Something More (Girlfriend Fiction 11)

by Mo Johnson

  ‘Did you check?’ she asked dully.

  I shook my head. ‘Come on, let’s find out together.’

  She rose and walked trance-like to my room.

  ‘You look.’

  I refused. ‘This is your life we’re talking about. You’re going to have to face up to things. I’m right behind you, but you need to be the one to check it.’

  ‘I don’t want you behind me. I want you beside me.’ She was almost wailing.

  ‘I am beside you.’ I clutched her left hand and watched as she reached across with her right and lifted the wand. She held it up to her face.

  ‘Two stripes positive, one stripe negative,’ I reminded her and held my breath.

  ‘It’s two,’ she mumbled. ‘It’s positive.’

  I slumped on my chair.

  She burst into tears and sank onto my bed in a crumpled heap.

  Terry cried for a long time, but eventually she stopped, and suddenly sat up. She slid a band from her wrist and tucked her hair up into a ponytail.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

  ‘You don’t have to apologise to me.’

  ‘Yes, I do. I’ve stuffed up our whole family.’

  I began to protest, but she held up her hand.

  ‘Well, I’ve stuffed up your sharpener, anyway.’

  And all at once, she was back in control.

  It was what I’ve come to expect of my sister, a strength I’ve always envied. She knew how to face reality head-on. Terry had blazed and dazzled in Australia while I had slowly shrivelled. I knew she would shine again in her own good time.

  ‘I’m not going to school today.’

  ‘I’ll cover for you.’

  ‘I need to call Sean, I guess, and then I’ll tell Mum.’

  ‘Just Mum?’

  ‘Mum first, I think.’

  ‘Perhaps you should break it to them both at the same time.’

  She considered this.

  ‘And the benefit is, if Dad faints, Mum will be too busy helping him to beat the crap out of you.’

  She almost smiled. ‘You’re right. It’s a lot to ask of Mum to break my bad news to Dad, isn’t it? It’s only putting off the inevitable, I suppose.’

  ‘I’ll come with you when you tell them.’

  She did smile this time. ‘Are you sure?

  ‘I’m sure.’

  ‘Not tonight, though. I can’t. I need a few days, Isla.’

  ‘Okay, but just remember that the longer you leave it, the harder it will get. The baby’s going to need to be checked out too, I guess, and you’ll need to get advice about what to do.’ We both stared at her stomach.

  ‘Just a couple of days, I promise.’

  I hugged her tightly and stroked her hair. ‘Go have a shower and try to relax a bit. At least you aren’t in the dark now. That’s a huge start.’

  On the train, I started to write a fake note from Mum for Terry’s teacher. By the time I arrived and delivered the note to the office, I was slowly beginning to get my head around the situation.

  Sensing there was some room in my brain now, my own issues had a go at cramming their way in. I didn’t want to see Sam today.

  As it turned out, though, I didn’t have to avoid him because he wasn’t there.

  Miss Reid asked to see our photos when I went into art. She flicked through them quickly. ‘Not bad. Yours are brilliant. I don’t see any point in you joining us at the pool this lesson, you’re so far ahead now. Why don’t you use this time to start your watercolour? Or get on with mounting your Major Work photos? Do it in the library though,’ she added. ‘I have to make sure you’re supervised.’

  Good. I needed to be supervised. I was a lunatic with crazy thoughts. Who knew what would happen if the librarian wasn’t guarding me?

  I put Sam’s photos in his art tray and went to the library. It suited me to spend double art by myself, and I was only slightly aware of the drowning comments that were going around at my expense. So much had happened since the party, it just didn’t seem important anymore.

  ‘What’s red, ugly and sinks like a brick?’ Molly Phillips announced to no one in particular later on, during geography.

  Then she answered her own question – ‘Isla McBay’ – and some of her minions snickered.

  Miss Cologon gave us a cool stare. It was enough to shut Molly up.

  I wondered about Molly. She’d just spent the last week trying to make contact with me via Jack, yet here she was big-noting herself at my expense.

  Well, Miss Molly, your brother’s news is about to ruin your life, and the guy you love could be mine if I want. You need to give me more respect.

  By the end of the day, I wasn’t feeling too crash-hot. I dropped my footy film in to be developed and kicked the frog on my way out.

  At home, I told Mum I was sick and she did that mum thing: she put her hand on my forehead and then groped around my neck, checking my glands or something.

  ‘Glands are up,’ she declared, ‘and your temperature. You’re coming down with something. It must be all that swimming. You might be living in the Land of Pools now, but you have to be sensible about getting wet.’

  ‘But I was pushed…’ I stopped. She was laughing at me.

  ‘I’m sick, Mum. Give me a break.’

  She kissed my cheek and sent me upstairs with a hot cup of tea.

  I went to bed and slept like the dead.

  ‘The problem with Terry is Terry.’

  (Gran McGonnigle – lots of times)

  The rest of the week went by in a blur, thanks to a bout of tonsillitis. I slept through most of it.

  On Wednesday, Sean told Molly the news.

  ‘What did she say?’ I asked from under my doona.

  Terry shrugged. ‘She thinks we should tell our parents.’

  ‘We already figured that one out,’ I growled.

  ‘Both at the same time,’ Terry added.

  ‘Oh.’ I searched for a wisecrack but came up empty.

  On Saturday, Dad popped his head in to Terry’s room to tell me that my photos of Steve Ferris had done the trick.

  ‘They’ll be charging him soon.’

  Terry’s mouth flew open.

  ‘What a shame you had no clue the guy was related to Jack before you gave Dad the pictures,’ she said when Dad had left. Her mouth dropped open again when I didn’t respond, and suddenly it became vital to me that she understood.

  But there was no need to explain my actions. ‘What a crap position to be in,’ she went on. ‘You’re braver than me. I think I would have just kept out of it.’

  I wished I had, too. I felt sick at the thought of what Jack would say.

  On Sunday, Terry asked, ‘Isla, if you were me, what would you do now?’

  ‘I have no idea.’ From her expression, I could see I’d let her down.

  ‘I’m serious, Terry. I’ve thought about it heaps. It would be so hard to decide. I don’t think I could give you a definite answer unless it was actually happening to me. But promise I’ll do my best to back you up, whatever you decide.’

  She nodded and flashed me a grateful smile.

  ‘Tell them tonight, okay? I think it’s time.’

  Next thing I knew, it was Monday again. I carted my art portfolio in on the train. I was so pleased with it. The extra time off had given me a chance to think about how to present my visuals of crowds; I’d tried to get a narrative running through it about excitement and group identity, but I hadn’t used a lot of captions because I hoped the pictures would tell the story.

  When I reached the schoolyard, I felt like I’d been away for a lifetime, not a week. There were a few things I needed to catch up with now that I was feeling better. I needed to speak to Molly Phillips; it was time to discuss our siblings. I might even have to enlist her support in getting Terry and Sean to tell our parents, because they were still stalling.

  ‘Is-la.’

  I cringed. It was Sam, bringing me out of my dark thoughts.

 
‘Actually it’s Isle-a, Sam, not Is-la.’

  It was out before I could stop it.

  ‘Really? Geez, you’ve been pretty cool to put up with me saying your name wrong all this time.’

  I melted. He was adorable.

  ‘Sorry I didn’t get to see you last week; I was away sick. And then you were away.’

  ‘Throat infection,’ I said.

  ‘Me too, and we haven’t even kissed…yet.’ He grinned.

  My heart sped up. I couldn’t think of a single response.

  ‘Is your Major Work…’ We spoke at the same time and laughed.

  ‘Ready?’ I ended for both of us.

  ‘Almost. I can’t wait to see them; the whole class has been so into it. Hope I’m not first.’

  I agreed. It was always hard to be the first presenter, especially when it was an oral assessment task.

  ‘Got to go. I’ll catch you later about the other thing,’ he said meaningfully.

  The going-out-to-a-movie other thing, probably. Watching him walk away, I was tempted to say yes.

  ‘What’s up, Fishface?’ Two hands briefly pinched my waist and I jumped, startled by the voice.

  Jack!

  I turned to face him. Brown eyes, dark-brown hair, skin bronzed by the Queensland sun and a dimple on his right cheek. I’d never noticed that before. He wasn’t even close to being a geek.

  ‘Shut it, Ferris,’ I snapped, knowing he was expecting me to bite.

  ‘Have you dried off since the party then?’

  ‘Oh, very funny. How was your trip?’

  ‘Cool. There wasn’t a chick on the entire Gold Coast who wasn’t crying when I left.’

  ‘Tears of joy, I think you’ll find, you deluded fool.’

  He winked.

  Tell me about the photos.

  Instead, I said, ‘Sam and I got our underwater shots done. How did yours go?’

  At the mention of Sam’s name, his smile became less cocky. ‘Fantastic. There were so many hot women queuing up to be in the shoot, I just had to take photos of my sister instead. Couldn’t start a fight, now, could I?’

  ‘You haven’t even got a sister, Jack.’ I’d caught him out.

  ‘Well, if you insist on making yourself jealous. I was only trying to spare your feelings, but I did just happen to make friends with a couple of girls who both kindly agreed to pose for me.’

  ‘Who’s jealous?’ I challenged.

  ‘Come to think of it, how do you know I haven’t got a sister? Have you been checking up on me?’

  I couldn’t be sure, but I think his chest was beginning to puff up.

  ‘You have, haven’t you? You’ve been checking me out.’

  ‘Jack, I remain supremely uninterested in everything about you, I can assure you of that. Sam just happened to mention it when we were in the darkroom.’

  ‘What else did Sam just happen to mention?’ He seemed a bit anxious.

  Yeah, I’ve seen your photos, buddy. You’ve got some explaining to do.

  ‘Oh, this and that. We had fun getting the work done.’

  ‘Did it take you long?’

  ‘Hours, and then we had to develop them…in the darkroom.’ I went for a breathless kind of voice. Who was the jealous one now?

  ‘Right…I suppose Molly liked that,’ he countered. His tone definitely altered when he said her name.

  ‘Molly who?’

  ‘Oh, just a girl called Molly Phillips, your possible in-law,’ he whispered.

  I came crashing back down to earth. I couldn’t even be mad at him.

  ‘Sorry, Isla,’ he said immediately. ‘Any news?’ He’d kept his voice low.

  ‘It was positive.’

  ‘Oh shit. Have you spoken to Molly yet?’

  ‘No, but Sean told her.’

  ‘And your parents?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘You better tell them soon.’

  ‘Oh, duh.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Stop apologising,’ I snapped.

  We’d reached the classroom door, and it was too late now to

  mention the photos. ‘Is your Major Work finished?’ I asked as we went in. He made a weird face.

  ‘Oh-oh, someone’s in big trouble,’ I said.

  ‘No, it’s done…it’s just that…well…there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you…’ He didn’t say any more.

  He didn’t have to. We were inside now. All eyes were on me, or rather, the black-and-whites of me, to be precise. I took an involuntary step towards them.

  Although I’d thought I knew each shot by heart, knowing now that Jack had taken them changed things. I studied them carefully.

  He’d blown them up, mounted them on black cardboard and hung them on the display board. Beside each one there was a small white card with writing on it. I inched my way closer.

  Some other students had obviously handed their work in earlier that morning too; there were other exhibits in the room. Miss Reid was busy helping those of us who were still going.

  ‘We won’t do the speeches this lesson. We’ll just set up the exhibition for tomorrow. Feel free to wander around. Anyone who needs my help get over here.’

  From the corner of my eye, I spotted Sam with her.

  ‘Hey, how does it feel to be a model?’ someone asked as I passed them.

  ‘Great work, Ferris,’ Sam called to Jack, who was still behind me.

  Mesmerised by my own face, I walked to the first photograph.

  My left profile, searching the South Coast Railway Line for a coming train.

  I read the card.

  Searching…

  Puzzled, I moved to the second.

  Wishing…

  I liked this shot. He’d got me peering up at the sky. It must have been taken in the schoolyard. My attention had been grabbed by a crow, and with all the boring detail edited out, it was very wistful.

  ‘Needing…’ He whispered the third card’s message in my ear.

  ‘When did you take this one?’

  ‘Before the maths exam. That’s why you’re biting your lip.’

  I moved on.

  Something more than this.

  I’d seen it before, but in this context the fourth picture had new meaning. He’d taken it last month, just after I’d been handed a folded Australian flag during assembly. As the nearest student, Mr Devlin had asked me to unfold it and pass it on to the kids who raised it during the anthem. I remembered how windy it had been that day. I’d gotten a bit tangled up in the cloth. The image captured me grappling with a swirling Australian flag, my face a grimace of annoyance.

  The symbolism didn’t escape me.

  Jack was still beside me. I watched him desperately trying to read my face. The room grew hazy and the class seemed to float away, until there was only him and me.

  ‘You get it, don’t you? You get how it feels to be me.’

  We both studied the fifth photo. I read the card aloud:

  ‘You can’t see ahead…

  ’ I was shading my face from the sun with my hand. I knew it had been snapped at the athletics carnival; I had been trying to see if Sam had won the race.

  I floated to the next one.

  If you’re always gazing behind.

  I took a sharp breath when I read this card. My throat was sore again; I wanted to cry. I concentrated hard on the photo. I hadn’t seen it before.

  Me, gazing back at something. I don’t remember what. I don’t know when he took it.

  The final photograph hung apart from the others. It was much bigger. Another new one. He’d obviously shot more than one roll of film.

  The last card read simply:

  Isla.

  He’d taken it on the one day my curly hair had been loose. I was standing on the oval, curls blowing out wildly from my face. My head was thrown back and my eyes were crinkled. No wonder I’d missed the camera: I was laughing hard. I couldn’t remember why now, but it must have been funny. It was an awesome photo�
��not because it was me…but because of the way it had been shot.

  He was a brilliant photographer. He was taking my breath away.

  My mind raced back through the cards:

  Searching…wishing…needing…something more than this. You can’t see ahead…if you’re always gazing behind, Isla.

  Could my homesickness be so clear to him? I was amazed that he knew me so well. He had an eye for detail, I supposed – a photographer’s eye. And he was a poet, too. Come to think of it, he did get As in English all the time.

  ‘Isla?’

  But what about Molly?

  I burst into tears.

  He was behind me still, awkward now and embarrassed.

  ‘Jaaack?’ Miss Reid dragged his name out into a question as she approached. ‘You did check these photos with Isla, didn’t you? I was adamant you would need her permission.’

  They both eyed me.

  ‘Er…’ he began.

  ‘Yes, Miss, he did. It’s just that it’s all so weird,’ I cut in, sniffing a bit.

  ‘It must be,’ she agreed. ‘But if any man ever made me the subject of their artwork and it was as good as this…’

  ‘You’d marry him?’ Jack quipped.

  ‘Heavens no, but I’d want at least half the profits.’ She winked as she walked away.

  I turned my face slowly towards his. Who was this guy who’d just made me feel so beautiful? Who was the real Jack Ferris?

  ‘Half the profits then?’

  ‘You’re on.’ He thumped my arm.

  Phew, behaving like a dumb boy again. What a relief.

  After school I was pacing up and down the platform, willing the train to get there on time for once when Jack appeared out of nowhere.

  ‘Hi. I’m staying at Dad’s until Wednesday.’

  ‘Hi.’ My voice sounded shrill.

  ‘Are you okay? Is your throat still hurting? You—’

  ‘It’s fine,’ I cut him off.

  It felt like we’d run out of things to say.

  ‘Waiting on the train?’ he asked.

  No…I’m waiting on you to tell me what’s going on in your head.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘It’s late.’

  ‘I know!’ I practically screamed the words.

  If he’d noticed, he wasn’t commenting. ‘Anything good on telly tonight?’

  I couldn’t stand another second of this inane conversation.

  ‘I can’t talk to Molly Phillips. It’s too hard. She’s still cracking swimming-pool jokes and…’ I stopped. ‘Do you like me, Jack?’