But just as I open my mouth to tell the story, there’s a knock at our front door. Then, I hear a voice. It’s the same bright, bubbly voice that I’ve known forever.
Sandra’s voice.
‘Okay, I guess you guys should get going now,’ I say, hoping my voice isn’t too wobbly. But the girls just ignore me. They’re too involved in talking about how Jess should go about dumping Chester.
‘You could just tell Chester you like him as a friend, and you don’t want to ruin the friendship,’ Hazel suggests.
I hear a laugh from the kitchen. I strain my ears to listen over the top of the girls talking. I hear Dad’s voice, though I can’t hear what he’s saying. Then I hear Sandra say, ‘Let’s open a bottle of wine.’
Oh my god. They’re settling in.
‘He wouldn’t believe that,’ Jess sighs, ‘cos we’re not actually friends. Whichever way I do it, I’m going to hurt his feelings. It totally sucks.’
‘Maybe you could tell him you’re too busy with …’
I can’t focus on what Edi is saying now. Because there are footsteps coming up the hallway. Then there’s a knock on my bedroom door. It opens.
‘Hey, girls,’ Mum says. ‘How is everyone? Edi, great boots. Are they the ones you were wearing when you got photographed for the paper?’
‘Yep,’ Edi says. ‘I like your dress too.’ Mum’s dress is nice. It’s white with blue stars and it comes down almost to her knees. She’s so much younger than the other mums, and it’s cool that she can talk fashion with my friends. Well, normally it is. Right now, I’m praying that she’ll just go and leave us alone so I can get the girls out of here.
‘I’ve made some snacks,’ Mum says, ruining that hope. ‘Sandra’s dropped in. Why don’t you girls come and join us?’
‘They have to go now, Mum,’ I say.
‘No, that’s fine,’ Edi says. ‘We can stay for a bit longer. Can’t we, Hazel and Jess?’
When I look back, all of the girls are staring at me. Three pairs of eyes are narrowed and harsh at the sound of Sandra’s name. Like they’re preparing for battle. They look at each other and then back to me. To show that they’re ready to support me.
I try to smile, but it’s more of a grimace.
‘Sandy, this is Edi, and Jess and Hazel,’ Mum says as we walk into the kitchen.
Sandra gives me two thumbs up as a hello and then extends her hand towards Edi. It’s really awkward when Edi crosses her arms. I can see Sandra is confused, but then, she probably just thinks teenagers don’t shake hands anymore. She doesn’t try with the others. Well, she wouldn’t, really, since their arms are crossed just like Edi’s.
‘Sandy has been my absolute best buddy for …’ Mum starts and then pauses to consider how long.
Hazel scoffs, but Mum doesn’t seem to realise.
‘Gosh … for how long, Sandy?’ she continues, refilling both of their wine glasses. The two of them clink glasses.
‘Since we were about your age,’ Sandra says, looking around at all of us. My friend’s faces are grim.
‘Ah, so you …’ Jess does a little cough, ‘really trust each other?’ she says, directing a glare at Sandra that makes me freeze. If Jess is acting like this, then god help Sandra if the others start.
Sandra tilts her head to the side, as though she thinks Jess’s question is odd. But she answers anyway. Sandra is too nice not to answer. At the moment, I wish she wasn’t.
‘Yes, of course,’ she says. ‘There’s nothing in the world like a close girlfriend. Boys may come and go but – ’ ‘Hey, watch it, Sandra,’ Dad says in a jokey voice as he comes into the kitchen.
‘… and come back, of course, Jimmy,’ Sandra says, filling a wine glass and handing it to Dad. I know it’s just her being good-natured. When she looked after us while Dad was gone, she never said anything bad about him. She was just there for me and Mum.
But the girls must be thinking she’s playing some sort of evil game, with my mum as the victim. No-one even takes a biscuit when Mum offers them around. It’s as though they don’t want anything to distract them from focusing on what seems to be going on. Of course, Mum, Dad and Sandra just chat away like nothing’s wrong.
‘Hey, Sandy,’ Dad says after a while. ‘I got that part for your car.’ He gives Sandra a wink so we can see but Mum can’t. I can practically feel my friends’ bodies stiffen.
‘Come out to the garage, and we’ll see if it’s right,’ he says to Sandra. Then he turns to me, his eyes wide. ‘Why don’t you come too, Limps, since you’ll be driving someday?’
It’s completely lame, but I know what’s going on. Every year, Sandra gives Dad advice on what to get Mum for her birthday.
‘Okay, have you got all your stuff?’ I say to my friends, ‘I’ll walk you to the door.’
‘Oh, I’ll do that, Limps,’ Mum says. ‘I want to ask Edi where she got her boots.’
I breathe in. It should be okay. It’s not like the girls would say anything to Mum without me there. And I know Sandra will wait for me if I don’t go right away.
The mood in this kitchen is intense, even if the adults don’t realise it. I’ve got to get Sandra out of here before something gives. So I walk out to the garage with Dad and Sandra.
Sandra’s Honda Accord is parked next to our ute. Dad, Sandra and I stand next to the open window, where warm sunlight filters through into the garage.
‘So,’ Sandra says. ‘I’ve got the best idea for Vanny’s birthday.’ She’s trying to whisper, but her whisper is as bubbly as her regular voice. ‘Last week, when we went shopping, she saw a pair of earrings and a necklace that she really liked. They weren’t that expensive. I think she’d love it if you gave her the earrings, Jimmy,’ she says. She turns to me. ‘And you could follow up with the necklace, Limps. Perfecto.’
‘Sounds good. Where were they?’ Dad asks.
‘You know the little store in the Westland Mall?’ Sandra asks. ‘Cargo?’
Dad shakes his head, but I know it. Edi bought a bracelet there. ‘Yep, I know it,’ I say. ‘You’ll just have to show us which one she liked.’
Then a shadow falls across the garage floor. I look and see three heads at the window. I make an excuse to leave, then go out into the backyard. The girls are there, crouching down. There’s nothing I can do.
‘I’ll meet you there, Jimmy.’ Sandra’s voice bubbles through the window. ‘How about Friday night?’
‘Yeah, I reckon I can swing that,’ Dad says. ‘I could always tell Vanny that I’m working late.’
I look around. At three mouths, gaping open in horror.
‘All right, Jimmy, it’s a date,’ Sandra says, and she might as well have said, Let’s go to a hotel room and have sex, as far as the girls are concerned.
As Dad and Sandra go back inside, the girls flop backwards in a row on the grass. I keep crouching. Jess and Hazel hold me by the elbows and ease me down.
‘Is she okay?’ Edi asks, as though I’m not here.
‘I think she might be in shock. Are you in shock, Limps?’
I shrug. Maybe I am in shock. Mainly that I’ve got myself into this situation. The girls definitely won’t let this go now. I can feel it in my bones.
‘Limps, I’m so sorry,’ Hazel says.
‘I just can’t believe it,’ Jess adds.
‘That’s because it’s unbelievable,’ says Edi.
They keep going on, but I don’t even know who’s saying what. It’s all a mish-mash.
‘I feel like climbing in the window and smashing her stupid Honda Accord to pieces.’
‘Yeah, but it’s not only Sandra. Like, she’s obviously the worst best friend in history, and I can’t believe she’s making a date with Olympia’s dad almost right under her mum’s nose. But it’s him too. How could he do that to your mum?’
‘It’s even more horrible than what happened on Acacia Lane and it’s real life!’
‘It’s so, so, so wrong.’
As they talk, Sandra’s
car starts up. We can hear Mum shouting her goodbyes from the driveway. Then, Dad’s ute starts up. He’s probably just nicking up to the shops to get stuff for dinner, but I know the girls will assume he’s driving off to hook up with Sandra somewhere.
It’s my fault they think that.
My hands are in my lap, curled into fists. Jess puts her hand over my left one and then Hazel and Edi layer theirs on top.
‘Limps,’ Edi says, ‘you have no choice now. It’s gone too far. Your mum has to know.’
‘You have to tell her, Limps. It’s the right thing to do,’ Jess declares. She stands up and the others stand up too.
They pull me to my feet. I’ve got pins and needles from crouching for so long. I can barely feel my legs. But, still, the girls are pulling me forward, back into the house.
And suddenly, I can’t stand it anymore. The stupid secret. The sick feeling. The constant stomach-lurch of having jumped off a cliff, and knowing at any minute I’ll be splattered onto the ground.
‘Wait,’ I say. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’
I take the girls over to the outdoor setting in our backyard. It’s a rickety round table with some fold-out chairs.
Cricket comes out the doggy door and straight over to me. She sits at my feet. I’m glad to have her there.
The girls are waiting for me to say something. I’m about to land, finally. I’m about to be splattered. I don’t have a choice. I can’t avoid it anymore.
‘It’s not what you think,’ I begin. ‘Dad and Sandra are meeting up to get Mum’s birthday present. You guys just heard the part where they were making a time to do it.’
The girls are quiet. I can tell they’re not buying what I’ve said.
‘And I just might have, sort of, exaggerated what happened with Dad and Sandra the other night,’ I continue.
‘Oh, Limps,’ Edi says. I can tell she’s still feeling sorry for me. That she’s thinking I want to backtrack because the situation is too intense. Not because the situation doesn’t exist. ‘It’s pretty clear what’s going on. I mean, you saw them with your own eyes.’
‘Yeah,’ Hazel agrees.
‘What do you mean by exaggerated?’ Jess asks.
I take a deep breath. ‘I think I got a bit carried away when I was telling you about them hooking up outside the supermarket,’ I offer.
Hazel frowns. ‘As in?’
The word that Kelly has used jumps into my head. Dilemma. I’m definitely in one of those. I have to quash the whole idea of Dad and Sandra having an affair, but there are different ways to do that. The best way, I think, is to try to keep the explanation lighthearted. That way, the girls might even think the whole saga was at least entertaining.
I have a flash of the three of them laughing. Slapping me on the back and saying how much I fooled them. I know in my heart that it’s not going to happen like that, but it seems like my only chance with them.
‘I got the idea off Acacia Lane,’ I say. They all look bewildered. It’s Hazel who gets what I’m saying first.
‘You’d already watched it before Friday night,’ she says. It’s not a question, so I don’t answer. But I can see the realisation growing in Edi’s eyes and it makes me panic.
‘You know,’ I say, ‘it seemed like a good idea at the time. Like, something to spice things up a bit.’
Hazel tilts her head to the side. Examining me. ‘Did it happen at all?’ she asks. ‘What you told us?’
I don’t say anything.
‘Hang on,’ Jess says. ‘Isn’t what Olympia said different to what happened on Acacia Lane? Because Veronica came out of Juicy Couture, not out of the supermarket and her dad – ’
‘I think you’ll find,’ Hazel interrupts, ‘that Olympia edited the story to make it more realistic.’
‘Olympia, did any of it really happen?’ It’s Edi asking now. She’s looking at me as though I’m a complete stranger. ‘Not really,’ I say. It’s small. I wish I could say something to change all this. But what can I say?
‘So, it wasn’t an exaggeration,’ Edi says. ‘It was a lie.’
Everyone is quiet. Edi hardly ever gets angry. But she is now. I can see it in her eyes, the way her lips are tight, the straight rod of her back.
‘Why would you do that?’ she says. She doesn’t yell, but there’s a tone in her voice that tells me she doesn’t even want me to answer.
I don’t know what to say anyway. My mind is a huge tangle. My mum and dad fighting is tangled with Edi and Hazel getting closer. The lie is tangled with wanting more attention from my friends. I can’t find an end anywhere, to shake loose one of the problems so I can look at it by itself.
‘We nearly told your mum,’ Hazel says. ‘Think about what might have happened then.’ Her words fly about in the wind.
‘If you lied about something that big,’ Jess says, ‘how can we trust you with other stuff?’
I shrug. I can’t think of anything. My legs dangle over the chair, swaying.
‘That’s it, Jess,’ Edi says. Then she turns to me. ‘How can we ever know if you’re telling the truth? God, you could have made Alec up for all we know.’
Jess shakes her head. ‘Actually, come to think of it, I saw Olympia at the skate park. She was by herself.’
Edi and Hazel shake their heads.
‘Leo has never heard of a graffiti artist named Alec,’ Hazel says.
‘I didn’t make him up,’ I say. I really want them to understand that, at least. But the girls look like they don’t believe me.
‘Okay, then,’ Edi says. ‘You said you’re going to meet him at the skate park every Saturday. How about we come along and meet him this weekend?’
‘He’s not going to be there this Saturday.’ I sound like a kitten mewing.
‘Yeah, right,’ Hazel says. ‘That figures.’
They all get up out of their seats. They walk out via the side gate. Only Jess looks back.
‘Limps, what’s going on? You’ve been out here for ages. It’s really cold! Dinner’s nearly ready.’ Mum stands at the back door, her cardigan pulled tight around her.
I get up. I walk inside, with Cricket at my heels. My only friend.
‘Olympia, what’s wrong?’ Mum asks.
I pass her at the door, squeezing through the gap.
‘Nothing,’ I say. Then I go straight to my room.
‘Everything,’ I tell Cricket.
I’ve never been so grateful for sleep, and this is the kindest sort. There are no dreams, no reminders. Just a peaceful nothing. I sleep right through until Mum wakes me for school.
I tell her I’m sick. She lets me stay home. And again, I sleep.
It’s mid-morning before I start tossing and turning.
There’s no sleep left in me, though I will it to come again.
I want to keep my brain switched off. Because it’s there, of course. What happened yesterday is there. I just refuse to consider it. Instead, I reach for my sketchbook.
It’s good, losing myself in the portrait of Nick. I’ve never drawn anyone with this level of detail. My pencil is driven by feeling and instinct rather than thought. I know how I’m going to draw Nick. It’s as though I don’t have a choice.
I work on the drawing for hours. Finally, I stick it on my wall. I take a step backwards and stare at it.
It’s the best thing I’ve ever created. It’s Nick, all excited, his hands pumping in front of him. He’s putting weight on his left foot, which makes it look like he’s launching himself into the picture, the way he always seems ready to launch into life.
It’s Nick. The real Nick. As he is.
Mum comes into my bedroom after work. I’ve been here all day.
‘How are you feeling, Olympia?’ she asks, sitting on my bed.
‘Sick,’ I say. ‘I think I’ll need tomorrow off as well.’ I don’t want to go to school ever again.
‘What kind of sick?’ Mum asks. She puts a hand on my forehead, and takes it away without commenting
on my lack of fever.
‘Very sick,’ I say with a sigh. ‘Please don’t make me go.’
Mum fluffs up a pillow and rests it against the headboard of my bed. I move over so she can fit. Cricket slides down the doona between us.
‘Something happened yesterday, didn’t it, Limps?’ she says. ‘Did you have a fight with one of the girls? Do you want to tell me what happened?’ she asks.
I shake my head. There’s no way on earth I want to tell Mum what happened.
It doesn’t matter anyway. Like Kelly told me, I can’t unsay what I’ve said to them. My friends just aren’t my friends anymore.
Mum turns towards me, propping her head up in her hand.
‘Sweetheart, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I get that some things are private – just between you and whoever you have a problem with. But you can’t run away either. You can’t lie here in bed for the rest of your life, because pretty soon you’ll realise it doesn’t work. That you can’t run away from yourself. You have to confront the issue, Limps, whatever it is.’
She sounds like she’s reading from one of her stupid self-help books. It’s so annoying.
‘Why?’ I say. ‘That’s what Dad does.’
Mum blows out a breath. ‘You’re right. That is what your father does. I think it’s a sign of his emotional immaturity. When things get tough, when there’s a problem or an argument or too much responsibility, he grabs a beer. Or he goes to Aunty Kate’s. In some ways, I think, because we got together so young, he hasn’t really grown. But it’s wrong. It doesn’t solve anything.’
She breathes in again and I know, I just know, she’s going to keep complaining about Dad. And I. Don’t. Want. To. Hear. It.
‘See?’ I say, and now it just blurts out of me. ‘You do it too. Only you always run to me, Mum, and dump all this stuff on me about Dad that I shouldn’t even know! Stuff that should be between you and him. Maybe that’s a sign of emotional immaturity too?’
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