Faking Sweet

by J. C. Burke

  I remember what a good little saver you were. Hopefully you haven’t blown it all coz you gotta get your hands on some cash to plant in Jess’s bag. Don’t worry, you’ll get it back and think of Daydream Island as the interest! You pull the plan off, you get the prize – easy!

  No one will believe Jess’s innocent for a second time. They’ll all think she stole the money from you AND they’ll realise that she was with me the day I got busted shoplifting.

  You can do this Hol, I know you can. You blitzed it with the planting practice at the newsagency. This’ll be even easier.

  Love ya love ya love ya C

  xxxxxxxxxxoooooooooooooxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

  PS. Remember your promise. DO NOT SAY A THING TO SCOTT OR JESS.

  Yes, I still had my savings: $365 to be exact. I wasn’t sure how I felt about withdrawing $200 of it to put in Jess’s bag. The weight of the world had just landed back on my shoulders. Bum this revenge plan. Why couldn’t I just go to Daydream Island coz I was Calypso’s bestie?

  The timetable for the week went psycho: Year 12 had started some half-yearlies. We were herded from one class to another so as not to disturb the chosen ones. The teachers were stressed out of their brains. If we even went near the hall they’d start shrieking: ‘Tiptoe!’ and ‘Whisper!’ Like what did they think they were doing?

  On Thursday afternoon an extra English class was sprung on us. Melissa said it was probably ’cause Gideon was still spewing that chapel had stolen half her lesson on the Monday. But she couldn’t have been spewing that much ’cause she arrived half an hour late.

  Melissa was up the front of the class pretending to be Gideon. She sat on the desk swinging her legs in and out. ‘So who thinks Borachio’s a snivelling, sycophantic loser?’ She jumped off the table and began to pace the room. She was good. ‘Holly!’ Melissa thumped my desk with her fist. ‘Do you think Borachio is a snivelling, sycophantic loser?’

  I giggled, feeling the heat rising to my face. I wasn’t used to this sort of attention. ‘Yes, Miss,’ I replied.

  Melissa leaned across my desk. ‘And what, Miss Hankinson, do you suggest we do with such a loser?’

  ‘Chop off his head?’ I shrugged.

  ‘Awwwff with his head!’ Melissa shrieked, like the queen from Alice in Wonderland. We all cracked up. ‘Class, show your appreciation for the sublime and brilliant Miss Holly Hankinson.’

  The class began to clap and cheer; before I knew what I was doing I stood up and took a bow. Then quickly sat back down.

  ‘Now girls, who’s finished their assignment?’ Melissa stopped at every desk calling out each name. ‘Rosie? Bella? Natasha? Jess?’

  ‘Nearly, Mith Melitha,’ Jess squeaked.

  ‘Excellent, Jess, excellent. Class, give Miss Flynn a round of applause, will you?’

  Again the class broke into cheers. I clapped my hands and stamped my feet with the rest of them. I didn’t care that it was for Jess; I was having fun.

  ‘And tell us, Miss Flynn, about your assignment. Do I rightly remember you asking if you could do it on cousins of … THE OPPOSITE SEX!’ she shouted.

  ‘Yeth, Mith Melitha.’

  ‘Well, I think in that case the class demands that your project includes PHOTOS!’

  Melissa’s request was answered with whistles and squeals of delight: ‘Yeah! Photos! Photos!’

  Jess stood up on her chair. ‘Girls,’ she said, using her ruler as a microphone and thankfully speaking like an adult. ‘Girls, you’ll be happy to hear my cousin agrees to his photo being used in this assignment.’

  More squeals and whistles and foot stamping thundered around the room. Then a chant that started with, ‘Photos, photos’ grew to, ‘he’s so hot’, reinforced by ‘Hot! Hot!’. Gradually it got louder and louder until the class had worked itself into a hysterical frenzy. I was right amongst it.

  I wondered if anyone actually knew who Jess’s cousin was, or if it was all just part of the game. Either way it didn’t matter to me. I was just going along with it and having a laugh, which suited me as it took my mind off the two things that had been stalking it: moving to Sydney and withdrawing $200 out of my bank account – $200 I’d probably never see again.

  Shouts of, ‘Photos, photos’ and ‘Hot, hot’ were lifting the classroom ceiling even higher. The feet stamping was rattling the windows and shaking the floor. But now it was too loud for my worried mind. I wanted it to stop. I needed some peace to think. Calypso’s plan was too big for me. Suddenly I felt like I was drowning.

  I put my head on the desk and covered my ears wishing I could disappear for ever. It was starting to get to me. Even the girls’ chanting sounded like ‘Scott, Scott …’

  In the afternoon I made the reluctant withdrawal of $200 from my bank account. I walked back through the mall; the cash almost whispering in my pocket. ‘Go on, go to Lipstix,’ it tempted. ‘Blow it all on a couple of bikinis. Go on.’

  Oh, the things I could’ve bought. But I’d promised Calypso all those months ago, and my mission was almost complete. I counted on my fingers: Saturday, Sunday, Monday – three more days to go. Then I’d be free.

  Lipstix’s window had been re-decorated into a castaway island theme. There was a hammock, a basket of fruit and flowers, and on a clothesline, strewn from one end of the window to the other, were bikinis of every colour and design imaginable. It reminded me of looking at the Christmas windows when I was a little kid. I wanted to stay staring forever.

  ‘Wow, how incredible. Couldn’t you buy every single one?’ Jess Flynn had snuck up next to me. I almost fell through the glass. ‘I could. Every single one. How awesome is that black one with the pink flamingo on it?’ Jess sighed. ‘That’d suit you, Holly.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yeah, for sure.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really. Why don’t you try it on?’

  Oh, how I wanted to, but oh, how I knew I couldn’t. It wasn’t worth the risk. But what was the risk? Falling into Jess’s trap or not obeying my master’s orders?

  An image of Jess mocking and pointing flashed into my head: ‘Ha ha. Tricked you, Holly Hankinson. Ha ha. You complete loser.’

  The sound of Calypso’s scolding voice followed: ‘I told you not to speak to her. I told you she was evil. I told you!’

  ‘Come on, Hol.’ Light fingers touched my skin. I looked down to see Jess holding my elbow. ‘I’ll come with you if you want. I know Pixie. She might even give you ten percent off.’

  ‘Um, arr,’ I stammered.

  Calypso’s psych-up mantra was burning a hole in my brain: ‘Jess Flynn is evil. Jess Flynn deserves to fall. Jess Flynn is a liar. A liar, a liar …’

  ‘I can’t.’ I started to walk away. ‘I can’t. I, I’ve got to go.’

  ‘Another time then?’ Jess was following me down the escalators. ‘One arvo after school, hey?’

  ‘Maybe,’ I whispered.

  As soon as I was out of sight, I ran. Now the mantra was screaming in my head: ‘Jess Flynn is evil. Jess Flynn deserves to fall.’

  ‘Well, why doesn’t she seem evil?’ my mind screamed back. ‘She seems pretty nice to me.’

  ‘But Jess Flynn is a liar.’ It retaliated in Calypso’s voice, high and cackling like a witch. ‘Jess Flynn deserves to fall! And who is going to bring her down? Who is going to make her fall?’

  ‘But what if I don’t want to?’ a tiny voice inside me cried. ‘What if I don’t want to make her fall?’

  Dear Me,

  I’m sure of it. Holly has a problem. It’s almost like she’s scared of me. I’ve tried to be nice to her. I’ve even tried to be her friend.

  Like this arvo when I suggested she try on that bikini she almost ran away. She looked like she was totally freaking out. I think she’s a bit unstable like Scott’s mum and goes all panicky at shopping malls. What’s it called again, agoraphobia?? I was going to suggest we go to DJs afterwards coz I reckon I got her the wrong shade of foundation. I had this crazy idea we could
try some on together. So much for that!

  I s’pose I could ask her over and she could try some different shades at my place, away from crowds. But what would I do if Saskia and Isabelle turned up? They’d seriously spew at me. I can just hear them: ‘Being nice to the new girl again are you? When are you going to learn?’

  Oh well. She’s only here till the end of term and that’s less than 5 weeks. Maybe Aunty Pat still has that book ‘Why I Went Mad At The Mall.’ I’ll ask if I can lend it to her.

  Good night. No parties this weekend. Boo hoo. I must have boring friends. Actually I don’t mind. Saskia and Isabelle are super bugging me at the moment. Yesterday I caught them spitting into Nadene’s hot chocolate when she wasn’t looking. They promised they wouldn’t do it again. That was the 5th time this week.

  Better go. Mum’s coming and I’m meant to be reading. Maybe I need glasses? Maybe I’m just dumb.

  Love Me, the dummy xxxxxxxxxx

  The weekend was agony. Every hour crawled and conspired, contradicted and teased. ‘Jess Flynn is evil.’ ‘Jess Flynn is actually pretty nice.’ ‘No, Jess Flynn is a liar.’ ‘Why am I planting my money in her bag?’

  By Sunday afternoon I had picked and squeezed every pimple on my forehead. I stood in front of the bathroom mirror staring. ‘What am I doing?’ I asked the reddened bloody mess smeared across my upper face. ‘What AM I doing?’

  By Sunday evening I was ready to peel every nail off my body, pull out each individual hair from my head. And a hot poker in the eye wasn’t a bad idea either.

  ‘Ring her,’ the sensible part of my mind commanded. ‘Ring her and tell her you can’t plant the money in Jess’s bag. Tell her you’re too scared. She’ll understand. Remember, she’s your best friend.’

  ‘Hello, Tiffany MacIntosh speaking. Is that you, Holly?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Well, I heard the bips.’

  ‘Hey?’

  ‘You know, the STD bips.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I s’pose you want to speak to Calypso?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Well, you can’t.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘You can’t speak to her.’ Tiffany hadn’t yet taken a breath. She was without doubt the most annoying human ever put on this earth.

  ‘Er, why can’t I speak to her?’

  ‘Because she’s banned … from everything and I mean EVERYTHING!’ Tiffany rattled off the list with precision: ‘Going out, the computer, that means MSN and email too. The phone. She even had her SIM card cut up into a thousand pieces.’ She added in a slow whisper, ‘She has to come straight home after school. No lingering or loitering. And straight to bed after dinner.’ I could tell Tiffany was loving every moment of this. ‘This weekend she’s only been let out of her room to go to the toilet. Imagine that.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m not allowed to say what they, well, what Calypso did.’

  ‘So, so how am I going to …’

  A voice started whispering in the background. I couldn’t hear what it was saying, but I knew it was Calypso’s mum.

  ‘I have to go,’ Tiffany suddenly said, and hung up.

  What could Calypso have done that was so bad? Murdered someone (hopefully Miranda!)? Held up a bank? Taken drugs? No! Wagged? Possibly. Got drunk? I couldn’t imagine her getting drunk, or rather I couldn’t imagine her getting caught.

  The pain-of-the-earth, grovelling, snivelling little sister wasn’t going to cough up any information. Talking to Tiffany made me grateful that I was an only child. Perhaps that’s how Calypso felt. Maybe she’d tried to kill Tiffany and not Miranda. I must admit it was a hard choice.

  There was one way I could find out what Calypso had done.

  I signed onto MSN and waited for the names I usually ignored – names from Melbourne Ladies’ Grammar that sent waves of nausea flushing through my body.

  Chazzy … Sam’s da bomb and Brooke … Chazzy and Sam besties for ever love you guys popped up on the screen. Well, I’d spoken to Chazzy only the week before. Chazzy and her besties Sam and Brooke were the three dumb blondes of the school, if not of Melbourne!

  Lauren … girls just wanna have fun was on too. I’d call her a drifter. I could never quite figure out what group she was in. Erin … don’t give up the fight sat next to me in Music, and only ever said two words to me: ‘Move over.’ But there was a strong possibility these girls would know what happened to Calypso. At least Chazzy probably would.

  My fingers ran across the keyboard, looking for the right letter to start the first word. I needed to ask Chazzy without it looking too obvious. Maybe I’d start with Calypso’s party.

  I began to type.

  Hey Chazzy … Howz it goin …

  Then the last thing I expected happened. Calypso signed in: Calypso … set your heart free.

  My fingers skidded along the letters as I typed as fast as humanly possible. I maybe only had her for a couple of moments before Tiffany would squeal and dob.

  HOLLY … 46 more sleeps!! (Screw Sydney) says: Hey r u okay, what’s happened??? I just spoke to Tiffany and she said u were in big trouble. R u okay????

  I waited. Then I waited a bit more.

  HOLLY … 46 more sleeps!! (Screw Sydney) says: Calypso r u okay??

  Finally I got an answer.

  Calypso … set your heart free says: No I’m not ok.

  HOLLY … 46 more sleeps!! (Screw Sydney) says: What happened?? Tell me! I’m so worried about u. Talk 2 me.

  I was almost hugging the screen, almost crawling into it. Anything to drag out her words. Why was she taking so long? Had she done something really bad? Like really, really bad?

  Calypso … set your heart free says: I only have a sec. I’ve got myself in trouble with Miranda.

  ‘Oh no!’ I gasped. What if she’d tried to kill Miranda? Perhaps it started as a bit of a punch-up then got out of hand. Perhaps Miranda’s in hospital with two broken arms and her jaw wired.

  Oh my god it’s all my fault. What did Calypso do to her? I know I said I hated Miranda and I do, but I didn’t mean for Calypso to go and hurt her. I’m such a bad friend and she’s such a good one and …

  I looked up at the screen and saw her next message.

  Calypso … set your heart free says: Miranda and me got caught wagging school.

  I almost heard my jaw slam CRASH onto the desk. Perhaps the sound vibrated all the way to Melbourne ’cause Calypso … set your heart free signed off.

  Before school I counted out four fifty-dollar notes, folded them carefully and slipped them into my wallet. I wasn’t sure why I was doing it. I wasn’t sure of anything. The ants were crawling in my head again. This time they nibbled and pinched at my scalp, and no matter how hard I rubbed or pulled at my hair they would not stop.

  ‘You’re quiet,’ Dad said on the way to school.

  ‘Hmm?’ I stared at the red light wondering if it would be better if it stayed red forever.

  ‘I said, you’re quiet.’

  ‘I heard what you said,’ I mumbled.

  ‘What is it, Holly?’

  Oh well where do I start, Dad? Let’s see – I have $200 of my own money that I’m meant to plant in this girl’s bag as she’s evil and needs to be punished. The thing is, I think she seems quite nice but I can’t tell Calypso that or she’ll flip out and probably say she’s not taking me to Daydream but then I can’t tell Calypso anything now ’cause she’s supposedly banned from all modern forms of communication meaning that a carrier pigeon or even a message in a bottle is still an option but then she did pop up on MSN last night though I can’t really figure out how and just to make my life even more confusing if that’s actually possible she said she’d wagged school with Miranda the skank my complete and utter arch enemy and that is something I do not understand. So does that help explain, Dad, why I’m quiet and just a LITTLE BIT TENSE?!

  ‘Holly?’ Dad pulled up in front of the school gates. ‘What is it? You’ve been really distr
acted this morning.’

  ‘It’s nothing.’ I fake smiled him and pecked him on the cheek. ‘Bye, Dad.’

  Disaster struck at the first lesson. Ms Kalina was going to be away in the arvo. So Sport and English were swapped. Now English would be the last lesson of the day. This meant that unless Jess brought her bag along to English the planting was going to be much trickier.

  Throughout the day I checked my mobile ten thousand times, in case Calypso had been able to text me from someone else’s phone. But there was nothing. The butterflies in my tummy were louder than my phone.

  Surely Calypso owed me an explanation about the Miranda thing. I knew it didn’t make sense: Miranda and Calypso wagging together. There had to be more to it. Calypso hated Miranda because of what she did to me. She told me that herself. There was no way Calypso would spend an extra second with that girl. No way. She wouldn’t. No. No way. All I needed to do was speak to Calypso. She would explain, and everything would be fine.

  I closed my eyes and pictured the story from New Idea standing up against my computer. Trust, that’s what you needed in a long distance friendship such as ours. Trust: bucket loads of it.

  But surely Calypso would at least try and text me to say good luck. Today was the big day. Step 5 Planting. Calypso had been waiting for this. She’d planned it so carefully. At last Jess Flynn was going to get what she deserved. Wasn’t she?

  No matter how many doubts swam in my head about Jess there was one thing I was sure of. Jess had stolen clothes and gotten away with it. Big deal! BUT there was something else she’d stolen, and that was much worse. She’d stolen Scott, and for that reason alone she deserved to be punished.

  Jess Flynn almost glided into English, and slung over one shoulder was her bag! ‘Thank you, God,’ I whispered.

  Jess dumped her backpack on the ground outside the classroom. Carefully I placed my bag next to hers, like a marker. Jess was bent over, rummaging around for her books. Then she stood up with her arms so full that the zipper of her bag was still open and gaping.