‘You mean …’
‘Like a date,’ gasps George, and lets out a rush of air.
Like a what?
‘We could catch the train in,’ he says, rocking on his feet again. ‘There’s a session at four o’clock on Saturday.’
It’s only now that my brain catches up with what’s going on. George is asking me out?
I stare at him, and blink. What should I say? He’s looking at me with those big brown eyes as if my response will be the most important thing in the universe. He’s never looked at me that way that before.
‘I’ll have to ask Mum,’ I squeak, then I step back and push the door closed with both hands.
Did I just slam the door on George?
I wait for a moment, then crane to see through the peephole and just make out his shape moving away. Phew.
On tiptoe I sneak into the living room and peer through a gap in the curtains, eyes glued to the top of George’s head moving past the front fence until he’s out of sight.
Did that really happen? George just asked me out? Me?
I hold my breath and imagine what it would be like. Heading off to the cinema, me and George … Catching the train together …
Talking about what might be in the movie and what might be left out. Arguing, more likely, in a joking kind of way … It could be really fun.
A huge grin breaks out over my face. It’s like I can’t stop smiling. Happiness spreads though my whole body.
We’ve been friends for years and he’s so easy to talk to. And even better, he’s George.
Normal George. Nice George.
And he asked ME!
The back door bangs, but I barely register it. What should I say? What should I do? I need to tell someone.
Briana.
Suddenly I feel like I know what she’s been going on about. We might have something in common after all. I dash for my room. My phone. Things are still weird between us, but I have to tell her! She’s still my best friend, even if I’m not hers.
Mum comes to a stop in the hallway as I shoot past. ‘Erin? Are you —’
‘Later, Mum!’ I call before slamming my bedroom door.
I grab for my phone and dial.
Briana’s voice is wary when she answers. ‘Erin?’
In the background, I can just make out some kind of buzzing noise. A hairdryer? An image flashes in my mind of her in the middle of a makeover with Phoebe. ‘Where are you?’
‘Mum’s getting her hair done.’ The buzzing changes to the hum of a road, as if she’s gone outside. ‘So, where were you at —’
‘Wait! You’ll never guess,’ I say, then pause, trying to get my head around what I’m about to tell her.
‘What?’
‘George asked me to the movies!’ I bite my lip.
‘George Papadakis?’ comes Briana’s voice slowly.
‘Yeah!’
‘He invited you … on a date?’
‘Yeah,’ I said, a little slower this time.
A pause. ‘You’re kidding,’ says Briana.
I do a little jump and keep on bouncing. So this is how it feels …
‘Wow. What did you say when he asked?’
‘Well …’ That’s where it gets tricky. ‘I sort of freaked out … and slammed the door.’
Briana breaks into a giggle. ‘Erin, you didn’t.’
‘I was in my PJs!’ I laugh and then cringe at the memory. Poor George.
‘So, what are you going to tell him?’
A shiver rises at the thrill of it all. The way he made me smile, the way I feel now, and for once I know how to answer. ‘I’m going to tell him … yes!’
A pause. ‘Wow. That’s amazing! No-one’s going to believe it! How long has this been going on?’
Just slightly, my bouncing slows. Has something been going on?
‘So, tell me everything. What’s been happening? Is that what was going on today? You finally got rid of that baggy jumper. Everyone was saying how different you looked.’
‘Who?’
‘Just … everyone.’
Everyone? My cheeks go warm as I think about George sitting next to me on the bus. ‘You think that’s why he asked me out?’
‘Maybe. Why didn’t you say anything? Wait … you haven’t hooked up already, have you?’
‘No!’ I say quickly and my skin flushes all over at what this means … Me and George kissing …
My heart thuds. ‘You think George wants to get with me?’
‘I guess.’ Briana takes a breath. ‘That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?’
How should I know? I’m not up with any of this. Slowly, I sink to the edge of the bed, trying to imagine hooking up with George. Suddenly I’m not sure about any of this. I like George, but … hooking up? It just seems like such a big deal.
‘Can I ask a question?’ I ask.
‘Sure.’
‘How did you know that Hamish wanted to hook up with you?’
‘Phoebe asked him.’
‘Phoebe again?’ It’s out before I can stop it.
All I can hear is a distant whooshing of tyres on the road. ‘What’s wrong with that?’
‘Nothing. It’s just …’ Phoebe again. But I don’t want to talk about her. I’m trying to get my head around dates and hooking up. ‘I … don’t get why George asked me. I need to work out what’s going on …’
‘What’s to work out?’ asks Briana. She doesn’t try to hide the frustration in her voice.
My shoulders slump. What’s the point? I can’t talk to Briana about this. Phoebe and Briana are best friends now. I may as well get used to it. ‘Maybe I should go,’ I say quietly.
I’m sort of hoping that she’ll keep me talking, that she won’t want me to go, but Briana just sighs. ‘All right, bye.’
For a while I sit staring at the phone. No matter what I try to talk to Briana about, Phoebe always gets in first. No wonder I don’t hang out with them anymore.
With a groan, I flop backwards onto my pillow. Who am I kidding? I really like George, but I’m not the kind of person to go on dates. I’m definitely not the girlfriend type. I’m totally hopeless when it comes to all this stuff. I don’t even know what to think, let alone what to say.
What am I going to tell George tomorrow?
As soon as the coffee grinder starts up the next morning, I’m up and shovelling cornflakes.
‘Can I catch a lift in to school?’ I ask Dad between mouthfuls.
‘Eager beaver, eh?’ he grins.
‘Something like that,’ I mumble at the milk. Eager not to be on the bus with George.
Dad drops me off insanely early, which is a total pain, but not as painful as the idea of bumping into George.
Now that he’s asked me out, I’m not sure what to do. It’s even worse that I’ve known him so long. I’ve seen him all red and blotchy with hayfever. I’ve seen him in his Greek flag board shorts and nothing on top …
What if he tries to get with me, and I crack up?
Just be yourself. That’s what Mum would say. But what if the real you has never kissed anyone? What if the real you is a total freak when it comes to all this stuff?
At lunchtime I make a beeline for the library. There’s no point hanging out with Briana and Phoebe anymore. And if I head down to Leni and her crowd I’ll have to go past George.
And I can’t see him yet, I just can’t. Whenever I imagine seeing George my heart races and I go all shaky. What should I say? What should I do?
What if I throw up?
I stride down the corridor as if I have important stuff to do, my boots making dull clomping noises. I only slow when I get through the library’s double doors.
A couple of kids are doing homework at computers and three year sevens are playing Uno. Keeping an eye on the entrance area, I make my way to a computer terminal furthest from anyone else.
I log on and look around me. All the other people are hidden behind their terminals. If I can’t see them, that
means they can’t see me.
I’ve just typed in ‘What happens’ when a bunch of kids playing Uno all cry out together, groaning and laughing as if someone won. Peering over the terminal, I watch until they start dealing cards again.
Good. I finish typing and check out the results. Which page will answer my question, What happens on a first date?
I scroll down and click on a page titled ‘Dating for Teens’. Voices from the front desk make me look up. But it’s just Mrs Wainwright on the phone.
The page has a picture of a guy and a girl sitting in a cafe, but they don’t look normal to me, they look like they’re destined for a career in modelling.
Going on a date is a big step, but it doesn’t have to … I’ve just started reading when I hear a gasp behind me.
Straight away I close the browser. Gulp. Slowly I turn my head to check over my shoulder.
It’s Nancy.
She has two other girls beside her and a nasty smile on her face. ‘See what she was reading? Dating advice! You really are hot for George, aren’t you?’
For a moment I stare back, my face burning. Then I stand up and squint at Nancy as if totally confused. ‘What are you going on about now?’
Then I stride past them with my head in the air, as if everything’s cool in my world.
Yeah, right.
When the final bell rings I take my time, fiddling around with my head deep in my locker, and then make my way towards the bus road. I don’t get on the bus. Instead, I wait with my back to the wall just inside the breezeway.
As soon as the engine rumbles to life, I’m out across the path and through the door in a flash. Focusing on the floor, I slip into the front seat. Out of the corner of my eye I register that the seat behind mine is taken, but not by George. He must be safely further back.
Keeping low, I stick close to the window. All I have to do from here is make sure I’m first off when we reach our stop and dash straight home.
Not a bad plan, if I say so myself.
It’d better be. That’s my plan for the rest of the year. If George doesn’t see me for the next few months, he might forget about the whole thing. Or work out the mistake he made in asking me.
I’m staring out the window at the shops on High St when I feel a slight movement in my seat. I peer through the gap between the window and the seat to check behind me. Both kids are busy with their phones.
I swivel to face the front, and jolt in surprise. George is sitting right beside me.
‘Hey,’ he says, and pauses. ‘Um, so, what did your mum say?’
My brain just stops. Here he is, with his dark eyes and smooth skin, right next to me.
George leans closer. ‘You have asked, haven’t you?’
Can’t even look at him now. I stare at my hands and take a breath. ‘Not … yet.’
‘Or your dad?’ George waits a moment. ‘You do want to come, don’t you?’
Yeah. I think. It’s just that I need time to get my head around all this. I peek sideways at George. His eyes meet mine, and suddenly he’s just … George again. The person he always was. Somehow, looking at him like this helps me find my voice. I lift a shoulder.
‘Listen, I wasn’t expecting … I mean, I’ve never been on a date.’ The truth makes me turn away, ashamed.
‘So?’
I glance at George. ‘And you have?’
‘Yeah.’ He shrugs. ‘Sort of …’
‘Really? Who with?’
‘Not telling.’ George frowns. ‘Anyway, what does it matter?’
‘I don’t know.’ I turn away, thinking about the type of girls who guys ask out on a date. The pretty ones. Girls like Phoebe.
I suck in a breath. This is so weird. ‘I suppose what I’m asking is … how come you asked me?’
‘I thought you’d like to go,’ George says warily.
‘Sure, I would. But … this is a big deal, don’t you think?’ I lift a hand, searching for the words. ‘I mean … what happened when you went out with the other girl?’
George stares at me as if he’s not sure what to say. ‘Why should I tell you?’ He crosses his arms.
‘No, I mean … we’ve known each other for a long time, haven’t we?’ I pause, waiting for him to nod, but he just stares straight ahead. ‘So what’s different —’
‘Nothing, all right?’ grumbles George. ‘It doesn’t have to be a big deal. It just seemed like a good idea at the time.’
No reason? It seemed like a good idea?
‘So you didn’t really think about it?’ I ask quietly.
‘Look, if you don’t want to go, just forget about it, okay?’ says George.
Just forget about it?
He grabs his bag and sways down the aisle while the bus driver calls out, ‘Take a seat, please!’
I’m left by myself, trying to work out what just happened. Could that have gone any worse?
It’s a relief when the bus stops at the end of our street. George trudges down the steps ahead of me and starts plodding up the footpath.
‘Wait, George!’ I run after him, my bag bouncing against my back.
He keeps going for a few more strides, then stops without turning, staring at the concrete.
‘Wait.’ I pull up, panting. My mind searches for the right words, anything to fix the dull look in his eyes. ‘Don’t be like this. I’m glad you asked. It’s just … it’s not you. It’s … me.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ George flaps a hand in the air as if shooing away a fly. ‘I’d better go.’ He turns and walks away.
‘Catch you tomorrow?’ I call out.
George’s steps slow as he turns. ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’
But from his tone, it’s as if he’s saying goodbye.
The door shuts behind me and I slump against it.
That was awful.
I wish Mum were home, but she has a parents’ club meeting. Wish I could call Briana. But we can’t even talk anymore. And it’s not as if she’d understand anyway. She’d think I was a freak for the stuff I said to George.
Maybe she’s right.
Dragging myself up, I make my way into the kitchen. A banana smoothie is what I need.
I’ve already pulled out the ice-cream when I realise the fruit bowl is empty. I scoop ice-cream straight out of the tub.
From inside my pocket, my mobile beeps. I pull it out to find a text from Briana.
Call me??
For a split second, I almost hope. Is she hurting as much as I am?
But she can’t possibly be. For a start, she has Phoebe. And a life.
And I know that she doesn’t feel the same about me anymore because in primary school, we’d never let anyone come between us.
I sigh at the display, picturing her face as she pushes buttons on her mobile, eyes narrowed with determination. But if I call her now, I won’t be able to hold back. I won’t be able to pretend I’m okay with any of it.
Do you have any idea how much it hurts to see you so close to Phoebe?
Can’t you see how different we are now?
So I don’t reply to Briana’s text, but I don’t delete it either. I just sit at the bench, watching ice-cream slowly glisten and melt.
I’m licking the back of the spoon when the landline rings.
My hand hovers as I count. Five …
Six …
After ten rings, the phone stops. Was the person on the other end counting too? I click the lid back onto the tub and I cram it into the freezer.
The spoon’s just landed with a clatter in the sink when the phone starts up again.
Creepy. It’s as if someone knows I’m home. George? Better not be an axe murderer.
Moving slowly, I reach for the handset and whisper, ‘Hello?’
‘Erin! I knew you’d be there. Why didn’t you answer?’
I breathe out. It’s Lucy. ‘I don’t know …’
‘Is Mum home? Her mobile’s turned off.’
‘No, she has a parents’ club meet
ing …’
‘Damn,’ Lucy says under her breath.
‘What’s going on?’
‘Ask her to call me, okay?’ The urgency in her tone is unusual.
‘Sure, but …’ I clear my throat.
‘I don’t care how late.’
‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah …’ Lucy’s voice cracks. ‘It’s … it’s just …’
‘What?’
She breaks into sobs. ‘Josh broke up with me!’
Wow. Intense. ‘Why?’
‘We had a fight.’ Lucy’s calmer now, but her voice is flat. ‘Just ask Mum to call me?’
‘Yeah … Wait.’ I bite my lip. ‘Do you want me to come round? Keep you company until Mum gets home?’
A pause. ‘How would you get here?’
‘Train. I’ll call Dad and ask him to pick me up on his way home.’
‘You really want to?’ Her voice is small, but with a flicker of something more.
It’s enough for me. ‘Sure. Just tell me how to get to your place from the station and I’ll be there.’
Staring out the train window, I start to wonder what I’m doing. What do I know about boyfriends and break-ups? Lucy and I haven’t spoken since our fight, which is longer than we’ve ever gone without speaking. At least I’ll get to say I’m sorry.
At Hughesdale station I step onto the platform, and scan for the exit. I find my way out of the station then turn left along the street, just like Lucy told me. I pass a hairdresser, then a vegie shop with millions of flowers out the front. On the corner there’s a cafe with people sitting around tables and chatting. It makes me wonder how it would feel if this were my shopping strip. The cafe I always visit, the fruit shop that sells my bananas, a whole new place in the world to call home.
I turn down a street that stretches into a wide curve. A ghost gum reaches over a brown fence, like Lucy described. Almost there.
In front of a block of flats, I stop.
‘Erin, up here!’ calls Lucy. She leans on a railing above me.
I wave. ‘How do I get up?’
‘There.’ Lucy points.
Music is doofing inside one of the flats as I pass.
It's Not Me, It's You Page 5