by Sara Martin
“What are you so worried about? You always get excellence,” I reminded her. I couldn’t remember a time when she got anything less than top marks.
“Thanks, but I’m not so sure this time. I really left this to the last minute. I was up all night finishing it.”
“Again? I thought you learnt your lesson after the history essay.”
“What lesson? I work better under pressure.”
By lunch time, Lana seemed to have recovered from her state of exhaustion. The colour had returned to her face, and her eyes had regained their usual brightness.
“I don’t know how you do it,” I mused.
“Do what?”
“How you work your butt off at the hospital, piano lessons and the debate team, and you still ace every assignment.”
“Well, it’s not easy.” Lana sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“Are you working tonight?”
“No. I have the night off.”
“Good. Let’s do something. Come to my house and we can watch a movie or something. You need to stop working so hard for a moment.”
“I wish I could. My parents are having relatives over for dinner and I have to be there.”
“Oh. Some other time, then?”
Lana nodded. “Can’t wait.”
A week flew by. Lana always had an excuse not to hang out after school or on the weekend. She was either working at the hospital, studying or busy with one of her many extra-curricular activities. I could tell she was burning out, and she really needed time to chill. Her parents were very strict with her. My parents were harsh, but hers were something else.
Lana wasn’t working on Saturday afternoon, so I took matters into my own hands. I arrived on her doorstep with a ton of DVDs and plenty of junk food for sustenance. Knocking on the door, I prayed I wouldn’t be turned away.
The door creaked open. Lana’s mother, Mrs. Wu, peered out. She was a squat woman, with bluntly cropped hair and beady eyes. If she were surprised to see me, her expression didn’t betray it.
“Hello, Ivy. Are you here to see Lana?”
“Yes, Mrs. Wu. May I come in?” I asked in the politest voice I could muster.
Mrs. Wu looked incredulous, but she stepped aside and let me in.
I walked down the hallway of the Wu family’s modest home. I climbed the stairs and knocked on Lana’s bedroom door. Silence. I tried one more time before pushing the door open.
Lana was at her desk, hunched over a biology textbook, a pair of headphones atop her head. I walked up to her and yanked her headphones off. She jumped in fright.
“Geez Ivy,” she said, catching her breath. “You scared the bejeebus out of me. What are you doing here?”
“Remember, you promised we’d hang out?”
“I know. I’ve been busy.”
“You need to stop being busy for a minute and relax. You’ve been so tense lately. Not to mention your social life has gone out the window.”
“Social life? What social life?”
“My point exactly.”
Lana sighed. “Well, you’re here now. I guess studying for my biology test can wait until tomorrow.”
“That’s the spirit.”
Lana eyed the bags I carried. “What did you bring?”
I rifled through the selection. “The Shining, Annie Hall, The Princess Bride, Spirited Away…”
“Good stuff.”
“And I brought chocolate, chips and coke.”
“The three C's.”
“Shall we go downstairs?”
“I’ll have to kick Bing and Jack out of the lounge.”
“Is that okay?”
“It’s fine. They’re not supposed to be watching TV, anyway.”
We went downstairs to the lounge which was dominated by bookcases. The TV set was small and unassuming. Bing and Jack were watching Cartoon Network.
“Out, you two. We’re going to watch a movie.”
“Why? Do we have to?” Jack asked, frowning.
“Yes. You’ve been watching TV all day.”
Bing and Jack groaned.
“Out. Or I’ll go get Mum.”
Their eyes widened with fear and they quickly left. Now, we had the room to ourselves.
“What movie do you wanna watch?” I asked.
“Something we can talk through and it won’t matter.”
“The Princess Bride?” We already knew it by heart.
“Perfect.”
Lana set up the DVD player and inserted the disk. I made myself comfortable on the couch and opened a bag of chips. Lana joined me momentarily.
“Sorry I haven’t been hanging out with you a lot lately,” she said.
“It’s all good. I know you’ve been busy.”
“The hospital has sort of become my life now.”
“As long as you’re happy.”
Lana nodded. “I’m more certain than ever that I want to be a doctor.”
“It’s good you’re so sure,” I said, lamenting my own uncertainty.
“What about you? Do you still want to be a lawyer?”
“Yeah, I guess. My parents told me they’re going to pay to put me through uni, so it’s pretty much set in stone now, anyway. They’re not going to let me change my mind all of a sudden.”
“Wow. That’s big news. How come you didn’t tell me?”
I shrugged. “I guess I didn’t want to rub it in or anything. Med School is expensive, and I know it’s going to be tough for you.”
“I don’t mind. That’s what scholarships are for.” Lana reached for a handful of chips. “You’ve been holding out on me. What else haven’t you told me? Did you end up going back to Opulence?”
“Yeah.”
“And did the psychic lady have any more words of wisdom for you?”
“She wasn’t there.”
Lana examined me through narrowed eyes. She must have sensed there was something I wasn’t telling her.
“So, what happened, then?”
“A guy let me into the shop.”
“A guy, eh? Was he cute?”
“Well…”
A grin spread across Lana’s face. “He was, wasn’t he?”
I sighed. “Yes. He was cute.”
Lana squealed with delight. “I knew it! Tell me more.”
“There’s not much to tell. He’s Priscilla’s nephew. He’s tall and dark haired. He’s an artist. He works at Lucky Books.”
“Now, we have to go to Lucky Books.”
“No, we don’t.”
“Yes, we do! We have to scope him out.”
“There will be no scoping.”
Lana crossed her arms and pouted “You’re such a drag.”
I heaved a sigh. “Maybe. We’ll see.”
“Really?”
“Shhhh. I like this part.” I turned up the volume.
5
“Come on. Let’s get going,” Mum called from the hallway.
What the rush was, I didn’t know. I grabbed my purse and my leather jacket before leaving my room. We went straight out the door and to the car.
“I don’t know why they make us go to this. It’s the same thing every year,” I muttered.
“Don’t be silly. The more information we can get, the better.”
The careers fair always bored me to tears. I would have much rather stayed home and read my book than be dragged around the school hall all evening.
We arrived just after half-past six. The Year 13 Deans stood in the foyer, handing out fabric tote bags emblazoned with the Study Link logo. Tables were set up around the room. As expected, most of the stalls were universities, but the military and police had a presence too. Students and parents swarmed around the stalls of the most popular universities.
Mum yanked me into the crowd around the Hill University stall. After a small battle, we emerged at the front.
“Excuse me,” Mum talked over some of the less assertive parents, gaining the attention of one of the reps. “My daughter h
ere wishes to study law next year.”
The rep smiled and nodded. “Hill University is the ideal place to study law. We’re situated in the heart of the capital, close to parliament and the supreme court.”
“Yes, I’m well aware of that.” Mum wasn’t willing to waste any time. “Can we get a prospectus?”
The rep ducked under the table and took his time retrieving various documents from boxes. Meanwhile, my eyes wandered to different stalls around the room. The Creative Design School, Elias Institute, Linden College of Arts. These were all schools I hadn’t even heard of. It made me realise there must be so many different study options out there.
Options I’ll never get to explore.
When the rep emerged, he handed over a law degree booklet, an application form and information about student accommodation.
“Thanks,” I murmured, stowing the documents in my tote bag.
“Oh, and I should mention there will be an open day at the Law School next month. All serious applicants should attend. All the info is on our website.”
“Thank you,” Mum said. “That’s good to know.”
We spent time browsing the other stalls, but only for the other universities with law programmes. It only made Mum even more convinced that Hill University was the best.
I endured the rest of the evening with gritted teeth. When we got home, Mum took the pile of course prospectuses and brochures into the lounge and went through them methodically, from cover to cover. I didn’t even get the chance to have a look.
When she was finally done, she turned them over to me. I took them to my room to read through them in bed but found I had lost interest. My mind wandered. I thought about Julian. Since my conversation with Lana, I found he invaded my thoughts more and more often. I wondered if I would see him again.
Maybe Lana was right? I knew where his studio was and where he worked. It wouldn’t be that difficult to find him again. As quickly as it had occurred to me, I brushed the thought aside.
On Thursday morning, Mr. Donaldson entered the classroom bearing a stack of papers. I knew they were our assignments—marked and ready to be handed back. It felt like ages since I had handed it in, but it had actually only been a couple of weeks. I trembled in anticipation. Next to me, Lana shifted nervously in her seat, but I knew she did fine.
“Books out,” Mr. Donaldson said as he seated himself and placed the stack of papers on his desk.
I couldn’t concentrate as I tried to read my book. My stomach swam with nerves. So much effort had gone into that story, and I truly believed I had written something great. It would destroy me if Mr. Donaldson felt differently.
He got up and dished out the marked assignments, placing them silently on each student’s desk. He took his time, ambling around the room. Naturally, I was last to receive mine. As soon as it landed on my desk, I flipped to the last page. There, in red ink was a large E for Achieved with Excellence, the best possible mark. Next to the E, Mr. Donaldson had scrawled Superb. I immediately relaxed, all the nervous tension draining out of me. My effort had paid off. I felt validated.
Incredibly, Lana wasn’t smiling. Could it be possible? Could she have, for the first time, achieved anything less than excellence? After we had finished reading, Lana showed me her mark. An M for Achieved with Merit.
“It’s still a good mark,” I said.
Lana didn’t respond. She appeared to be in a state of shock.
“You okay?”
Lana exhaled. “I’m just annoyed with myself.”
“One M isn’t the end of the world.”
“Tell that to my parents.”
“You’ll make up for it.”
Lana nodded. “It’s not going to happen again.”
“I’m sure it won’t.”
“So, what did you get?”
Before I could react, she snatched my assignment from me. “Wow. You aced it.”
I blushed, suddenly embarrassed.
“Not so surprising, really. Didn’t I say you were a much better writer than me?”
“Yeah. But it’s still hard to believe.”
Lana pushed me. “You’re too hard on yourself.”
“You can talk.”
We burst into laughter.
When the bell rang at the end of class, I put my things away and tossed my backpack over my shoulder. I was halfway out the door when Mr. Donaldson called me.
“Ivy, if you have a minute, could I speak with you?”
I told Lana I’d catch up with her later and then walked over to Mr. Donaldson’s desk. Half-drunk cups of tea and screwed up bits of paper were strewn across its surface.
“I trust you’re pleased with the mark I gave you?” He squinted at me through his wire-framed glasses.
“Yes, absolutely.”
“I wanted to tell you how wonderful your piece was. Riveting stuff. Possibly the best thing I’ve read all term.”
“Really?” I could feel myself blushing. Now this, I hadn’t expected.
“Yes. I was most impressed.”
“Thank you, sir,” I spluttered. For a moment, I thought that was all he had to tell me, but then he cleared his throat and continued.
“Listen, I’m part of a small group of local writers. We send out a monthly newsletter with a few short stories, poems, book recommendations and that kind of thing.”
I wondered where he was going with this.
“Would you possibly be so kind as to let me feature your story in next month’s newsletter? No pressure. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
I bit my lip. As much as I was proud of my writing, the thought of having it circulated made my stomach turn. All that attention would make me feel horribly exposed.
Mr. Donaldson picked up on my reluctance. “You need not give me an answer now. Just think about it and get back to me.”
“No, I have my answer,” I said. I felt like, if I didn’t take the opportunity now, he might never bring it up again. It took a surge of courage, but I agreed to his offer.
“Thank you, Ivy. You won’t regret this one bit.”
I nodded. I was about to leave when he spoke up again.
“Oh, Ivy?”
“Yes.”
“Keep up with your writing. You have talent.”
“Thank you, Mr. Donaldson. I will.”
“What was that all about?” Lana asked me when I joined her at lunch.
I didn’t want to tell her. Especially after the Merit incident. She could get competitive about things like this. But I didn’t want to lie to her either. I shrugged and made it out to be no big deal.
“Mr. Donaldson liked my story and wants to send it to some of his friends.”
Lana stopped mid-bite into her sandwich. “Wow, Ivy. That’s some praise. Mr. Donaldson has had a novel published, hasn’t he? I’m sure he knows his stuff.”
“Has he? I didn’t know that.” Mr. Donaldson was a keen writer, but I had no idea he had a book out.
“He’s quite private about it, but I’m sure he’s mentioned it before.”
“Interesting. I wonder what his book is about?”
“No idea. I don’t even know what it’s called.”
“Hey, I know. Why don’t we ask Anna? She’s sure to know more about it.”
Anna was the school librarian. I’d known her since my first day at Bridgeway High School, and we had become good friends since. She knew everything there was to know about books.
“Good idea. Shall we go there now?”
I nodded. We took our bags and traversed the school grounds. The library stood alone—the vast carpark separating it from the rest of the school. Old book smell wafted up my nose as we entered the small room with overstuffed shelves. Anna wasn’t at the desk, so I poked my head around the door into her office. There she stood, bent over a large box full of books.
“Need some help there?” I asked.
“Ivy, is that you?” Anna asked, heaving herself back up.
“You shouldn’t
be bending over like that,” Lana said.
Anna sat down. “You’re right. I didn’t realise quite how physically demanding this job was until having to do it while pregnant.” She smiled wearily.
Lana and I unpacked the box and loaded the books onto a trolley.
“Thanks, girls. I appreciate it.”
“Hey, Anna. We wanted to ask you something,” Lana said.
“Fire away.”
“Do you know anything about Mr. Donaldson’s book?”
Anna raised an eyebrow. “So, you know about that, huh?”
We nodded in unison.
“So, what exactly do you want to know?”
“Have you read it?” I asked. “What’s it about?”
Anna shook her head. “No, I haven’t read it, but I want to. It had a quiet release, and I didn’t hear about it until it was already too late. The book is long out of print. The library’s copy is lost. I even asked Alfred if he had a spare copy, but he only has his personal copy left which he won’t lend. Understandable, of course. Anyway, the book has become something of a rarity.”
“That’s a shame. I would’ve liked to read it.”
“What brought his book to your attention, anyway?”
“Oh, I was just curious.”
“He has taken an interest in Ivy’s writing,” Lana explained. “He’s going to send her story to his writer friends.”
“Hmmm. I wonder…” Anna began.
“You wonder what?”
“I wonder where your story might end up. I believe Alfred is well connected in the literary scene.”
“Really?”
Anna nodded. “He keeps to himself about it, of course. Anyway, girls, that was the bell. You’d better get going.”
On our way back to class, Lana nudged me. “Just imagine. Your story might get read by a literary agent or something.”
I hit her on the arm. “Stop it. Don’t put ideas like that in my head.”
I knew I was being fanciful, but the vague prospect someone important might read my story thrilled me. I couldn’t stop daydreaming about it the rest of the day.
That night, over the dinner table, I gleefully announced my E grade to my parents.