Smart Girls Don't Wear Mascara

by Cecily Paterson

  ‘Keep being you, Abby, and see how it works out for you. Then we’ll see who’s smart and who’s not.’

  Chapter 25

  I gaped at Stella, before closing my mouth and swallowing hard. Stella sniffed and wiped her eyes.

  ‘Bianca, I don’t feel so good,’ she said. ‘It’s all been a bit stressful. I think I might faint again.’

  Buzz jumped up in a panic. ‘Don’t faint. Just sit there. I’ll get you a drink, okay? Sam, go get Stella a drink.’ Like a ridiculous puppy chasing a stick, Sam ran off to the classroom.

  ‘I’m feeling a bit weird,’ said Stella again, and this time Jessie sprang into action.

  ‘Maybe you should put your feet up?’ she said. ‘Here, lie down on the bench. If I move, there’s room.’

  ‘Nobody look at my undies, okay?’ said Stella, giggling in a pathetic way.

  And then, just like last night, Stella was at the centre of the crowd, which was fawning and pawing over her—my best friends, Buzz and Jessie, the worst of them.

  ‘Don’t worry about Abby ...’ I heard over the heads of the boys crowding around.

  ‘You shouldn’t even listen to her, it was mean ...’ said someone else and I realised that not a single person was going to side with me. Everyone was on Stella’s side. Everyone was looking after Stella. And not a single person believed me about the wink.

  There was a panic in my legs and a jagged terror in my brain. Before I could even think about my next move, I found myself running away, tearing up the path, half-pushing little kids out of the way and breathing huge, gulping breaths. I flung myself down, behind the Big Tree at the back of the oval. Our Big Tree.

  Not anymore, came a voice in my head.

  But I wanted to fight back.

  That’s not true. There’s still ‘us’. The Smart Girls. I know Buzz and Jessie will believe me if I tell them what actually happened about the wink. But I’ll tell them properly, this time. Without Stella being there.

  It would work. It had to.

  They were my friends. They’d have to believe I was telling the truth about Stella. They’d known me for years. They knew I didn’t lie. They knew I didn’t get this mad without reason.

  I don’t think they’ll believe me, came the voice again.

  I kicked my feet in frustration.

  ‘No,’ I said aloud. I stood up. ‘They’ll have to.’

  I poked my head around the tree to look back towards the seats—maybe I could catch them now, at the end of recess.

  But instead of seeing a playground buzzing with kids in blue and grey, all I saw was empty concrete.

  The bell had gone.

  With my heart in my mouth, I tore towards the classrooms. This was a disaster. I was never late. I always turned up on time. It was one of my Smart Girls’ principles. Smart Girls were never late. What would Mr Smee say? I slowed down a bit before I got to the classroom door, so I wouldn’t come in puffing and panting. When I was finally composed enough to go in, I peeked around the door, hoping Mr Smee had left the classroom for some reason so I could just sneak in.

  Nope.

  ‘Abby?’ came Mr Smee’s voice, but the non-relaxed version of it. It was the voice he put on when the boys had been talking too much in the library. ‘I hope you have a good reason for being’—he looked at the clock—‘seven minutes late.’

  I crept around the door, shuffling in like Sam did sometimes when he got caught chucking mud at lunchtime. ‘Um, I kind of lost track of time,’ I said, half-looking at him and half trying to catch Jessie’s eye, but her face stayed firmly turned away from the door.

  ‘I hope this never happens again,’ said Mr Smee. ‘It’s very unlike you, Abby.’

  I nodded. ‘I’m really sorry. I am. We had ...,’ I started, and then, ‘I just didn’t ...’ I stopped. Making excuses wasn’t going to help right now. I slid into my chair, pulled out my stuff and tried again to look over at my friends. Jessie had her head down now, focusing on what she was writing. Buzz was whispering to Stella. I kept looking at her, hoping she’d turn my way eventually.

  She didn’t.

  I took matters into my own hands.

  ‘Jessie,’ I hissed across the room, once I’d done enough writing to make Mr Smee feel like I wasn’t going to give him any more trouble. ‘Jessie.’

  I gave Ollie a poke with my pencil and he turned around, making a what? face at me. I ignored him. ‘Get Jessie,’ I mouthed, pointing beyond his shoulder to Jessie, who was sitting across the table.

  He rolled his eyes but reached out his pencil to tap on Jessie’s desk. I saw her look up at him with big, roly-poly Disney eyes, blushing cheeks and a smile that turned into a pout when she realised what was going on.

  ‘What?’ Her face made a question and her hands went up like, What do you want?

  ‘Let me explain,’ I hissed across the room. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mr Smee raise his head, so I quickly put mine down again, pretending to focus. When it was clear again, I went to poke Ollie to get Jessie’s attention again, but he was just about to poke me.

  ‘Here,’ he whispered, gesturing back across the table, as if to say, It’s from her.

  It was a note. A note on a scrappy bit of lined paper torn from the back of Jessie’s notebook. She kept one specific page for tearing notes in every single book she had. Most of those notes were nice though, and all signed with Jessie’s curly ‘J’ with a smiley face in it. This one wasn’t nice. And it had no smiley faces at all.

  You’ve gone too far, Abby, it said. Buzz and Stella say we can’t hang around with you anymore.

  A wash of sick tummy feelings swam through my body and I wrote a reply to Jessie.

  Don’t let them boss you around, Jess. I poked Ollie again and he tapped on Jessie’s desk. This time she didn’t even try to look all lovey-dovey at Ollie. Her face came straight up to meet mine. There were no smiles. Not even a look of pained understanding. She refused to take my note. Instead, she just shook her head at me.

  I swallowed hard, screwed up the note in my hand and dropped my pen. And then I just sat there, shivering and heavy-footed, not even trying to concentrate.

  The rest of the day was a blur. I had to work with a group of Year Five boys on a group project. And at lunch, no matter where I sat, people moved away from me. I ended up sitting on the steps, pretending to read, but actually watching Stella sit with my friends on my grass patch. It was horrifying. Every five minutes she’d break into a pathetic sobbing routine and had to be comforted by them with hugs and hand holding. And every ten minutes they’d all look over at me and I’d immediately pretend to read my book.

  ‘What happened to you today?’ asked Miles, on the way up our driveway that afternoon.

  ‘What?’ I growled at him, slashing long grass with a stick I’d found on the road. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘The girls said you got in a fight.’ He ran past me, grinning. ‘With Stel—’

  ‘Shut up, okay?’ I said fiercely.

  In the house I dumped my stuff in my room and went out to look for food. Afternoon tea would have to help. Surely there had to be some good news at home? Something to make my terrible day even a tiny bit better?

  ‘Oh, Abby, sweetheart,’ came Mum’s voice from the study. She stuck her head out the door. ‘There was a phone call today from Francesca. She said she’s really sorry but it looks like that concert has been delayed for a few months. You know, the one she asked you to sing at?’

  My shoulders felt heavy. ‘Did she know when it might be on?’

  Mum shook her head. ‘She didn’t say. It was something to do with one of the organisers having to go overseas. It’s a shame. How was school?’

  ‘How was school?’ I said. ‘Fine. It was just fine.’ I turned and stalked into my room, slamming the door behind me.

  And then I cried. Actual tears, fo
r the first time in years. I tried to stop them, I really did, but I couldn’t. They were pounding down my cheeks and running in pools onto my pillow. They were wet and weird and I couldn’t stop them.

  Stella, Stella, Stella, I thought. And then, Buzz, Jessie, Smart Girls. There was no sorting anything out in my head, not like normal. My thoughts were like a load of washing spinning around on the ‘heavy wash’ setting in our front-loading machine. And all I could do was turn on the tap for the water.

  ‘You alright, Abby?’ came Mum’s voice through the door.

  I controlled my throat. ‘Uh-huh. Fine,’ I croaked back. But I wasn’t fine. Stella had won and I had lost. She’d taken my friends and turned them into aliens. Everyone believed her and not me. She’d made me look like a dunce in class, she’d said mean things about our school and she’d ruined Year Six—the year that everyone knew should be the best year of primary school. And now with no concert, no chance to be on stage, it felt like there was nothing to look forward to anymore. Not ever. Not for the whole rest of my life.

  I sat up and stopped crying.

  ‘I hate you,’ I said out loud, even though I knew Stella couldn’t hear me. ‘I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.’

  Chapter 26

  After that day, misery was the new normal.

  They all avoided me. Buzz, Jessie and obviously Stella, but also most of the boys, who must have been fed a fib about how terrible I was. I tried to call Jessie after school three days in a row, but she was ‘out’ according to her dad, who didn’t quite sound like himself when he said it.

  I tried to talk to Buzz about the plans for her birthday sleepover, but she just said straight to my face, in a really mean voice. ‘You’re not invited anymore, Abby. Not after what you did to Stella. I can’t believe even you couldn’t figure that out.’

  As for Stella, she was still acting all hurt and injured, even two weeks after the ‘faint’. She laughed and looked happy occasionally, but still in an I’m-actually-still-fragile kind of way that nearly made me puke every time I saw it. No one else seemed to realise it was put on. Practically every single person in our class just spent their time making sure she was feeling okay.

  The only good thing that happened at all in the whole month was an envelope in the mail one afternoon.

  ‘Is it what I think it is?’ said Mum. ‘The Baker results? I can’t believe I’m saying it, but I don’t think I’ll mind if you get in.’

  I looked at her, my thumb halfway down the inside of the envelope. ‘Really?’

  She nodded. ‘I mean, I still feel strongly about state schools, but I’ve been hearing a lot of good things about Baker from Rosie. I think maybe it would be great for you.’

  I raised my eyebrows. ‘Whatevs. But I might not be getting in. This might be a rejection, you know.’

  I turned away from her so I could open my envelope by myself. I was nervous, but at the same time, calm. If I got in or not, I’d still always have this feeling of loneliness in the core of my heart. Nothing, not even getting into Baker, would be able to make up for what had happened with Stella, Buzz and Jessie.

  I pulled out the letter, on thick cream paper with a blue-and-red crest at the top. Baker colours. Would I get to wear them? Did I even care?

  And then, the answer.

  ‘I think it says yes,’ I said to Mum. ‘I think I have a place.’ I handed her the letter. ‘I got in, right?’

  Mum scanned down the paper. ‘Yes. You did. They’ve given you a full music scholarship. Well’—she took another breath—‘you must be happy. It’s what you’ve worked for.’

  ‘I guess,’ I said. I felt like Annie in the part of the film where they find her ‘parents’. It’s what she’s always wanted, but now, she wants something else. Everyone around her expects her to be happy, even though she’s crying on the inside.

  Francesca was pretty pleased about it. ‘I know one of the music teachers there,’ she told me at my lesson the next week. ‘She is very good. Very clever. She will challenge you and I think you will enjoy.’

  I nodded, trying to show some enthusiasm. ‘It should be great.’

  She looked at me carefully. ‘You are not happy, yes?’

  I tried to muster more of a smile. ‘No, I’m really happy,’ I said. ‘It’s great.’ But I was actually trying to convince myself. Yay! I’ve got into Baker. Of course, I felt happy. But I also felt empty. It was what I wanted, but I would have rather gone to high school with my friends.

  Actually, I’d rather just have had friends.

  Something occurred to me on the 25th day after the Big Fight (or was it 26th? I kind of lost count after the second week). It hit me like a sock in the face. This was the first time in my life I didn’t have a single friend. I mean, obviously, there would have been a few days at preschool where my best friend was sick and some of the other ‘second best’ choices of playmates were away. But I’d always had at least one person with me ever since kindy. And ever since Year Two, I’d had Buzz and Jessie.

  I missed them.

  I missed Jessie’s smile and her soft heart and her big blue eyes and the way she always tried to help make other people feel better. I felt bad for her, being bossed around by Stella and made to do things she probably didn’t want to do. I knew Buzz wouldn’t have that trouble, but I missed the way she always said what she thought and tried to boss me around. And I missed the three of us together—the ‘us’. I missed the way people said our names all in one breath together. ‘AbbyBuzzJessie’. I missed the way we made each other feel strong and funny and smart.

  I missed the Smart Girls. And the missing felt like an actual hole in my heart.

  At night I cried sometimes—into my pillow, quietly, so Mum and Dad wouldn’t hear me. I hadn’t actually told them what had been going on. Instead, I’d just been brushing over their questions about school and making up reasons to explain why I wasn’t hanging out with the girls on weekends.

  ‘They’re busy,’ I said, and, ‘Jessie’s grandma’s still sick and they’re going up to visit her in hospital.’

  Why didn’t I tell them? I guess I just didn’t want to deal with whatever it was I thought they might do about it. I had this scary thought that maybe they’d report it as bullying to the school and then I’d be super-embarrassed.

  Or, even worse, they might go and talk to Buzz and Jessie’s parents—or Stella’s dad. Honestly? There was nothing they could actually do to solve the problem. Stella wasn’t going anywhere, and until she did, it didn’t seem like anything could ever go back to normal.

  Or, they’d do nothing except say unhelpful things to me. I could hear Mum in my head: It’s probably not as bad as you think, sweetheart. I’m sure they still like you. Anyway, all you have to do is be yourself.

  Ha. Being myself didn’t seem to be working for me. At least, not with someone around who seemed to hate everything about me.

  It was hard to find stuff to do at recess and lunch on my own. I wandered around to different spots, but I didn’t feel like playing with little kids, and everywhere I went seemed to give me a view of Stella giggling with my friends and then stopping to shoot me dirty looks. I went to the bathroom a lot, but there’s only so many times you can use the loo in half an hour. Even the library got boring after six straight days of crashing my way through three different book series.

  I was in the library for the fifth time in a week when I realised that something was going to have to change.

  And I was going to have to change it.

  I put my book down and headed out. The girls weren’t at the Year Six seats. They weren’t playing handball on the concrete. I checked out the basketball court and then walked around to the vegetable garden beds and the chook shed (Jessie loved the chickens), but they weren’t there, either. I twisted my head around, trying to catch a glimpse of them, but then I realised. There was only one more place they could b
e.

  Up behind the Big Tree.

  The Smart Girls’ Big Tree.

  The thought was like a knife digging into my stomach.

  I took a step towards the tree and stopped. I turned around and went back. Then I turned around again.

  ‘You’ll get dizzy,’ came a voice. I looked over. It was Sam, peering through the fence around the basketball court.

  ‘I’m just ...’ I began, and I threw my hands in the air, trying to think of something that would give me a reason to be turning circles on the path. Nothing came to mind and I dropped my hands. ‘I’m just here,’ I said, sounding lame.

  ‘The girls are up there, you know,’ he said, flicking his head to the side. ‘If you’re looking for them.’

  ‘Why aren’t you there too?’ The question rushed out of my mouth and hung between us, like an accusation.

  He dropped his head and shrugged. ‘I’m playing basketball.’

  ‘Did you and Stella, you know, break up?’ Again, my words sounded harsh.

  ‘We were never going out.’ His face was hard.

  ‘So, what? You just kiss girls you aren’t going out with?’ I asked, sarcastic now. ‘That’s nice, Sam. Real nice.’

  ‘It wasn’t like that,’ he said and his head dropped again.

  ‘Well what was it like?’ I hissed. ‘What was it like to just randomly kiss the meanest girl in the school? Especially knowing that she was the one person I couldn’t stand. I thought we were friends. You kind of betrayed me, you know.’ I felt the now too-familiar sensations of eyes-filling-with-tears and lump-in-throat. The water in my eyes made Sam go blurry so I wiped them with the back of my hand.

  ‘Are you crying?’ Sam asked.

  ‘No!’ I said, fierce and red-faced. The blush had come up at the same time as the tears. I let out a breath. ‘It’s just been a bit hard.’ I took a breath. ‘Anyway, did you say the girls are up there? At the tree?’