‘Thanks, Janie,’ I mumble. I grab the t-shirt she holds out for me, step back into the cubicle and peel off the shirt I’m wearing. The new one is not so tight across my chest, but it comes down almost to my knees. I tuck it into my shorts. The photo of me is hidden by my waistband.
I step out of the cubicle and check my reflection in the mirror. My sandy ponytail is messed up and my cheeks are a bit pink. My big, wide-spaced eyes, which are a classic sign of being a premmie baby, stare back at me.
We run to our classroom. Mr Muir makes us check inside our desks one last time for any pens, rubbish, or forgotten Christmas cards. Then he hands out our Passports.
‘Save them until you get home,’he says, ‘or we’ll never get you lot off the premises. We need you to be gone so the teachers’ Christmas party can begin.’ He winks at us.
Three bells ring. Rochelle, Elfi, Jed and I grab our bags and step off the verandah. ‘Ready, guys?’ says Rochelle.
‘Ready,’ Elfi says.
‘Ready!’ Jed yells.
‘Ready,’ I echo, but I have never been less ready for anything in my whole life.
We walk to the assembly area, which is a basketball court on the northern edge of the school grounds. It is shaded by an enormous tin roof. There is a concrete dais on the top side, like a stage. A wooden lectern has been placed in the middle of the stage, with a microphone attached to it. The rest of the school is lined up in classes along the concrete court, with kindergarten sitting at the front. They all have their bags in their laps, ready to be dismissed from the assembly area. For the final time my classmates and I sit cross-legged in our lines at the back.
Mr Tovety blows into the microphone and the kids hush. His speech begins. He talks about our year’s accomplishments and special moments. I listen to every word, remembering the camps and sporting achievements and fun times our class has had together. Lots of kids are mentioned by name, especially the debating squad and the netball team that won the state championships. My name is not mentioned. I have barely left a mark at Juniper Bay Primary School.
And then it is time for the graduation certificates to be handed out. It all sounds a bit formal, as though we’re leaving high school or university, instead of just primary school, but our school has always done it like this. It makes it really special for us, but also a little scary. At least for me.
We rise and walk up to the front, placing our bags on the ground on the left-hand side of the stage. We then line up in alphabetical order on the right-hand side of the stage. I am last in the line. Mr Muir announces each name and one by one, my classmates walk into the middle of the stage to accept their certificates. Then they shake hands with Mr Tovety and walk back down the other side.
I watch as my friends slip their certificates inside their bags and stand together at the far end of the basketball court, holding hands and waiting for the rest of the class to join them.
My hands are shaking and my knees are wobbling. I clap as each of my classmates receives their gilt-edged certificate. As I inch closer to the stage, I look down at the sea of kids below me. They are all staring at me, I think, but then I look over my shoulder at the large clock on the wall behind me. The minute hand is almost at the twelve and the hour hand is almost at the three. Jackson Prince, standing at the wooden post at the back of the assembly area, has his hand on the bell and his eyes on the clock.
‘And last, but not least, Paige Winfrey,’ announces Mr Muir.
A whoop erupts through the assembly and I think it is for me. But it’s because the clock has struck three and Jackson Prince has struck the bell. As I walk up to accept my certificate, the polite clapping stops and the younger students stand and throw their bags onto their backs. They are waiting to be dismissed.
‘Congratulations, Felicity … er … Paige,’ Mr Tovety says.
I don’t bother getting upset that he called me by my big sister’s name. Felicity used to be the school captain here, and she was the captain of the first school netball team to win the state championships. Sometimes I quite like it when people mistake me for her.
Mr Tovety reminds everyone to be safe in the holidays and declares the school year over. The students whoop again and then, forgetting Mr Tovety’s words about safety, rush in all directions for the gates, their parents, and the buses.
I push through the crowd of fleeing students towards my classmates. They have formed a tight circle between the basketball post and the high mesh fence. Everyone is shouting out the school song. I shove my certificate under my arm and tap on the closest shoulder. It belongs to Jackie Horn and she shrugs off my finger as though I am some kind of pesky fly.
I look for Rochelle and Elfi. They are on the other side of the circle. I run around and squeeze along the fenceline so that I can break in between them. But the circle begins to turn. Everyone starts kicking up their feet like they are doing some crazy Greek dance. I follow the circle, trying to get closer to Rochelle and Elfi, but their backs are to me.
I spy Jed through a small gap in the thick fence of human flesh, but he isn’t looking my way, either.
Stop! I want to scream out. Remember me? Paige Winfrey. I’ve been here since kindergarten, too!
The circle speeds up and begins to move across the court like a giant spinning top. It moves so fast, some kids lose their grip on each other’s hands. The circle breaks up into three smaller circles. I chase after the one nearest me, looking for a weak spot. Duncan Tilbury heaves to the left and Stacy Lawler’s arm is left hanging. I jump into the gap.
And then the circle collapses on top of me.
‘It’ll be all right,’ Rochelle says, trying to flatten out the creases and wipe off the dirt on my graduation certificate. I am so upset I barely notice as we walk out of Juniper Bay Primary School for the last time.
‘It’s a reminder of the day,’ Elfi says. ‘Every time you look at that certificate you’ll be caught up in the whole circle singing-and-hugging thing again.’
I stare at my friends. They didn’t even notice that I almost missed out on being in the circle.
‘Why didn’t you put your certificate in your bag?’ Jed asks.
‘I didn’t have time. I was the last to get one, remember?’ I stuff the certificate into my backpack with my uniform and the remnants from inside my desk. And, of course, my Passport. I take it out and hug it to my chest.
The best thing about the Passports is that they have blank pages at the back so everyone has space to write something nice in everyone else’s book. I spent most of the morning in the classroom, writing in each one. I’d almost dripped tears onto the felt-tipped words as I realised that most of these people would be at a different school from me next year.
A shriek pierces the post-school afternoon madness. At the bus stop, Jackie Horn, Rhianna Grim, Lee Hossington and Cat Stanley have their Passports open and are reading them out loud and laughing.
‘Listen to what Michael Jones wrote,’ Cat Stanley squeals. ‘Roses are red, violets are blue, you were the funniest girl on our trip to the zoo.’
Rochelle unzips her bag and takes out her Passport. ‘I’m reading mine.’
‘Mr Muir said we couldn’t read them until we got home,’ I remind her.
‘Oh, Paige,’ Rochelle says. ‘The three o’clock bell has rung. We’ve finished! Those teachers have no control over us now.’
I grab Rochelle’s Passport off her. ‘Let’s all open them tonight at my party,’ I say. ‘We’ll read them together.’
‘I don’t think I can wait till then,’ Elfi grumbles.
‘Great idea, Paige,’ Jed says. ‘It will be something fun to do tonight.’ He takes his Passport from his bag and gives it to me. Then he turns to Elfi. ‘Give yours to Paige.’
Elfi reluctantly hands over her precious book. ‘No peeking, Paige.’
Rochelle snorts. ‘As if she would.’
Jed places his hand solemnly on the top Passport. ‘We hereby entrust you as the Keeper of the Passports,’ he says to m
e.
Rochelle places her hand on top of Jed’s. Elfi puts hers on top of Rochelle’s. I withdraw one of mine from under the stack of Passports and place it on top of the wobbly pile. We wiggle our fingers up into the air in an arc above our heads then slam them down into our famous hand sandwich on top of the Passports.
‘Track three!’ we yell.
The Passports slip out of my hand and fall to the ground.
‘Oh no!’ I say. I bend down and pick them up again. Mine is a bit scuffed. Everyone else’s is fine, but that’s not the point. My friends trusted me, and I let them down. Just like I let Rochelle down by not joining in the water fight. I sigh and fumble the Passports into my bag.
Rochelle, Elfi and Jed are too busy laughing to notice my red face and the tears of shame in my eyes.
‘Don’t worry, Paige,’ Jed says. ‘We know you’ll guard these Passports with your life.’
Yes, my very clumsy life.
3
‘Mum!’I call, placing my school bag gently on my bed. I don’t want to do any more damage to the Passports.
‘Mum!’ I call again, walking down the hallway. There is no answer. There are no strange cars parked out the front of our house, so she doesn’t have a client with her. Unless it is someone from the neighbourhood. I tiptoe along to the spare room. No candles or incense are burning and the CD player is not playing its usual mystical music.
I know! Mum is hiding from me in the kitchen, ready to spring out and shout, ‘Surprise!’ She said that she was going to throw a special afternoon tea party for me to celebrate the end of school. Just the two of us.
I have been looking forward to it all day. Finally, a chance to sit down and talk to someone about how I’m feeling now that I’ve finished school.
I tiptoe into the kitchen and peek around the corner, ready to catch Mum out and give her a huge hug. But it is empty, too. So is the fridge—not that I expected to find Mum in there. I was looking for the cake and slices she said she would make. But there is nothing. Not even a note.
‘Fliss?’ I yell, wondering if my sister is home.
Silence.
I stare out the kitchen window at the backyard. Nobody’s out there, either. I try to see my reflection in the glass. I am pale and ghostly. I suddenly have a weird thought. Am I dead? Did I get hit by a bus on the way to school this morning and now I am a ghost going about my usual business? Perhaps that’s why nobody noticed me all day.
I wonder if I should run down to Dad’s funeral parlour and check his books. If I was dead, he would have recorded it.
But the funeral parlour is downtown and it’s too hot to walk there now. So I just go back into my bedroom, open my school bag and look at the top edges of the four Passports. They are still there. Jed wouldn’t have asked a ghost to look after them, so I guess I’m alive after all.
I take my uniform out of my bag and stare at it. I had wanted to keep it as a reminder of today. But now I think, do I really want to remember today? No one else will remember my part in it.
I turn the uniform over and read what Rochelle wrote on the back in thick, black marker:‘track three’.
It is the number of a song on one of Dad’s old CDs. The CD is an autographed copy of INXS: The Greatest Hits. Dad showed it to me for the first time a couple of years ago.
‘Why would you want to listen to the music of a dead guy?’ I’d said.
Dad had put the CD in the player and skipped to track three, a song called ‘Don’t Change’.
Then my usually quiet father had taken me by the hand and sung the words of the song right into my face. ‘Don’t change,’ he kept singing. ‘Don’t change.’
When the song ended he collapsed on the sofa and pulled me down next to him.
‘That song’s a classic,’ Dad said. ‘It’s all about sticking to your beliefs and staying true to yourself. Don’t change who you are for anybody, Paige.’
I had quickly grown to love the song and I’d borrowed Dad’s CD so often, he eventually gave it to me. I played track three for my friends whenever they came over. Even though it’s old, there’s something catchy about it. Rochelle, Elfi and Jed think so, too. They all dance and sing and play mad air guitar whenever it is playing.
I love the song but I never dance or sing. I have two left feet. And Rochelle once said my singing voice sounds like a rusty car door opening and closing. So I always just tap my feet and nod my head and enjoy the song in my own quiet way.
I get the CD from my collection, put it into my CD player and skip to track three.
Then I catch a glimpse of myself in my dressing-table mirror. I look kind of pale and out of focus. No wonder nobody notices me. What’s to notice? I stomp over to the CD player and turn the music up, almost as loud as it will go.
I start to jump around my bedroom. I leap and twist and screw up my face. And then I start to sing. The rusty car door opens and closes. ‘Don’t change …’
I watch the girl in the mirror as she dances. She is someone to be noticed. She is someone to be reckoned with.
‘Paige!’ a voice shouts.
I freeze. My mother is standing at my bedroom door. Her wavy brown hair is pulled up in a loose bun so that most of it falls out around her large silver hoop earrings. She is wearing my favourite dress of hers—the long, flowing indigo one with yellow moons and stars all over it. I scamper over to the CD player and turn off the song. I am puffing and panting and my face is burning.
‘Are you all right?’ Mum asks.
I run over and hug her. ‘Can we have our tea party now?’ I ask.
‘Oh,’ Mum says. ‘I forgot about that. I’ve been out at the shops.’
I wonder how a psychic can forget things.
Felicity suddenly howls from her bedroom. So she was in after all. I wonder why she didn’t answer when I got home.
Mum glides through the shared bathroom that connects my room with Felicity’s, and I follow. My sister is lying on her bed, holding her heart and groaning.
I run to her side. ‘What’s wrong, Fliss?’
Felicity turns away from me and groans again.
‘What’s wrong with her, Mum?’ I ask.
‘Adam broke up with her,’ Mum says gently.
‘He didn’t break up with me!’ Felicity screeches. ‘I caught him kissing Willa Sneddon. I broke up with him!’
Adam? Who’s Adam? I thought Felicity was going out with Joshua Madden. I pass her a box of tissues. ‘Is there anything I can do, Fliss?’ I ask.
Felicity snatches at a tissue and blows her nose. ‘No, Paige. I just want to be alone. With Mum.’
Mum looks at me and nods. ‘Perhaps you should start getting things ready for your party tonight,’ she says. ‘There are some bags of stuff for you on the kitchen bench.’
‘Thanks, Mum!’ I say. I’m surprised to find I am looking forward to my party. At first I hadn’t even wanted to have one. I hate crowds and noise. But when Felicity wheedled and whined about having a party to mark the end of her Year Ten, Mum and Dad gave in. Then they decided I should have a party, too. Mine is tonight and Felicity’s is tomorrow. I’m only having my closest friends over, but Felicity is inviting her whole class.
Mum turns away from me, back to Felicity. Then she reaches into her pocket and places a crystal on Felicity’s heart.
I walk back through our bathroom to my room.
‘Close the door,’ Felicity calls out.
The kitchen bench is now overflowing with shopping bags. Most contain chips, biscuits, dips, soft drinks and ice-creams. I put the ice-creams in the freezer and the other things in the fridge and the pantry. Then I inspect the contents of the remaining two bags. The first bag is from Stylze, a clothing store that I love. I reach inside, wanting to go and cuddle my mother for being so thoughtful. I had wondered what I was going to wear to my party tonight.
I pull out a red dress made of some fabric that shimmers. I run to the mirror in the hallway and hold the dress up against myself. I strip off my t-sh
irt and shorts and try it on. The dress has tiny little straps and it comes all the way to the floor. But it is too tight, and makes me look kind of lumpy.
I twirl around in front of the mirror and nearly trip over the hem. It’s a lovely dress but I don’t know how to tell Mum that it’s not right.
Back in the kitchen, I find that the other bag contains a pair of strappy heels in a size seven and a pair of diamond stud earrings. At first I can’t understand why Mum would buy these things for me when she knows I’m a size-five shoe and I don’t have pierced ears.
And then I realise. None of this stuff is meant for me.
I rip off the dress and shove it back in the bag. Now I know why Mum forgot about our tea party. It seems that me finishing all those years at Juniper Bay Primary School was trumped by Felicity breaking up with some boy she’d been going out with for a couple of weeks.
‘Arghhh!’ I yell. ‘Hello, world, I’m here!’
4
I go out into the backyard and wander around aimlessly, trying to cheer myself up. It doesn’t really work because tears keep leaking out of the corners of my eyes. I’m dangling my feet in the swimming pool when I hear a car pull into our driveway. A few seconds later, my father opens the back door and steps out onto the grub-eaten lawn.
‘Hi, Dad,’ I mumble. I wipe my eyes, trying to hide the fact that I have been crying. ‘How was your day?’
‘Quiet,’ Dad says. He stands in the middle of the backyard in his undertaker’s clothes—a black suit, white shirt and black tie.
I laugh. Dad always says his day at the funeral parlour was quiet and I always laugh. Occasionally he’ll say ‘dead boring’or ‘dead busy’. He says you have to have a sense of humour in the funeral business.
He opens the pool gate and steps inside. ‘Bet it’s not very quiet in there,’ he adds, jerking his head towards the house. ‘Your mother phoned to say Felicity was upset.’
Give Me Four Reasons Page 2