beamer smiled. ‘Hey, us forty-nine-year-old investment bankers always come prepared.’
I rolled my eyes and looked at it again. ‘Wait a sec . . . does this have your initials embroidered on it?!’ The letters E. I. B. were sewn into the corner in dark blue stitching.
He let out one of those huffs that’s almost a laugh, but not quite. ‘Uh, yeah. My gran does that to all of ’em. Every birthday and Christmas, she gives me a whole new batch. It’s tradition. A nice reminder that . . . that someone loves me.’ He looked away.
‘Oh . . .’ I didn’t know what to say to that. Then I realised that his token of love was now covered in not just my snot and tears, but also my make-up.
‘Oh my god, Beamer, I’m sorry. I’ve ruined it.’
He looked at it and smiled. ‘Nah, s’alright. It’ll wash out. Besides, I’ve got another two hundred of ’em! You’ve ruined your make-up though.’
I pulled my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans and opened the selfie camera to inspect the damage on my face. He was right – it was a mess. I licked a corner of the hanky and attempted to fix it.
I heard Beamer draw in breath to speak and I thought he was going to comment on how gross the spit-clean was. Instead he said, very softly, ‘You like him, don’t you?’
‘What?! Who?!’ I glanced at him and he just raised his eyebrows.
‘That’s why you’re upset, right? You’ve had it bad for Sebby for years and here he is, putting the moves on your best mate.’
‘No! Shut up!’ The emotion in my voice betrayed me. I waited for him to start hurling jokes or insults, but instead he surprised me again by saying, ‘It’s alright. I get it.’
‘You get what?’
‘Sebby is pretty dreeeaamy,’ he said, smirking and fluttering his eyelashes. And there was the joke.
‘Yeah, but . . . I mean, I’ve hardly spoken to him in years. Not exactly a sign of love, is it?’ I was getting desperate.
‘Mmmm, or that’s exactly what it is.’
‘Oh, and you know so much, don’t you.’
He shrugged. Picked up a stick and started absentmindedly drawing a pattern in the dirt.
I groaned. ‘Does Sebastian know?’
He shrugged again. ‘Never spoken about it.’
‘Great, I don’t even rate a mention.’
Beamer didn’t say anything.
‘You know what’s funny?’ I said, annoyed now. ‘We used to be really close. We played together all the time when we were kids.’
‘Yeah, Star Wars. I heard.’ He dropped the stick and looked at me. ‘So what happened?’
‘You showed up.’ I poked him and he snorted. ‘Honestly? I guess . . . yeah, I started to like him.’ There was no hiding from the truth, apparently. ‘I mean, I always thought he was cute –’ here Beamer snorted again ‘– but one day I . . .’
‘One day you . . .?’ Beamer prompted me to finish.
Fuck it, I thought. I’d come this far.
‘Um, have you ever read Sebastian’s poetry?’
‘Sebastian’s poetry?’ The way he said it made it sound like those words didn’t go together, like I’d said ‘the Pope’s wife’ or ‘Disney’s pornography’.
‘Ugh, forget it. Forget I said anything, okay?’
‘Nah, nah, tell me.’
I sighed. Might as well keep digging.
‘Alright, but you have to swear you won’t tell Sebastian or anyone. Promise me!’
He held up his pinkie finger and I linked mine with his. He bent his head over our joined hands and kissed his own thumb. I did the same to mine, feeling a little ridiculous.
‘There. That’s an unbreakable bond, Maisie Martin.’
I unlinked my hand from his and started twisting his hanky between my fingers again.
He leaned back and said, ‘So?’
‘You’re going to think it’s silly.’
He didn’t say anything, just sat there with an I’m waiting look on his face. I sighed again.
‘Look, I’m guessing he’d hate for you to know this since he’s never told you himself, but Sebastian . . . Sebastian writes the most beautiful poetry. When I read it, I realised there was so much more to him than I thought. Like, he’s got all this stuff bubbling below the surface that maybe he can’t say out loud, but he can write it and create something wonderful, you know? There was this one poem that was all about colours, but really it was about loneliness, and I had no idea he felt that way, and I’ve never read anything that got to me like that and I think –’ here I noticed a smirk growing on Beamer’s face ‘– oh god, you promised you wouldn’t tell him. Please don’t say anything, please please please.’
He tried to straighten his face. I could tell it was a struggle. Finally, slowly and deliberately, he said, ‘Seb . . . let you read his poetry?’
Shit.
‘Ummmmm . . . I guess let would probably be the wrong word.’
He raised an eyebrow.
Fuck. ‘I, um, I . . . kinda snuck a peek one day when I saw his journal open on his bed and no one was around, okay? Please don’t say anything, Beamer – you promised!’
He laughed. ‘Hoo-hoo-hoo, aren’t you the sly one, eh?’ He nudged me with his elbow.
I felt sick.
‘Looking all sweet and innocent and then snooping in other people’s bedrooms and reading their secret thoughts. Didn’t know you had it in you, Maisie Martin.’
I groaned. ‘You’re not going to tell him, are you?’
‘Ah, don’t worry about it. I pinkie-promised, remember? I’ll never breathe a word of it to Sebby.’ He grinned wickedly. ‘Didn’t promise I’d never mention it to you again, though.’
‘Oh god, what have I done?’
He chuckled. ‘So, uh . . . you really liked his poetry, hey?’
I let out a frustrated noise and threw the now-balled-up hanky at his head. It was a completely ineffectual missile, fluttering to the ground between us.
Now he was really laughing. Me and my pathetic feelings were just so amusing to him. I was contemplating whether murdering him would be justifiable homicide (pretty sure any jury would be on my side), and must have been shooting one of my best death stares, because he paused and said, ‘Alright, alright, chill, Maisie Martin. Your secret is safe with me, okay?’
I looked at him dubiously.
He rubbed his thumb over his lips, thoughtful. ‘Would it make you feel better to know my secret?’
I narrowed my eyes. ‘Depends on what it is.’
He exhaled. ‘Okay, we’ve confirmed that you like Seb, a fact that’s been pretty obvious for years.’
‘Yep, literally happened two minutes ago, no need for the recap, thanks.’
‘Well, there’s someone that I like, which I think is pretty obvious, too. Any guesses?’ He had a suggestive half-smile on his face. Although I’d never really considered it before, it didn’t take me long to figure out. The Venn diagram of people we both know is pretty small, and the people within crush-worthy age range even smaller (not that I’d put it past Beamer to be a creep about one of our mums, to be honest).
‘It’s not Anna, is it?’
His look said as if, although I don’t know what would be so as if about it. But that left only one option.
‘Ugh, so you like Eva. Join the queue. You know she’s dating a girl now, right?’
‘Maisie –’
‘Sorry if you had big dreams of sweeping her off her feet this summer. But even if she were single, even if she were into guys, I doubt she’d give you a second glance.’
He swallowed hard. ‘Right. Got it. Thanks.’ He looked annoyed.
I felt a bit bad then, but I didn’t know what to say. I reached down to pick up his hanky and the initials caught my eye again.
‘Hey, what is your first name, anyway?’
He didn’t say anything for a moment, but then relented. ‘What, one secret out of me isn’t enough for tonight?’
‘Why is it a secret?’
No answer.
‘Come oooon, tell me!’
‘You know, Maisie Martin, I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.’
‘Ah, the most overused line in cinematic history.’
‘Nah, c’mon, that’s gotta be: “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way,”’ he said, putting on a gravelly American action hero-style voice.
‘Or, “We’ve got company!”’ I said, imitating his accent.
‘“You just don’t get it, do you?”’
‘“It’s not what it looks like!”’
‘“We’re not so different, you and I.”’
‘“Is that all you’ve got?”’
‘“Danger is my middle name.”’
‘Hey, what is your middle name?’
‘It’s – ha, nice try, Maisie Martin. You nearly got me there.’
We both laughed.
‘Come on,’ Beamer said, getting up and dusting off his butt. ‘You don’t want to miss the big finish.’
My gut twisted as I remembered why I’d walked away in the first place. But I was feeling a bit calmer now. What I really wanted to do was talk to Anna. So when Beamer reached down to help me up, I took his hand.
‘Don’t think this means we’re friends now,’ I said to his back as he led me to our seats.
‘Ha! Definitely not, Maisie Mart– hey, we never got that popcorn,’ he said, suddenly spinning around and trying to push me back towards the food truck. ‘Come on, we better get there before it closes. Mush!’
‘Beamer, wha–’ And that’s when I saw it, over his shoulder.
Sebastian Lee. My Sebastian Lee. Leaning over. And kissing Anna.
I opened my mouth in shock, and Beamer shuffled so he was blocking them from my line of sight. He had a guilty look on his face.
‘What is this? You keep me occupied so Sebastian can get lucky?!’
‘What? Maisie, no –’
‘I’ve seen this move before, Beamer. The wingman distracts the fuggo so his mate can score the hottie. How generous of you. I should have known.’ I spun around and ran off, this time going straight past the food truck, straight past that damn tree, and through the gate. I heard Beamer calling after me, but I didn’t stop. Not until I was back in the cabin, in my bedroom, having rushed past Mum and Laura on the verandah and closed the door behind me with a thud.
I heard Mum knock. ‘Maisie? Maisie, are you alright? What’s going on? Why are you home already?’
‘I’m just not feeling well. I’m alright!’
She slid the door open a bit and stuck her head in. ‘Where’s Anna? Didn’t she come home with you?’
‘No, I told her not to worry about it. I think I just need to rest.’
Mum walked over and put her hand on my forehead. I swatted it away. ‘Mum, I’m fine, I just need some sleep.’
‘I’m not very impressed that Anna would –’
‘Mum!’
She sighed. ‘Alright. I’ll just be in here if you need anything, okay?’
‘Okay.’
She slid the door shut, but five minutes later she was back. She didn’t say anything, just put some Panadol and a glass of water down next to my bed and walked out again, closing the door behind her.
I tried to call Dad a couple of times, but it just went through to voicemail, which was weird. He normally picks up straight away, no matter what he’s doing, unless he’s watching a movie. Maybe that was it. I didn’t bother leaving him a message, because I didn’t know what to say. I just wanted to hear his voice.
I don’t know how much later it was when Anna walked in, but it felt like ages.
‘Maise, are you okay? You and Beamer both disappeared, and I was like, oh my god, has he kidnapped her? But your mum said you were sick?’
She walked over to the bed and kneeled down next to me, a worried look on her face. The image of Sebastian kissing her flashed before my eyes.
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I feel really sick.’
‘You should have let me know. I would have come back with you.’
‘I didn’t want to interrupt your fun,’ I said, a bite slipping into my tone.
‘Maise –’
I rolled over to face the wall. ‘Forget it, Anna. I just need some sleep. Can you turn off the light?’
‘Sure,’ she said quietly, flipping off the switch and slipping out of the room. Through the wall, I heard her in the bathroom, no doubt going through the many stages of her rigorous night-time skincare routine. After several minutes, she returned.
‘Maise –’ she started to say, and I made a loud snoring noise. She sighed and climbed into the bunk above me. I let out a few more snores for good measure. After a while, I heard Anna snoring for real, while I lay awake, staring at the space where she was sleeping above me.
Tuesday, 19 December
2 things I discovered today
1. Apparently there is such a thing as morning people. They’re not a myth.
Source: I didn’t get much sleep last night. By 5.30 am I couldn’t take it anymore and crept out to go for a walk along the beach. There were actually a lot of people out and a
bout, and, worst of all, they seemed HAPPY about it. They were all ‘good morning!’ and ‘beautiful day, isn’t it?’, like they wouldn’t rather be in bed asleep if they could help it. (To be honest, the sunrise was pretty spectacular. But you know what else is? Sleep.)
2. I think I have a new friend.
Source: Leila Khouri. She’s kind of the best.
*
I knew Mum and Anna had woken up when the messages started.
Mum: MAISIE! WHERE ARE YOU! ARE YOU ALIVE!
Anna: Maise? Where are you? Are you OK?
Mum: MAISIE MARTIN! ANSWER YOUR PHONE! ARE YOU DEAD!
Me: MUM. I just went for a walk. Chill.
Mum: [ . . . ]
Mum: IF A KIDNAPPER IS RECEIVING THESE MESSAGES I WANT YOU TO KNOW I AM CALLING THE POLICE!!!!
Mum: NEXT TIME ANSWER YOUR PHONE THE FIRST TIME, MISSY, NOT THE THIRD! I FORGOT TO MENTION WHEN WE WERE CHATTING JUST NOW THAT I’M GOING SHOPPING WITH LAURA! HAVE A GOOD DAY! XXXXXX
Anna: ????
Me: Hey Anna! Sorry, I woke up early and didn’t want to wake you. I just bumped into Leila, remember her? She invited me over. You’ll be alright without me this morning, yeah?
Anna: [ . . . ]
Anna: [ . . . ]
Anna: K.
Me: Hey Leila! It’s Maisie, remember me? You said we should hang out, and I know you might not have meant it, but just in case . . . wanna hang out?
Leila: Hey gorgeous girl! Of course I remember you. And I totally meant it! I’m working with Mum this morning, come have brekkie and then we can HANG OUT!
I stared at Anna’s K for a while. No O meant it definitely wasn’t OK (I mean, quite literally, and also symbolically). But I really wasn’t ready to talk about whatever had happened last night, so I tried to push away the tension I felt and headed to Leila’s.
Her place is awesome. She lives in a massive house, but it’s divided so that the family lives in a private section in the front, and then the back part is a bunch of suites the guests stay in, with a dining room and common room in the centre. There’s a pool out the back, too, with a big deck and those fancy lounge chairs. I asked Leila if it felt weird to have random strangers in her house all the time, but she said they still have a lot of privacy and she finds meeting new people ‘inspiring’.
What I Like About Me Page 5