Faking Sweet

by J. C. Burke

  ‘Hi, Holly.’ A frown cracked her perfect skin. ‘Your forehead,’ she whispered, ‘you shouldn’t squeeze.’

  I felt my face burn. Why wouldn’t she drop the obsession with my skin?

  ‘I’ve got some really good stuff. It takes the redness away, dries up the spots. I’ll bring it to school tomorrow,’ she smiled. ‘No, I’ll buy you a bottle as a thank-you for helping me with my assignment that time.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ I mumbled through a closed mouth.

  ‘No, I want to,’ she said, following me into the classroom and slipping into the seat next to me.

  Noooooo! I wanted to scream. Don’t sit next to me. Not today, not ever.

  I looked around, searching the class for an empty desk, but it was too late.

  ‘Hi, girls.’ Mrs Gideon appeared. ‘It feels weird having this class in the afternoon. No one is allowed to fall asleep on me. Okay?’

  No chance of that.

  ‘There have been so many interruptions lately,’ Gideon sighed. ‘I feel like we’re all over the place with this play. I want to start with a quick summary so we’re all clear about what’s going on. Then we’ll start Act Four.’

  Gideon jumped up on the desk, and class began. ‘So in Act One we see Benedick, Don Pedro and Claudio return from battle to be guests of Leonato, the Governor of Messina,’ she began. ‘And the matchmaking begins between Hero and Claudio, and Benedick and Beatrice. Don Pedro says he’ll woo Hero for Claudio at the masked ball because Claudio is shy. Leonato knows about this but he’s told that it’s Don Pedro, not Claudio, who is in love with his daughter. This is the first example of the characters accepting what they’re told and not seeking out the facts for themselves.’

  Gideon crapped on and on about the dangers of believing everything you’re told, blah, blah, blah. To me it was just noise. I was a million miles away.

  Firstly, I had to psych myself out of the fact that my victim was sitting ten centimetres from me. Secondly, it wasn’t so much that I didn’t know what excuse to give so I could slip out of class, it was more that when I opened my mouth I wasn’t sure if any sound would come out. I was terrified.

  ‘So, Act Two is the masked ball.’ Gideon hadn’t drawn breath. ‘Our villain Don John tries to trick Claudio into thinking Don Pedro really wants Hero for himself. Luckily Don John’s plan backfires, and Claudio and Hero end up betrothed. So what does Don John do now?’

  Jess shot up her hand, ‘He makes a new plan with the servant Borachio to ruin the wedding.’

  ‘Exactly. And what does the plan involve, Jess?’

  ‘Lying to Claudio that Hero is a whore and goes with other men, when really she doesn’t.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Gideon replied. ‘Borachio sets up Hero and carries out Don John’s revenge. And what’s in it for him?’

  ‘A reward,’ Melissa called out. ‘If Borachio pulls off the revenge plan then he’s paid.’

  Revenge plans: I couldn’t escape them. I shuffled around in my seat, wiped the palms of my hands along the sides of the chair, and practised opening my mouth; my jaw had suddenly become very stiff.

  ‘And while the folk of Messina are waiting for the marriage to take place, they busy themselves with matchmaking Beatrice and Benedick.’

  I crossed my legs. Recrossed them the other way. Then the other way after that.

  ‘So when Act Three opens with Don John’s plan in action, the atmosphere changes,’ Gideon went on. ‘Again a lie has been told, and again it’s been accepted as the truth. Claudio doesn’t question Hero’s good character. She’s done nothing to show that she’s that type of woman. Regardless though, Claudio believes what he sees because he’s been told that’s what he’s seen. If anything, Claudio is quick to accept it as the truth.’ Gideon’s voice almost hit the ceiling. ‘One can almost smell the tragedy.’

  With great concentration, I pushed myself out of the chair and placed one foot in front of the other until I reached the front of the classroom.

  ‘I need to be excused,’ I whispered to Gideon through a half-closed jaw.

  ‘Be quick, Holly. I want to get started on Act Four.’

  Safely outside the classroom, I stood against the wall and took slow, deep breaths. From the corner of my eye I could see Jess’s bag exactly as it had been before – lying on the floor next to mine, wide open and beckoning.

  My fingers fumbled with the zip of my pocket. I took out my wallet, and a second later I was touching the crisp corners of four fifty-dollar notes. I squashed them into the palm of my hand, and took the three steps to Jess’s bag.

  Half a minute maximum; it was over. Calypso’s revenge plan had been completed, and I was walking back into the classroom, my eyes focused on the floor. I had never been drunk before, but this had to be how it felt.

  I slipped back into my seat, not daring a glance at Jess.

  Gideon was still on her rave: ‘So poor Hero, having no idea that her whole life is about to explode, gets ready for her wedding; while at the church the watchman are telling her father they’ve overheard some men boasting about a scheme they’ve just pulled off. The watchmen have arrested these men for treason. We, the audience, know Borachio is one of them, but Leonato doesn’t. He’s too busy, as his daughter is about to be married.’

  I kept my eyes focused straight ahead. For better or worse, Jess Flynn’s life was about to explode too.

  Gideon jumped off the desk and my heart missed about three beats. No sudden movements please, I wanted to request.

  ‘Disaster is about to take place.’ Gideon started to pace the room. ‘The play is about to turn from comedy to tragedy. Claudio has believed what he’s been told, not used his own judgement. Surely he should know deep down that Hero is an honourable woman? There is nothing his eyes have seen that would tell him otherwise. But why doesn’t he? Why doesn’t he trust his own instinct?’ She stopped at my desk. Maybe she could hear my heart pounding. ‘Holly, would you like to comment on this?’

  ‘Er …’

  ‘Why do you think Claudio just believes what he’s told? Why doesn’t he seek the truth for himself?’

  ‘Um …’ The strangest feeling was creeping into the back of my mouth. It felt like my throat was being stretched like an elastic band that, at any second, was going to snap. ‘Um?’

  ‘Well, Holly, how do you know that what you see or hear is the real thing? Do you believe everything you’re told? Or do you trust the way you feel about people? Apply this to your own experience.’

  Gideon walked to the next table. Jess shifted in her chair. Our elbows were almost touching. Like a bow ready to release its arrow, the elastic band in my throat was stretching tighter and tighter.

  ‘Ouch!’ Jess cried, pulling something out of her mouth. ‘Oh no, Holly, look.’ She held a piece of silver under my nose. I didn’t move. ‘My new filling’s fallen out.’

  ‘Your dad’s a dentist.’ Somehow the words escaped from my clenched jaw. ‘He’ll fix it.’

  ‘What did you say?’ Jess asked.

  ‘I said your dad’s a dentist. He’ll fix it.’

  ‘My dad’s a builder.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘My dad’s a builder. Who told you he’s …?’

  I leapt out of my seat, almost taking the desk with me.

  ‘Holly?’ Gideon snapped. ‘What is it this time?’

  ‘I need to be excused!’ And before she could refuse I was out the door.

  This time I threw myself on top of Jess’s bag. My hands wrestled with the inside zip pocket where I’d planted the money. My fingers went mental like claws as I took the four fifty-dollar notes out of Jess’s bag and put them back in my pocket.

  I tried to get up but my knees had locked with fear, and now my throat was stretched so tight I wanted to scream with pain. I crouched on the floor trying to get my breath. Just inside Jess’s bag I could see a book with MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING ASSIGNMENT written on the cover. Next to it in big gold letters was the title, COUSINS.

>   I opened the cover. Snap! The elastic band exploded in my throat. The shock was like an elevator crashing down on my head, leaving me flattened, paralysed.

  There were three photos of them together: one as babies, one as school kids both with their front teeth missing, and in the most recent one Jess had her arm around him and was wearing the same pink lacy top Miranda had once worn. It had to be from the same night as the photo in Calypso’s room.

  The heading on the page simply said: ME AND MY COUSIN SCOTT. I shut the cover, my heart and stomach plummeting to the soles of my feet.

  ‘Holly?’ Mrs Gideon was standing at the doorway looking down at me crumpled over Jess’s bag. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I gasped.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Um.’ I looked up and met the eyes of my English teacher. Who am I? I wanted to ask. Am I the devil’s helper?

  ‘Holly, please put your bag away and come back in,’ she said, holding the door wide open for me. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with you this afternoon.’

  I tiptoed back into the classroom; twenty-three pairs of eyes upon me.

  ‘You okay?’ Jess whispered.

  I nodded as the stinging tears pooled in my eyes.

  ‘Act Four, Scene One,’ Gideon said, picking up her book. She looked at Melissa and the others at the front of the room. ‘Where were we up to?’ She spotted one of the girls lying on the floor. The class giggled.

  ‘Right, yes, of course. Hero has fainted as Claudio refuses to marry her. “But fare thee well, most foul, most fair, farewell.” Tragic, isn’t it?’

  ‘They’re all scum,’ Jess called out. ‘Hero did nothing.’

  Scum they are, I agreed. Scum like me.

  I held the sides of the chair to stop myself slumping onto the desk, but the tears slipped down my cheeks. I couldn’t stop them.

  Jess pushed her notes across to me. RUOK? she’d written on them.

  I shook my head.

  Jess slid them back and wrote again. CAN I DO SOMETHING?

  I shook my head again.

  R U SURE?

  This time I nodded. The shame I felt inside was welling up in my throat. I could almost feel it pushing against the sides of my neck. Was I dying? Because I wanted to.

  I was the first out of the classroom and the first out the school gates. I was happy to walk all the way home. Anything. As long as I didn’t have to look into the face of Jess Flynn, I could make it to my bedroom door, which I would close and never open again.

  In the car line waiting for me was my mother. I collapsed into the front seat.

  ‘Holly?’

  ‘Just drive, Mum,’ I choked.

  ‘What’s? What’s …’

  ‘Just drive,’ I whispered. ‘Please.’

  I buried my head in my knees and sobbed.

  ‘Holly, what is it? What’s happened?’

  ‘I just had a really, really bad day at school.’ Now I was howling. I could hear myself, something like a cross between a dog and an out-of-tune opera singer, but I couldn’t stop it. ‘I, I hate myself.’

  ‘You mustn’t say that,’ Mum soothed. ‘You’re a beautiful, wonderful, special …’

  ‘I’m NOT!’ I screamed. ‘Sorry,’ I whispered. ‘I’m not special. I’m scum. I am the devil’s helper.’

  ‘Darling?’

  ‘I’m a Claudio, or worse, a Borachio.’

  ‘Are they popstars?’

  ‘They’re … oh don’t worry, Mum.’

  Mum turned into a small street lined with trees and carpeted in green lawns. The car pulled up outside a two-storey sandstone house with a blue tin roof and a veranda that wrapped around the ground floor.

  ‘What are we doing here? I just want to go home,’ I said.

  ‘Holly?’ Mum stroked my arm. ‘I wish I could say something to make you feel better. I’m worried what I’ll say will make you feel worse.’

  ‘Nothing could make me feel worse, Mum.’

  Mum pointed out the window. ‘See that house?’

  ‘What about it?’ I mumbled.

  ‘Your dad’s made an offer on it. He wanted you to see it.’ Mum was staring at the steering wheel. ‘I didn’t know about it till this morning. It’s just an offer. Apparently it didn’t sell at the auction last week. It doesn’t mean for sure we’ll stay in Sydney. Anything could happen. It’s always one big surprise with your father. I’m sorry, Hol.’

  I stared at my lap, playing with the pleats of my uniform. ‘I don’t care where we live.’

  ‘But what about,’ Mum hesitated, ‘Melbourne?’

  ‘I don’t care anymore.’ But the tears gave away my lie. ‘I just don’t care.’

  ‘Holly?’ Mum let go of the steering wheel and wrapped her arms around me. ‘What is it? Tell me. Come on, you and me are a team, remember? Two peas in a pod. All for one and one for all.’

  Not even the corny lines Mum usually fed me when we’d just found out we were moving helped. This felt worse than moving. Much worse.

  ‘Holly, has something happened with Calypso?’

  I sat up straight. How could I tell my mother what I’d almost done?

  ‘You see, Calypso’s mum rang me today,’ she continued.

  I swallowed. It felt like a basketball was stuck in my throat.

  ‘She wanted us to know that Calypso isn’t allowed to use the phone, or her mobile or –’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You know?’

  ‘Her little sister told me.’

  ‘Did … did she tell you why?’

  ‘Wagging, I think.’

  ‘That’s not all of it.’

  With every word my mother said, the ants dug deeper into my scalp. I wrapped my arms over my head while Mum the messenger delivered the bad news – things I never would’ve believed if they hadn’t come from the mouth of my mother.

  ‘Apparently Calypso,’ Mum hesitated, ‘and that girl, Miranda, have been wagging whole school days with some, well, not very nice boys they met. These boys crashed a party that the girls threw together at Calypso’s house.’

  ‘They had that party together?’

  ‘Isn’t Miranda that girl who –’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Did you know Calypso had a party?’

  ‘Sort of.’ I tried to lift my shoulders but the effort was too much.

  ‘It was some tarty dress-up thing they had on a weekend when Calypso’s parents were away,’ said Mum.

  ‘Her parents were away?’ I blurted. ‘She told me. She told me …’ Again the tears erupted: big, fat, round tears shooting from the corners of my eyes, pouring down my face into my mouth and onto my collar. They had a life of their own and there was nothing I could do to stop them. ‘Mum, I’ve been very bad,’ I sobbed. ‘Very, very bad.’

  By the time we got home I’d cried another ten bucketfuls and had blown a record amount of snot out of my nose. My eyes were so puffy I looked like the boxer who’d lost the fight. And that was only what I looked like on the outside. Underneath my skin was a war zone. My insides were torn, ripped, shredded. I hurt so much I wanted to scream with agony.

  Mum shook out my sheets, puffed up my pillows and tucked me into bed.

  ‘You’re not bad, Holly,’ she soothed. ‘You were silly, very silly, but you were also lucky. A lot of damage could’ve been done to this girl Jess. At least you came to your senses at the last minute. Better late than never, they say.’

  ‘But what if Jess’s filling hadn’t fallen out? Then I wouldn’t have …’

  ‘Deep down inside you knew. I think you know that too.’

  ‘Mum, what am I going to do?’ My hand sat across my chest, guarding my heart that had split into a thousand pieces. ‘I really don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Sleep,’ she replied. ‘That’s what you need now.’

  ‘And, Mum.’ I already knew the answer to this question but I still had to ask: ‘Calypso doesn’t have any grandparents, does she?’

&nb
sp; ‘No grandparents. I’m so sorry, Holly.’

  Mum kissed me on the forehead and crept out. For a freak, Mum wasn’t bad in a crisis.

  I closed my eyes, and the dark sucked me into the night’s vacuum, while Borachio whispered in my ear, ‘The devil, my master. The devil, my master.’

  The sun rose and tomorrow came. But how could it be an ordinary day when Planet Calypso had just smashed into my world? But it was.

  From my bedroom, I could smell Dad’s coffee brewing on the stove and hear Mum calling out the answers as she made my lunch over The Price is Right reruns. Dad would be sitting at the table, his face buried in the newspaper, pretending his job wasn’t the reason for his wife of sixteen years going round the twist. And the quieter Dad would sit, the louder Mum would yell.

  Actually, one thing was different this morning: the phone rang a couple of times, which was unusual for a household of losers such as my family.

  But what was going to make this day really, really stand out from the others was that I had no intention of getting out of bed. Not today or tomorrow or next week … and very likely not the rest of the decade. I had officially given up on life.

  Perhaps Mum could come in once a day and dress the bedsores festering on my bum. But that was the only time I planned on moving. Except going to the toilet of course, but that was a call of nature and didn’t count.

  ‘Holly?’ Mum peered around the door. ‘Hol, it’s seven-fifteen.’

  I pretended to be asleep.

  ‘Holly? I know you’re awake.’

  ‘Five more minutes,’ I mumbled. I wasn’t quite ready for the confrontation that would follow when I announced to my parents I was staying in the horizontal position from now until kingdom come.

  ‘That girl Jess Flynn just rang.’

  I cocked open an eye.

  ‘Actually she’s called twice. I told her you were asleep.’

  ‘What did she want?’

  ‘She wanted to know if you were coming to school.’

  ‘Hey?’

  ‘She said she thought you seemed unwell yesterday.’

  ‘Why did she want to know if I was coming to school?’