by Van Badham
By Maths I was in a calm zone and didn’t worry that neither Fran nor Kylie was in a talkative mood. I got on with my work, ignored Joel Morland’s attempts to gain my attention and waited patiently for recess, which was also subdued. Keeping silent while the group chatted, I observed that there was something wrong with Kylie. When Steve, pinching her hand, said, ‘What’s up?’ she waved him away.
‘I’ll tell you later,’ she said. I knew she saw me looking at her, but she didn’t meet my gaze.
40
My timetable for the day was annoying; after recess, I realised, I had another double free period.
Having finished off my Ancient History questionnaire in my previous free period, I felt at a loss for something to do. Of course, I had notes to go over, and things I should probably revise, but the prospect bored me. The thoughts about Brody I’d suppressed in Maths returned. I decided on the desperate strategy of finding the library and seeing if the book he’d been reading was on a returns shelf or something. It was a lame idea, but I didn’t have anything better to do.
I wasn’t exactly sure where the library was, but I could remember the location of the front office, so I took myself there to ask directions. The kindly middle-aged woman at the counter printed me a map of the school, and filled in arrows to the library with a pink highlighter pen. It put a smile on my face; it was sweet of her.
The library turned out to be a large room with exposed roof beams – I supposed this was to aerate its collection of books. There were rows of bookshelves, a reading corner with uncomfortably bright beanbags, a quiet study area behind a collapsible partition, and some cubicles with computers in them. I half-considered jumping on the internet and writing to Lauren, but I stuck with my original plan and asked the librarian if there was a returns shelf.
Brody had been reading a paperback book with a blue cover and, frustratingly, there were three of these stacked with the rest of the returns. With a sigh, I plucked all three from the shelf and sat down at a reading table to go through them.
The first book in the selection was a very battered paperback novel called The Reef, which purported to be ‘a thrilling tale’ about shark hunting. I flipped to a random page and read a few paragraphs in which a girl in a scuba-suit stripped in front of a shark-hunter before I put the book aside.
The second book was more interesting. Entitled Symbology, it was a dictionary, of sorts, pertaining to ‘symbols, signs and ideograms’. I entertained myself with some descriptions of ‘sigils’ and ‘Germanic bind runes’ before looking up corporate logos and universal road signs. I tried to guess why Brody might be reading such a book. A large section was devoted to astrology – I knew a lot of these symbols: my mother’s gardens were tended to astrological calendars and a lot of archers, water-bearers and their hippie friends appeared on stakes in the garden and storage jars around the house. At a stretch, I wondered if Brody was considering a tattoo.
Tattoo. I recalled clearly the circle with the triangle in it tattooed in brown on Ashley Ventwood’s hand, and I wondered if I could find it in the book. It was impossible to navigate the index, given I didn’t know what the symbol meant, but I made a random search of circle symbols and, amazingly, I found it.
I knew the moment my eyes hit it that it was the correct one. Within the circle there was a triangle missing its bottom third, with a dot in the middle. Symbology told me it was called ‘the Eye of Providence’, an ancient symbol that stood for the ‘All-Seeing Eye’. It was considered by astronomers to represent the recently discovered dwarf planet Eris, and was also the symbol on the American one dollar bill.
This last fact made me laugh out loud in the middle of the library. I was delighted to imagine that Her Serious Gothness didn’t know when she got her tattoo that she was permanently marking her skin with the value of a hundred cents. Giggling, I put the book aside. The demon-naming girl who’d frightened me senseless was nothing more than an overimaginative fashion victim who suffered from nosebleeds.
Then the third book was in my hand and my smile vanished.
What Makes Children Kill? was an anthology of sensational articles analysing the crimes of famous child murderers. In a slick-paged photo section there was a picture of a British girl who’d killed two boys when she was only ten. There was another picture on the opposite page of a twelve-year-old Polish boy who’d poisoned his entire family.
When I turned to the next page, I read the caption before I looked at the picture. The glimpse of the photo was so ghastly I slammed the book shut and piled the other books on top of it.
The caption indicated that the child in the photo had stabbed a woman when he was only nine. He’d inflicted forty-nine stab wounds on the woman’s body. He’d gone to jail.
He was from Sydney. He looked a lot like Brody Meine.
41
I was in a sweat. I felt hot and panicky and I knew I had to get out of the library. I should have taken the books back to the returns shelf but I left them behind me on the reading desk. I cantered out of the library, along the corridors, down the stairs. My throat ached for fresh water.
Dry, thirsty, panicking, I marched myself to the girls’ toilet. The taps there weren’t my favourite, but at least they worked.
At the sinks, I swallowed water in gulps that hurt my throat, and splashed water all over my face. I needed to calm down. I told myself I hadn’t seen the photograph properly. I hadn’t looked at it for more than a second and I knew I could be wrong.
But I also knew I could be right.
I breathed out, letting the tap run over my fingers before I turned it off. Three days I’d been here – three days and already this place had screwed me in the head. I didn’t want to wait two more days until the weekend. I wanted to fake an illness so serious that not only would the school nurse send me home, but she’d recommend hospitalisation for the rest of the term.
Leaning over the sink, breaths heavy, I noticed my pendant dangling out from under my school shirt. It glimmered silver and blue and I looked at it to remind myself of the cooling effect it had had on my skin last night. Closing my eyes, I stood back up slowly. I breathed out. He’s just a guy, I told myself. There are plenty more. There are plenty, plenty more.
The toilet block was still and the only sounds I could hear were my own. My heart rate slowed, and the sweat on my forehead dried. I decided that, while I was here, I might as well go to the toilet. I took the darkest cubicle at the end of the row and dumped my bag on the shelf behind the cistern.
I hadn’t even locked the door when I heard footsteps approaching the toilet block. Instinctively, I launched myself onto the shelf next to my bag. It would be too coincidental to encounter Fran and Belinda a second time, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I hoped that the unlocked door would be enough to convince anyone that there was no one in the cubicle. I hoped even more that no one would choose this cubicle for themselves.
The footsteps turned into the toilet block and I heard a cubicle door swing. Someone used the toilet; there was a crinkle of toilet paper and a flush. The cubicle door swung again, the steps walked to the sink. The tap went on, water splashed, the tap went off.
I waited for the steps to leave, but they didn’t. Whoever was at the sink coughed. Something was removed from a bag and I heard the instantly recognisable clicking of a thumb pressing keys on a mobile phone. Then there came the sound of a second pair of footsteps. Then the unbelievable.
‘Fran?’ called Belinda, walking into the block.
‘I was just texting you,’ said Fran. ‘You’re two minutes late.’
‘Urgh – we’ve got a stupid casual teacher today and she didn’t want to pass me out. How’s Geography?’
‘Really boring,’ said Fran. ‘I’m so not up for weather trends in savannah lands right now, I’m strung right out.’
I could barely hear them for my incredulousness at the situation … until I happened to glance at my watch. On Monday they’d showed up fifteen minutes before the bell. It was
twelve minutes before the bell now, and Belinda had been late. My head reeled at the discovery that I was an uninvited guest at a regular meeting.
‘Did you check the block?’ asked Belinda.
‘Yeah, it’s totally fine, they’re all open,’ replied Fran.
‘So tell me about last night!’
‘It went a bit wrong when Michelle called, but apart from that—’
‘Did he pick you up?’
‘I went there,’ said Fran. ‘He came out – I didn’t have to meet his parents or anything.’
‘Where’d you go?’
‘White Beach,’ said Fran with a note of triumph.
‘That’s ages away!’
‘And totally sec-lu-ded. It was his idea.’
‘Did you talk?’
‘Not really,’ sang Fran.
There was silence, then Belinda burst out laughing.
‘He’s so hot, hey,’ said Fran. ‘Dan Rattan is totally the hottest guy ever.’
‘What’s he doing with Tracy Taylor?’
‘Dumping her. At your party.’
Belinda squealed.
‘He’s totally over her,’ Fran squealed. ‘He reckons he’s tried to tell her loads of times and she won’t listen – texts him a hundred times a day. He doesn’t want to be really public with a break-up but he’s got no choice.’
I thought of beautiful, gentle, friendly Michelle and decided I hated Dan Rattan with every bad thought I’d ever had.
‘Did Michelle call him?’ asked Belinda.
‘She called me,’ Fran said with a breathy groan. ‘It was, like, “Hi – Michelle! No – I’m at – home!” He thought it was hilarious. It got him really excited, actually.’
This was sickening.
‘I kept her talking for ages,’ bragged Fran. ‘He was loving it.’
‘What’d she call about?’
‘Sophie.’
Belinda made the noise of a choked scream. ‘I am so sick of her! Why is Sophie here? Why can’t she go back to Westie La La where she came from?’
My face was burning.
‘Michelle reckons yesterday was just a misunderstanding—’
‘Garth said she was all over him like a dog. She’s a total desperado. She shouldn’t be sitting with us. She’s not one of us. How dare she flirt with my boyfriend in front of everyone I know?’ Belinda’s voice dripped poison. ‘I want her out.’
‘Kylie really doesn’t think you should do what you’re doing …’
‘It’s not up to Kylie, is it? It’s my party. You were the one who told me what happened yesterday. Garth didn’t want to say anything.’
‘Blin, Garth was going along with it,’ Fran said.
‘He was seeing how far she would go!’
My face was burning so hot, sitting in that cubicle was like sitting in a microwave. I wanted to run out of the cubicle, the toilet block, the school and find Lauren sitting in a car, engine ready to drive me back to Baulkham Hills. My entire body ached to run away.
‘You can totally tell,’ hissed Belinda, ‘that Sophie sleeps around. If I’m going to be forced to sit with her, she needs to understand her behaviour’s unacceptable. This is the perfect opportunity.’
I wasn’t in a microwave oven. I was in a nightmare. I hoped the toilet would swallow me and I’d wake up.
‘Just talk to Kylie,’ drawled Fran. It was a limp plea.
‘You of anyone,’ spat Belinda, ‘should respect my opinion on things. I mean, I’m the one you’ve trusted to talk to about Dan. There must be a reason it’s me and not someone else who knows you’ve been driving up to White Beach to make out with the only guy Miss Super-Perfect Michelle has ever loved.’
The toilet block was silent, but even in the dark I could hear that Fran had got the message.
‘I’ve got to get back to class before the bell,’ Fran said, and they both walked out.
42
Mrs Fendy sent Michelle on an errand, so I spent all of English sitting alone and fuming. I hated Belinda. I hated Fran. I hated Garth and Matt, and I despised Dan Rattan even though I’d never met him. I hated Yarrindi, and its high school, and especially the back of the Technology labs. Even through the classroom windows the sun was blinding, and the air was dry and hot. If right at that moment I’d known how to ignite matter through sheer force of will, I would have done it and burned down the whole school.
When lunch began, and I marched through the sunlight towards the Technology labs, the pendant’s metal started to burn against my chest – I was sure it would scorch a red mark. What Makes Children Kill? bounced around my head and I answered it: Snakes. Two-faced snakes. Two-faced snakes like Belinda Maitland.
Only a few metres away from the Technology labs, and closing, I decided to calm down. I clung at my burning pendant and slowed my pace. The silver was painfully hot in my hand but I didn’t let go. I summoned the wind to cool my face. I summoned the air to slow my steps. By the time I turned the corner and saw the group, there was a gentle smile on my lips and my eyes were dead cold.
Michelle, the escapee from English, was already here. Her legs were outstretched on the grass in front of her. She was eating an orange.
‘What on earth did I miss in English? You okay?’ she asked, taking a bite.
I let go of my pendant and let it bounce against my chest. ‘I’m fine,’ I said. The sky was bright and the grass looked vivid green. Even the soccer field had flourished after the storm.
Michelle put her hand on my shoulder. ‘You want to tell me later?’ she asked quietly.
I didn’t. I didn’t want her to know. I wanted her to decide for herself that Dan Rattan was garbage and she should leave him and Fran – and Belinda and Garth – to go live in Garbage Land without her.
‘Family stuff,’ I lied.
Michelle gave my shoulder a supportive squeeze and dropped her arm.
I looked up. There was Belinda, all lightness and smiles, turning her head to talk to Garth, then Matt, then Garth again. She was talking about where they should rig the lights at her party, whether they should flash, whether they should all be the same colour. She was speaking in a high-pitched voice she never used when she was speaking to girls. I looked away from her, but Garth caught my eye.
He winked at me.
My gut cramped. My fingernails sunk into the earth at my sides. With all my strength, I donned an innocent, uncomfortable smile and looked away.
‘It’s going to be an awesome party,’ broadcast Nikki. She was eating a tub of chocolate pudding with a spoon, even though Ryan’s head was nestled in her lap.
‘Nikki’s short-listed fifty different dresses,’ Ryan said.
‘Shut up!’ she said, hitting him with her spoon. Nikki swung her head to Michelle. ‘What are you wearing?’
‘The black one with thin straps, or the black one with thick straps,’ Ryan conjectured. ‘The black one with thick and thin straps …’
‘Be quiet!’ Nikki barked with a smile as large as her face, and hit him harder with her spoon.
‘Ow!’ he cried, his smile as big as hers. She leaned down and kissed his forehead. He grinned.
Nikki’s attention snapped back to the party. ‘How awesome is it that the whole school’s going to be there?’ she cried.
‘It’s pretty trusting of your Mum, Blin,’ said Fran.
‘Yeah, just don’t tell her anything about it, okay?’ said Belinda with a snort.
‘You’re really not telling her?’ said Michelle.
‘It’s not like I didn’t tell her I’m having a party,’ said Belinda. ‘It’s just that I may have underestimated the guest list. It’s not actually the whole school,’ she added, breaking into a smile. ‘Just years 10, 11 and 12. Invitation went out on Facebook today.’
This was the Facebook group I still wasn’t a member of, and didn’t have the courage to remind Michelle about.
‘Everyone knows about this party!’ squealed Nikki, before looking around the group. ‘The pressure’s on
, babes … We’d better look the best there.’
Michelle leaned towards me. ‘Bet I know what you’re wearing,’ she said, smiling.
‘Oh no,’ Belinda said, sitting up. ‘Didn’t Soph tell you?’
‘Tell me what?’
Here it comes, I thought.
‘Sophie can’t come!’ Belinda said.
Michelle turned to me. ‘Why not?’
Even Ryan was looking at me in confusion.
‘She has something else to go to,’ said Belinda with treacly disappointment, looking straight at me. ‘Don’t you, Soph?’ She turned to Michelle. ‘The only person in the whole senior school who won’t be coming along. That’s a real shame.’
Kylie was suddenly on her feet. ‘I’m going to the canteen,’ she said straight at Belinda, and marched off.
‘What’s going on?’ Ryan asked Steve.
‘I’ve got no idea,’ said Steve, launching to his feet and following after his girlfriend.
When Steve was gone, Ryan looked at me and asked, ‘Why can’t you come?’
‘Made her own plans,’ said Belinda, flattening her cruellest stare at my face, and smiling.
‘Really seriously?’ asked Michelle.
Gripping my pendant, I stared back at Belinda with a shining smile, but my throat pulsated with fear. Turning to Michelle I said, ‘Yeah, I only got the message this morning, I should have told you.’ I looked at Belinda and said, ‘I’m sorry I didn’t explain, Blin,’ and faced the group – I wondered if they could see panic sweating out of my face. ‘My best friend Lauren, up in Sydney, her sister edits a fashion magazine and they’re having this big launch for their new issue at a club on Saturday night. It’s got a burlesque theme with strippers and whatever, and it’s free drinks all night.’
‘Which magazine?’ asked Belinda.
‘UrbanHymnal,’ I said.
‘Which club?’ asked Belinda.
‘Snake Bar,’ I said, unblinking.
‘And they’re going to let you in without ID?’ asked Belinda.
‘It’s a private party, they can let in who they like,’ I said. Outwardly I shrugged. Internally I thought I was going to die of lying.