Finding Freia Lockhart

by Aimee Said

  “Freia?” says the boy. “You’re Ziggy’s sister?” I nod. “I’m Michael Harrigan, Ben’s brother. Jeez, you look real different to how you do at rehearsals.”

  Remembering Lisa’s earlier advice, I say, “Thanks … I think.”

  “Michael and I were just talking about the play,” says Kate. “You know, just chorus stuff.” It’s obvious even with my lack of social experience that she’s trying to get rid of me. I try to make a casual exit, but Michael grabs me by the arm.

  “Stay and chat, Freia. We can talk about the play any time, right Kate?”

  “Sure. I was just going to get another drink anyway.” From the way she huffs off to the kitchen, I can tell she’s not happy.

  And then I’m alone with Michael. Alone with a boy. A boy who keeps looking me up and down.

  “I’m kind of surprised to see you here tonight,” says Michael. “Ziggy says your olds are real strict.”

  “They seem to be mellowing,” I tell him.

  “It must be good getting to meet everyone else from the play at last. Everyone feels real sorry for you being stuck up there with Skeletor the whole time. If he ever gives you any trouble, you just let me know. Me and the guys’ll take care of him.”

  “Uh, thanks, but I don’t think that’ll be necessary. He pretty much keeps to himself.”

  Michael knocks back what’s left of the can of rum and cola he’s drinking and reaches into his bag for another. “Want one?”

  I shake my head and look around for Kate, willing her to come back and rescue me.

  “You know, you should be more careful when you’re up there alone with him – with Skeletor. I mean, the guy’s psycho, going off at Mr Watts like that, and he’s always in the deputy principal’s office for doing something wrong or being somewhere he shouldn’t. They reckon he got expelled from Greyland for putting a guy in hospital.”

  “I thought it was for having a bong in his locker?”

  “Yeah, that too. I think it was a fight about the bong that started it. Anyway, all I’m saying is that he’s bad news and a lovely lady like yourself shouldn’t have to be alone with him.”

  After a while it becomes obvious that Kate’s not coming back, so I resign myself to hanging out with Michael. Not that I like the guy. I mean he’s as dull as watching one of Ziggy’s football games and no amount of well-gelled hair or lightly freckled forearms covered in blond hair that glints in the moonlight is going to make up for that. Still, he does have quite nice eyes.

  By now it’s getting chilly and most people have moved inside. Michael excuses himself and suggests I wait for him in the sheltered gazebo. While he’s gone I try to arrange my skirt so that it gives maximum flesh coverage, but with so little fabric to work with, it’s a losing battle.

  “Hey, Freia,” says a familiar voice in the darkness.

  “Uh, Daniel, hi. I, uh, didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “I didn’t expect to come. It was a last-minute decision.”

  Before I can mention Michael, Daniel sits in the empty chair next to me. I try to check his eyes for signs of drug abuse, but of course his fringe is firmly in place.

  Michael returns before I can think of a diplomatic way to tell Daniel he should leave before someone sees him. He stops still, and gives Daniel the death stare (something I had thought until now was strictly for girls and Boris, but is apparently a universal gesture).

  “Sorry, Freia,” says Daniel, springing to his feet. “I didn’t realise you had company. I’ll see you on Monday.” He heads towards the kitchen.

  “I don’t think you’ll be welcome in there, either,” Michael calls after him.

  I look at my watch; it’s 10.45 already. “Actually, I have to go.”

  “Why? Because I didn’t invite Skeletor to join us?”

  “No, because my dad’s picking me up soon.”

  “But it’s not even eleven!”

  “I know.” I try to sound pained. “My parents are such old fogeys.” Thank God, I think. “Anyway, I have to go get ready – I mean, I have to find Kate and say goodbye. I’ll see you at rehearsal.”

  Michael stands up and kind of leans towards me. For half a second I think he might be about to kiss me, and a million thoughts flood my mind. Should I lean in, too? What do I do if he tries to stick his tongue in? Do I really want to kiss this guy? In the end it doesn’t matter because he just straightens up, mumbles goodbye and heads inside.

  I look for Kate in the kitchen and living room, but I can’t see her (or Daniel, not that I’m looking for him) anywhere. It’s only five minutes till Dad’s due and I can’t risk him ringing that doorbell and seeing Michael and his mates getting drunk or Bethanee holding Jamie in a death lock while she rams her tongue down his throat. I duck into the guest bathroom and wash my face with soap. The mascara leaves panda-like circles around my eyes, but I figure I can pass that off as tiredness in the dim light of the car. I put my jeans on and race out the front door with two minutes to spare.

  Dad pulls up about ten seconds later. “Hello, Sausage, have a good night?”

  “Yeah, fine,” I say, willing him to drive on before someone from the party sees us.

  “You okay?” He sounds concerned. “Nothing bad happened, did it?”

  “No!” I snap, thinking of the miniskirt and Michael. “Why do you always think the worst?”

  Dad looks at me out of the corner of his eye, but doesn’t say anything more.

  “I’ve made hot chocolate,” Mum calls when she hears the front door. She comes out of the kitchen with two steaming mugs.

  I shake my head. “I’m exhausted. I’m going straight to bed.”

  “Oh. Well, how about I bring the hot chocolate up to you and we can chat for five minutes?”

  “Thanks anyway, Mum, but I’m really, really tired.”

  Of course, I know it’s not the hot chocolate that Mum cares about. She wants to hear all about my first “grown-up” party and mark it as a rite of passage, like The Book says a good mother should, but I really can’t deal with that now. I’ve got a million things going on in my head and I don’t have the energy to worry about what’s going on in Mum’s.

  16

  My face scrubbed clean of make-up, I lie in bed and go over the night in my head. I feel bad about not giving Kate her skirt back before I left, but I didn’t see her once after she went to get herself a drink.

  My mind races. Kate said she likes Michael … and he may have almost been thinking about trying to kiss me! Or perhaps that’s why he didn’t, out of loyalty to Kate? Or perhaps he just never had any intention of kissing me and it was wishful thinking on my part? But why would I want him to kiss me when he’s not someone I want to kiss? Do I subconsciously want to kiss him? Am I so desperate that I’ll kiss any boy who tries?

  I wake up in a sweat at 5.47 am. I’d been dreaming about the party. Michael Harrigan and I were in Mrs Sinclair’s fernery and I was sinking deeper and deeper into the damp lawn until I was stuck, like in quicksand, and then Michael leaned in towards me and I knew he was going to kiss me and I wasn’t sure I wanted him to, but I couldn’t move away, and then I saw these huge lips coming right at me and Michael had become Daniel and I could move my feet again, but I still wasn’t moving away. And then I woke up.

  Now if I told Brianna all this, she would consult her dream dictionary and tell me what it means to dream about kissing and quicksand and boys turning into other boys. But I know I can’t tell anyone about this. I try to get back to sleep, but the dream keeps coming back to me. At 6.30 I go to the kitchen and fire up the computer, anxious for answers. After checking every online dream dictionary I can find, there seems to be only one interpretation.

  Kissing: love, passion, desire. A dream that ends just as you are about to kiss someone means that you are unsure of their feelings for you. It can symbolise a desire for actual passion with that person. Waking up represents a feeling of taboo about the act: while you want it, you know that it may not be to your benefi
t.

  Quicksand: To dream that you are trapped in quicksand indicates that you are not on the solid ground you think you are and will soon find yourself in an unexpected situation. To dream that you are rescued from quicksand by someone signifies a worthy and faithful lover.

  Which just goes to show that dream analysis is as big a load of crap as horoscopes, because there’s no way I want to kiss Daniel. Just because I don’t think he’s as bad as everyone makes out doesn’t mean I fancy him.

  “What are you doing up?” demands Ziggy at 7.45. “You’re never out of bed before nine on a Sunday.”

  “I have research to do for an assignment,” I tell him, quickly closing the website.

  “Yeah, right. Researching Orlando Bloom, I bet. How was the party? Did you hook up?”

  “What would you know about hooking up, Ziggy?”

  “I hear stuff, Fray, and from what I heard on Friday, most of the guys going to that party were expecting to hook up.”

  “You know, you really are a disgusting little turd,” I say as I delete the History file so that Ziggy can’t investigate my “research” further.

  “I take it you didn’t get lucky then.” He ducks before my hand can make contact with his ear.

  “Well, this is a surprise,” says Dad when he sees the two of us in the kitchen. “Not yet eight on a Sunday and both of the Lockhart progeny are up and about! I should take a photo for the family album.”

  “Freia had ‘research’ to do on the internet,” says Ziggy, making quote signs with his hands to emphasise his sarcastic tone.

  Luckily for me (and Ziggy if I’d gotten my hands on him), Dad is either still half asleep or chooses to ignore the inference because all he says is, “Really, Fray, I think you’re working too hard. No wonder you’re so tired. Anyhow, seeing as we’re all up and about, why don’t I make us pancakes to mark this momentous occasion?”

  “Uh, thanks anyway, Dad, but I’ve already eaten,” I say.

  “Yeah,” says Ziggy. “We had … muesli.”

  We make our exits before Dad notices that there isn’t a bowl or spoon out of place in the kitchen.

  I spend the day going over and over every moment I can remember of the party.

  Good things about Belinda’s party

  For once I looked pretty cool, even if I was wearing someone else’s clothes and pretty much someone else’s face.

  I talked to a boy for hours, upping my previous boy-talking experience by one hundred per cent.

  Michael Harrigan seemed to want to hang out with me.

  Bad things about Belinda’s party

  Even though people kept telling me I looked good, I felt like a fraud, and a half-naked one at that.

  I didn’t actually have anything to say to the boy.

  Kate may be upset about Michael Harrigan wanting to hang out with me.

  After worrying about how Kate’s feeling pretty much whenever I wasn’t worrying about The Dream, I decide I have to call and make sure she doesn’t think I like Michael. It’s weird: I know I haven’t done anything wrong, but I still have this guilty feeling. I cross my fingers that I’m blowing the whole thing out of proportion and Kate just forgot about coming back to me and Michael.

  Emily answers on the first ring. When I ask to speak to Kate she says, “Keep it quick. I’m expecting a very important call.” She calls Kate and then the two of them scream at each other for a few minutes. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but chances are it’s about Emily’s anticipated phone call.

  “Fine, tell them!” Kate screams into the phone.

  “Kate?”

  “Sorry, Fray. Emily’s being her usual superbitch self. She had a fight with Damian this afternoon and she reckons he’s going to call any second to beg forgiveness.”

  “Sounds crappy.” I feel a wave of sympathy – I’ve seen Emily in action and she’s hardcore. Sometimes I’m glad I have a brother, even if he does smell bad.

  “So anyway, how’d you enjoy the party?”

  “It was okay,” I say, trying to gauge her tone of voice to decide whether I should say anything about Michael. “Did you have a good time?”

  “I had the best night of my life! It’s a pity you had to leave so early.”

  “I wanted to give you back your skirt, but I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

  “Uh, that’s probably because I was in the guestroom … with Alex Cole!”

  “What?”

  Kate half-giggles, half-sniggers. “Yep, we spent quite a while in there.”

  “You mean you were–”

  “Mainly we were just talking, but I think he wanted to do more.”

  “So you weren’t upset that I interrupted you and Michael then?”

  “Hell no! After you left Michael was showing off a footy pass and smashed Mrs Sinclair’s crystal vase. It was an heirloom from her great-grandmother or something. Bella reckons if she has her way, he’s going to be barred from ever attending a social function in Parkville again, so there’s no way I’m interested in him any more. Anyway, Alex is all right. With a decent haircut and less dorky clothes, he’d be pretty cute. Don’t you think?”

  Having only met the guy for five seconds, I don’t have an opinion on him, but I dutifully say, “Yeah, for sure.”

  “Get off the phone or I’m telling Mum you borrowed her Wonderbra last night,” interrupts Emily from the other extension.

  Kate sighs. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Fray.”

  I’m so relieved that everything’s okay with Kate that I have a little celebratory boogie to “Spinning Around”. I can’t resist putting on Kate’s skirt again and seeing how I look dancing in it. Aside from the odd flash of undies (it’s definitely not a dancing outfit), I have to admit that my legs look okay. I try to imagine asking Mum to buy me a skirt like it …

  Freia: Mum, you know how The Book says that part of being a Successful Teen is fitting in with your peers?

  Mum: Yes, that’s why I’m forcing you to participate in the school musical, to enhance your peer interaction opportunities, like the kiddie shrink says I should.

  Freia: Well, what would really help me to fit in would be to dress more like the other girls at school. You know, maybe in, say, I don’t know, a miniskirt … or something.

  Mum: Miniskirts are for jezebels and harlots, Freia. How about I pick you up something nice from the Dowdy Daughters section of Kmart instead?

  Freia: Thanks, but you’ve already bought me the entire collection.

  Mum (thinks): I am a good mum!

  17

  For once I want to make it to school early on a Monday. Not only did I do something this weekend, but I did what everyone else did, so I might actually be able to join in the locker room conversation.

  As usual, everyone is gathered around Belinda, listening with rapt attention.

  “… so he offers to pay for it, and Mum goes, ‘You can’t put a price on family history’, and walks off, like, totally dignified. He tried to laugh it off, but he was shattered on the inside, you could tell.”

  “Wasted more like it,” says Bethanee. “Jamie reckons he’d had half a sixpack before he’d even arrived.”

  Kate turns to me. “You were with Michael most of the night, weren’t you, Fray? Was he that drunk?”

  I think back to when Michael and I were chatting. He didn’t seem drunk then, not till the very end when he got all weird about me leaving early. “He was … cheerful, I guess,” I answer carefully, “but I wouldn’t have said he was that bad when we were talking.” I emphasise the word “talking”.

  “I think he downed a few more after Freia left. He was pretty mad at Dan–, I mean, Skeletor for turning up,” says Brianna.

  “And what was with that?” asks Belinda, and immediately everyone looks at me. “Did you know he was coming?”

  “No way.” I look her straight in the eye and remind myself that it is pretty much the truth, since I honestly didn’t believe he would turn up, even after he kind of told me that he w
as planning to.

  “He must’ve got the message that he wasn’t welcome pretty fast,” says Brianna, “’cos he left after about five minutes.”

  “Well, if I hadn’t been busy with Luke, I would’ve told him where he could go,” says Belinda. “What a nerve.”

  I feel like I should say something in Daniel’s defence. That I should point out that Belinda did invite the entire cast and crew, of which he is a part. That he simply came and went, without making any trouble or upsetting anyone except Michael Harrigan, whose bad behaviour Daniel’s now being blamed for. But I say nothing when the others murmur their agreement. I just look at the ground until the bell goes.

  Bethanee corners me in the locker room at lunchtime.

  “I hear you and Kate’s skirt made quite an impression on Michael Harrigan on Saturday night,” she says.

  “Michael and I were talking, if that’s what you mean. But that’s all.”

  “Whatever. I just don’t think it’s very cool of you to move in on him when you knew that Kate liked him, especially when you were wearing her skirt.”

  “I didn’t move in on Michael. I went over to talk to Kate and she happened to be talking to him. Anyway, Kate said she didn’t mind and that she had a better time with Alex.”

  “Yeah, well, Kate would say that, because she’s a really nice person, but next time you want to make your skinny Dark Lord boyfriend jealous, you should do it with someone your best friend hasn’t got her eye on.”

  She exits the locker room with a toss of her blond head before I can protest that a) Daniel is not my boyfriend, and b) I was not trying to make him jealous. I throw my sandwich back into my locker; my stomach is churning and the last thing I feel like is food.

  I wonder whether Kate really is upset with me and she’s pretending everything’s okay, or if Bethanee’s just trying to make trouble. Surely Kate would tell me if there was something wrong between us? And what’s with all this stuff about me and Daniel – can’t they tell that I’ve been going out of my way not to be seen with him?