The Mag Hags

by Lollie Barr

  The first thing they needed to know was whether their absence had been noticed at school, but as both girls had run out of credit on their phones, Mand suggested that Cat – who only lived three streets away from her – come back to her house, as Monday was Mel’s salsa dancing night, and they would have the house to themselves to make the call.

  When they got inside, Mand grabbed the house phone and they went straight up to her bedroom. Mand sat down on her bed, and Cat sat on the floor next to the acoustic guitar and open journal, which were lying on the floor. Mand dialled the number and Maggie picked up the phone.

  ‘Hi there,’ said Maggie ‘What’s up? Are you ill or something? There must be a virus going around because Cat, Fit Club and Bone Marrow were all off today too.’

  ‘No, we wagged today!’ said Mand. ‘We went down to the studio to find Tyler Grey. Cat’s got the interview! She was brilliant! He’s going to be in our magazine!’

  ‘Ohmigod!’ said Maggie. ‘I can’t believe you did it. That’s amazing!’

  ‘But there’s a small problem,’ said Mand. ‘We saw Bone and Fit Club having lunch together in the city – and I mean together. Cat’s pretty sure they saw us too.’

  ‘Bugger!’ said Maggie, who was worried that the girls could be disqualified from the magazine competition if they were caught wagging. ‘The only thing that might save you is the fact that Fit Club and Bone obviously weren’t that sick if they were having lunch with each other. I remember the casual teacher who took Bone’s class today definitely said something about her having avirus …’

  ‘Let’s hope that’s the case,’ said Mand. ‘We’ll see you in English tomorrow, and keep everything crossed for us.’

  After hanging up, Mand relayed the conversation to Cat, who looked less nervous. ‘Wow, we might just get away with it,’ she said. ‘So how long have you played guitar then? I didn’t know you did that.’

  ‘My dad bought me my first guitar when I was three. He’s a musician,’ said Mand.

  ‘Is he famous?’ said Cat expectantly. ‘Would I have heard of him?’

  ‘He’s the lead singer with Slinky Joe’s Roadshow,’ replied Mand. ‘Anyway, I started playing properly about three years ago. I’ve been writing songs for a couple of years.’

  ‘Is this one of your songs?’ Cat glanced down at Mand’s journal. ‘“Suburban Alien Chick”? What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘You wouldn’t get it.’ Mand picked up her guitar from the floor and held it to her chest, like it was some kind of security blanket. ‘You’ve always fitted in, Cat. You’re the type of girl that makes the rules for other girls to follow. I feel like I’m an alien.’

  ‘With three heads?’ said Cat, reading the words in Mand’s journal. ‘I feel like that when I look in the mirror, especially if I’ve got a big juicy pimple in the middle of my forehead! No seriously, every time I go home I feel like I’m on the wrong planet. Can you play it for me?’

  ‘Okay, but if you don’t like it don’t laugh or anything. I’ve got a fragile ego when it comes to my music.’

  Mand tuned her guitar and let rip.

  Suburban Alien Chick

  Four walls holding me

  Green lawns bindi free

  Dad washes his car

  Mum washes her hair

  Not a care, not a care

  But I feel like an Alien

  I may as well have three heads

  An eye in the middle

  My planet is just a car ride away

  So, take me away, take me away

  Shopping centre willing me

  Spend my money freely

  Chicks chasing boys

  Boys chasing chicks

  Not a care, not a care

  But I feel like an Alien

  I may as well have three heads

  An eye in the middle

  My planet is just a car ride away

  So, take me away, take me away

  So, take me away, take me away

  So, take me away, take me away

  If I stay here, I’m doomed

  I can’t breathe your oxygen

  It makes me choke

  It makes me wheeze

  I need atmosphere to breathe

  To breathe

  So, take me away, take me away

  So, take me away, take me away

  My planet is just a car ride away

  So, take me away, take me away

  ‘Jeez Mand, that really rocked! You should go on Popstarz,’ said Cat, happy that she was impressed and wasn’t just saying it to be nice.

  ‘No way, too commercial,’ said Mand.

  ‘Well, how about playing at the formal? You know Hoolio is going to do a set. I’ll talk to the rest of the organising committee. Really, you’d be great.’

  ‘No, thanks’ replied Mand, but was quietly chuffed anyway. ‘Can you sing? We could try some harmonies.’

  ‘Sure, I love singing, but I’ve only ever done it in the shower,’ said Cat. ‘I’d like to try though.’

  The girls spent the next hour making music together until Cat got a phone call from her mother demanding to know just where the hell she was. ‘I’m at my, er, friend Mand’s,’ she said, looking over at Mand with a look that said exactly what Mand was thinking – how in the hell had two girls who only weeks ago would have gladly seen each other off to Siberia suddenly become friends? The world was indeed a strange place.

  A chill wind whipped up the chip packets that blew like colourful kites across the front oval as the rain drizzled down. The weather was befitting Mand’s mood. She had a sense of dread that trouble was just around the corner and trouble stuck to Mand like super-adhesive glue sticks to your fingers.

  It wasn’t her fault; it was just that Mand had a sense of justice that cut deep. Like the time she had the Green Team environmental warrior group picket the canteen and bar anyone from entering until they agreed to stop using polystyrene packaging. She’d had Gwendolyn Farrari, the tuckshop lady, in tears and received a twoday suspension for an unauthorised protest. Or when she got the whole school to sit down at assembly until the suspended Amos Ellery was allowed to return to school with his bright green hair. That incident made the Baywood Times, and Mand was interviewed alongside Amos on the local news.

  Ever since then McTavish had been looking for an excuse to get even. The word ‘expulsion’ had even been bandied about. If she and Cat were busted by Bone and Fit Club, it could be curtains for Mand’s school certificate. It was enough to make her feel like vomiting.

  As she walked up to the school gates, Cat was sharing a similar sense of dread, but for different reasons. She felt sick at having to face the Us Crew after the incident at the civic centre. Could she really have been kicked out of the crew that she had started, even named?

  ‘Hey Cat, congratulations on getting the Tyler interview, that’s just so awesome,’ said Maggie, catching up to Cat as they walked into school.

  ‘Well, I don’t have it in the bag just yet,’ said Cat. ‘And Mand and I could be in serious trouble for wagging school.’

  As the girls walked across the quadrangle, Cat’s palms became sweaty. The Us Crew were already on the steps behind the auditorium.

  ‘Ohmigod, look who it is – the supermodels,’ said Kylie Mannigan, who was sitting on the top step, where Cat always sat, staring down at her. ‘Vogue, strike a pose girls?’

  The Us girls burst out laughing. Cat had never trusted Mannigan; it was Jessica Humble who had convinced Cat to let that cow into the Us’s and now look what had happened.

  ‘I thought you bitches were supposed to be my friends,’ said Cat, staring particularly hard at Maxine Cue, who only two weeks ago had been talking about how they’d be friends for life and would push prams through Prospect Park together after they had babies.

  ‘Wow, Cat’s hanging out with Maggie No Mates now,’ said Maxine. ‘Well, at least you’ve got one friend in the school.’

  Then the Us Crew started chanting as though t
hey were demented Buddhist monks: ‘Them, them, them, them, them, them,’ over and over again, pointing and laughing at Cat. Cat could feel a sob that started in her chest and moved up into her mouth but, thank god, stopped short of her eyes. For once, she was lost for a smart put-down.

  ‘You should be called the Pus Crew, you’re so disgustingly toxic,’ said Maggie squinting up at the girls. She grabbed Cat by the arm and dragged her across the quadrangle.

  ‘Don’t touch me!’ said Cat pulling away. There was still hope that if she could get that cow Mannigan out of her crew, then she’d be their leader again, and forming a bond with Maggie Jones wasn’t going to help.

  ‘Yeah, all right, Cat,’ said Maggie, strolling off in the opposite direction before turning and saying: ‘Whatever’, a word she never used but which, at that point, fitted the situation perfectly.

  English class was the last period of the day so everyone was particularly over it, especially Ms Marrow, who was sick of the sight and sound of teenagers by this point. It was the first time all day that Cat and Mand had set eyes on her. With every crackle of the tannoy, the girls had been half-expecting to be summoned to face the wrath of McTavish. Thankfully, they had managed to get through the day without hearing their names called, and judging by the nonchalant look on her face, Bone either hadn’t seen the girls in the city or wasn’t going to admit it.

  The class reluctantly got into their groups with as much energy as they could muster for late Tuesday afternoon, when the school week seemed to drag on like a visit to your senile great-grandmother in an old people’s home.

  Ms Marrow worked her way around the room, squatting by groups of students. The group containing Colm Brannigan and Abdul Minary were working on a skate-board mag because at some point in their lives they had all owned one, while Jessica Humble had managed to talk her group into making a magazine on her favourite subject: fashion.

  The Mag Hag girls sat in the far corner peering at Belle’s laptop and the photos from the future formal with intense concentration.

  ‘Ohmigod, I look so fat!’ squealed Cat.

  ‘I hate myself in pictures,’ said Wanda, who preferred to be behind the camera than in front of it.

  ‘I told you I’d look like a tube of toothpaste!’ exclaimed Maggie, who thought the Giraffe nickname was apt in this case as her limbs looked even longer and skinnier than normal in the silver dress.

  ‘Jesus,’ said Mand, getting testy at the moan fest about how they looked – even after the girls had agreed with everything in her body image feature. ‘Will you chicks just get over yourselves!’

  Apart from the way they looked individually, the girls were delighted with the shoot and told Belle what a brilliant photographer she was, and lavished praise on Wanda for the amazing clothes she had made and the wonderful job she had done styling the shoot.

  ‘Wow, girls, these photographs look so professional,’ Ms Marrow said as she peered over the girls’ shoulders. ‘And the clothes are fantastic!’

  ‘Can I see, Miss? I’ve heard the hags are appearing on that TV show, what’s it called, oh yeah, Baywood’s next top model for ugly chicks,’ said Gav Estery, laughing and talking loudly enough for the whole class to hear.

  Cat noticed Jessica Humble wink at Estery conspiratorially.

  ‘Well, Gav, I hope you boys come up with something as creative as the girls have, because let me tell you, they’re going to be a hard act to beat,’ said Ms Marrow.

  ‘Yeah Estery, we know how much you love girlie mags, which is great because it’s ours that you’re going to be reading in Hoolio’s when we win the competition,’ said Mand with a determined sneer.

  Estery sauntered back to his group feeling slightly less confident that That’s Skate Mate would be the winning magazine after all.

  ‘There’s still heaps to do,’ said Maggie at the end of the lesson. ‘I think we need another meeting. Whose house haven’t we been to?’

  ‘It’s your turn, isn’t it, Cat?’ said Belle.

  ‘Sure,’ said Cat, feeling apprehensive. She didn’t socialise much at her own home, preferring to hang out anywhere other than 72a Thompson Street.

  ‘What about a Saturday afternoon session?’ suggested Wanda. ‘I’ve got so much studying to do this week.’

  When the final bell rang, the classroom emptied faster than an Olympic 100 metres race (current record: Asafa Powell of Jamaica – 9.7 seconds). Mand and Cat were nearly joint gold-medal holders but just as they got to the door, Ms Marrow called out to them. The girls knew that the shit was about to hit the fan.

  ‘Right, first off, what were you doing in the city on a school day?’ asked Ms Marrow sternly as she sat on her desk, her arms folded. ‘I hope there is a very good reason, and I mean a very good reason’.

  ‘We did it for the mag, Miss’ cried Cat. ‘You said we should hunt down stories. So we did. We got an interview with Tyler Grey! You know, from Federal Investigation. He’s going to be in our magazine!’

  ‘That’s all well and good, Cat,’ said Ms Marrow. ‘But going into the city without permission – I’m assuming your parents don’t know – on a school day. I don’t remember that being in the brief.’

  The girls were in serious trouble now.

  ‘Are you feeling better now, Miss?’ asked Mand innocently, her mind launching the escape plan she’d cooked up in case drastic measures were needed.

  ‘Better?’ said Ms Marrow, starting to look worried. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I heard there’s a virus or something going around,’ said Mand, a bit cockily. ‘Mr McGary had it as well. Apparently, it’s very contagious, transferred via saliva, I heard.’

  ‘Yes, much better, Mand, thank you for your concern,’ said Ms Marrow, now knowing if she reported the girls to McTavish, she’d have some serious explaining to do herself.

  ‘Okay, I’ll put this indiscretion down to youthful enthusiasm but step out of line again and there’ll be trouble’.

  ‘Yes, Miss,’ replied Cat, trying not to smile but failing. ‘It won’t happen again, we promise’.

  Cat lay on her bed, tossing and turning as the early morning sun peeked through the gaps of her bedroom curtains. It was Saturday morning and even though she didn’t have to get up for school, Cat was awake with too much on her mind. Now she’d not only lost Nate but the Us Crew as well. It felt like her life was falling apart right in front of her very eyes.

  To distract herself from thinking about how much her life sucked the big one, Cat’s mind took a holiday to a time when she felt happy. Like the night Nate had asked her to go to Hoolio’s for a bite to eat, and then to an under-age gig to see his favourite metal band, Keepsake. How she watched him smoke a bong in the park, how they walked hand in hand into Hoolio’s and all the Us girls jealously watched her. She felt on top of the world. How special was she that Nate Smyth-Jones had picked her, Cat Dean, of all the girls at Baywood High, to take to a metal gig.

  She had bought a too-tight black T-shirt for the occasion and worn a pair of black skinny-legged jeans, a size too small, which exposed the top of her bum crack, so her behind looked like it belonged to a truckie. She had been going to wear a bandana but Kylie Mannigan had said that was taking the look just a little too far.

  When she met Nate out the front of Hoolio’s, she could have burst with pride when he said she looked like a rock chick. Nate looked gorgeous. She couldn’t stop staring at the bow of his down-turned lips which she hoped she’d kiss later, into his eyes that flickered between blue and grey (even if they were a little red and glassy), or being fixated by the ripple and curve of his tricep muscles that extended out of his black Keepsake skull-and-crossbones T-shirt. Nate had a water-polo player’s body – long, lithe and lean – and she felt like a tiny China doll next to him.

  That night she let Nate do the talking because she was so nervous of what might come out of her mouth. He talked about his love of weed, water polo and Keepsake’s difficult second album (apparently filler fans had deserted
the band when the band got too hardcore). Cat had feigned interest and pretended that she loved metal as much as he did, although she was strictly a pop princess and hoped it didn’t show.

  At the gig, which was full of sweaty boys with matching haircuts and black T-shirts, and the occasional boyish-looking girl headbanging, Nate suggested that they go up to the front of the stage. How could she refuse? After all, it was his favourite band. Consequently, she got horribly mashed in the mosh pit. It was like being put soaking wet into the spin-dryer. She remembered thinking the shoulder charge that Nate inflicted on her, which sent her flying into the back of a big metal meathead, must mean that he was really into her.

  Although the music gave her a headache and an earache (a high-pitched buzz that lasted two whole days), she spent hours dissecting every moment with the Us girls. Everything Nate had said, every action he’d taken, every mosh and the subsequent two weeks they spent together. She was so in love, she felt like the luckiest girl alive.

  So how had Cat Dean, the coolest girl in Year 10, fallen so far so quickly? It was like she had fallen out with everybody – her boyfriend, her so-called friends and her family. Well, she was always at war with her family, so that was nothing new; in fact her family was in a permanent state of war.

  In one corner was the whippet-thin Evelyn Dean, soon to be divorcee (currently separated); in the other was Cat’s sister Debs who, since dropping out of Year 12 two years ago, had retreated to the couch and the world of daytime television, where everyone else’s problems were worse than hers. Cat was somewhere in the middle and used to taking hits from both sides.

  Every time Cat walked into the lounge room, Debs was there, watching telly with her hand in a tub or bag of something that she knew would drive her mum absolutely mad when she came home from her job as a real estate agent. Since leaving school and becoming a couch dweller, Debs’s weight had ballooned, something that, in a fat-free household, was akin to being a traitor.