Dad: I’m glad you understand that, Michi.
I stand where I know he can’t see me and poke my tongue out at his back. It’s not that I’m being disrespectful – I would never do that. It’s just my way of dealing with his ‘strict father’ approach to life. I guess it’s not really his fault. His own dad was mega-strict, and it kind of rubbed off on him.
At least I know how to get along with him. Not like my brother Sam. He and Dad are always fighting. Sam’s full name is Osamu but he hates it, whereas me, I love my name. It’s different. How many other people do you know called Michi?
Sam’s named after our grandfather – our ojiichan – Osamu Kano, who was this virtuoso violin player in a symphony orchestra back in Japan. Only poor old Sam didn’t inherit one musical gene. He is totally lousy at the violin. Dad used to drag him off to lessons kicking and screaming, and he hated every moment of it. Now that Sam’s eighteen, he just refuses to play. Anything. Ever. You can imagine how well that goes down with my dad. He worshipped his father.
So I guess it’s just as well one of us did inherit some musical talent, or Dad would be even grumpier than he is now. I don’t know how my mum puts up with him sometimes. Maybe it’s because she’s so chilled out herself that she can tolerate him.
The front door slams shut and Mum comes in carrying bags full of groceries.
‘Hello, darling,’ she says to me. ‘Give me a hand, can you?’
Dad raises his eyebrows and I know he’s about to start in on me about being late for violin practice again, but he backs down when Mum gives him one of her smiles. She’s got Dad totally wrapped around her little finger. Always has had, since the day they met. Aunty Miriam told me all about it. Mum was doing the backpacking thing around the world and picking up some extra cash teaching English in Japan. She met my dad at some music recital and wham! Instant attraction. She sweet-talked him into coming back to live here and the rest is history.
‘So, Michi,’ Mum says as she hands me a bag full of fruit and vegetables to sort out homes for. ‘How was your first day back at school?’
‘Okay,’ I say. ‘It was good catching up with everyone again.’
‘And Amira? Did you have fun at her place?’
‘Yep,’ I say, arranging a bunch of bananas artistically in a black bowl. ‘She showed Mia and me how to make our own MyPlace pages.’
Mum stops loading packets and cans into the pantry. ‘MyPlace? Isn’t that one of those social networking sites?’
‘Mm-hmm,’ I say, wondering where this is going.
‘Well, just be careful,’ Mum says, sounding very unlike Mum. Normally she’s really happy when I try out something new. She reckons I’m ‘extending my horizons,’ or something. ‘There’ve been all kinds of bad stories flying around about those sites lately. You just don’t know who might be looking at all your personal stuff.’
‘Relax, Mum,’ I tell her. ‘There’s no way that’s ever going to happen. Ami showed me how to set it to “private” so that only your friends can get access to your page. And I get, like, total control over who those friends are.’
‘Well, that’s okay, then,’ Mum says, coming over and giving my shoulders a squeeze. She grins. ‘Hey, can I be your friend?’
‘No way!’ I squeal, pushing her away. ‘Get your own friends!’ I mean, much as I love my mum and all, there are some things about my life I don’t want to share with her. Imagine if she read my blog, for instance. Scary.
I finish unpacking the bags, grab a drink and a handful of rice crackers, and head for my room. Yes, okay, one of my walls is actually black. But that’s just so it provides maximum contrast to all the cool posters and photos I’ve got stuck all over it. Ever since I saw the Wall at Pink HQ, I’ve been inspired to make one here, too. Plus there’re all my paintings and sculptures from the last few years from art class, and my jewellery collection and my clothes racks and my knitted toy animal collection and my anime DVDs and all my music sheets, and my music stand, of course, and my violin.
I open up its black leather case and take it out. I warm up with a few scales and arpeggios, then get stuck into the Handel sonata I’m playing for my exam. I can hear Dad humming along happily as he walks down the hallway to the bathroom. Guess I must be playing it right. Then suddenly the hum changes to a shout.
Sam must be home.
I can’t hear exactly what it is they’re yelling about over the music I’m playing, but I can guess. Sam wants to drop out of uni and travel around Australia, but Dad wants him to stay on until he’s finished his degree. Or maybe they’re yelling because Sam stayed out really late last night, or because Dad doesn’t like Sam’s friends. There’s always something. Sam’s great, but he can be a bit of a rebel. Coming home at four o’clock in the morning, or staying out all night at a friend’s place and not letting my parents know where he is. Threatening to run away to join the circus. As if. It’s almost like he baits Dad, just so he can see him get upset. I don’t understand it.
Lexi might, though. There’s lots of yelling at her house, too, between her dad and her mum. When that happens, she says, she just goes into her bedroom and plays some music really loudly to drown them out.
So that’s what I do, too.
Chapter 4
tuesday morning
It’s youth orchestra day. I’m just dropping my violin into the music room for our rehearsal later today when Mr C, our music teacher, comes in.
‘Hi, Michi,’ he says. ‘How are those exam pieces coming along?’
I pull a face. ‘Okay, I guess.’
‘You’ll do fine,’ he reassures me, shuffling through some papers on his desk. ‘In fact, probably better than fine. Don’t suppose you know any flute players?’
‘Sure I do,’ I joke. ‘Sylvie Chen and Carly Ferrera.’ Sylvie and Carly both play in the orchestra with me. Sylvie’s, like, really good.
‘Actually, Sylvie won’t be able to play in the orchestra any more.’
‘You’re kidding.’
‘Wish I was. She’s transferred to another school. So we’re down to only one flute as of today.’
An idea starts to bubble up in my brain. Mia. Mia plays flute! Okay, so she’s not at the same standard that Sylvie is, but she’s pretty good. And I’m sure Mr C could arrange for her to have some extra lessons. ‘Well, actually, Mr C,’ I begin. And then I tell him all about Mia, and how she sometimes plays flute when we’re mucking around in Pink HQ. He knows she plays guitar already of course, because of the Starsearch competition, and he’s seen for himself what a star she is in music class. So he tells me to bring her along.
This is perfect!
I just hope Mia’s going to think so, too.
Maybe not. Mia doesn’t look too impressed when I break the news to her five minutes later. At least Lexi and Alysha think it’s a good idea.
Mia: You’re kidding, right? Tell me this is all just a big joke.
Me: Come on, Mia, you’d be really good.
Mia [stubbornly]: No way!
Me: Yes way!
Mia: I can’t play orchestra-type music.
Lexi: But you could learn. How hard can it be? You can read music, can’t you?
Mia: Yeah.
Me: So all you have to do is read the music in the score for your part.
Mia: The what?
Me: The score. It’s just a fancy word for a music sheet.
Mia: Not doing it. Too hard.
Lexi: Course you are. Remember how good you were when we all played at our graduation ceremony last year? That was orchestra-type music.
Mia: That was different. That was primary school stuff. These guys are going to be, like, older. Seriously older. There’s even Year 9 and 10 guys in there. [Clutching her throat dramatically] OMG. No way!
Me: And some of them are really cute. Aren’t they, Alysha?
Alysha: Dreamy. Especially that guy on the double bass. What’s his name? Alex something.
Trust Alysha to have noticed. She’s right, tho
ugh. He’s fully a hottie. Only trouble is, he knows it.
Mia [starting to waver]: Seriously dreamy? How many out of ten?
Alysha: On a pashability scale? Oh, a nine at least.
Me: Lexi, what do you reckon? Be honest. Look, he’s just over there. Near the science block. Talking to the girl with the short blonde hair. And the girl with the long blonde hair. And the girl with the – Lexi: That guy? Out of ten? Hmmm. Nine and a half. Maybe even three-quarters.
Mia [dubious]: Nine and three-quarters? No guy is that good.
Lexi: This one is.
Mia [taking a closer look]: Ooh. I see what you mean. Okay then. I’m in.
By the time we make it over to the music room, half the kids have already arrived. Mia’s stressing big time. She stands quietly near the door, watching everyone else chatting away happily as they set up their gear.
‘Everyone already seems to know everyone else,’ she whispers.
‘Yeah,’ I tell her. ‘And soon you’ll know them all too. Remember the first day of high school? How many people did you know then? Now look how many new friends you have.’
She’s not convinced. ‘What if I majorly stuff up?’ ‘You won’t,’ I reassure her. ‘And even if you do, it’s no biggie. Plenty of these guys make mistakes all the time.’ I grin. ‘Me especially.’
Mia play punches my arm. ‘There’s no need to fib to make me feel better, Michi. But thanks for the vote of confidence.’
Mr C’s arranged for her to use the school flute for today. I introduce her to Carly, who shows her the music score they’ll be playing from.
‘This doesn’t look too bad,’ says Mia, looking relieved.
‘Told you you’d be fine,’ I tell her.
We play through the first piece a few times then have a break. I’m just getting us both a juice when Mia moves in close to me and lowers her voice.
‘Hey Mich. Who’s that guy over there?’
I spin round, my eyes searching the room. ‘Which guy?’ I blurt.
‘Ssshhh, moron,’ she says. ‘Don’t make it so obvious.’ She moves even closer. ‘’at ’un over ’ere,’ she mutters, her lips barely moving. ‘The ’un ’ith all the ’urly ’air.’
‘Early air?’
‘Curly hair!’ she almost shouts. Oh. I get it.
Curly hair … curly hair … Oh. She must mean the trombone player. His hair’s pretty curly. Not in a loser way, though. Cute curly.
‘Don’t know,’ I tell her. ‘Why?’
‘What do you mean, you don’t know?’ Mia asks. ‘You play in the orchestra with him, don’t you?’
‘Him and about fifty other people,’ I tell her. ‘I haven’t had a chance to meet everyone yet. Besides, he’s in, like, Year 9 or something. They don’t hang out with us newbies.’
‘Hmmm,’ says Mia, studying him from all angles. ‘Pity.’
‘What’s a pity?’ I ask her.
‘Cos it looks like he wouldn’t mind getting to hang out with you.’
Huh?
‘What are you talking about, Mia?’ I say.
Mia looks at me like I’ve got rabbits sitting on my head. ‘You mean you haven’t noticed?’
‘Noticed what?’
Mia rolls her eyes. ‘The way he keeps checking you out? Seriously, Mich, he’s looked over here about twenty times in the last few minutes.’
‘He’s probably looking at you.’
‘Nuh-uh,’ says Mia. ‘It’s definitely you, Mich.’
Is she serious? I’ve never noticed this guy looking at me before. I sneak a sideways glance in his direction, hoping to catch him out. But he’s too busy talking to some of the other guys in the brass section. Probably just Mia’s idea of a practical joke. Probably setting me up. Next thing I know, she’s going to call out ‘You just got punk’d!’ and I’ll feel like an idiot.
But when we go back to playing after the break, I can’t help thinking about what she said. The brass section sits back behind the strings, so it’s a bit hard to keep an eye on whether Curly Hair’s watching me or not. Hey, maybe he’s watching me right now! I self-consciously straighten my shoulders and try to look dark and mysterious, or a couple of years older, at least.
Nah. Who am I kidding? It’s probably all in Mia’s imagination. Why would a Year 9 guy be interested in me? Ami maybe, or Leesh. They’ve got that ‘x factor’ about them that guys seem to like. But not me.
And then a big violin part comes up and I concentrate on the music, putting the whole guywatching thing out of my mind.
Chapter 5
wednesday lunchtime
Mia and I stash our books in our lockers, and head out to join the rest of the Pink HQ crew in our special spot near the peppercorn trees. It’s a ‘rescue mission’ for Lexi, who’s feeling particularly fragile today. According to Mia, there were major dramas at her place last night. Lexi told her all about it on the bus on their way into school.
‘So, is her dad going to move out, or what?’ I ask.
‘Looks like it,’ says Mia. ‘For a while, anyway. Just till her parents get a few things sorted.’
‘Oh. Poor Lexi,’ I say. I can’t begin to imagine how she must be feeling. This is majorly worse than the silly fights between my dad and Sam.
‘So, should we talk to her about it, do you think?’ I ask, though I’m not really sure what I would say. What do you say to someone who’s about to lose their dad?
‘Hmm … maybe not,’ says Mia. ‘It was hard enough getting her to talk to me about it, and I’ve known her for years. You know how upset she got the last time she knew I’d mentioned it to you. Trying to break up our friendship.’ She lowers her voice as we get closer. ‘Just be generally cheery and supportive, yeah? So she knows we all love her and value her. Sounds like she’s not getting a whole lot of that at home at the moment.’
How does Mia know all this stuff? She’s such a great friend. It’s good to know she’d be there for me if ever I got into any kind of trouble. Not that I can see that happening. Mum and Dad are rock solid. But I guess you never know what life’s going to throw at you.
‘Hey, Lex,’ I say, as we reach our wooden bench under the trees. Lexi, Mia and Alysha, who’ve known each other for ever, staked it out on the first day, but since I’ve become a kind of unofficial member of the Pink HQ crew, I get ownership rights as well. It’s in a pretty good place. Not too public, where you’d be under the eye of the teachers in the staffroom or in the middle of everyone walking past on their way to the toilet block.
But not stuck round the back of Loserville, either. You can tell the kids who haven’t got any friends. They’re either hanging out on the library steps, or they’re stuck in some lousy part of the school ground where no-one else wants to go. Alysha says that being seen in a place like that is, like, immediate social death.
Lexi looks up and gives me a half-smile. Her eyes are a bit puffy, but apart from that, she doesn’t look too bad. Putting on a brave front, I guess. Alysha’s twittering on like she usually does about all the cool things she and her new best friends, Paige and Jayde, got up to over the holidays. Normally I’d find that kind of stuff really annoying, but I can see at least it’s taking Lexi’s mind off her home situation.
Mia pulls out her lunch box and takes a huge bite of her sandwich.
Mia: Yum, yum. Tuna, lettuce and mayo. My favourite. So what are you having for lunch, Lexigirl?
Lexi [pulling a face]: Nothing. I’m not hungry.
Mia: Oh, blow. You have to eat. Here, have some of mine.
Lexi [pushing her hand away]: No way. I hate fish. It makes me throw up.
Mia [insistent]: Well, you have to eat something. Alysha [brightly]: I know. How about some chocolate?
Lexi: Nope.
Alysha: Come on. I have never ever seen you refuse chocolate.
Lexi [wavering]: We-ell …
Alysha [hypnotically]: Nice creamy chocolate. With nuts. Almonds, maybe? Or caramel … mmmm. Smooth, creamy caramel …
L
exi [tiny voice]: Maybe just a little bit, then.
Mia [jumping up]: I’ll go and get you some from the canteen.
Me [pushing her back down again]: No. I’ll go. Be back in a tick, ’kay?
Best I go, rather than Mia. Poor Lexi needs all the help she can get on a day like today. Besides, I think, after all that drama between us over the nasty text last term, I’m sure she doesn’t want me in her face too much.
I’m standing toward the back of the canteen queue when Amira and Jess turn up.
‘Hey, Michi,’ says Amira, ‘darling girl. Can you get me a sausage roll? I’m starving.’
I wrinkle my nose. ‘No way. Get it yourself.’
‘Oh, come on. Look how many people there are. We’ll be here for ever.’
‘Do you know what they put in those things?’ I ask her.
‘Yeah,’ she grins. ‘Yummy stuff.’ She wriggles in beside me, copping a greasy from the girl behind me for jumping the queue. ‘Thanks, Mich. Come on, Jess, you might as well squeeze in too.’ The greasy look turns to daggers but they bounce off Amira like summer rain off the footpath. She so doesn’t care about what other people think about her. It’s one of the reasons I like her so much.
‘I thought you never ate canteen food,’ Jess says.
‘I don’t,’ I say. ‘I’m on a mercy mission for Lexi.’
‘Oh,’ she says. ‘Good for you.’
‘Hey, Mich,’ Amira chimes in. ‘What do you think abou–’ She suddenly breaks off mid-word.
‘What?’ I ask her. ‘What do I think about what?
‘Sssshhh,’ Amira whispers, a finger to her lips. Her eyes are shining and her face is suddenly flushed.
I turn to Jess and give her a ‘what’s she on about?’ look.
Jess juts her chin over her shoulder. I follow her eye line. Curly Hair has joined the queue, about ten people behind us.
‘That’s him,’ Amira whispers to me.
‘Who?’ I ask.
‘Ben.’
‘Ben?’
‘Ben, stupid. Joe’s friend.’
‘The guy she’s “officially in lurve” with,’ says Jess, adding the quote marks with her fingers.
A Year in Girl Hell Page 9