Outside In

by Chrissie Keighery

  I hate drama. It’s too exposing, too much like life. The other subjects are fine. I have been told I am smart at books and dumb at life.

  I have been told a lot of things, not all of them lovely.

  It’s a Trust Activity. As soon as I hear that, bad goes to worse. My skin starts to feel clammy. My heartbeat quickens, and I hope against hope that it’s not going to be the one I think.

  Doesn’t the drama teacher sense that this is my worst nightmare? Maybe that’s what he’s trying for? Maybe he’s delighting in my sticky skin, my pale, worried face?

  ‘OK, get into pairs. Find somebody your own size.’

  I should know better. I have long since put into action an insulating layer to dull the effects of this kind of situation. It’s easy when you’re fat to find a spare layer to work with. It should be easy, anyway. So why is there still that stupid little glimmer? Maybe … maybe this time it will be different. Why, when I have a litany of proof to the contrary?

  I have to remind myself to stop hoping, to cut it out. I fish out one of the more recent memories, that live, ready for replay, inside me.

  You felt good that Lara had asked you over to her place. That you were getting ready together. That you had a new friend to walk into the disco with, and you even had a new pair of black skinny-leg jeans that looked OK with the baggy T-shirt belted over the top of them.

  ‘I’m going to do my hair like this,’ Lara had said. She held it up in her hands to demonstrate. Messy at the top, and falling down into two low pigtails. There was a little butterfly in your gut as she said that. The hairstyle belonged to the cool girls, the Abbeys, and they would have copyrighted it if they could. You didn’t say anything about that, though. You told Lara it looked good. Anyway, a sip of Bundy and Coke, and you’d forgotten about the butterfly.

  Lara was your friend, and how good was that?

  It had been hard, moving schools so many times. It’s not like you had a choice. It’s Dad’s job, and that’s that. Sometimes, there would be no friends. But you’d fallen on your feet this time. Lara had taken you on.

  You almost belonged.

  ‘Here,’ Lara said, ‘can you put this in your bag? I’m not taking one, just some cash.’

  You had the giggles after another swig of Bundy and Coke. It tasted awful but you were getting better at it. You even looked in the mirror before you left. Grinned at yourself, happy that your mum had finally relented and bought you those jeans. They were definitely cool, and they made you look a bit thinner. Like they tucked your legs in.

  Kids are moving around the class now. Cecilia, Jack and Jordan are the only representatives from the shiny group in drama. Jack moves close to Jordan. She rolls her eyes and flicks the side of his head lightly with her hand.

  ‘Come on guys, stay serious,’ the teacher scolds. ‘You’re too big for Jordan,’ he tells Jack.

  The teacher folds his arms while the class scoffs at the double entendre. I watch as Jack shuffles over towards Luke, his pace slow, a tiny defiance. It’s compelling, the Jordan and Jack duet. God and Goddess …

  ‘Da-ad. Reaady,’ Lara called out, and before you knew it you had a peppermint in your mouth and you were in the back of Lara’s dad’s sleek BMW. You felt fantastic, like you could fly. And he was so funny, the way he opened the door for Lara, and then for you, pretending he was a chauffeur. Especially funny because Lara was embarrassed, pulling him by the arms and stuffing him back into the driver’s seat.

  You could hear the music thumping inside the hall. As soon as her dad’s car pulled out of the car park, Lara reached inside your bag. She took a big swig, knowing there probably weren’t going to be any pass-outs.

  You both paid. Got a stamp on your hands, and walked into the hall together.

  Strobe lights flashed onto the dance floor, though there were only a few people dancing so far. Most kids were standing around, yelling into each other’s ears with cupped hands.

  The Abbeys stood in the corner, looking cool. Seriously cool.

  There were only two actual Abbeys in that group. A blonde one and a brunette. The other three girls were Abbeys, though. Honorary Abbeys.

  Lara walked over to them, and you followed. You were glad that the music was so loud. You didn’t have to say anything. You’d tried before, but they always had that look about them. Raised eyebrows, like anything you came out with would be totally lame. Maybe you just needed to give them more time? A bit more effort. Lara seemed to be having a conversation with blonde Abbey. She must’ve found something to talk about. But then she pulled out her pigtails after blonde Abbey yelled something in her ear.

  The next song was a winner. Heaps of people tumbled onto the dance floor. You tumbled out too, mainly because you didn’t want to be left on your own. You found yourself inside a giant circle – boy, girl, boy, girl. There was lots of stumbling, lots of laughter. And no-one was very good. You didn’t even worry about how you looked. Just kicked your legs in time, arms around shoulders. Anyway, the strobe lighting kind of took care of the fact that you weren’t a good dancer. It was weird … fun … to watch everyone’s moves turn into slow motion as the lights flashed.

  Just about everyone was dancing by then. The only time you stopped was for a toilet break. You and Lara topped up in the toilets, re-did your lip gloss and raced back out into the crowd.

  Into a slow song.

  It was not a song for you. You knew that.

  You should have known that.

  They are taking ages to form pairs. I am brought back again, into the drama class, watching as Cecilia drifts over to Bonnie. I stare as Bonnie laughs and re-directs Cecilia towards Kate. Bonnie is about double Cecilia’s size. Cecilia looks confused as she does her graceful ballet walk over to Kate, her petite little frame now beside another petite little frame. I wonder at her first choice, and something clicks inside me. An instinct that something is wrong with Cecilia.

  The strobe lighting was switched off for the slow song. Now the only light came from the DJ’s booth in a greenish glow. Lots of people had coupled off. There were hands on shoulders and hands on bums. Some of the couples were kissing. You were about to go back to the chairs at the side of the hall when you felt hands from behind, touching your hips.

  When you turned around, you couldn’t believe it. Hector was dancing with you. Touching you. His arms worked their way around your waist, his thumbs tucked under your red belt. You went with it.

  When Hector swayed, you swayed. Each movement brought you a little closer together. Until you were against him. Your chest, his chest. Faces touching, cheek to cheek. He smelled so good. Aftershave and soap and him.

  The song ended and you thought it would finish. But he didn’t move on. He still had you in his arms, you still stayed there. Nothing like this had ever happened to you before. You had to remind yourself to breathe. Almost didn’t want to. You thought that the breaths might somehow count time along, drive it forwards, when you wanted it to slow right down.

  Hector tilted his head down. Your head was turned up. And your lips … your lips moved towards his. Oh my God.

  Suddenly, he jerked backwards. He said those words. You will never forget those words.

  I hear footsteps. I open my eyes. The drama teacher is next to me, and I take a step backwards. Everyone else has found a pair.

  ‘The faller must stand upright, feet together, hands crossed over the chest like this.’ He demonstrates the posture. ‘Tight butt cheeks, and keep the body stiff.’ He knows this will elicit laughter. He waits for it to pass. ‘The catcher should have one leg in front of the other,’ he continues. ‘Arms extended, take the weight mostly through the legs. The faller should say, “I am ready to fall, are you ready to catch me?” The catcher should reply, “I am ready to catch you.” Be clear with your communication.’

  ‘Er, no thanks. I am just dancing, actually. Just dancing,’ Hector said, looking uncomfortable.

  You sobered up very quickly. The warm, woozy feeling was sucked away b
y cold reality. It was almost worse that he wasn’t being a prick. He kept holding you around the waist. Kept dancing, like it was no big deal. But he didn’t hold you quite as close. You saw out the song, wishing, wishing, it would just hurry up and end.

  Afterwards, you searched for Lara. She was nowhere. Not in the giant circle that had formed on the dance floor again. Not in the corners of the room. There was a queue for the toilets, and you joined. You were just behind the door when you heard it.

  It was Lara’s voice. Your friend’s voice. ‘And then, she leans in for the pash –’

  ‘No waay!’ squealed an Abbey. You could tell it was the blonde Abbey because she was one of those girls who always elongated her words. ‘Like, as if Hector is ever going to want to pash that fugly!’

  The other Abbeys cacked themselves. It was the best joke ever. Lara’s laugh was in there, too. You could just see their smirks in the mirror through the half-closed door. Lara’s hairstyle was back in place again. Messy at the top. Two long pigtails.

  ‘So, I’ll be your partner today!’ The drama teacher’s voice is artificially bright.

  My teeth are clenched as I nod.

  Around the hall, questions and answers are spoken. ‘I am ready to fall, are you ready to catch me?’

  ‘I am ready to catch you.’

  It’s a Trust Exercise.

  The teacher doesn’t object when I ask to sit it out.

  jack

  Jack was walking on a well-worn path. It was the track that started behind the canteen and led down to the bottom oval. The gap in the bushes that ended at ‘the love nest’. Christened by heaps of couples before them.

  It had happened kind of like this with Tylah, a year before. Jack had taken her there to ask her if she’d go out with him. Her reply was pretty much guaranteed. She’d overdosed him with signals. So many messengers had approached him, letting him know she was up for it. That she was keen.

  But this, this was different. His heart was on a swing. This time, he wasn’t just going through the motions.

  Since he’d met up with Jordan that first day at the flats, something had started to shift between them. They had been friends before, but not really that close. Just part of a group.

  But all those Wednesdays had added up to a major change. Jack had started seeing Jordan so differently. He’d seen the sadness she tried to hide, seen it tucked away in her brown eyes. He’d seen her determination to tough out her parents’ breaking up. And she was strong. Really strong on the outside, at least.

  But Jack knew too well what she was going through. He’d wondered if he could help her. Hadn’t come up with much, except just to be there. All those nights as he lay in bed, staring out of his tiny window, a little frame that included a couple of stars, he thought about her. Thought about her brown eyes with secrets behind them. Thought about the shake of her head, her dark hair as it settled around her shoulders. Thought about her.

  He hadn’t been joking in drama class, though everyone just assumed he was. He really wanted to be Jordan’s partner in the trust exercise. He’d sort of blocked out the teacher’s instructions to choose someone the same size.

  He just wanted to catch her.

  ‘Where are you taking me, Jack Delanty?’ she asked.

  Her tone was casual. Jordan was good at casual. It made Jack’s heart pound.

  He held a tree branch up so that she could pass through. When she looked back at him, her eyebrows were raised. It was a Jordan question mark. He knew that now. She had a whole language without the words. Jack was a beginner, just learning to translate.

  There was a scratch on her calf, rising out of her white sock. Her legs were tanned and smooth. Jack had an urge to touch the scratch. He didn’t.

  ‘Um, nearly there.’

  Last night, looking out through the window into the night sky, he’d made a plan. He’d barely slept. He wasn’t shy … then. He was just sure. He would take Jordan down to the ‘love nest’. He would ask her to be his girlfriend. She would say yes. He would kiss her.

  It seemed so simple.

  ‘Oh, I’ve heard about this place. The “love nest’’,’ she said. Jack wasn’t sure what to make of her tone. ‘Isn’t this where you took Tylah? To ask her to go out with you?’

  Jack’s swinging heart smacked down on the gravel.

  This was different. So different. Tylah was hot, but that was about all. She was tall and blonde, and they’d gone out for a while. But he’d never felt like this about Tylah. She was nice enough, but there wasn’t a lot between them. When Jack broke up with her, she had cried. He’d tried to feel it.

  Tylah had only danced around his senses. Jordan had invaded them.

  What an idiot he was. Jordan thought he was on repeat. What had he been thinking, letting the night stars hatch such a crap plan, such an unoriginal one?

  God, but Jordan was difficult. It would have been much easier if she were someone like Sam’s Meredith. Lucky Sam hadn’t had to go through anything like this. Meredith had just walked over and kissed him in front of everyone. And that was it. They were together. The thought of Jordan bolting over and kissing him was just funny. Jack didn’t know much, but he did know that that would never happen.

  They arrived. The ‘love nest’ was littered with cigarette butts. Discarded cans. Jack felt responsible for every butt, every can. What a stuffed place to bring her.

  Jordan crouched down. She picked up an empty can. Snapped off the ring and handed it to him.

  ‘For you, Jack,’ she said.

  As he took the ring, part of him wanted to laugh. But he didn’t know with Jordan whether it was a joke. Or whether she was serious. Or whether it was both. He wasn’t up to translating this.

  There was a pause. A long pause. Jack wondered how to fill it.

  ‘If you were going to ask me a question,’ Jordan said, and she was looking him right in the eye, she was holding his gaze for a long time, much longer than ten seconds, ‘the answer would be … yes.’

  Jack smiled. Breathed. Felt his heart rising again. He pulled a ring from another empty can. He took her hand, and pulled her closer to put it on her finger.

  She laughed. Leant into him. He could feel her breath on his neck.

  ‘Let’s just say I’ve asked the question,’ he said.

  ‘Let’s just say I’ve answered it.’

  The kiss just seemed to happen, as if it was always going to happen. As though it was always going to be that good. With Tylah it had been mechanics. Lips here, hands there, and of course Jack’s body had responded.

  But not like this.

  Never like this.

  Even as the referee tossed the ball in the air for a jump, Jack wasn’t quite there. He smelled her shampoo. He wrapped his arms around her, felt her lean back against his chest. He had to slam dunk his thoughts out of his body. Put his body back into the game.

  Jordan shifted on the bench seat. She rustled around in her bag and pulled out an apple. Threw him one half-smile. A half-smile with more force than any of the kisses Tylah used to blow him when he played.

  Jack recognised his old self, his Jordan-less self, in Bronco. Bronco took position in the key just behind him. Jack saw his determination. His eyes squinted in concentration. Hands down low, and a bounce pass that Jack wasn’t expecting. A pivot and a goal, and Bronco was already running up the court so that his defence could be as effective as his offence.

  Jack shook his head. He should have read the play. Should have predicted.

  Coach made the time-out sign. He called all the players over, but it was only Jack he spoke to.

  ‘You’ve got to focus, Jack. The scout’s just over there, and you’re not on your game. You’ve been up for three rebounds against Bronco, and he’s got two of them.’

  Jack bit his lip. He took a swig from his drink bottle, and wiped the sweat from his forehead on his towel. Coach pulled him away from everyone else at the bench. He put his hand on Jack’s shoulder and glanced over towards Jordan.<
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  ‘Look, mate. She’s a lovely girl, and I can see why you’re smitten. But there’s a time for everything. This time is for impressing the scout, for basketball. This is what we’ve been training so hard for. I know you’re ready for this, you just have to prove it to him.’

  Couch glanced at the scout and then back at Jack. He smiled and gave Jack a wink. ‘I think I’m going to send Jordan on a couple of errands. Pam just might need some help cutting up the oranges, OK?’

  Coach was right. The scout from the NBL sat on the opposite bench, taking notes, choosing kids to train with the elite squad, the state squad. This was a showcase game and Jack was supposed to be showing. He was playing as though he didn’t want it bad, didn’t need to make the state team. It wasn’t true.

  He needed it.

  Jack had put in time, energy, effort. He’d worked so hard, and coach had even given him basketball homework to brush up on his skills. The game was his life. It had been his shrink when his parents had split. A holiday from all the crap that life dished out. Basketball was rules instead of chaos. It had kept him sane.

  The ref blew the whistle. Jack adjusted the bandage around his hamstring, injury number four this season, and ran back onto the court. He glanced up at the bench, and Jordan had gone.

  Tizza, Coach’s son, dribbled up the court. He was small but agile. Protective of the ball as it went under his leg, and he changed direction so that, suddenly, he had no defender.

  It was a good time for Jack to take his place under the key. He used his three seconds. He caught the ball, and put it up for a goal.

  Much better.

  Jack took a quick look at the scout, scribbling away. He wondered whether he was writing about Tizza, or Bronco. Or him.

  It wasn’t until the end of the match that Jordan walked in. She was sipping a soft drink through a straw. Jack saw Coach giving her the thumbs-up, saw the grin she shot back at him.

  It was lucky he’d sent her away for a bit. Because Jack was definitely two-timing his sport.

  And it felt amazing.