I Lost My Mobile At the Mall

by Wendy Harmer

  Tenzin's named after the Dalai Lama. He's a Buddhist and, even after everything his family's been through, he's always smiling.

  'I've heard that you are . . . er . . . Would you like to go to the dance with me?' he asks.

  I should be flattered, I suppose, but right now his invitation makes me burst into tears. I run away from him down the concrete terrace, wiping my eyes with the sleeve of my blazer.

  Tenzin probably looked at my FacePlace and read that I was the happiest girl in the world without Will.

  I hate this! I hate that anyone would think that our relationship meant so little to me. I hate that people think I'll go out with any old fish in the sea. I hate that everyone thinks they know about my life. I hate that I let Tilly talk me into putting that stupid page on the net!

  I should have walked down to the beach at sunset and thrown a single red rose into the surf. It would have been a private funeral. Just something between me and my own bruised heart.

  I'm hiding under a stairwell and trying to get my act together when I see Bianca barrelling towards me at a million miles an hour. Her hair comes at me first. She's totally teased and sprayed her do, and this morning it looks like the nest of a golden orb-weaver spider.

  'Elly! Omigod!' shrieks Bianca. 'Why didn't you call me on the weekend?'

  I patiently explain to her what I have already explained – that I don't have a phone.

  'But you could have got in touch with me eye2eye.'

  I explain that I haven't got a computer either.

  'Huh?' says Bianca.

  This information does not make sense to Bianca. It does not compute.

  'But, but . . . you could have . . .' Bianca is stopped in her tracks and cocks her head on the side like a confused chicken.

  She can't imagine what it would be like not to have her phone in her hand. In fact, even as she's talking to me she's texting someone else. Truly, Bianca's a genius at this stuff and I can only imagine that when she leaves school she'll be an air traffic controller.

  'Anyway,' Bianca chirps. 'Just so you know . . . Jayden's on the warpath. He read Lily's FacePlace, and yours, and he's gunna smash Will! If he's down at Wobbegong or Hammerhead or Gummy this afternoon Will's seriously gunna get it.'

  Bianca shifts her schoolbag from shoulder to shoulder and hops from one foot to the other. The adrenaline's pumping and I don't think I've ever seen her so excited. Then Jai turns up at her elbow. His grin reminds me of a crumbed prawn.

  'Yeah. Will's goin' down,' he squeaks.

  This is SO BAD! I would never in a trillion years want anyone to physically hurt Will. I might have called him a love rat, but if they think that I would be pleased to see Will smashed they've got rocks in their heads. I tell Jai to tell Jayden to LAY OFF!

  'Too bad,' sneers Jai. 'Will should of thought of all that before he put the moves on Lily. What happened after they got out of the spa is what Jay'd like to know.'

  The pathetic slimeball! I'm still holding onto the vital information that Jai has been hassling Lily too, according to Tilly – who heard it from Georgie – who heard it from Lily herself. Will there ever be a right time to tell Bianca? At the moment she'd just laugh it off and think I was making it up.

  Again I warn Jai that Jayden had better not try anything. Or else. Or else what? Who can I tell? That officer from Oldcastle police who didn't understand anything about anything? I can hear myself: some boys are planning something, somewhere – so Jai told me . . .

  Bianca and Jai put their empty heads together, creating a wind tunnel, and then they run off. I watch as they both yap away on their phones.

  That's it!

  Bianca is now officially my ex-BF.

  I have to warn Will. He can't go down to the beach tonight! The school bell rings and as I run along the terrace I am praying for massive onshore winds to blow the sea as flat and shiny as a mirror.

  In class I'm watching as people text each other under their desks. I suppose that in Dad's day a folded note would have been passed from hand to hand.

  OOOH! BIG RUMBLE DOWN ON THE BEACH TONIGHT. BE THERE OR BE SQUARE!

  I'm phone-free, so I've got no part in it. I'm above it all. It's odd – like I'm looking down on everything that's happening from the calm, sunny eye of the storm. But swirling around me there's a current of violent emotion that will catch up with Will unless I warn him.

  In English Mr York asks me how my work is going on the Posh Post. As a matter of fact it's not going anywhere. At all. Not since my computer was nicked last night.

  'Hmmm, yes well,' he says. 'The October edition's due out in a couple of days and it will count for your final exam mark, so in that case you'll have to work on it from the school's computer centre. You'd better get over there now.'

  Groan! I'll be in there with all the tinies from Year Seven doing their dumb projects on the breeding cycle of frogs. Ribbit!

  Soon enough I'm sitting in a scuzzy demountable classroom next to the tuckshop trying to get some sense from a computer that is so old it was last used by velociraptors in Jurassic Park.

  Waiting for stuff to download seems to take for-ev-er. And while I wait there's only Karen Crenshaw to talk to. Karen's genius with all kinds of technology but hasn't quite got the hang of elastic bands. She has crazy tiny pigtails sprouting from all over her head. It looks like a cushion losing its stuffing.

  To pass the time, Karen tells me that her mum is getting their kitchen renovated. By the time the stuff I want finally appears on the screen, I have been informed in excruciating detail that the new Crenshaw kitchen will feature fake marble benchtops and a barbecue with hot rocks. (YAWN!)

  Finally, the info is downloaded and I fiddle around with a few articles submitted for the Posh Post. As usual they're all from boring teachers who want to inform the entire school of their great and good works.

  Worm Farm for 7A – Let's Get Wriggling!

  Year Eight Goes Eco-Troppo – Our Afternoon at the Gummy Beach Environment Centre!

  By the time I edit all this earth-shattering information, it's almost lunchtime. The smell of meat and pastry wafting from the tuckshop pie warmer is making Karen twitch and me feel slightly ill – although that's probably as much from the thought of speaking to Will as it is from the stench of curried mincemeat. The bell rings for lunchtime and she's out the door like a rocket, clutching her $2.50 in her sweaty palm.

  Now no-one's watching I can drop in on any website I like. FacePlace is where I should start, but what's the use? There will only be more nasty stuff on there aimed at me and Will.

  Maybe Sun Tzu can tell me how I've come to be caught up in this battle? What went wrong? After all, my enemy was Jai. How did I end up sacrificing Will? Why does it feel like I'm losing everything?

  In The Art of War I find there are 'five dangerous faults which may affect a general' (and lead you to being bombed into submission).

  Looking at the list I can see that I am totally guilty of the first four sins – recklessness, cowardice, a hasty temper and a delicacy of honour. Will told me not to take any notice of Jai's stupid insults. If I hadn't been so delicate I wouldn't have cared. Maybe I shouldn't have been such a coward and confronted Jai. Instead, I let my temper lead me into being reckless.

  The fifth sin is an 'over solicitude' for one's men. Huh?

  noun care or concern for someone or something. I think this means that I have been more worried about Bianca's broken heart than my own. I should have told her about Jai going behind her back as soon as I knew. Maybe then I'd still have Will. I can't put this off any longer. Even though my stomach is bouncing like a basketball, I have to go see Will.

  Of course I know where Will will be this sunny afternoon – down the back under the jacaranda tree. It's his place of refuge. Even Jayden's not so stupid as to try to bash him up inside the school grounds.

  I peer around the corner of the red-brick tuckshop and see him in the distance, just sitting there on the grass. It's like my heart's being squeezed by the c
law of a dying crab. I can hardly breathe. Will's curly blond head is bent over a book. I watch as he looks up through the branches and then falls back. He's lying with his long legs stretched out and he looks like he doesn't have a care in the world. Maybe he hasn't. Maybe he's thinking about Lily.

  I take a deep breath. I'll walk along the side fence where I'm not in plain view. I feel like some kind of ridiculous crazed stalker as I dart between the trees. I'm now as close as I can be without being seen, and I reckon there's only about twenty metres of open ground between him and where I'm hiding behind this stinking dumpster. I smooth my skirt and scrape the hair from my face with my headband. One last breath, I look around the corner and . . .

  It's Lily!

  She's walking up to Will. He sees her and jumps to his feet and runs his hands through his golden curls. Of course he'll be with Lily! I'm so stupid! Of course he's with her under the jacaranda tree. It's where we always used to meet every lunchtime.

  It's weird though. He's backing away and turns his head as she keeps coming towards him. And now she stops and gets something out of her bag and holds it out to him. It's an envelope. He's shaking his head, he doesn't want to take it, but she insists. She's holding it out to him and I can see her pleading. Finally he takes it from her and puts it in his blazer pocket.

  Now they're talking and both their heads are bowed. She's wiping her eyes and it looks like she's crying. He's shaking his head and shuffling his feet. Then he steps forward and takes her in his arms and . . .

  I'm running. Flying back down the side fence. I can hear someone moaning in pain and I realise that it's me.

  Monday. 2 pm.

  PM. AW. PPC.

  This afternoon I can barely see the desk in front of me. Tears spill and plop on the open page of my book. I'm hiding behind my hair and I've managed not to let anyone see. I don't want anyone's sympathy. It's my fault this time that I'm feeling so pathetic. I was bound to see Will and Lily together in person, but I wasn't prepared to see them like that so soon. In each other's arms. I'm only thankful that I didn't see them kiss.

  If I had my mobile right now I'd ring that stupid number where you can text two names and see if they're a match. Only I probably don't have to. Will was right, our techno lives are just a mirage. I saw with my own eyes that Will and Lily go together – fair hair, dark hair; grey eyes, black eyes; tanned skin, pale skin. I didn't need a mobile phone to tell me that. At least I probably saved myself $1.50.

  I can't believe I ever thought that I should be the one to warn Will. I'm so idiotic! I should have thought it through and known that Lily was there to care for him. He's hers now. She's his now. And their fates have nothing to do with me any more. They're holding hands and swimming away together in an open sea. And this little leg rope is untied, slack and all out of bounce.

  We're with Mrs Ferguson for Drama. An assignment about the films and television series of Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë is plonked in front of me. As part of our study guide she hands us a list of websites to look at. Hah!

  I happily inform Fergie that I don't have a computer any more, so this assignment will be impossible for me to complete. (Even though I happen to be reading Tilly's copy of Jane Eyre at the moment. I started a few weeks ago after Mum and I watched the series on TV and ended up blubbering wrecks. Of course I'm not about to tell Fergie that.)

  'There's always the school computer centre, Elly,' she sniffs and re-ties her floral scrunchie around her red ponytail. 'And of course there's the library. Remember the library? It's where they keep books.'

  Everyone giggles and I curse the sarcastic old bag under my breath.

  'Jane Eyre didn't have a computer and still managed to gain an education. So I'm sure you will too. In fact –' she stops in her tracks, suddenly in the grip of a brilliant idea.

  Uh-oh! Everyone ducks their heads, expecting a battering.

  'I'd like everyone to follow Ms Pickering's lead,' she announces from the front of the room. 'You can all consult the library for this assignment and complete a part of your research from the extensive volumes contained therein on English history, culture, literature and cinema.'

  There is a huge groan from the room as Fergie's brainstorm unleashes its full power.

  'I will expect a full bibliography at the end of your work. I'll inform Mrs Wales at the library desk that each one of you will be visiting and borrowing reference books over the next week. I will also contact the Oldcastle library and leave a full list of all your names so you can check-in there as well. This will be a wonderful experiment. It will give you a true insight into what it was like to gain an education In The Days Before . . .'

  I look around the room and see that every single person is staring at me, wanting to wring my neck with their bare hands. I feel so low that I want to stand up and ask who'd like to go first? Alrighty! Everyone get in line!

  There's a thwack! on the back of my head and I turn to see that Jai's just lobbed a half-eaten doughnut at me. Bianca looks utterly furious. Oh well, as they say, every cloud has a silver lining – or in this case, strawberry icing.

  Monday. 3.20 pm.

  PM. AW. PPC.

  Tilly pulls up in her battered old silver Mazda outside the school gates. She's offered me a lift home and I'm so grateful I don't have to take the bus and face everyone from Year Nine paying out on me. I jump in and she roars into the traffic on Charles Drive without indicating. The car behind us toots angrily and she holds up one elegant finger in a rude salute.

  'BOG OFF, YOU FOOL!' Tilly shouts at the rearvision mirror. Then she turns to me and I can see her cheeks are pink with fury.

  'By the way, we're not going straight home,' she fumes. 'I have to go to the Oldcastle library! The actual library! As if I'm in some third world country or something. I tell you, if Dad doesn't come home tonight with a new computer, I'm going to lose it! I told him. I can't buy myself a new one. I haven't got enough cash. This is my future we're talking about. I've only got a week till I start my exams and I've lost all my study notes.'

  I want to tell Tilly that I saw Will and Lily together today. I open my mouth to speak, but she's off again.

  'And I get down to the school library this afternoon to do some research and it's totally clogged with pathetic dweebs from Year Nine all making a racket! How did that happen?'

  Of course, as a pathetic dweeb from Year Nine, I know exactly how that happened. I better not say it was my fault everyone's gone there to do their assignments. Tilly weaves back into the other lane and there's another angry toot.

  'WHAT AM I? BLOODY INVISIBLE?!' she yells out the window.

  By now I am gripping the door handle, Clinging like a mollusc on a rock in a tsunami.

  'I've gotta get to a computer!' Tilly complains. 'I need peace and quiet. I have to finish this presentation on the International Space Station. And do you think I can find that in a book? Hardly! Technology's moving at a million miles an hour! Books are so slow, they're not even snail. They're still trying to wriggle their way out of some primordial swamp! Do you think there would even be an International Space Station if we only had books?'

  Tilly brakes so hard that my schoolbag comes flying over from the back seat and smashes into the windscreen. I grab it so at least I can see what we're about to hit.

  'You know something, Elly?' says Tilly.

  No. I don't know anything . . . except that sitting in this car going at a million miles an hour I wish Tilly was watching the road instead of boring her eyes into mine.