Scott dropped down next to Cass. ‘What does it look like? Did you just notice it missing? Is it expensive?’ The questions were exhaled in one breath.
Meanwhile, Goatee Guy was examining the branches of the fig tree in case the ‘lost’ earring had got caught in them.
While the girls were explaining just how the earring had been lost and giving its exact description, I discreetly dropped said item just to the right of them. Yes, it’s a highly calculated manoeuvre, but if it helps you make contact with a crush and establish a friendly rapport, can it really be harmful?
‘It’s pink,’ Cass said, gazing at Scott’s face instead of where she was supposed to be looking. Luckily Scott’s eyes were on the ground.
‘Pale pink, bubblegum or hot pink?’ he asked.
Cassie looked at him in shock.
‘I have thirteen-year-old twin sisters,’ he explained. ‘I’ve heard them painstakingly discussing the shade of a new nail polish.’
I was impressed. A boy who knows his colours demonstrates that he pays attention to detail.
Just then, Scott spotted the earring. Both he and Cassie moved towards it at the same time and collided, knocking heads.
‘Ooof!’ Scott said
‘Ow,’ Cass moaned.
They stood up, both rubbing their heads.
Jelena took control of the situation. ‘So, to whom do we owe our endless thanks?’
Goatee Guy smiled and extended his hand to her. ‘Alex West.’ He gave her a wink. ‘This is my trusty friend of two hours, Scott Ryder. Fresh meat has to stick together.’
‘Jelena Cantrill.’ Jelena took his hand and shook it confidently.
‘Aurora Skye.’ I gave them both a little wave.
Cassie just stood looking dazedly at Scott.
‘You’re Cassie Shields,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘I saw your name on your pencil case in history.’
He’d noticed! Majorly good sign.
‘We were actually hoping to run into you,’ I said to them.
They looked at me blankly.
‘We run a voluntary search-and-rescue program for new students — you know, making sure they don’t crumble under the stress of a new environment. Helping them locate facilities such as the all-important canteen. We’re actually on our way to that particular location right now. Are you in need of rescuing?’
Another FPP rule: prolong your time with a Potential Prince so you can check him out more closely.
‘I don’t think we’ll survive break without the help of your program. You’d better lead the way,’ Alex replied smoothly.
Success!
We walked over to the canteen together and joined the line.
‘I like your sneakers,’ Jelena said, checking out Alex’s up-to-the-minute footwear. ‘Do you play a lot of sport?’
‘I don’t just play,’ Alex said. ‘I live sport. At my old school, I was head of the soccer and basketball teams. Both ended up in the nationals last year. I also played for the under-seventeens footy team —’
I tuned out and shifted my attention to Cassie and Scott’s conversation. Cassie asked Scott if he was into sports too.
‘I worked as a lifesaver this summer,’ he told her.
They were made for each other! Scott spent his time saving people who got into trouble in the water while Cassie rescued people from drowning in their problems!
Scott turned to me, smiling. ‘You said your name was Aurora Skye, right? I already know all about you through a friend.’
Word of how fabulous I am had obviously spread throughout the land.
‘I’m an old friend of Hayden Paris,’ Scott went on. ‘He’s part of the reason that I transferred here.’
What do you know? Hayden had actually come in handy for once. Thanks to him, Cassie had a Potential Prince at her fingertips.
‘I saw you sitting behind him in history but only just put two and two together now. I think my brain’s still running a little slow after the holidays.’ He smiled, flashing those incredible dimples.
Cassie and I grinned back at him. Dimples like that excused any lapses of memory.
Scott glanced around the crowd. ‘Hayden said he’d meet me where Alex and I were sitting before. I wonder what kept him away?’
Graffiti and its removal came instantly to mind but there was no way I was going to get into that with Scott. Who knew what Hayden had told him about me? I was going to have to do my best to make a good impression for the sake of Cassie’s romantic future. Friends are a powerful influence upon dating decisions. Any further talk about Hayden’s and my tumultuous relationship could inhibit Scott’s favourable opinion of Cass. As we reached the end of the line and we girls got our fruit salads, I knew it was time to wrap it up.
‘Hopefully your feelings of anxiety are easing,’ I said to Alex and Scott. ‘What’s your next class?’
They both replied that it was Spanish.
‘The language building’s directly opposite.’ I pointed it out. ‘We wish you well for the rest of your first day here at Jefferson. Our search-and-rescue team must keep moving.’
We gave them a wave and strolled away.
‘What classes do you have?’ Scott shouted after us.
We pretended we couldn’t hear him and waved again. As men love the exhilaration of the chase, you’ve got to do all you can to keep them wondering. We continued to play it cool until we rounded the corner.
‘Yes!’ Jelena punched the air triumphantly, making several heads turn. ‘Contact has been established.’
Cassie didn’t say anything, but her ear-to-ear grin spoke for itself.
‘Play it cool, Agent J,’ I said. Nothing gets Jelena more excited than a successful power play. ‘Remember, at this stage it’s important to evaluate the subject impartially.’
‘Impartially speaking, he’s gorgeous and a champion athlete.’
‘What about the bad points?’
I remembered how Alex had carefully looked us over before he talked to us. I had the suspicion he was making sure we were the ‘right type’ to associate with.
‘Oh, I’ll think of the bad points later,’ Jelena said breezily. ‘Did you know he has an interest in social structures too? He asked me lots of questions about which groups were which. I, of course, indicated modestly that we belonged to the most socially desirable one.’
Oh brother.
‘This is shaping up to be one fabulous start to the semester,’ Jelena said, sweeping her fingers through her hair.
‘Cass, how come you were so quiet?’ I asked.
Usually Cass enthrals guys with funny stories, but Scott had been doing most of the talking at the canteen.
‘I couldn’t seem to find my voice.’ Cassie had obviously been hit hard by Cupid’s arrow.
The rest of the day sped by, and all too soon it was time for gym class. I’m morally against competitive sports. When I told our gym teacher, Mrs Harris, about my stance two years ago, she said she didn’t understand how jump rope could be considered competitive and dismissed my case. Therefore, I’d been overjoyed when I’d looked at my timetable this morning and discovered that for PE this term we would be taking dance classes.
As Jelena and I (poor Cass had been scheduled for cricket) headed for the performance room where our first dance class was to be held, my heart felt so light I could have floated away. I pictured myself waltzing around the room with a dashing partner. He was just telling me how divinely I danced when reality cut in. The other members of our class had stopped at the doorway of the performance room and were peering in with wide eyes. Curious, I did the same.
A woman with the longest brown ringlets I’d ever seen, wearing a wispy white dress, was standing in the centre of the room, her arms raised in a dramatic arc. The scent of sandalwood floated through the air, along with the soft strains of flute and harp coming from the speaker system.
‘You may enter,’ she said.
Everyone looked at each other dumbly. Was this even the dance class?
‘Anyone who is late will receive a mark against their name.’
Okay, she was obviously a teacher. We all filed in cautiously.
‘Welcome,’ the woman said in a soft voice. ‘My name is Dana DeForest.’
‘Is that your real name?’ Jeffrey Clark asked, curiosity obviously getting the better of him.
‘No, it is my soul name, one that resonates more strongly than the name I was given by my parents, Mr …?’
‘Oceanus,’ Jeffrey said.
Everyone snickered.
‘You are here to expand your consciousness,’ Ms DeForest continued, unperturbed, ‘through interpretive dance. I am here, as your teacher, to lead you along the path to enlightenment.’
I wasn’t sure I wanted to be led along Ms DeForest’s path. It looked like one trodden by people who spent a lot of money on incense.
‘I would like you all to lie on the floor and close your eyes,’ Ms DeForest said.
‘On the floor?’ Amber Jenkins looked horrified. ‘There’s dust everywhere!’
We all looked at the floor doubtfully.
‘Your mind creates your reality,’ Ms DeForest said.
Something in her eyes stopped everyone from protesting further. This was all too much like The Matrix for me. Next, she’d be telling us to take the red pill and head down the rabbit hole. However, I lay down on the floor gingerly, Jelena taking the spot next to me.
‘Everyone focus on breathing deeply — filling your body with illuminating white light, letting it spread through all seven chakras.’
‘What’s a chakra?’ Amber whispered.
Anna, her best friend, shrugged.
Ms DeForest frowned. ‘Please pay attention if you want to avoid psychic surgery later in life.’
Psychic surgery?
‘Psychic surgery, for everyone who doesn’t know, is when a psychic surgeon runs his hands over your body and pulls out anything blocking your energy,’ Ms DeForest explained.
‘I bet he also pulls out your credit card and charges a hell of a lot for it,’ Jelena muttered.
I smothered a laugh. Several titters came from elsewhere in the room.
‘Calm your turbulent feelings, class,’ murmured Ms DeForest as the flute reached a crescendo on the New Age CD.
Amber brushed dust from her white T-shirt. ‘It’s hard to be calm when all-consuming rage is bubbling up at how uncomfortable I am.’
‘All suffering is the result of greed, hatred and spiritual ignorance,’ Ms DeForest said.
Spiritual ignorance. Was that why I was now lying on the floor in an interpretive dance class, right at the bottom of the Wheel of Karma? I didn’t follow a religion, so was God throwing a random one at me now? I was obviously going to have to research my religious options and undergo some sort of spiritual awakening. I made a mental note to do that at home tonight.
Ms DeForest droned on. ‘The function of suffering is to further our spiritual growth.’
‘So there is some purpose to this class then?’ Jeffrey piped up. ‘Hallelujah!’
Ms DeForest stopped the CD and clapped her hands. ‘Everyone! Get up! Young man — wake up this very minute!’
Travis Ela had obviously found the CD too soothing.
‘Everyone into a circle. I want you all to loosen up from the waist down. Pretend you have an oversized backside and you’re shaking it around.’
What?
I wasn’t the only one standing with my mouth open in shock.
‘Do I have to remind you, class, that participation in these exercises makes up forty per cent of your mark?’
Everyone got moving. With all the gyrating, the room looked like an MTV music video. Next thing you knew, we’d be wearing hotpants. I jiggled half-heartedly to the tribal music before deciding that I’d had it. It was time to put a stop to this.
‘Why are you pausing, Miss …?’ Ms DeForest stood in front of me, displeased.
‘Aurora Skye.’ I put my hands on my hips. ‘I’m pausing because I think this is a derogatory exercise for women. I don’t want everyone looking at my butt. I want them to listen to what I have to say as a person!’
Ms DeForest’s response was cool. ‘Ms Skye, you’ve got to let go of your attitude that everyone is focusing on you. Everyone is concentrating on the exercise. No-one is looking at your butt!’
‘Actually, I was looking,’ Jeffrey said.
‘Yeah, I was too,’ Jesse Cook added.
A few other male voices joined in with further confirmation.
‘Sorry to say, Miss, but as red-blooded men we were studying all the girls’ butts,’ Travis said.
The female element of the class let out a collective shriek and clamped their hands over their backsides.
‘Enough!’ A vein was throbbing in Ms DeForest’s forehead. My guess was that she was going to need a lengthy meditation session to get over this class. ‘Next exercise! I want you to use your bodies to demonstrate emotions. Joy!’
Everyone ran about as if they were skipping through buttercup meadows.
‘Fear!’
We all dropped to our knees, covering our heads like a nuclear bomb was about to drop.
‘Lust!’
Jeffrey grabbed his crotch in a Michael Jackson-style move.
‘Keep it clean!’ Ms DeForest screamed. All signs of her formally peaceful demeanour had vanished.
‘It’s lust!’ Jeffrey said in a hurt voice. ‘How can you keep that clean?’
‘Rejoice in it, people! Feel the air vibrating with emotional intensity!’ Ms DeForest called out.
The air of emotional intensity was broken by the sound of the bell. Thank god.
‘Now, I don’t have you again till next Friday,’ Ms DeForest announced over the stream of students stampeding out the door like prisoners being released from Alcatraz. ‘During that time, I would like you to remember a traumatic experience from your past and create a two-minute dance using this memory. You will perform this for the class next week.’
‘Was that ever one heck of a class!’ Jelena blurted as soon as we were out of earshot. Her hair was mussed up at the back from lying on the floor. ‘I don’t think this school is ready for Ms DeForest’s revolutionary methods.’
‘I don’t think the WORLD is ready for her methods,’ I said.
CHAPTER 4
Finding Religion
Not having had time to research religions, I was still pondering how to make my ascent up the Wheel of Karma on Friday as Mrs Kent, our English teacher, read Wordsworth’s poem ‘Daffodils’.
‘Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
‘The waves beside them danced; but they
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company …’
‘Miss, did Wordsworth have sexual orientation concerns?’ Travis Ela asked.
I barely heard him. Imagine a field full of daffodils! Just one daffodil is like blissful sunshine; a field would be something almost sacred.
‘“And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils,”’ Mrs Kent finished, wiping a small tear from her eye.
Mrs Kent always encourages us to surrender ourselves to any emotions provoked by works of literature. Last year, when we watched Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet, I cried my eyes out during the scene when Romeo and Juliet first set eyes on each other by the fish tank (the emotional intensity heightened by my favourite song of all time, ‘I’m Kissing You’, playing in the background). Mrs Kent had just smiled and handed me a box of tissues. Rumour has it that she’s a closet Mills & Boon author.
‘So, class, as you’ve now been exposed to the many forms of poetry,’ she said, ‘from sonnets to blank verse, I would love it if you took the next fortnight to create a poem of your own. It can be in any form and on anything you like. Look at it as a chance to express yourself in a new way. Presentations will be on Valentine’s Day.’
>
I loved the idea of expressing myself. The only trouble was choosing what to write about. Mrs Kent’s assignment left the poem’s topic wide open. Hayden Paris, in his usual spot in front of me, was smiling to himself as he wrote the assignment down. You had to wonder what he was going to write about. I was rather curious about his deepest thoughts and emotions. Perhaps I could find a weak spot to use to my advantage during our battles of wit.
The bell sounded and I headed across the courtyard, dashing quickly from pool to pool of shade. Today’s sweltering weather seemed capable of causing a mirage if you stayed out in it too long. I slipped thankfully into the air-conditioned biology lab.
Mr Blacklock, our teacher, entered frowning. In the two years I’ve spent in his biology class, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile. Personally, I think his name should reflect his true nature — Mr Blackheart. Despite the fact that I earned an A in my end-of-year biology exam last year, he marred my report card with: Ms Skye enjoyed the social side of the subject, especially her interactions with Mr Paris, which disturbed others and resulted in the non-completion of several key tasks.
I couldn’t believe Hayden Paris was mentioned in my Year Ten report card! He interfered in so many aspects of my life already, and now he was interfering with my education too. I also couldn’t believe that Mr Blacklock was sabotaging my future academic prospects. God knows how many nights I’d lain sleepless, picturing universities refusing to accept me because I might ‘disturb others’.
And it wasn’t as if I was a bad biology student either! I’d maintained a straight A average. I’d never done anything truly terrible, like set my work area on fire — unlike Jeffrey Clark. (Pyromaniacs should never be allowed to take a class involving a Bunsen burner.)
‘About seventy per cent of all living organisms in the world are bacteria,’ Mr Blacklock began.
Seventy per cent? Did he have to begin the year with that disconcerting fact?
‘And most of these are invisible to the human eye,’ he continued, staring at his thick textbook.
I think Mr Blacklock likes to pretend that we’re not in the room and it’s just him there alone, revelling in the world of science.
How to Keep a Boy from Kissing You Page 4