by Kim Kane
But not our Cleo! She won’t stop looking and taking pictures – even of Hallie on TV. She’s worked out a series of little spots for her cameras around the house and stuck a spy camera on the front veranda, surveillance-style. Unfortunately, she sometimes gets too spooked and spends a long time with pegs.
Wish Mum would start spending time with pegs. Despite hours of screaming, I have the Booty Girls shoot at Docklands tomorrow. So, unless I can come up with a horrible skin condition between now and then, I’m in emerald-green wedgie undies and a fringed bra. I wish Booty Girls wore Nunderpants. Anyway, feel free to help me get out of it. Dad’s furious because the shoot’s at 3.30pm, so Mum has to collect me early from school. Ever since I won the scholarship he’s decided I’m ‘extremely gifted’ (which I don’t think I am) and there isn’t much left in my life except study and music practice. I think that’s why Mum’s so pushy with the ads and the make-up and grooming and stuff, but I have to say, you’re right. She is twisted – I mean she’s even got a hot-pink drink bottle with a flip lid and little slogans like: ‘Remember your ME time’ and ‘Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels’. I need to be ‘extremely gifted’ to stand any chance at all.
x
From: Alice King [email protected]
Wednesday 11 May 7:52 PM
Hey CC
I will definitely definitely definitely do something to help. Most likely an ’80s-style bomb scare. I’ve read a lot about them. Anything to stop you getting pimped out to the Booty Girls. Consider it done. No really – I’ll get a real blast out of it! (Sorry, total dad joke.)
So, you’re not going to believe it, but last night I couldn’t sleep, I guess on account of not having a roommate to talk to, and I was just lying there and lying there and lying there, and then I realised it was actually the perfect opportunity to sneak into the convent to steal a pair of prototype Nundies. Before I knew it, I was creeping out of the boarding house in my Uggies and sneaking over the quadrangle, past the chapel and into the convent which, I have to say, was a whole lot warmer than the boarding house, even though the nuns are meant to be living in poverty. So, pretty soon I’m upstairs on this landing and there’s a really long corridor with lots of rooms off it. Just plain little nuns’ rooms with a single bed and a chest of drawers on dreary grey lino. Before I know it, I’m in one and there’s a cross above the bed and it glimmers in the light – like a wink, and I take that as a sign and open a drawer. Wouldn’t you know it – there’s a whole pile of Nundies, all neatly folded, and I grab a pair and head for the stairs and .…………… bang! Straight into Sister Ruth. God knows what was she doing awake in the middle of the night? Before I could even make up an excuse (or shove the Nundies down my boot) I’m being marched back to the boarding house with Sister Ruth’s bony fingers clawed around the back of my arm just above the elbow, where it really hurts.
Sister Catherine was fast asleep, and I guess it took her a while to find her bifocals ’cause I could hear her foraging around in the dark like a numbat before she came out looking wild as. I got the full inquisition in the prep hall, PLUS I had to give the Nunderpants back, so there goes my prototype, CC. I had to resort to fake crying and Johnny stories, which I know is pathetic but I was going to get DONE, CC – FRIED by angry God-fearing nuns! Anyway, it worked because Sister Catherine stopped being so furious and even dropped the whole expulsion thing, which was a major theme to her rant, not that I care, ’cause that’d be my ticket home. But I am not expelled, CC. I am to be punished instead. Sister Ruth has rostered me on to clean the windows in the chapel every day until they’re all done and half of them are these tiny little ancient windows which are black with muck. I also have ALL privileges suspended, and I’m telling you – in prison you don’t get many in the first place. I honestly hate Sister Ruth. More than organ meats. But that’s not ALL. I’ve got to write an apology to Sister Mary Bernadette, ’cause it turns out it was her bedroom I had stolen from, which makes me wonder where the hell Sister Mary Bernadette HAD gone in the middle of the night, and all I could do was hope that she’d done a midnight runner, had quit the convent and was already halfway to Minnesota on money she’d been stealing from the collection tin.
From: Alice King [email protected]
Thursday 12 May 4:30 PM
Hey CC
I did it. Sooooo much fun too with my best bogan voice and all. Sounded like a real terrorist. Did it work? The bomb scare???
Dying to find out. God I’ve been mental. Got to settle down. Mum and Dad are visiting on the weekend and Dad’s already given me a talking to about trying to look all happy for Mum, ’cause she’s been so sad and completely can’t-get-out-of-beddish for weeks now. I must NOT look tragic and lonely. Naturally, Sister Catherine told Dad about the Nunderpants fiasco because nuns are obsessed with confession, but he’s promised not to tell Mum. Can’t wait to hear from you.
Alice xx
From: Celia Beasley [email protected]
Thursday 12 May 8:27 PM
I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU ACTUALLY DID THE BOMB SCARE! You are gutsy, sister – it was an absolute classic.
We were in hair and make-up when suddenly a siren came over the speakers with a voice saying, ‘E-vac-u-ate, e-vac-u-ate, e-vac-u-ate,’ like a robot with lockjaw. And the hair and make-up girls rolled their eyes and said that Kirsty-from-catering must have burnt the crumpets ‘again’, when suddenly Viktor – the producer – appeared at the door and started shouting at us to leave. So we went upstairs and filed out the emergency doors and waited in the car park and then Kirsty-from-catering handed out mini Mars Bars and said someone had called the studio, warning that a bomb had been planted in the dressing room. A few girls screamed and I was trying hard not to giggle and had to shove a Mars Bar into my mouth like a choc-plug despite the fact that it mucked up my lip gloss. Then the air was suddenly full of sirens and Viktor was pacing around in his black jeans and the Booty Girls were all swearing and smoking in a circle, and Bridie, who’s the head BG, said she was jack of this and that her vocal polyps were too sore to sing anyway. She told Viktor to reschedule, then she and the other BGs left. So we hung around, getting cold because we’d left our coats inside and were just wearing black hairdressing capes, and Mum was texting my agent wildly. Then Viktor called the whole thing off and said he’d get back to us. So we went home. Just like that! And I smiled the whole way and ate the entire stash of mini Mars Bars that I’d stuffed under my cape. Mum didn’t say a word. Not one. Her disappointment was as thick as butter, but I’m not going back, Alice – no way, Jose.
Burn booty burn.
xCCB
From: Alice King [email protected]
Saturday 14 May 7:09 PM
Hi CC
I laughed my head off when I read your email. (Ha Ha Ha . . . plonk!) I really didn’t think they’d take it seriously. I mean – A BOMB SCARE!!! Anyway, I’m so glad it worked. A girl on a scholarship and green wedgie knickers simply DO NOT belong in the same sentence.
Any news on poor ol’ lucky ol’ Hallie? I neeeeeeeeed to know more, even if it means I’m one of those people who slow down at car accidents and stare. Do you think she’ll change schools and get a new identity so people don’t just keep asking her stuff? I would. I’d go and live in a hotel or, better still, on a cloud. I’d have my own cloud and kick away the ladder so no one could get up, only cute things that fly – oh and you, of course, CC. You’re welcome on my cloud anytime.
The parentals visited today. Tess was AWOL as usual. Mum’s really bad, and I mean bad in a sad way. And really skinny, also in a bad way, and both of them kept looking at me as if I had to provide some sort of entertainment and crack out some juggling or something. So, I told them about Leilah over lunch at Jackie Choo’s Chinese. Dad faked being interested while Mum looked blank and acted like picking the peas out of her fried rice with chopsticks was going
to save the world. And even though you could tell Dad thought she was weird, he just burbled on about how digital technologies are revolutionising museums. They are both seriously mentally ill. I really wished Tess had been there to share the load, but she’s got them fulltime so probably needs a break to work on her hickeys. God, I miss Johnny. He loved Chinese.
Then we walked by the river and looked at the paddle steamers, which was when Mum started crying and couldn’t stop. I guess it’s because all rivers remind her of Johnny these days so it was probably a dumb idea to go walking near one. Dad sat her down on a bench and put his arm around her and gave me this death stare, like it was all my fault. I don’t think she even looked at me once all day. I couldn’t think of a thing to say either, so it was a total relief when Dad finally took over with a rant about some interview he’d heard on the larvae of Cinnabar moths.
So it’s official, CC. Mum thinks I killed my brother and I’m supposed to pretend to be happy as pie locked up here in Nunsville. It’s a tough gig.
PS I should at least mention one positive thing. Mum and Dad gave me a jaffle maker, which is also kind of disturbing ’cause it feels like they are gearing me up for an even longer stay, but when they also gave me a bag of gourmet deli items and a load of Turkish pide rolls I got a whole lot more enthusiastic. Maybe I’ll go into business making jaffles and selling them in the boarding house. God knows I need something until NUN IS MORE takes off. Meanwhile, better go and eat cake.
From: Celia Beasley [email protected]
Sunday 15 May 3:15 PM
Hi Alice
I’m really sorry to hear about your parents. Mine aren’t much better – they keep having these massive fights. It’s about the only time I ever hear Dad talk. Dad slept in the study again last night and when he came out this morning, he tried to act all normal and suggested Jaime sells hot pies during the interval of Sweeney Todd. Do you know the story? It’s about a barber who serves his clients up in pastry. I think Dad wanted us to believe he’d spent the night at his desk thinking about cool ideas for Jaime’s play, rather than the mortgage.
I almost wrote to you yesterday but I felt too sad. I have officially been dumped by Avril and Mia, and it stings. I saw them yesterday at Gloria Jeans. Cleo spotted them first and her little face lit up like a highway petrol station and I was genuinely happy to see them too. But while I talked, they kept chewing gum and looking away, one in either direction, and then they all got up and sat outside. I tried to make conversation with Cleo, but it was kind of weird with my best friends out there on the street ignoring me, and by the time Jaime arrived from jazz they’d gone.
I know they don’t like me anymore, but I can’t understand why they were mean to Cleo too. She’s known them her entire life and she just looked so hurt. Jaime even bought her a raspberry macaroon to try and make her smile again and Jaime’s pretty tight with her pocket money. The thing that’s stuck, though, is that it took me a second to tell which twin was which and I’ve never been like that. Ever.
I think I’m going to sleep head-to-tail with Cleo tonight. I don’t know, Alice, maybe we all need clouds.
xCCB
From: Alice King [email protected]
Monday 16 May 8:55 PM
Oh, CC,
Sorry about those girls. Sometimes I feel like everyone ends up turning on you eventually – and friendship is just the slow tick tick ticking of a clock. I hardly see any girls from my old school, mostly because they don’t know how to have a normal conversation anymore, not since Johnny died. Suddenly I’m just this uber-awkward person, like I’ve got some terminal disease.
I got a new roommate called Daniele – I think I already mentioned her? Rumour has it she’s a fainter. Apparently last year she fell off her chair the moment Sister Mary Bernadette mentioned ovulation in Grooming, Deportment and Moral Hygiene. She also fainted in PE when Miss Claringbold gave a talk about the necessary use of deodorant. Seriously. Daniele was out cold. So I don’t think there’ll be much late-night fun in the dorm like there was with Leilah. But she does have a stash of Bali DVDs and a mini portable player that she somehow managed to sneak past the gloomster.
I felt sorry for Daniele tonight in the kitchen ’cause she seemed so shy and some girls like Siobhan O’Connor (arch bitch) actually try and make her faint by saying stuff that sets her off – anything to do with the reproductive system. And I could see Siobhan hanging around just waiting . . . and I was setting up shop with the jaffle making so I asked Daniele to help me slice some cheese. Daniele might not be that much fun but at least mousy fainty people aren’t bitches, plus they are actually naturals with cheese. Anyway, it turns out Siobhan O’Connor doesn’t even need to be boarding. Her family lives right here in Mildura but obviously don’t want to live with her. She’s seriously feral, like bangs into you on purpose when you pass by her for absolutely no reason. I can’t believe she asked to use my jaffle maker after school today (gotta say, it’s amazing how popular you become when you suddenly have the technology to melt cheese), but I’m like, ‘Ah sorry, Siobhan, I don’t want your stinky salami in my jaffle maker – it’s a vegetarian machine’, and then she gets angry as and argues with me about how cheese isn’t vegetarian and I’m like, WHATEVER – mostly because I didn’t want Daniele to faint if she thought too closely about the origins of cheese.
So, I’ve had people lining up to use the jaffle maker and the whole boarding house smells like toasties. If I had a dollar for every jaffle that machine has churned out, I’d seriously be able to afford a rescue mission.
Dad phoned tonight. Mum’s going off to some rest hospital for a while up in Warburton, where there’s doctors and stuff to look after her. I asked if I could talk to her but Dad said she wasn’t in the mood for chatting. Then Tess got on and was all casual, like Mum going to a psych hospital was completely normal. I felt crap afterwards and it was suddenly cool to have a mousy roommate who didn’t ask questions and let me lie in bed, stare at a crack on the ceiling and listen to music while she played Words With Friends.
We all have to do confession tomorrow and they’ve shipped some priest in from town. I guess I’ll have to fess up about killing Johnny – either that or the bomb scare.
Bye for now, CC,
Alice xx
STATEMENT
Name:Terrence BARNES
STATES:
My name is Terrence BARNES and this is my second statement to police.
On the night of Sunday 1st May, I had some beers with a mate, Jason Jeremy STREET. We then headed over to Casey’s, which is a nightclub in Glenferrie Road. I like Casey’s because there are heaps of hot private schoolgirls so I always manage to do a bit of business. That night, Jase and I hooked up with Anoushka LECH and Alberta Jane BYRON, who I know because Bertie bought a fake ID from me a few months back. We had some drinks and then Casey’s closed so we decided to crash at my place. Jase invited Anoushka and Bertie back because he has a thing for Bertie, and Anoushka is stuck-up but still a spunk. Jase and Bertie went for a walk and Anoushka and I just smoked, ate KFC and watched TV until about 5.30am when the girls had to get back home because they had school. They called a cab and left. Jase crashed at my place.
I hereby acknowledge that this statement is true and correct and I make it in the belief that a person making a false statement in the circumstances is liable to the penalties of perjury.
Terrence BARNES
Acknowledgement made and signature witnessed by me at 10.30am on 17th May at St Kilda Road Police Station.
PJ DAVIS
Acting Detective Sergeant 29902
STATEMENT
Name:Anoushka Broncia LECH
STATES:
My name is Anoushka Broncia LECH and I am 17 years old and I live at 224 Chaucer Street, East Camberwell. I am making this statement with my mother Broncia LECH present on this the 16th da
y of May. I am a Year 11 student at Balwyn Girls Grammar. On Monday 2nd May I was with my schoolfriend Alberta Jane BYRON. I had stayed at her house on Sunday night in Cotham Road, Balwyn, and we went to sleep around 11pm. Bertie and I were driven to school on Monday morning by Bertie’s mum who was on her way to work. After school that day I went straight home.
I do not know Terry BARNES personally, but I know who he is because he makes fake ID cards. He made one for Bertie about six months ago and I went with her to collect it. I can’t remember exactly where Terry’s flat was, but it was one of those two-storey orange brick blocks with stairs on the outside. Terry was pretty friendly and joked around a bit with Bertie and then he gave her the ID card and she paid and we left. On the way home Bertie got a text from Terry saying, ‘I like your friend’. We just laughed because he seemed like a bit of a stoner. About a week later I got a friend request on Facebook from Terry, but I ignored it. I looked at his friends list and they all looked like stoners too. Bertie was on his friends list though, because she’s friends with anyone on Facebook. About a week after I ignored his request, he messaged and asked if I wanted to hook up sometime, so I blocked him. I convinced Bertie to block him too. I don’t know Terry BARNES. I never went to his house. I never heard from him again.
I hereby acknowledge that this statement is true and correct and I make it in the belief that a person making a false statement in the circumstances is liable to the penalties of perjury.
Broncia LECH as guardian for Anoushka Broncia LECH
Acknowledgement made and signature witnessed by me at 4.17pm on 16th May at St Kilda Road Police Station.