“Oh yeah, and they can’t see each other at regular times because then the police will get suspicious.”
Saanvi covered her head with her pillow next to me.
“I’m going to have a shower,” I said, my heart still not beating right. “We should leave before eight if we’re going to get to school on time.”
“Eight? That’s insane!” Saanvi’s muffled voice moaned from under the pillow.
* * *
Things were different with Mel that day, and again the next. All week she was dismissive of me. Cold. There was no holding my hand or gripping my waist. She’d talk to the other two like I wasn’t even there. I couldn’t understand why she was angry with me. I knew she’d only done it to make things right, to make up for Mr. Bitto being my first kiss, to teach me how good things could be. I wanted to tell her I understood, but she didn’t seem to want to talk about it.
I tried not to worry. I tried to just be excited about the party like the rest of them were. She’d been planning it for months. Saanvi had managed to convince her brother to buy us a bottle of spirits. We’d asked for vodka, but he’d gotten us whiskey. I was secretly glad, I never wanted to touch vodka again.
“Probably didn’t want to buy a girl drink in front of the bottle shop guy. Idiot,” Saanvi said, when she showed us.
After school we all went back to Mel’s. I’d been there a few times now, but still never really felt very comfortable. It looked just like my old house from the street: a two-story terrace sandwiched tightly by its neighbors. However, inside, it had been gutted and replaced with the interior of a mansion. It didn’t have the same cracked kitchen tiles and dusty old ceiling roses like my old house. Instead, everything was brand-new and almost regal. The whole house looked like it had been coated in a thick layer of varnish; the floorboards were so shiny it was like the floor was wet. It all smelled of pine cleaning spray.
Her bedroom was surprisingly tidy, not what I used to imagine before we were friends. On the wall was a framed painting of her family. I’d stood and looked at it when I first saw it, about to make a crack about how stiff it was, but the others hadn’t even looked up at it. I’d thought that maybe they all had portraits like this in their houses.
The only part of the room that looked like it was really owned by Mel was the bedside table. Above it was a photo of her, Saanvi and Cass pulling dumb faces, stuck to the wall with blue tack. Next to the lamp were a few used tissues, a Cleo magazine, a lighter and a pink box.
I sat on her bed, while Saanvi went straight to the mirror and perched in front of it.
“You better have some makeup that doesn’t look stupid on my skin tone,” she said. Cass pushed her with her hip and tried to balance next to her on the chair.
“Oh God, I’m having such a bad face day today,” she said.
“Oh fuck off, you never even wear makeup and you look awesome. I have to wear it every single day.”
“You don’t have to do anything.”
“Easy for you to say.” Saanvi elbowed her and Cass fell off the side of the chair onto the carpet.
“Whoopsy, my elbow slipped.”
“So who are you going to kiss tonight?” Mel asked, flicking through her closet.
“I dunno.” Cass arranged herself into cross legs. “Maybe Alessandro?”
“He’s a really good kisser,” Mel said, pulling out a hanger. “What do you think of this?”
It was a grungy-looking dress. Mismatched florals in dingy browns. I thought it was ugly.
“Awesome,” Cass said.
“What about you, Ava?” Saanvi said, looking at her own face as she said it. “Who are you going to hook up with?”
There wasn’t one guy at school that I liked. They all seemed a bit grimy, like they didn’t shower enough. But it seemed like I had to pick someone, and I tried to think of a guy that wouldn’t be too bad if I ended up having to go through with it.
“Oh come on,” Mel said, hanging the dress onto the doorknob. “Who’s going to want to kiss that?”
Saanvi snorted a laugh, but Cass looked around to me, confused. I stared down to my hands in my lap.
“Shall we make some drinkies?” Mel asked, walking down the stairs without looking at me. The others followed.
I listened to them for a minute, their chatter echoing up the staircase. Carefully I opened the lid of the pink box on the bedside table. All I noticed was a strip of condoms before a ballerina flicked to a standing position. It started to twirl and a single note sounded before I slammed the lid back down.
18
I’ve been waiting for you for hours now. The sky outside that tiny window is pitch-black. I’m getting tired. This isn’t how I thought this would go. Pictures of Mel have been everywhere. The black-and-white photo she used as a headshot pinned up inside shop windows, on lampposts. Missing, they say. Melissa Moore. The photograph, the perfect alliteration—it’s like she was made for this.
It’s been a week now, and everyone is fearing the worst. It’s started to fade out of the news. The posters are starting to get soggy, her self-photoshopped image blurring and running. It’s been the longest week of my life.
I spent a long time standing outside the station, deliberating, you know. I thought for sure that the minute I came in, the minute I said the words I’d been practicing in my head—I’m here about Mel. Mel Moore—handcuffs would be slapped on my wrists. I wouldn’t have hesitated for so long if I’d known that I’d be waiting all this time. If I’d known that there would be hours to plan, to decide exactly what I’d say to you. To remember all the things I’d much rather forget.
* * *
I was already drunk by the time people began to arrive at the party. It might have been part exhaustion after another darkened start to the day, but after only two drinks the world was sliding and shifting around me. I’d forgotten that I didn’t know what to do at parties. I sat beside Cass and Veronica Britson on the couch, smiling and nodding along to what Veronica was saying even though I was barely listening. I’d always hated Veronica Britson, even though I didn’t know her, really. The bass of the music thumped through the room. People I saw every day at school were transformed. The girls wore thick makeup and tiny skirts; the boys’ voices sounded deeper as they ogled the girls from afar. Even over the music, I could hear Mel squealing from the kitchen. Ever since he arrived, she’d been so close to Theodore she was almost on his lap. I sneaked glances over to them, watched as she laughed too loudly at some story he was telling.
Everyone seemed to always have so much to say at parties. It seemed to be what everyone did at these things: just drink and talk and laugh. I wish I knew what they were all talking about that was so interesting. The only thing I could think to mention was school. I took another sip of my drink. Mel said something to Theodore, and he turned around. They were both staring at me, staring at them, and I began to feel dizzy. I tried smiling at her, but she just looked at me with that cold flicker in her eye again. It made my stomach twist with unease.
“I feel shit,” I said to Cass, interrupting whatever it was she was talking to the other girl about.
“Oh no! You going to puke?”
“It’s only ten o’clock,” Veronica said, and I shot her a dirty look.
“You should go lie down in Mel’s bed for a bit.”
“Do you think that’ll piss her off?”
“As if.”
“I don’t know. She seems angry with me for some reason.”
“Yeah, I noticed that. I think she’s on her rag—she gets like that. Don’t even worry about it.”
“Yeah, Mel’s a moody bitch,” Veronica said.
I gave her a death stare and stood up, the room tipping around me.
Holding tightly on to the banister, I climbed up the stairs, trying to figure out if I was very drunk or just really tired. Pushing Mel’s door sh
ut behind me I sat down on her bed. The room was a haven away from it all. The music was subdued, the only light came from her bedside lamp. Making sure my shoes stayed off the bed, I lay down. The pillow smelled like her. Clammy and sweet. I closed my eyes and it all felt so good, so right, and I knew I shouldn’t sleep but I couldn’t help it.
* * *
I woke to the feeling of something warm on my face. A hand. Mel’s hand, probably. Maybe she’d come and found me there, curled in beside me, and now it was morning.
“Shh...shh...she’ll wake up.”
“That’s so gross.”
“Shh.”
The bass of the music was still bouncing around the room. It hadn’t stopped. The party was still going. Something smelled disgusting.
“Just a little bit more.”
The warmth on my face again. The smell intensified. I opened my eyes. Theodore was standing over me. He took a quick step back.
“Quick, quick, take a picture.”
I looked around, trying to understand what was happening. Theodore had on one pink washing-up glove. Something was going on. I sat up, feeling a lurch in my stomach. The smell was horrible.
Then I heard the click.
That unmistakable fake click of a camera phone. Mel was holding Saanvi’s iPhone in her hands. She looked down at the screen, the blue light on her face. On her grin. It was the same smile she’d had when they threw meat at Miranda.
I jumped up, adrenaline racing through me. Something really bad was happening. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew I needed that phone. I lurched toward her and wrestled the phone out of her hands before she had a chance to react.
“Careful!” Saanvi yelled. I hadn’t even noticed her there by the door.
“Hey!” Mel said, glaring at me like I was disgusting. “Don’t even touch that!”
I looked down on the screen. She was writing a Facebook post. It just had two words in it and a picture. Shit Head. The picture underneath was my face, brown smudges across my cheeks.
I looked up at her.
“Can you give the phone back, please?” she said, stretching out her hand. Theodore laughed stupidly next to her, but I ignored him. Her eyes were too bright, too focused on my face.
“Give me back the phone, shit head.”
Saanvi started laughing too.
I grabbed the phone tightly in my palm, and smashed it with all my strength against the side of Mel’s bedside table. The screen exploded into a spiderweb, but the picture was still there behind it.
“What the fuck! Stop it!” Saanvi screamed.
“Give it back, psycho!” Mel tried to grab it out of my hands but I pushed her away and smashed it again and again against the wood.
“You’re a bitch!” I said, my voice sounding strangled as I smashed the phone again. “A bitch!”
The three of them weren’t smiling at me now. They were backing away from me, as though I was some crazed animal. I threw the remnants of phone onto the floor. I ran past them to the bathroom and begun rubbing water and hand soap onto my face. The smell of it hit my nostrils again and I vomited into the sink, the water running it quickly down the drain. As soon as my stomach was empty I washed my face again, the hand soap burning my eyes, getting into my mouth, but I didn’t care. When my face felt raw I stopped, tears already threatening. But I had to get out of there first.
Grabbing a towel, I rubbed my face as I half tripped my way down the stairs to the front door.
“Hey, we’re having champagne!” Cass yelled, and I heard a loud bang. I ducked and put a hand over my head defensively, as cold liquid sprinkled up my arm and shoulder. Looking around I saw Cass staring at me, confused, the bottle in her hand. Other people were looking at me too.
“Fuck off!” I screamed, and threw the towel on the floor as I left.
When I reached the end of Mel’s street, I started to run. My breath quickly became ragged and my face dried, but that smell was still in my nose. The main road was up ahead, but before that was the turnoff to my old street. I turned my run into a jog and took the turnoff. The familiarity was waiting for me. Nothing had changed. I got to my house and began to walk down the path to the front door. I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I wasn’t thinking at all, just wishing my life was back the way it had been before everything got so complicated.
There was a light on inside. I could see into my living room. There was a couple in there, on a couch I’d never seen before. Her head resting on his shoulder. This wasn’t my house anymore. I turned around before they noticed me out there. I needed to get home.
The main road was deserted. All the shops were closed. I already knew before I checked the tram timetable. The small numbers only confirmed it. The last tram was gone, long gone, as well as the last bus connecting from the city.
Pulling out my phone, I called Bea.
It was freezing cold already.
No answer.
I called my mum.
People got murdered in Melbourne all the time.
No answer.
They’d both be asleep, their phones on silent. I couldn’t wait until morning, I couldn’t be out here by myself for all that time. I would be murdered. They’d never caught the guy who had broken into our house. He was still out there, somewhere.
Then I saw it. Golden headlights and a dim Taxi sign crawling toward me. I threw out my arm and its indicator blinked.
* * *
When the meter flicked over from ninety-nine dollars to one hundred, I realized I had to think of a plan. I had spent the last hour staring blankly out the window, watching as the houses began to disappear and then the streetlights. Now there was nothing outside the window but black. My neck and arm were sticky from the champagne, my head was throbbing, and every time I thought about what happened in Mel’s bedroom I was sure I was going to be sick all over the driver’s faded floor mats.
I looked up at the driver. He hadn’t said a word to me since I first got in, but I had felt his eyes flick over to me many times.
“We’re almost there,” I said to him. He just nodded.
His high beams lit up a farmhouse. I’d seen it from the bus window; it wasn’t far, maybe the closest I could get without him knowing where I really lived.
“It’s just this one here.”
He nodded and slipped on the indicator with his pinkie finger. The ticktock of it filled the car. He turned onto the long driveway, stopping just outside the house. I went to open my door, but he pushed a button and all the locks snapped shut.
“Don’t even think about doing a runner.”
We locked eyes.
“I just have to go and get my dad,” I said, trying to sound as childlike as possible. “He’s got the money.”
He sighed and unlocked the doors. I forced myself not to fling it open. Instead, I smiled at him and slowly unclipped my seat belt. I pushed the door and got out. Not hurrying, I walked all the way up to the porch. The thick bush was right there, beckoning me. Instead of taking the step up to the front door I darted away. Throwing myself into the sticks and branches.
“Fuck! Not again.”
I stumbled through the bush, trying to push myself to move as fast as I could and not vomit or cry or scream. Just move. My breathing was coming in pants. It was too dark. So dark I could barely see. I pushed blindly ahead through the trees, praying I wouldn’t trip. I could hear his footsteps now too. They were heavier than mine. And faster. He was catching up with me; I wasn’t going to be able to outrun him. Veering to the left I jumped down behind some dense scrub, flattening myself against the ground. I tried not to breathe.
The bush turned silent. He had stopped to listen. He could do anything to me out there. No one would ever know. I should have stayed closer to the farmhouse. I was far away enough from it now that I could scream my lungs out and, if anyone was awake, t
hey would think it was the faint sound of an exotic bird. The slow crunching sound of his footsteps was getting louder. He was standing almost on top of me. If he took two more steps forward his boot would land on my skull. Another crunch of his boot against the undergrowth. I could hear him panting, puffed out from running.
“Fuck!”
Another step, but in the other direction.
I didn’t breathe again until I heard the ignition start.
* * *
It was a long walk up the road of Lakeside Estate. I was covered in dirt and muck. My teeth were chattering from the cold, my breath rising above me in white puffs. There were small scratches all down my legs and arms. My T-shirt was ripped. The champagne smelled sickly sweet. My house was up ahead; I was almost there. The thought of being in bed, the soft blanket over my head and being safe and warm and alone, made me run. Strength I didn’t know I had bubbled up to the surface and I pushed forward. Down my street and in through the front door, up the stairs and into my room. I pulled off my clothes and got into bed, curling up under the blanket, my head on my knees.
Finally, I could allow myself to cry. I could look back at the night, at what I’d ruined, at how horrible school was going to be now, at the look on Cass’s face. At how scared I was. At what Mel did. I could let out the sobs I’d had trapped in my throat all night.
But it was too late by then. I was all dried up on the inside.
* * *
This is where I’ll end the story of what happened that year. I won’t tell you what happened next in the weeks and months that followed. You don’t need to know about all that. Really, it’s none of your business. It’s what I’ve done since then that I’ve come here to tell you. I’m not here to make you feel sorry for me—you shouldn’t. I’m here to take responsibility.
Part 4
PARASITIC LIFESTYLE
2013
19
Saanvi wore black exclusively. It seemed she had decided that she wouldn’t be taken seriously as an architect if she didn’t. She wore black tailored pants and black leather ankle boots and black silk tops.
The Spite Game Page 10