Always MacKenzie

by Kate Constable

  I couldn’t speak.

  ‘You may consider yourself on notice. Any further lapses in behaviour will result in the consequences I have outlined.’

  ‘Yes, Miss Ezard,’ I whispered. The Head swept from the room. Ms Wells put her hand on my arm. I think even she was shocked.

  ‘It won’t come to that, Jessica, I’m sure. You must know the one thing the Head can’t bear is disrespectful talk.’

  I knew that. I did know that. I just stood there, feeling dizzy.

  ‘Go on.’ Ms Wells gave my arm a little shake. ‘You’d better get off to class. And if there’s anything you want to discuss . . .’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said vaguely, and I let myself out. I couldn’t even think what day it was, where I was supposed to be.

  I didn’t say a word to anyone, but by the end of the day it was all over the school that I’d called the Head a (insert expletive here) and I was going to be expelled.

  Mum and Dad were magnificent. I didn’t think they’d shout – we were not a shouty kind of family – but I was scared they’d be upset. I was more worried about them suffering than telling me off, actually. It was hard to explain the exact chain of events; I wasn’t entirely sure what had happened myself. Except that I had suspension, and the threat of losing my scholarship, hanging over my head. Suspended, as it were. Ha, ha. Not that I felt like laughing.

  But Dad just put his arm around me. ‘Don’t you worry,’ he said. ‘We’ll sort it out. You want me to ring Miss Ezard?’

  ‘Oh, no.’ I knew that would only add fuel to the fire of the Head’s wrath. ‘No, I’ll just keep a low profile and it’ll all die down. I hope.’

  ‘Darling,’ said Mum. ‘If you’re not happy – if you want to look at some other schools—’ ‘No, no! I don’t want to leave. Truly.’

  ‘All right,’ said Mum. ‘If you’re sure. You decide what you really want, and we’ll help you make it happen.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, and I meant it. ‘I was trying to do the right thing, you know? I was trying to help Georgia.’

  ‘Sometimes people don’t want to be helped. They have to sort it out in their own good time.’ Dad hugged me. He didn’t hug me much any more, since I grew up, I guess. ‘And sometimes trying to do the right thing gets you a bullet in the head, eh?’

  Dad always found a way to bring up Grandpa Darko in times of trouble.

  I managed a small smile. ‘Well, it wasn’t quite that bad.’

  Dad was still hugging me. ‘If anyone pulls a gun on you, you let me know, and I’ll come and stand in front of it. Okay?’

  ‘Okay.’

  Most of the time Dad managed to say absolutely the wrong thing, but every now and then he got it exactly right.

  Next day at school was a nightmare. Literally like one of those nightmares where everyone was staring at you and you can’t figure out why, and then you realise you’re naked, or you can’t remember how to spell fluorescent. (Actually maybe that’s just me – but I know other people have the naked dream.)

  Except I knew exactly why everyone was staring. And it wasn’t because I was naked, obviously. But I felt as if I were. More than naked, I felt raw. Every glance was a needle piercing my flesh, until I was bleeding all over. It was the exact opposite of being invisible. And I didn’t like it.

  Everyone assumed I’d been suspended. So they were all wondering what I was doing at school. Whispering, speculating, telling each other exactly what I’d called the Head. The fact that I hadn’t actually been suspended didn’t seem to spoil the story.

  I saw Mackenzie once, at the other end of a corridor, and I turned away. I didn’t want to give her the chance to flick a wounding glance at me as well; I knew it would hurt even more coming from her.

  My old gang did their best to act as human shields. Even Georgia was horrified when she found out how much trouble I was in, though she took a dim view of me trotting off to Ms Wells on her behalf, but loyalty won out and she didn’t abandon me.

  But, grateful as I was to them all for trying to protect me, Bec and Iris were still as irritating as ever, and what I felt about Georgia was a lot more complicated than mere irritation. If only she’d backed me up! One word from her in the counsellor’s office, and none of this would have happened to me; and she would have got rid of Rosie.

  To cap it all off, I wasn’t safe, even surrounded by my human shields; the darts still found their target. The whole situation was horrible. Maybe that was why I felt a certain nostalgia for the time when I was simply, magically, gloriously friends with Mackenzie – all five minutes of it.

  On Thursday, I saw Mackenzie again, coming out of the Head’s office. She tossed her head back and her golden hair swung round her face. I was right over on the other side of the foyer, but her eyes locked on mine. For a long moment we stared at each other; Mackenzie’s eyes seemed very bright, as if she were playing the part of the defiant princess or Maid Marian about to be sent to the dungeons. Then Frances and Phillipa swept her away, and Bec and Iris dragged me off in the opposite direction, and I couldn’t see her any more.

  Why had Mackenzie gone to see Miss Ezard? There were a hundred possibilities: maybe her father wanted to donate a new swimming centre, maybe the Head had asked her to give a speech before the concert, maybe Mackenzie had been granted special permission to join the Year 11s on their trip to Japan. It wasn’t as if Mackenzie Woodrow was a stranger to the Head’s office; she and Miss Ezard sometimes shared a joke in the corridor, they were practically buddies. There was probably a perfectly innocent explanation.

  But the tilt of Mackenzie’s chin and the suspicious brightness of her eyes bothered me; it chewed away at the back of my mind. Perhaps I’d been hanging round too long with Bec, but I couldn’t help feeling that some skulduggery was afoot.

  On the bus the next morning, I overheard Emily Tan talking in a low, excited voice to Olivia Baxter in the seat behind me.

  ‘Jess Casinader says Sara-Grace Fratelli says her mum’s cousin – you know her mum’s cousin works in the Head’s office? Well, Sara-Grace says Mackenzie Woodrow stormed in and demanded to see Miss Ezard and she said if Rosie Lee was expelled, she’d leave too and take her father’s funding with her, and the Head lost it and said how dare you try to blackmail me, and she put Mackenzie on a bond.’

  ‘Mackenzie’s on a bond?’ squeaked Olivia.

  I couldn’t believe it, either. Mackenzie Woodrow, golden girl, on a good-behaviour bond? I half-expected to see pigs flying past the bus window.

  Olivia whispered, ‘But what’s the story with Rosie Lee?’

  ‘Didn’t you hear about that? Apparently, Rosie got dobbed in for bullying Georgia Harris!’

  Olivia gave a strangled sound and Emily fell abruptly silent. I knew if I turned around I’d see frantic sign language and gestures in my direction. I pressed my forehead to the grimy glass of the window and prayed for my power of invisibility to return; I’d never fully appreciated the benefits of being invisible until now.

  But what I mostly felt was a raging hurt. So much for Mackenzie standing up to the Nazis; she’d betrayed me. Shouldn’t you tell someone about Georgia and Rosie? And then, when the situation heated up, she’d rushed in to save Rosie’s neck. She’d got herself on a bond for worthless Rosie Lee. But no one was coming to save poor old Robin Hood from the gallows. Mackenzie had just shrugged and watched me swing.

  It didn’t take long for the latest developments to spread round the school. Soon everyone knew that Mackenzie had thrown herself at the Head’s feet to plead for Rosie’s life, and everyone knew why. Rosie Lee stalked the corridors with a triumphant swagger; I couldn’t bear to even look at Mackenzie, who hid behind the curtain of her hair and pretended I didn’t exist.

  If it hadn’t been so unfair, it would have been funny. I was threatened with suspension, and everyone treated me like a leper; Mackenzie was threatened with suspension, and she became the people’s hero. Golden even in disgrace.

  ‘You couldn’t keep your mou
th shut, could you?’ said Georgia, with uncharacteristic bitterness. ‘Now everyone thinks I’m a bully victim!’

  ‘Because they couldn’t have figured that out by observation?’ I snapped.

  Georgia’s big brown eyes swam, and she fled from the room.

  ‘I’m sorry!’ I called after her.

  ‘Don’t worry, Jem. We’re still on your side,’ said Iris. She didn’t need to add, Lucky, because we’re all you’ve got.

  ‘Jem, Jem, Jem,’ sighed Bec, and patted my leg. Bec has always relished a catastrophe.

  On Friday evening, Ms Wells rang me at home. She sounded tired. ‘I’ve just come from a meeting with the Head,’ she told me. ‘She feels, on reflection, that she might have spoken in haste.’

  No kidding. Of course I didn’t say that.

  ‘The Head also appreciates that you haven’t made any public comments,’ Ms Wells went on. Public comments? She made me sound like a world leader. ‘Given your past good record, and your exemplary behaviour this week, I have a proposition to put to you. The formal warning of suspension will be lifted, on condition that you remain discreet, and your behaviour continues to be beyond reproach.’

  I didn’t say anything. If I remained discreet? It wasn’t like I was going to go running to a current affairs show and complain that my school didn’t take bullying seriously – then it struck me. That was exactly what they were scared of. Cautiously I said, ‘And what about – the thing I told you about?’

  Ms Wells sighed. ‘I’ll look into it. I’m going to talk to Rosie.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘So you agree?’

  ‘You have my word,’ I said, which was something I’ve always wanted to say. It’s such a Peter Wimsey phrase. I nearly said my word of honour, but that might have been taking it too far.

  ‘So you’re not getting expelled?’ Bec sounded almost disappointed.

  ‘I wasn’t ever going to be expelled,’ I said. ‘Anyway, I’m not allowed to talk about it.’

  ‘It’s a gag order,’ said Iris.

  ‘It’s a dag order,’ said Bec.

  ‘It’s a clag order – a slag order.’ And Bec and Iris snorted away until I felt like banging their stupid giggling private-joking heads together.

  I wouldn’t want to suggest that Bec and Iris and Georgia gloated over my humiliation; they were too naturally kind, deep down, for that. But I suspected they did enjoy feeling slightly smug about the fact that I needed them, that I’d come scuttling back like an insect who’d strayed too close to a flame. They offered me shelter, and I took it, and I’d always owe them for that, and they knew it.

  On the last night of the worst term of my life, with the bedroom door shut, I took the box out from under my bed and opened it. For the first time in ages I picked up the green beads. I carefully unfolded Mackenzie’s poem. Yours, always Mackenzie. I sat there, just touching it with my fingertips, as if Mackenzie were dead and I were a medium, trying to pick up a message from beyond. But no message came, and I packed everything up and shoved the box back under the bed.

  september

  The airport was pandemonium. Girls from our school, St Andrew’s boys everywhere, striped blazers, shrieks of laughter. St Andrew’s loved Charles Le Tan even more than our school; they were sending the whole of Year 10 and 11. I saw Ted, Mackenzie’s boyfriend. I’d almost forgotten he existed; now I remembered in a rush that I wanted to stab him. He had a mobile phone in his hand, texting; probably texting Mackenzie goodbye. I turned my head away.

  Staff from both schools raced around frantically trying to keep their groups in order and get everyone’s bags checked in on time. I pitied the other passengers and the airport staff; a terror alert would almost be better than this.

  The Charles Le Tan excursion was part of my probation; refusing to go would definitely have counted as reproach-worthy behaviour in the Head’s eyes. So, however reluctantly, here I was. And Mackenzie’s scorn had made me oddly curious. Surely the man couldn’t be that bad?

  And besides, it was exciting to be going on a trip. I hadn’t been in a plane since I was ten, when we went to Croatia.

  ‘I’ve never been to Sydney,’ I admitted to Georgia.

  Georgia’s cheeks were pink with excitement. She seemed to have forgiven me for my intervention over Rosie last term; Georgia hated conflict too much to hold a grudge for long. Most importantly, though, the bullying seemed to have stopped. Unless Rosie had decided to be discreet too – though discretion wasn’t exactly Rosie’s style.

  ‘Wow,’ said Georgia. ‘You’re going to love it. Wait till you see the harbour, and the – Jem? What’s the matter?’

  I couldn’t breathe; I felt the blood drain from my face.

  ‘Nothing,’ I said faintly.

  I’d just seen Mackenzie pirouette up to Ted and throw her arms around him. Of course she was dragged off by a teacher almost immediately; we weren’t supposed to mingle with the St Andrew’s boys except under highly controlled conditions, during designated excursions. But Mackenzie wasn’t even supposed to be here.

  I tried to keep my voice normal. ‘What’s Mackenzie doing here?’

  Georgia rolled her eyes. ‘Didn’t you hear? Apparently Mackenzie’s dad’s a big fan of this Le Tan guy. He met him in the States. He loves him. So he insisted that Mackenzie came to Sydney, and Miss Macmillan said she couldn’t go to Sydney and be in the concert as well, so he said, fine, pull her out of the concert, so here she is. Jess Samuels is doing the readings instead. Miss Macmillan was gropeable.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said weakly. ‘The universe throws us gifts.’

  It was weird that the sight of Mackenzie across an airport concourse should have such an effect on me, when I saw her practically every day at school without batting an eye. It was seeing her out of context, I think; like being at Heathersett River again. She tucked her golden hair behind her ear; she smiled at Ted over her shoulder. Anyone else would have seemed cheap and flirty. But Mackenzie was . . . natural. Beautiful. Ted must have been thanking his lucky stars, to be smiled at like that, by someone like her.

  I had to turn round to see him. He was watching Mackenzie, of course. He stared at her with a steady, direct gaze, very slightly smiling. Again, on someone else, it could have been a smirk, or a leer; from Ted it was like: Here’s looking at you, kid.

  Would anyone ever look at me that way? With such understanding, such adoration . . . with love? I rummaged in my bag, not for anything in particular, but because it was too painful to watch.

  ‘You all right, Jem?’

  ‘Just checking I’ve got my book.’

  ‘The flight’s only an hour,’ said Georgia. ‘You won’t have time to read.’

  ‘I hope I don’t vomit. When we went to Croatia I was sick all the way.’

  Georgia was alarmed. ‘Not in front of the St Andrew’s boys. That’s not a good look, sticking your head in a sick-bag.’

  ‘Thanks, Georgia.’

  ‘Hi,’ said Iris. ‘Where are you guys sitting?’

  We conferred over boarding passes. ‘We’re a couple of rows in front of you.’

  ‘Safer at the back,’ said Bec.

  ‘So they say.’

  Most of our conversations were like this now: stilted, formal. It was an impersonation of the friendship we used to have. Every day, every hollow exchange of words, was a reminder of what we’d lost.

  It wasn’t as if we actually disliked each other. And the pull of habit was just too strong to resist. It was too cold now, in third term, for our old corner of the quad, so we’d gravitated to a new spot near the Drama Room: neutral ground. Georgia worked hard to smooth things along, bless her. Maybe Georgia even thought we were all mates again, just like before. But Bec and Iris and I knew differently.

  I’d tried to convince myself that it wasn’t so bad; that I didn’t feel lonely; that I didn’t miss the way things used to be. Sometimes I could even kid myself that I was happy.

  A knot of St Andrew’s boys waited ahead of us
in the queue, guffawing and shoving each other. Boys made me nervous, especially when they were in a pack. They looked nearly like men, so big in their ridiculous striped uniform, but their faces were raw and pimply under their shaggy hair, and they pushed each other and pulled faces and sniggered like preschoolers. One of them crashed into Georgia.

  ‘Ow!’

  ‘Shit, sorry,’ he mumbled, and his mates snorted through their noses.

  ‘Settle down, dickheads,’ ordered Ted, who was wearing a shiny badge. We didn’t have prefects at our school; we were all supposed to be responsible for our own behaviour. I supposed with boys they couldn’t take that chance. These ones mumbled apologies and became very busy with their boarding passes.

  Ted said, ‘Sorry about that. Are you all right, Georgia?’

  ‘Yeah, I think only two toes are broken.’ She grinned at him shyly.

  I’d forgotten that Ted and Georgia knew each other; at least I knew she knew him, but I hadn’t expected that he’d know her.

  Ted said to the rest of us, ‘Don’t pay any attention to these idiots. The presence of so many females is making them nervous.’

  I smiled before I could stop myself. It hadn’t occurred to me that having girls around would make boys anxious and silly and noisy, just as having boys around was making my schoolmates shriller and gigglier than usual.

  ‘Enjoy your trip, ladies.’ Ted gave us a casual salute, and tipped an invisible hat, before he strolled away. It should have annoyed me; it could have been patronising. It was very charming. But somehow he did it so well that I was . . . well, charmed.

  ‘Wow.’ Iris gazed after him. ‘Wouldn’t he look delicious in a uniform.’ He was just her type, totally Aryan.

  I said, ‘He is in a uniform.’

  Our eyes met and for a fraction of a second we could read each other’s minds, just like we used to. ‘I mean a real uniform,’ said Iris witheringly. ‘A soldier’s uniform.’

  ‘He’s very Wimsey,’ I said.