by Lollie Barr
‘Says who?’ said Mand.
‘Says me,’ said Cat, pointing her finger at Mand before turning her wrath on Belle. ‘And if you think I’m going to kowtow to poor little Ms Rich Girl over there, you can think again.’
‘Get over yourself, Cat,’ said Belle raising her voice so it became all quivery. ‘You’re not popular or cool. You’re just a nasty little bully who needs a good –’
Just then Mrs Hong came into the room and all the girls fell silent.
‘Is everything okay up here?’ she said, carrying in a tray with five red glasses containing green cordial, and a packet of Jelly Fig biscuits. ‘I thought I heard raised voices.’
‘No, Mum, everything’s fine,’ said Wanda, anxious to get her mother out of the room – the last thing they needed now was some motherly advice. ‘We’re just excited about the magazine.’
‘If you’re sure, Wanda,’ Mrs Hong said, backing out of the electrically charged room. ‘Just keep it down a bit, will you. I don’t want you disturbing the neighbours.’
After she closed the door, the girls started up again, this time, arguing in whispered hisses. Belle, Mand and Cat were at each other’s throats, while Maggie and Wanda sat observing them in action. They were at an impasse even bigger than their egos. Everyone wanted to be the editor.
‘We could put names in a hat,’ suggested Maggie.
‘Oh right, Maggie,’ said Cat, her eyebrows rising like half moons to the top of her forehead. ‘Great idea. You need to respect your team leader, not leave it to sheer chance. If Mand won, our magazine would be utter crap.’
‘Well,’ said Belle, ‘I’m going to get my father to talk to the school. After all, he did fund the building of the tennis courts last year. I can’t see why he can’t have a word with Bone.’
‘Yes, that’s right, run to Daddy,’ said Mand, snarling like a pit bull on a tight leash. ‘Just because you’re rich doesn’t mean you rule the world.’
‘I refuse to stand here and be insulted by you, you tragic little Goth,’ said Belle, opening the door. ‘I’m out of here.’
‘Me too,’ said Mand following her out. ‘I have had enough.’
‘Later!’ said Cat, stomping down the stairs like a yeti with PMS.
And with that the three girls stormed out of the house. It was quite a comical sight watching them doing their best to try and ignore each other as they stomped down the street. Belle on the right side of the road, hands folded crossly against her chest; Mand in the middle of the road, fuming under her breath; and Cat on the left side of the road, her nose in the air, her eyes glaring.
Wanda and Maggie were left in the bedroom amid a huge pile of clothes. ‘Wow,’ said Wanda, as she started to fold the clothes up and put them away. ‘That started so well, I thought we might be able to pull it off, but those chicks are way out of control. What are we going to do?’
‘I have no idea!’ said Maggie.
‘You know what, Maggie,’ said Wanda. ‘It was your idea, you know, to try and embrace our differences so we can talk to all girls. We should make you the editor!’
‘Me?’ said Maggie, laughing. ‘The girls would never agree to it in ten billion years! Imagine Cat explaining to the Us Crew that she was taking orders from Maggie No Mates! I’ve got as much chance of becoming the world’s next supermodel.’
‘We could have a vote,’ said Wanda. ‘I’d vote for you. You’re the most sensible chick in the group. And if you’d vote for you, that’s two votes. The other girls are obviously going to vote for themselves. That’s two votes to you, one vote each to them. I’m going to call Belle, Mand and Cat tonight and force them to meet us at Hoolio’s tomorrow afternoon.’
Wanda looked determined, and Maggie didn’t know whether to be pleased … or sick.
Hoolio’s Records & Cakes was Baywood’s coolest hangout for teenagers. There was an old-fashioned pinball machine called King Pin, where kids would spend hours in fierce competition, sending the tiny metal balls flying up and down ramps, trying to knock over all the pins. It made the most horrendous ping, ping, ping sound, which formed part of the background noise at Hoolio’s. There was also a very loud frappé machine used for crunching ice, the ear-splitting espresso machine, blaring music from the sixties, seventies, eighties, nineties and noughties, and even louder boisterous teenagers, who would whoop, holler and dance on tables.
Hoolio, the owner, had been a well-known pop star in the eighties. His hit single ‘Diggin’ It (In the Mood for Love)’ appeared every couple of years on compilation albums. He was famous back in those days for wearing extra large trousers made from parachute material that hung down from his crotch like a big nappy, and a black string vest from which his chest hair would poke out in clumps. Apparently there was no shame in a hairy chest in those days.
Hoolio’s was the only place in Baywood that still sold vinyl records. Hoolio refused to get a CD player in his ‘establishment’, as he liked to call his café. He encouraged the kids to get up on the decks and spin tunes, so the music was always eclectic. It was almost an obsession for kids all over Baywood to hunt through their parents’ old records or garage sales for cool old tunes to play. Sometimes Hoolio would drag a piece of lino out from the store room, crank up some old school hip-hop and do the windmill – spinning around on his back, or on the crown of his head, which was perhaps the reason he had a small bald patch on that very spot.
As usual Wanda and Maggie were first to arrive and they took a side booth that looked over the park and on to the river. Last night, after a great deal of fast talking, Wanda had persuaded the other girls this project was too important to fail, and she was praying that her plan would work. Maggie was still feeling nervous about the whole idea – her, as editor? It was a joke really.
Cat arrived next and slid into the red leather banquette next to Maggie. She didn’t bother with a hello but instead launched straight into a tirade. ‘I can’t see how we can resolve this. Those other two are impossible to work with. I’ve resigned myself to repeating Year 10.’
‘Does it really have to be that dramatic?’ said Wanda, craning her neck to read the blackboard menu. The triple chocolate cheesecake sounded sensational.
Then Belle arrived and slid over next to Wanda, saying hello to her and Maggie, but completely ignoring Cat. Mand finally turned up with a face like thunder and slid into the booth without saying a word to anyone.
‘Right,’ said Wanda, taking control of the situation. ‘We’re stuck with each other, so whether we like it or not we’ve got to resolve our differences. Obviously, not everyone can be editor, so I think we should take avote.’
‘A vote?’ said Belle. ‘What’s fair about that?’
‘It’s called democracy,’ said Maggie, feeling she could only take a pinch more of Belle’s stuck-up attitude before she lost her patience. ‘You know, what this great country of ours is founded on?’
‘Okay, brain box,’ said Belle. ‘No need to be a smartarse.’
‘Let’s get on with it,’ said Mand, trying to suss who Maggie and Wanda would vote for. Surely they wouldn’t want to be patronised by Belle or bullied by Cat. So that meant she had a pretty good chance of winning.
‘And the decision is final,’ said Wanda, eyeballing each of the girls to make sure they understood. ‘Okay, let’s all shake on it.’
The girls reluctantly shook hands. Wanda pulled a bright pink notepad out of her bag and peeled off five pieces of paper, handing one to each of the girls.
The girls wrote down who they thought should be editor, and handed the papers back. ‘Right,’ said Wanda, opening each individual note. ‘One vote to Mand. One vote for Belle and, no surprises here, one vote to Cat.’
The suspense was unbearable.
‘One vote to Maggie,’ said Wanda as the other girls looked on, bemused. ‘And the final vote goes to … Maggie! Maggie, congratulations, you are officially the editor.’
‘This is rigged,’ said Cat. ‘How can Maggie be the editor? She blus
hes every time she talks!’
‘No way,’ said Belle, still trying to take in the result. ‘Maggie? That’s crazy.’
Maggie tried not to look hurt – but secretly she knew it was a ridiculous idea.
Everyone turned to Mand, expecting her to go completely off her nana.
‘Actually, I think Maggie will be fantastic. She must know more about words than all of us combined with the amount of time she spends in the library.’ The others stared at her open-mouthed, but Mand was just glad that she didn’t have to take orders from Cat. Besides, Maggie would be a bit of a pushover.
‘Thank you, Mand,’ said Maggie, surprised. ‘Look, we don’t need to fight over this. I’ve got a great vision for the magazine that encompasses all of us doing what we’re best at. I know I’m not friends with any of you, but I do know Belle is an amazing artist.’ She turned to Belle. ‘I saw that painting at your house and I went to Mr McGary’s class and saw some of your work hanging on the wall. It’s amazing. You should definitely be the art director, in charge of how everything looks.’
‘Thanks,’ said Belle, softening. ‘I do love art, and I’m a bit of a boffin when it comes to digital design.’
‘And Cat, you’ve got some pretty amazing social skills. You know how to get people to do what you want,’ said Maggie.
Cat was not sure whether to take this as a compliment or an insult.
‘Your suggestion to get in touch with Tyler was fantastic,’ continued Maggie. ‘Everyone loves reading about celebrities. Why not try and track him down? You could be the celebrity editor. And even though it’s never fun to be on the receiving end of your put-downs, you can actually be very funny. So you can be in charge of the humorous features. What do you think?’
‘Yeah, that could work,’ said Cat.
‘And Mand’s right about having serious issues in the magazine …’ Maggie was beginning to enjoy this. She’d spent a sleepless night before the meeting really thinking about the magazine and what it could be like, and now the words were flowing. Maggie was finding it easier and easier to articulate her ideas and, unbelievably, the others seemed to be listening. ‘Just because we’re teenagers doesn’t mean all we care about are boys and shoes. I think you’d be an amazing features editor because you’ve got so many ideas and I know you’re brilliant at English.’
‘You know what?’ said Mand cracking the first smile they’d seen on her face since the project started. ‘I’m in. Let’s go for it.’
Just then two boys sauntered over to the booth.
‘Hey Con, can you imagine this bunch of mag hags ever beating us?’ said Gav Estery with a nasty sneer.
‘Mag hags,’ said Con Zelicki, laughing like a cat with a fur ball stuck in his throat. ‘That’s a good name for this bunch of loser chicks.’
Mand gave him the finger. ‘Why don’t you and Neanderthal boy there go back to the swamp you crawled out of before I tell my friend Hoolio you’re harassing us.’
‘Someone call me?’ said Hoolio on cue, standing right behind the boys and towering at least a metre above Gav. ‘You wouldn’t be being a nuisance to these fine ladies, would you?’
‘Off you go then, cheese mould,’ said Cat who was known for coming up with the most obscure insults in the school. ‘And one more thing, boys, the Mag Hags rock!’
The boys slunk off and Hoolio took the girls’ orders. Five hot chocolates and two triple chocolate cheesecakes to share. When Hoolio came back with a stacked tray, the girls were so engrossed in conversation that they didn’t notice until the hot chocolate had cooled to a perfect temperature.
‘This calls for a toast,’ said Mand with a huge smile. ‘All be upstanding for the Mag Hags. Long may we rock.’
‘The Mags Hags,’ the girls said in unison. ‘Long may we rock!’
Mr McGary looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights of a car. There were fifteen pairs of puppy-dog eyes glued to Fit Club’s dreamy physique, as he stood at the front of the class with Ms Marrow.
‘Right class,’ said Ms Marrow. ‘Mr McGary’s here to give you a lesson –’
‘Oh, a lesson, sir,’ called out Mand, to the cheers of the girls, which made Fit Club blush like he was wearing old ladies’ rouge. ‘What sort of lesson?’
‘Settle down, ladies!’ said Ms Marrow clearly annoyed. ‘Mr McGary is here to give us a lecture about the visual elements of making a magazine.’
The design and photography, explained Mr McGary, shaped what the magazine looked like, and reflected the mood and tone of who the magazine would appeal to. Fit Club then brought out a big stack of magazines, everything from women’s magazines to men’s magazines, music magazines to sports magazines, gardening magazines to health magazines and everything in between and compared the design between them. It seemed there was a magazine for every taste, right down to those anoraks interested in trains or toy models.
The class formed into their groups and spent a happy period flicking through the magazines and cutting out pictures to make what Mr McGary called a ‘mood board’, a collage of all the images that best suited the magazines they wanted to make.
The five girls sat around cutting and pasting pictures of gorgeous boys, glamorous celebrities, trendy clothes, hot musicians, a Friends of the Earth logo, perfume bottles, smiling teenagers, aeroplanes (representing freedom, or so Maggie said), clouds, super-skinny models, fat models, make-up, a fast-food sign, icebergs (according to Mand there wouldn’t be too many left soon), a guitar, power stations, flowers and an anti-smoking sign.
Mr McGary came over and squatted next to Cat, the musky smell of his aftershave filling the girls’ nostrils.
‘So, what’s your magazine about?’ he asked.
‘Us,’ said Cat, checking out Fit Club’s bulging biceps. ‘We’re all so different, so we thought if we came together and talked about the things we love, then we’d pretty much represent every teenage girl on the planet!’
‘Sounds interesting,’ said Mr McGary. ‘Have you chosen your art director?’
‘Belle,’ said Mand, pointing to her.
‘I’ve always been a fan of Belle’s in my art classes.’ He turned his winning smile on Belle. ‘She’s got real talent and a great visual eye.’
Belle swooned.
‘We’re also planning a fashion shoot,’ piped up Wanda, thinking that Fit Club was cute but a bit overated. ‘I’m styling the whole thing and Belle’s going to shoot it.’
‘Cool. It sounds like you’ve got your project on the right track,’ said Fit Club. ‘I think I’d better go and help Estery’s group, they’re nowhere near as focused. What’s your magazine called?’
‘That’s a good question,’ replied Maggie. ‘What are we going to call it?’
The girls sat around and came up with loads of names: The Honey, Girlzone, Lass, Cheeky Monkey, The Get Real Girl, The View, The Vibe, Us Lot, Lookey Here, Chicz Flickz, Smile, Ramble On, Lucky, The Lost Cause …
‘What about calling it The Mag Hag?’ said Mand. ‘I kind of like that name. I’ve got no idea why but I think it suits us.’
‘The Mag Hag?’ said Cat laughing. ‘That’s a classic!’
‘Yeah,’ said Wanda, as Maggie and Belle nodded in agreement. ‘Why not? The Mag Hag – I love it!’
‘The Mag Hag it is!’ said Mand laughing.
‘Okay,’ said Maggie, not quite believing that they had come up with a name without the need for swinging handbags, ‘now we’ve got to focus on creating stuff to put in The Mag Hag.’ She got out her notebook from her black school bag. ‘Let’s check the stories we have already. Have you started the body image story, Mand?’
‘Yeah, I have actually. I Googled an expert then emailed her requesting an interview. She replied yesterday. You’ll have it next week.’
Maggie was impressed; so were the others, but they’d never admit it. ‘And what about your make-up article, Wanda?’
‘On its way.’
‘And Cat, did you get that letter off to Tyler Grey?’
‘Yes, big boss woman!’ said Cat, saluting like she was on a navy frigate somewhere in the Persian Gulf. ‘I’m on the case.’
‘In the meantime, we can meet up in smaller groups to work on individual stories. Maybe break into a design group and a features group. Shall we all swap mobile numbers?’ suggested Maggie.
The girls got out all manner of marvels of modern technology masquerading as mobile phones, and punched in each other’s numbers. No one commented on the weird sequence of events that had resulted in arch enemies Mand and Cat, cool girl Belle, invisible chick Maggie and maths boffin Wanda ending up in one another’s address books.
‘We need to get together after school again, and soon,’ said Maggie as the period was ending. ‘We’re going to have a features meeting next, which Mand will be running.’
‘Why don’t we go to your place then, Mand?’ said Wanda.
Mand felt slightly unnerved about having the Mag Hags over to her place after the poshness of Belle’s mansion and the suburban niceties of Wanda’s house. She lived in a small two-bedroom apartment on the west side of Baywood, just behind the hospital. Not the most salubrious of addresses, and on top of that, there was her mum – who could cause untold damage to Mand’s credibility with a single utterance.
‘Yeah, okay,’ said Mand. ‘Sure, um, my place it is.’
The following Tuesday afternoon Mand was sitting on her cloud-covered doona dressed in skinny black jeans, her black Love Junkie T-shirt and black gym boots. Her bedroom was a mass of contradictions, from girlie to grownup. There was a poster of TwoHeads, the obscure experimental rock band that most teenagers thought were depressing but Mand thought expressed her emotions perfectly. She secretly loved the fact that no one else got them – it made her feel special.
Beside her single bed, seven ragged-looking plush puppies of differing shapes and sizes were tossed in a casual pile of dogginess. Mand would have died of embarrassment if the girls knew that Woppit, Warren, Bunny, Betty, Shools, Jeremy and Niven all had names.