Mum didn’t get home till late on Mondays. I was supposed to cook dinner but I usually made something pretty lame, like toasted sandwiches. Today there was a sheaf of mail clogging up the letterbox, mostly for Mum, but there was one envelope addressed to me. I was juggling the mail and my schoolbag and wondering who my letter was from, when the phone rang.
‘It’s me.’ Stella was breathless and slightly muffled, trying not to be overheard by Scarlet and Tark. ‘He’s sent me a card.’
I looked down at the square envelope with the unfamiliar handwriting. That was that mystery solved, anyway. He was certainly quick off the mark. I let the envelope drop to the carpet, and flung myself onto the couch. ‘What’s it say?’
‘It says, Dear Stella, I wanted to thank you for your help on Saturday. I really appreciated your assistance – he’s spelled it with five ‘S’s, how cute – I hope we can keep in touch. Best wishes, Jay Ridley. He wants to keep in touch!’
‘That’s good,’ I said.
‘His address is on the envelope, I need you to search the net so we can find his home number.’
Stella has to fight Scarlet and Tark for the internet at home and their computer is in the big back room where anyone can walk past. So any private research like this is my job. ‘Okay, hang on.’ I could see Jay’s address on the back of my own envelope: an outer suburb. At least it was on our side of town. I rolled off the couch. ‘I’m switching the computer on now.’
‘Did you ask Lisa about swapping schools?’
‘She said no way.’
‘Oh, nooo! Will you try her again?’
‘No, she means it.’
‘Bummer,’ said Stella, regretful but not devastated. Her head was so full of Jay and his card and his phone number, there wasn’t room for anything else; I couldn’t burst her bubble by telling her he’d sent me a card too.
‘I’ve got the White Pages up now.’ I started to type in the Ridleys’ address before Stella read it out.
‘Where is that?’
‘North. Way north. End of the train line north.’
‘At least it’s our train line,’ said Stella cheerfully.
‘Well, nearly our train line.’ I read out the phone number.
‘Yay, thanks so much, Bridie. I’m so excited!’
‘What are you going to say when you call him?’ I had to admire her guts; she wasn’t even thinking twice about it.
‘I’ll wait a couple of days; I don’t want to look desperate. Then – this is a genius idea, Bridie – I’ll invite him to Bailey Hahn’s party.’
‘Do you think he’ll want to go to a party when he’s just been beaten up?’
‘He’ll have had a week to recover, he’ll be all right.’ Stella can be ruthless.
‘I thought we’d decided not to go to Bailey’s party?’
‘Nooo! We have to undecide. It’s perfect; there’ll be heaps of uni people there because of Bailey’s brothers. It’ll be sophisticated. Not just a kids’ party with everyone getting trashed and throwing up.’
‘Uni people get trashed, too, you know,’ I said, but there was no resisting Stella in a mood like this; it was much easier to give in. ‘Okay,’ I grumbled, and it was lucky Stella couldn’t see my limp sprawl across the couch and my total lack of interest in the Stella-and-Jay project, or she would have sacked me as best friend in a blink.
After Stella hung up, I finally opened my own card from Jay.
Dear Bridie, I wanted to thank you for helping me on Saturday. It was great to meet you. I hope you don’t think this is out of line but if you would like to call me some time and hook up, it would be great to thank you properly. It’s up to you. Thank you again for your help, Jay.
Did he mean hook up like the rest of the world meant hook up?’Cause, if so, that was taking things pretty fast, too fast for me. And there was his phone number, the same number I’d just looked up on the net. The number he hadn’t sent to Stella.
Oh dear, I thought. This could get messy.
But I was too tired to think about it, and I had homework, and I had to get dinner, so I threw the card into a drawer. Anyway, it wasn’t possible that Jay could like me better than Stella – Stella’s the pretty one. I’m short and frizzy-haired and just generally blah. Maybe he was concussed and he’d mixed our names up. That would be it.
And anyway, I thought. I bet he doesn’t come.
Well, I was wrong about that, too.
‘He’s definitely coming.’ Stella stretched her lips in front of the mirror and carefully painted them with gloss. ‘Is this colour all right? Do I look okay?’
‘You look amazing,’ I said honestly. We were getting ready at her place, with Scarlet and Tark goggling from the ends of the beds. The deal was that Mish would take us there and Mum would pick us up and Stella would stay over at our place. We’d even swapped dog-walk days with Tark.
It was always pretty chaotic at the Kincaids’. Their house was the same size as ours, more or less, but they had to squeeze in five people and a dog, though he was a small dog. Stella and Scarlet shared a bedroom, and Tark’s room was a glorified cupboard. There was always heaps of noise and kids rushing in and out. The TV was always on, though Mish would switch it off whenever she walked past. There was Scarlet tooting her flute, and Paul booming away and striding off to his next meeting, shedding papers as he went. Paul was on about a zillion committees: school council, cricket club, a charity for the homeless, something else about refugees. I guess that was how Stella got political. Which was how I got political.
Stella painted around her eyes. ‘Jay said his brother’s dropping him off on the way to uni and picking him up on the way back, so he’ll be there pretty early.’
My heart skipped, just for a second, at the possibility of seeing Jay’s good-looking brother. Which was dumb, because we wouldn’t. And he wouldn’t stop in for a drink. He was probably on P-plates – he couldn’t be older than twenty-one.
I was wearing my normal party clothes, dark jeans and a T-shirt. I’d done my eyes, and tried to slick my hair down, though that never really works, it always bounces up again. But Stella had gone all out – tights, micro-mini, plunging shirt, heaps of make-up, and everything kind of silvery-shimmery. With her pale eyes and hair, she looked like a water-sprite or a ghost. Standing side by side, we looked bizarre: one long and silver, one short and dark, as if I were Stella’s stumpy shadow.
‘I look weird,’ I wailed, though what I meant was that next to Stella, I looked clunky, ordinary.
Stella surveyed me thoughtfully. ‘That T-shirt’s not tight enough. Here, try this. And you need lips. Scar, get Mum’s red lipstick, you know, the RED red.’
Scarlet scrambled to obey; she was more excited about this party than I was. Two minutes later, I was a vampire with very obvious boobs. Amazing what a too-small T-shirt and a slash of RED red lipstick can do. Stella must have picked up some tips about clothes and lipstick from the giggling morons, so St Marg’s hadn’t been a complete waste of time.
Tark gazed at Stella in awe. ‘You look pretty.’
‘I don’t want to look pretty, I want to look sexy. I wish I had your boobs, Bridie.’ Stella frowned at her reflection, then sighed. ‘Oh, well. Let’s go.’
We were way too early, of course. Even Mish looked dubious when we said we were ready to go, but Stella didn’t want to miss Jay, or risk him meeting someone else before we arrived. I was still privately convinced he wouldn’t show up at all.
Mish dropped us off at Bailey’s respectable suburban house. Music was thumping dully from within, and two security guards and a couple of dads were stationed outside to deal with gatecrashers.
‘Stella! Jay hasn’t got an invitation!’
Stella rolled her eyes at me. ‘I got one from Bailey and express-posted it.’ When Stella was this determined to make something work, there was no stopping her. I almost felt sorry for poor old unsuspecting Jay. First beaten up by thugs, then steam-rollered by Stella. I didn’t know which would be worse
.
We presented our invites and walked inside. A knot of guests shot hostile stares at us from a corner of the almost-empty living room as we came in, and returned to their murmured conversation. We didn’t know any of them. For a sinking moment I wanted to ring Mum and tell her to come and pick us up. But Stella was made of steelier stuff.
‘Come on, the action’s in the kitchen.’ She pushed me ahead; I felt like a tank, all lips and chest.
Stella was right. There was a noisy crush in the kitchen. Outside, guests were clustered under overhead braziers on the deck, scattered around the pool and the snack table.
‘I can’t see anyone I know!’ I yelled to Stella.
Stella was looking around, but of course she was only interested in finding one person and it didn’t look as if he was here yet. Clearly it was really Bailey’s brother’s party; everyone here was older than us. I felt like a kid in dress-ups, with my stupid red lips and my stupid thrusting chest. ‘I look ridiculous; I’m going to wash my mouth off.’
Stella grabbed me. ‘You stay right there. Your mouth is fine, you look gorgeous.’
Which was kind, because next to Stella in her silver top, I was nothing.
We hadn’t brought anything to drink. We couldn’t have fooled Mish, even if we’d wanted to. But there was a big bowl of punch on the bench with bits of fruit floating in it, and Stella ladled us each a plastic cup. I took a big nervous swallow and nearly choked; it burned the back of my throat.
Tears sprang to Stella’s eyes. ‘Vodka?’ she coughed.
‘Just a dash,’ I whispered hoarsely.
‘Are we going to get drunk tonight, Bridie Vandenberg?’
I shut my eyes, feeling as if that question had already been settled as far as I was concerned. The floor was tilting under my feet. I shook my head vigorously.
Stella took another gulp and eyed me sideways. ‘Then let’s just get tipsy.’
‘Absolutely,’ I said.
Stella refilled her cup, which she’d emptied with startling speed. ‘That’s very funny. Absolutely. Absolut vodka, get it?’
‘Oh. Yeah.’ I took a second cautious sip. It still burned.
Stella topped up her cup again, which didn’t strike me as such a great idea, and we stepped out onto the deck.
After the steamy hubbub of the kitchen, the chill of the night air and the gassy heat that shimmered from the braziers made me giddy. I found myself next to a bowl of corn chips. As my eyes scanned the crowd, my hand went back and forth to my mouth and before I knew it the bowl was half-empty. Not a great look. But in retrospect I’m glad I had the chip bowl because all Stella had was the punch.
‘Hi,’ said a shy voice behind us and we both spun round to see Jay grinning down at us. His eye was still bandaged, though less thickly than at the hospital.
‘Oh my God, your poor eye!’ cried Stella.
Jay fidgeted uncomfortably. ‘It’s okay. They’re going to do some more tests. And I have to wear this for a while.’ He touched the bandage sheepishly. ‘But, you know, I always wanted to be a pirate.’
‘How are you?’ I said. ‘How are your ribs?’
‘Cracked, not broken. Hurts when I laugh. So don’t be funny, okay?’ He had a very sweet smile.
‘You look really well!’ Stella gushed. ‘Considering you had the bejesus kicked out of you.’
Jay looked even more uncomfortable, and I wondered why. ‘It would have been worse if you guys hadn’t come along,’ he said.
Now it was our turn to fidget awkwardly.
‘Want a drink?’ said Stella, slopping her punch.
Jay shook his head. ‘I don’t— I can’t—’
‘He’s probably on fifty different kinds of medication,’ I said.
‘Oh, yeah. Soft drink, then?’
‘Thanks,’ said Jay, and Stella scooted off, stumbling against the snack table as she went.
That left me and Jay alone together.
‘It’s good to see you,’ he said shyly.
He meant both of us, no doubt. ‘It’s good you could come,’ I said, and then I got stuck.
‘I can’t stay too long,’ said Jay. ‘Elliot’s picking me up.’
‘Yeah, Stella said.’ My hand groped among the corn chips and I stuffed a fistful into my mouth, scattering crumbs everywhere. What was it that Stella had said about being sophisticated?
Then, thank God, Stella returned with a lemonade for Jay and a fresh cup of punch for herself, and she took over. Jay and I only had to stand there while she chattered and played with her hair and spilled her punch down her top; she did all the work.
She complimented Jay on his detective work in tracking her down; she asked him what he planned to do after Year 12. He said he wanted to travel for a while, maybe to America, and think about it, which was a fairly cool answer. She told him what she and I were doing and our plans – architecture for Stella, arts for me; she asked about Elliot and did he like Law. I tried to look nonchalant, which should have been easy, because I didn’t even know Elliot. She asked how long they’d lived where they lived – they’d moved there for their dad’s work five years ago.
I had to hand it to Stella; I couldn’t have thought up half those questions. Someone came by with a fistful of raspberry Breezers and Stella grabbed one; I was still nursing my first cup of punch. I was half listening to see if Jay called Stella Bridie, to confirm my theory that he’d mixed our names up, but he didn’t. He just stood beside me, sipping his lemonade and smiling his soft, shy smile.
The party grew louder and louder around us, and Stella’s questions became shriller and less coherent. After a while I noticed that she wasn’t listening to Jay’s replies. Her eyes flickered around and she swigged from her drink. She’d laugh for no reason and shoot out another question, even if Jay hadn’t finished answering the last one. And at last, slightly befuddled by the punch myself, I realised Stella was completely, totally, utterly, horribly wasted.
JUST AT THAT moment, Stella lurched forward and clutched Jay’s sleeve. ‘Dance with me, Jay,’ she purred, running her hand up and down his arm, and tilting her head sideways.
I tried to step back but I was trapped by the table. Then I noticed that Jay’s one green-gold eye was wide in panic.
‘I can’t dance,’ he murmured, gesturing vaguely to his ribs, but Stella’s fingers tightened round his arm and she began to drag him to the end of the deck where people were swaying to the music.
‘Come on, Jay.’ Her voice was too loud and her eyes were unfocussed, and a couple of buttons on her top had popped open, giving the whole world a great view of her bra. ‘C’mon, Jay, I saved your life, can’t you have a little dance with me?’
Jay shot me a terrified look over his shoulder and I reached for Stella’s other hand.
‘Jay doesn’t want to dance yet,’ I said. ‘Let’s get some water; that punch has gone straight to my head.’
But Stella shook me off. ‘I want to dance!’ she cried, much too shrilly. Faces turned in our direction and a couple of the older guys sniggered. One of them called, ‘You go, girl!’ as Stella staggered onto the dance floor. She waved her arms in the air and swung her long hair in wild circles.
‘Woo!’ she shouted. ‘C’mon, Jay, dance with me!’
‘She’s not normally like this,’ I said helplessly to Jay. ‘She’s just … nervous.’
‘Is that what it’s called?’ said Jay, with a small, worried smile.
Stella spun an unsteady pirouette and knocked an entwined couple off the deck.
‘Hey, watch it!’ yelled the guy.
Oh, great, I thought. Now it’s Stella’s turn to get beaten up.
But Stella didn’t last long on the dance floor. Inevitably, with the spinning and the head-shaking and the alcohol, her stomach rebelled. She staggered off the deck and swayed toward the pool. For one horrible second I thought she was going to fall in. But she sank abruptly to her knees at the pool’s edge, delicately held her hair back with both hands, and threw up into
the water.
That was when Bailey Hahn decided to appear – the first time I’d seen him all night. He planted himself in front of me, hands on hips. ‘She’s got to go.’
‘Go?’ I echoed blankly.
He jerked his thumb. ‘Out, now. Come on, Bridie, it’s embarrassing. She’s totally trashed and it’s only half-past nine.’
‘She’s not the only one!’ I waved my hand at random people around the garden.
Bailey thrust his face close to mine. I wouldn’t have lit a match to his breath, either. ‘She’s thrown up in the pool! That’s disgusting.’
I craned round him to see Stella, who’d rolled onto her back and was laughing weakly, hysterically, up at the sky. ‘Okay, we’ll go, just let me —’ I shoved past Bailey and ran to help Stella up. She lolled against me, her breath stinking of vomit.
‘You’re my friend,’ she murmured. ‘Oh, Bridie, I love you …’
‘Yeah, me too, whatever …’
Then I realised that Jay was there, holding her up on the other side.
‘I’ve got to get her home.’ I blinked back tears. In Bailey’s crowd, it was okay to be drunk, it was even sort of cool, but throwing up was a definite no-no, especially for a girl, and especially this early in the night. I bet Bailey himself would be chucking his guts up before the party was over, and in the morning he’d be bragging like a hero. But Stella overdoing the punch – that was a crime.
Everyone drew back as if we were toxic. Everyone except Jay; he was right there with his arm round Stella, vomit and all. ‘I have to call my mum,’ I said. ‘Oh, no—’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Mum’s not home till ten. We never thought we’d leave so early. I can’t ring Stella’s parents; they can’t see her like this.’
The music pounded in my ears, the deck was throbbing. I didn’t know what to do.
‘I could call my brother,’ suggested Jay in his soft, calm voice, and I swear I could have kissed him.
Winter of Grace Page 3