by Sarah Ayoub
‘Well, I get that most women don’t like that pornographic stuff . . .’ I say. ‘But do you really think that’s what it’s going to be like with David?’
‘No,’ she says. ‘That’s not my point. I’m just talking about the pressure to do it. It’s almost like it’s not your own decision any more.’
It’s my turn to be awkward now, but I feel like I owe it to her to listen.
‘I feel diseased because I want to wait — David makes me feel that way, and so does Lauren. I just want to not be scared or awkward about it when I do go through with it.’
‘If it makes you feel any better,’ I tell her, ‘everyone is probably pretending to be fine with it anyway.’
She shrugs. ‘In all honesty, Ryan, I couldn’t care less what other people are doing, so long as they leave me alone. And right now, they’re not, and it’s driving me up the wall.’
My turn to shrug.
She shakes her head. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘I feel awful, rattling on and on. Thanks so much for the advice. I hope David knows how lucky he is to be your friend.’
‘The luck is all mine, apparently,’ I tell her, scoffing. ‘I go away with his family, get convinced by one of his crazy ideas, and come back with a broken knee and broken dreams.’
She looks at me sadly. ‘And yet you’re still trying to make his dreams happen.’
‘I might as well live through his dream if I can’t make my own happen. It sounds selfish . . .’
‘You’re the opposite of selfish,’ she tells me, getting out of the car and talking to me through the open window. ‘Unlike David.’
‘I’ve never heard you call him selfish before,’ I tell her, looking at her pointedly.
‘I’ve been too blind to see it,’ she says.
‘Love is blind,’ I tell her, smiling.
She looks at me sadly before she responds. ‘So what does it mean now that I can see?’
THE YEARBOOK COMMITTEE
Minutes for June Meeting
Recorded by: Gillian Cummings
Meeting Chair: Ryan Fleming
In attendance: Everyone
The Playlist: Matty kicked off the meeting with ‘Eye of the Tiger’ by Survivor, and we didn’t need to enter into a discussion about what the subliminal message there was. Ryan gave Matty the thumbs-up, and we just got to work.
The Snacks: Tammi brought Haigh’s Milk Honeycomb, which was a hit. Even Charlie had some. (At first I couldn’t believe it was over ten bucks a block, but now I get it.) Ryan brought a bag of marshmallows and a packet of lime and black pepper chips, and we all pretended not to notice that Matty hogged them. Everyone else was relieved when I brought a packet of Arnott’s Montes (I did learn from the sugar-free episode) and Charlie said she didn’t feel like dip that morning, so she brought a batch of peanut-butter brownies that she baked (!!!). No one said anything in case it killed her feminist killjoy reputation, especially when Ryan put one in his bag for later. I don’t know if it was the food, but it was the most successful meeting yet, and we only got into one fight (I don’t even remember what it was about). (Note to Self: Pay more attention if you are going to insist on taking minutes.)
Agenda:
*Discussion on what has actually been collated so far: everyone was impressed with my coverage of the major school events from years 7 to 12, and the way that Matty had laid them out into our template. It turns out that we have so far completed about 36% of the yearbook. YAY!
*Discussion on remaining content: this time, we actually decided to, as Charlie called it, ‘divide and conquer’. Ryan gave us each a task (see Action Points below). (He stopped for a moment to see if Charlie was going to argue, but she didn’t, and everyone was really surprised.)
Questions for Mrs H:
*Is the yearbook going to be in colour?
Action points for next meeting:
*Charlie to interview teachers about their favourite memories of our grade. (She said that should please Mr Broderick because it means she is getting to know the teachers. She said this with a very sarcastic tone that reminds me never to get on her bad side. I wonder if Mr Broderick, and Ryan, know not to get on her bad side also.)
*Ryan to write a reflection on our fundraising experiences over the last two years, and how we can keep a commitment to these causes going into the future. (That was his idea. It’s kind of sweet.)
*Matty to be responsible for chasing up Ryan’s reflection and Charlie’s interviews for insertion into the template.
*Tammi is to be official camp reporter. (I offered to help her, because she can’t be with all the groups at once, and she looked at me for a second to see if I was being serious, then said thanks, she would think about it. It was weird . . .)
Postscript:
Tammi followed me after the meeting and apologised if she was cold. She just ‘assumed’ that I would not want to help her because of everything that’s happened (is happening?). I told her that I don’t hold grudges and that the yearbook was important to me, and that I want it to be great. She smiled and said she would appreciate the help, but could we keep it between us? I just rolled my eyes and walked off.
Charlie
Charlie Scanlon Reading The Sex Myth by Australian journalist Rachel Hills. Sooo good! #amreading #feminist #bibliophile
Katy Coolidge-Brown likes this.
Katy Coolidge-Brown Ohhh I have heard such good things about it.
I’m waiting on the stairs in front of the library one morning before school when Gillian calls.
‘Hey! Where are you? I thought we were meant to meet up,’ I say.
‘I’m not coming to school today,’ she tells me. ‘I stayed up all night working on my English assignment and I’m so tired.’
‘Damn you to hell, I wanted to tell you I booked my flight.’
‘To Melbourne? That’s awesome.’
‘I know, first time back in six months, I’m so excited.’
‘Yeah, it’s home, why wouldn’t you be? Oh, Sammy’s here, he thinks I can play with him because I’m home! Gotta go.’
I open my laptop, excited to share the news with Pete. He’s already online, and I take it as a sign from the universe that this is all meant to be.
Charlie Scanlon:
Booked this morning! Five weeks and counting.
Pete Brady:
The only exciting thing to ever happen on a Monday. So what are we going to do? Lord of the Fries, churros, tram to St Kilda for chats?
Charlie Scanlon:
Chips, churros, chats. How very us.
Pete Brady:
I know, we’re super classy.
Charlie Scanlon:
OMG! Can’t believe I forgot to tell you!!! I found a Lord of the Fries here!
Pete Brady:
Have you been yet?
Charlie Scanlon:
As if. I refuse to enter the premises in revolt.
Pete Brady:
That word is so sexy. I’ll need to use it. So I’m thinking with LOTF there, maybe Sydney wants you to stay?
Charlie Scanlon:
And if it does?
Pete Brady:
I’d torch it in revolt. After rescuing you of course.
Charlie Scanlon:
Hmm, maybe skip the torching . . .
Pete Brady:
Your mother’s pregnant isn’t she?
Charlie Scanlon:
Um, how did you know that?
Pete Brady:
Easy — you’ve never been this sensitive about Sydney. How far along is she?
Charlie Scanlon:
4 months or so I think.
Pete Brady:
You never told me?
Charlie Scanlon:
I didn’t know. There’s a three-month rule.
Pete Brady says:
You’re her daughter and you live in the same house. Wouldn’t you have heard her vomit?
Charlie Scanlon:
Not all women get morning sickness, you know. And the house
is palatial.
Pete Brady:
I don’t know what that means but that’s no excuse.
Charlie Scanlon:
Huge. It means huge.
Pete Brady:
I repeat — no excuse.
Charlie Scanlon:
OK, I knew. I just couldn’t tell you.
Pete Brady:
I knew it! I’m gutted.
Charlie Scanlon:
Girls before fellas. OK, so I’m there Friday night, Saturday, Sunday. I have to be back at the airport at 4 p.m. on Sunday.
Pete Brady:
I’ll make sure I keep all of Friday night and Saturday free.
Charlie Scanlon:
No Sunday? ☹
Pete Brady:
Sorry — I have something on.
Charlie Scanlon:
Yeah — what?
Pete Brady:
A thing.
Charlie Scanlon:
You know I’ll keep pestering.
Pete Brady:
You’ll laugh.
Charlie Scanlon:
Try me.
Pete Brady:
Um, I might be going to a church thing.
Charlie Scanlon:
ROFL. Seriously, what is it?
Pete Brady:
I knew you’d laugh.
Charlie Scanlon:
OMG — you’re serious?
Pete Brady:
Yeah. There’s like this youth BBQ on, and I’m going with a group.
Charlie Scanlon:
Wow. You’re not even religious.
Pete Brady:
It’s just a fun time out with some friends. I’m not becoming a priest, just going for the company and the sausage sizzle.
Charlie Scanlon:
I’ll come for a sausage sizzle. There’s wine at Catholic church too, right?
Pete Brady:
Lol, not for freeloading atheists like you.
Charlie Scanlon:
Me? I’m insulted. Seriously, I don’t mind coming.
Pete Brady:
You’d hate it. You wouldn’t fit in. You have a chin piercing for God’s sake!!!
Charlie Scanlon:
So? You have tattoos! And I took my chin stud out when school started. We’re not allowed to have them.
Pete Brady:
It’s just a different crowd. Plus I’d feel weird bringing you when you don’t know anyone. Sorry. Let’s just stick to Saturday and Friday night for now. Think about what you want to do. Can’t wait to hang out.
He signs out a second later and I find myself staring at his message, trying to read between the lines for some reason why things have changed between us. But I can’t see it.
‘Ouch, that’s some fobbing,’ a voice says behind me. I spin around and see Ryan sitting on a step behind me, smirking.
‘How long have you been there?’ I ask, giving him a dirty look.
‘Long enough. So who’s Pete?’
‘No one you need to worry about.’
He shrugs. ‘I’m not worried, but the guy sounds like a dick.’
‘Well, he’s not.’
‘OK then, whatever.’
He walks past me and I quickly shove my laptop into my bag and hurry after him.
‘Putting aside the fact that that was an invasion of privacy,’ I say, falling in step alongside him, ‘how much of that did you see?’
‘Well, congratulations on your mum’s pregnancy and your palatial house.’
I start to say something but he doesn’t let me interrupt.
‘I come from a long line of Catholics and should probably warn you that you’re not allowed to drink the wine — which becomes the blood of Christ, by the way — unless you’re actually a Catholic. And a Catholic who goes to confession for that matter, but even so, I find that the sausage sizzles at any communal event are a massive drawcard. Just look at Bunnings. As for the piercing comment, your friend Pete obviously doesn’t know that the word “Catholic” means “universal”, which means even people with three legs are welcome. God won’t judge you for having a piercing.’
‘Do you know people with three legs?’ I ask.
‘No, but I can understand why they’d want some Jesus in their life. The world is mean.’
‘Starting with boys who read private messages,’ I point out.
‘You were blocking the way. And so was your school bag.’
‘The phrase “excuse me” — you familiar with it?’
‘Oh, that,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘I decided not to ask you to move in case you interpreted that as me declaring my superiority as a male.’
‘Very funny,’ I say, my eyes narrowed. ‘So how come you were in the library? She wouldn’t let me in, the cow.’
‘She likes me,’ he says. ‘All the teachers do.’
‘Yeah, I bet they’re all gunning for you to win the St Gerard scholarship.’
He coughs, amused. ‘Jerome. The St Jerome Medal.’
I fold my arms. ‘Whatever it’s called, it’s gonna be mine.’
He smiles and nods his head. ‘Well, best of luck then, Charlie. You probably deserve it more than me. Even if you’re not very smart when it comes to choosing your friends.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ I ask.
‘You’ll see when you get to Melbourne,’ he calls out, walking away.
I spend the rest of the morning thinking of Ryan’s words and Pete’s coldness, irritated that I let them both get to me when I had so much else on my mind: the yearbook was time-consuming, I had heaps of homework, and I actually wanted to make an effort with my mum and my new brother- or sister-to-be.
In fourth period, I get a text from Gillian, who asks if I want to come over after school while her mum’s out. She must have texted Matty as well, because I hear him call out to me after homeroom, a bunch of papers in his hand.
‘Did she ask for her homework?’ I ask.
‘No, but I think she’d like the distraction.’
‘You’re going to make some woman very happy one day,’ I tell him. ‘Such intuition.’
He shrugs, then tells me he’ll catch up with me at Gill’s.
By the time I have to leave for Gillian’s, I’m too exhausted for her chirpy personality, but I don’t have the heart to say I’m not coming any more. So it’s especially irritating when she opens the door and seems utterly deflated that I’m alone.
‘Is it just you?’ she asks, looking over my shoulder.
‘Great to see you too,’ I reply.
‘Sorry,’ she says, smiling. ‘I figured Matty would be here by now, but he’s probably still working.’
‘That’s weird — he said earlier he’d meet me here. Why didn’t he tell me he was working at the juice bar?’
‘He isn’t at his juice-bar job today. He also delivers junk mail in his area.’
I raise my eyebrows, but don’t say anything. Why he would need all that extra cash? He did seem impressed with my car — is he saving up to buy one for himself? I’m making a mental note to ask him when Gillian puts some snacks on the breakfast bar in front of me.
‘Carrots and cucumbers?’ I say, grimacing.
‘Blame my mum,’ she says. ‘She actually cut them up and everything.’
‘Did it ruin her nails?’ I ask sarcastically. She gives me an amused look and we both crack up laughing.
‘So what time is she heading out tonight?’ I ask.
‘Six-ish usually,’ she says, glancing at the big French clock in the living room across from us. ‘They go out for dinner, and when she comes back she watches Real Housewives or The Bachelor episodes. It’s her thing.’
Moments later, the doorbell rings. Gillian looks at the security screen.
‘Sammy! Matty’s at the door,’ she calls. ‘Can you go let him in please?’
I glance out into the hallway and see Sammy excitedly throw his arms around Matty. He drags him through the kitchen to the living area to show him a drawing he did. They pla
y video games, and Gill and I chat while she prepares Sammy’s dinner. Sammy chooses a DVD and takes his seat at the table, and the three of us head to the back verandah to escape the noise of the TV.
‘Your house is nice,’ Matty tells her, looking around.
She shrugs. ‘Everything always seems nice on the outside.’
‘What’s going on?’ I ask. ‘Are you finally seeing through the staged pictures of Instagram?’
Matty rolls his eyes. ‘Can’t we talk about something easy so I don’t have to concentrate?’
‘What, your paper route dumbed you down?’ I ask.
‘Hey, it’s junk mail, and I need the money. We’re not all rich, you know.’
‘Relax, I’m just mucking around,’ I say, elbowing him.
‘Well, can someone please tell Pappas to stop mucking around with me?’ Gillian asks. I look at her quizzically and she hands me her phone. It’s showing Gillian’s Facebook page, where Lauren has uploaded a video of Gillian sitting down on a whoopie cushion in class.
‘Woah,’ I say, looking up at her. ‘She tagged you in it and everything. That’s nasty. When did this happen?’
‘Yesterday.’
I clench my fists in frustration.
‘She’s such a moll,’ she says. ‘She won’t leave me alone.’
‘Can I see?’ Matty asks, reaching for the phone. His eyes widen in surprise as he watches the video. Then he swipes through some of Gill’s pictures.
‘Wow,’ he says, looking up at me. ‘Look at all these backhanded compliments she’s left on your other pictures.’
‘Exactly,’ she says, grabbing the phone back. ‘And on my status updates too. She wants to appear innocent.’
‘Read one,’ I suggest.
‘“You’re lucky your boobs are small for your body shape. Otherwise you’d look a bit skanky in that outfit.”’
Matty and I look at each other in silence.
‘OK, don’t be upset by what I’m about to say,’ I warn her, ‘but why do you have a public fan page? Switch to a private account and don’t add her as a friend.’
‘I don’t want to,’ she says. ‘It’s linked to my blog, which is doing surprisingly well. I just want to know why every post has to come with her commentary.’