by Van Badham
‘Strippers?’ said Garth, with an eyebrow raised.
‘Burlesque dancers, strippers, whatever,’ I said.
There was silence.
‘Sounds awesome,’ said Ryan.
‘Yeah,’ said Belinda. ‘Unbelievably awesome.’
‘I’d rather be at yours,’ I said.
‘I bet you would,’ said Belinda.
I shrugged again and, hiding a long breath, raised my face to the gentle sunshine.
‘Strippers!’ said Garth.
‘Do you need to take a date?’ asked Ryan, winking and pointing at himself. Nikki poked him in the stomach.
‘Lauren’s my date,’ I said. ‘We do feel pretty weird at these things, you know, being in high school and not actually looking like models – and getting paraded to fashion people by Lauren’s sister all night going, “They’re sixteen! They’re so cute!” But, you know,’ and I couldn’t help but look at Fran, ‘best friend before everything.’
‘You’ll have to put the photos on Facebook,’ said Belinda.
‘If you like,’ I said, standing. ‘But right now I’m going to the canteen.’
I scooped up my bag, flung it over my shoulder, and walked away.
I carefully unfolded my left hand from around my pendant. As I walked, my path diverted across the Quadrangle; I wasn’t going to the canteen. I was going back to the toilet block to pour water on my hand.
I bit my lip and looked down. The palm of my left hand was scorched in the shape of my pendant, and it was already beginning to blister.
43
Running my hand under water in the toilet block, I realised that the burn was bad enough to require treatment. I considered wandering out of the school to Tea’sers, knowing Mum would have aloe vera and lavender oil in her handy health-care arsenal, but I decided to go to the school nurse instead.
She was located in a clinic next to the front office. It was one of the few places that had been pointed out to me on my first day.
‘How did you do this?’ she exclaimed.
‘It’s a metal burn,’ I said.
She sprayed it with something, applied a bandage and I set off for double Art, but the bell rang before I got there.
44
As I walked in to the Art room, one of the boys wolf-whistled. Curly-haired Rob from our group, I noticed, was in this class – and he’d clearly briefed the gaggle of skinny rejects he sat with about what had been said at lunchtime. I fixed a mysterious smile to my face and took my seat.
‘Settle down,’ Ms Jackson to the boys.
‘Strip-pah!’ one of them called.
‘Be quiet!’ Ms Jackson barked. She walked over to my table and handed me a piece of art paper. ‘What are they on about?’ she asked me.
‘They’re just stupid,’ I said, low-voiced, not wishing to provoke them.
‘You’re right there,’ said Ms Jackson. ‘Why are you late?’
‘Hurt my hand,’ I said, showing her the bandage.
‘Doing what?’
‘My pendant overheated in the sun.’
‘Sophie, that doesn’t happen.’
I picked up a pencil. The boys tittered. Ms Jackson slapped a ruler hard against their table, and everyone suddenly went quiet.
We started drawing. The still life on Ms Jackson’s desk today consisted of drums, a guitar, a silk scarf and a bunch of bananas.
On the other side of the room, I noticed Ashley Ventwood fire a stare at me. I fired one back. As I did, the shoelace necklace tumbled from her neck and I saw her grab it as it fell. I smiled, watching the black pieces crumble in her hands. When she looked up at me next, she looked furtive. She looked scared.
45
Some idiot junior boys chanted ‘Strip-pah!’ to me in unison as I walked past them towards Michelle, who I saw was waiting for me by the school gate.
‘Shut up!’ she screamed as they jostled past her. When I reached her, she said, ‘I saw your mum and told her you’re coming with me.’
‘She was cool with that?’
‘Yeah, why wouldn’t she be?’
As I thought nostalgically of Gina Hershott, the junior boys, metres away, screamed, ‘Strip-pah!’ over their shoulders.
Michelle looked up. ‘Ice-cream weather,’ she said to me, smiling. ‘Come on.’
We ambled down towards Yarrindi Road. Kids were everywhere. Up the street I could see crowds of green and black uniforms clustered on the footpath. I guessed we wouldn’t be the only people in the ice-creamery. It wouldn’t be like that first time, with Brody Meine. That seemed so long ago already.
‘Have the girls told you I like a guy?’ Michelle asked as we walked.
‘Am I going to get someone in trouble if I tell you they have?’
‘Nuh, it’s all right. Everyone knows. All of our group, I mean.’
I couldn’t tell her they’d told me before I’d even met her. ‘Dan Rattan?’
Michelle nodded. ‘Have they told you the full story?’
I had an awful feeling I probably knew more of the story than she did, but I shook my head.
‘Dan’s in Year 12. He and I used to go out. For a long time, actually.’ She had a dreamy expression on her face and she walked slowly. ‘He’s … really amazing. Really good surfer, really kind, loves animals … Did you know that Kylie and I surf?’
‘No,’ I said.
‘We should take you some time. It’s brilliant. It’s the best thing – definitely the best thing about living in a place like this. Anyway, Dan and I got together when I was in Year 8 and he was in Year 9. I still had an accent then and I was really shy. We had this stupid social for the junior school and he was the first person to ever ask me to dance. We used to have make-out sessions on the back steps of my house. Isn’t that cute?’
‘That’s adorable,’ I said.
‘And one thing led to another and it got more serious and I freaked out. I wasn’t ready so I had to let him go.’
‘When was this?’
‘Last summer,’ she said. ‘He was going to a surf camp up in Queensland and I thought he’d probably meet a girl who wouldn’t freak out and I didn’t want to get in his way.’
‘What’s changed?’
‘Me, I think,’ said Michelle. ‘Have you ever had … that kind of relationship with a guy?’
‘Have the other girls?’ I dodged.
‘Kylie and Steve are very serious about one another,’ said Michelle. ‘They’re perfectly matched. Nikki and Ryan are so funny together it kind of works. Belinda and Garth …’ Her voice trailed. ‘We can talk about Belinda, later,’ she said. ‘Fran’s like me. She’s exactly like me – it happened with her and Rob. Dan and I split up and the two of them were split within a week. I’ve been wondering, you know, if she now feels about Rob the way I feel about Dan. I haven’t said anything, though.’
We walked in silence. My heart hurt. It was a brief respite from this agonising conversation to notice we were walking past Tea’sers. Through the window I could see it was probably the only place in town with more tea canisters than our own kitchen. A sign on the glass door read Clairvoyant, by appointment. I always found those signs funny. If they were clairvoyant, the old joke went, they’d already know you were coming. My smile dropped when I realised that the Tea’sers clairvoyant was probably my mum.
‘What do you think I should do?’ Michelle asked.
‘What have you been doing already?’
‘We’re calling. We’re texting. Emailing. I think he’s working his way up to asking me out. He told me he’s coming to Belinda’s party.’
‘Is he seeing someone else?’
‘It’s not very serious. Tracy’s great but she’s only in Year 10. She surfs too. She’s probably even better than he is. It’s hard to tell how together they are. They’ve always been really good friends.’
‘Anyone else?’ I hinted.
Michelle shook her head and gave a dreamy smile. ‘I thought that when we broke up he’d find someone who wo
uld … who was ready for what he wanted. From the conversations we’ve been having, I think when we broke up he realised he wasn’t ready either. And now … now I think we both are.’
‘I can’t wait to meet him,’ I said. I didn’t add that it was because I wanted to scratch him in the face.
‘I wish you were coming to Belinda’s,’ said Michelle. ‘Are you sure you have to go to this magazine thing?’
She’d told me everything – and a week ago I would have spilled the truth to her as well, but three days in the cool group had taught me there was no such thing as a secret. Anything that went to Michelle went to Fran, from Fran to Belinda, Belinda to Nikki, and Nikki to the rest of the planet. I knew that to keep the lie afloat, it had to stay watertight.
‘It’s not really about the launch,’ I said. We were almost at the ice-creamery. ‘It’s about Lauren. She misses me. Giving up a party at Belinda’s is not a huge sacrifice to show Lauren I still want to spend time with her, even if I’m living down here.’
‘Don’t be too harsh on Belinda,’ said Michelle as we walked into the ice-creamery, ‘she’s a really insecure person. I feel sorry for her.’
Kids were tumbling out of the ice-creamery but the crowd seemed to have thinned since we started our walk up the street. I’d hardly made up my mind what to order before we came to the head of the queue.
‘I’ll have a – um – uh—’ I said to the guy in the black T-shirt behind the counter, as I stared blankly at the ice-cream tubs behind the glass.
‘Would you like me to make a suggestion?’ asked Brody Meine, holding a wet scoop in his hand.
46
Michelle and I walked back up the street and towards home while we ate. Her ice-cream was choc chip and vanilla. Mine was two scoops of cookies and cream. It was really good.
‘That was a surprise,’ I said when I was convinced we were a safe distance from the ice-creamery.
‘Didn’t you know he worked there?’ she asked me, licking her ice-cream with a grin. ‘Don’t believe the girls when they talk about him. Belinda makes out like he’s a gargoyle. He may be a psycho but there isn’t a girl in the whole school who doesn’t think he’s completely gorgeous – Belinda included, whatever she says. The ice-creamery’s the most successful shop in town.’
I blushed, and Michelle saw it. She smiled.
‘The first day you came to sit with us and you asked if he was on with Ms Dwight? It was funny because I bet she wishes she were ten years younger; she’d be all over it, for sure. She’s the form patron and she’s always finding excuses to run after him.’ She turned to me. ‘I know you like him, but I won’t say anything. Say a word about Brody at Yarrindi High and everyone will hear it. You’re perfectly normal, you just haven’t learned to block him out like we have,’ she said. ‘I won’t even tell Fran,’ she added, in a whisper.
I bit into my ice-cream. I felt embarrassed that I’d exposed myself so easily. As we climbed Frankston Avenue, I couldn’t control the blushing or the smile on my face.
‘Is that why you wanted us to get ice-cream?’ I asked.
‘Maybe …’ said Michelle.
I had a clear image of him in the ice-creamery, holding aloft his scoop. Then I thought about the book in the library. Surely murderers wouldn’t sell ice-cream, my mind argued, and Brody sells ice-cream; therefore Brody cannot be a murderer.
‘He’s totally hot, isn’t he?’ I confessed.
‘He’s totally, totally hot,’ Michelle concurred, kicking me playfully in the leg.
47
Michelle peeled off into Cawlish Street, and I continued up the hill. My calves hurt, but I felt better for some exercise. While the weather stayed good, I resolved to walk home as much as possible. I tried to believe I would also stay out of the ice-creamery.
When I reached our house, there were no lights on. I found my house key in my bag and let myself in. The windows and doors were all shut, which was odd because I thought I’d seen Mum’s car parked in the street.
I went back outside – there was Mum’s Getz. I checked the garden over the gate, but when I didn’t see her in there, I presumed she must have gone for a walk. I let myself back into the house, went into my room and turned on my computer.
Lauren, fortunately, was online.
That party your sister’s throwing – that’s this Saturday, right? I wrote. The burlesque stripper party? The Mum’s-asked-the-priest-to-pray-about-you party?
Yeah, that one.
Nope – it’s Saturday-week.
Damn. Damn. DAMN. Yeah, that’s the one. Think we can crash it?
Why do you want to go to a party with my insane sister and a bunch of ‘artistic’ dancers?! Lauren wrote.
I used it as an excuse not to go somewhere THIS weekend. And I typed out a long, detailed account of my day. The bandage on my hand made it slower to type and it was frustrating. It might be useful to crash it next week anyway, I wrote, for evidence.
The screen was blank for a few seconds.
Dude, I’ve got this stupid camp at Parliament House all next week. Mum was talking about joining me when it finishes and spending that weekend checking out the uni accommodation in Canberra. Can’t you fake the photos? Surely you must know LOTS of strippers.
I don’t want to get caught out.
Soph, just stay home for the whole weekend. Stock up on ice-cream (!) and don’t leave the house. It’s not like anyone’s going to know. Points to you for handling it the way you did, even if you did lie to absolutely everyone. You did what you had to do. You are dealing with a – complete – bitch.
I heard a noise and guessed that Dad must be home. I signed off with Lauren and headed out to the lounge room. Dad was standing up by the dining table. He hadn’t turned on a single lamp and the inside of the house was lit only by the light that came in through the sliding glass doors. He spoke softly.
‘You been in to see you mother?’
‘I thought she was out,’ I said.
‘She’s in our room – she’s not well,’ he said. ‘I thought she might have phoned you. She’s had a … funny turn.’
I realised he looked incredibly tired. It was not like him to fail to notice something like a bandage on my hand. I thought better than to raise it; instead, I walked over and he put his arm around my shoulders, slumping his head against mine.
‘I’m going to see how she’s doing,’ he said, after a minute. ‘Do your old dad a favour and rustle up some food? Your mother’s stuffed the freezer full of soup. Defrost some of that.’
He left. Curious, and concerned, I walked over to the fridge and opened the freezer. Sure enough, it was packed with dated Tupperware containers containing frozen soup. She’d made it today. Enough for months.
48
Mum was back on her feet the next morning but she was very agitated and she looked a bit rough. She had her house kaftan on when I came out to the kitchen to scavenge for breakfast. She hadn’t resurfaced last night, even after Dad had gone in to check on her. She hadn’t even eaten.
‘Feeling any better?’ I asked when I saw her.
‘I will soon,’ she said, holding aloft the mug in her hand. ‘Chamomile for soothing.’ Her skin was waxy and her hair was stiff. There were bags under her eyes.
‘Maybe you should go to a doctor,’ I said.
She sipped her tea; her eyes, as always, were arrows at the suggestion.
‘Where’s Dad?’ I said.
‘Went to work early.’ She chugged the remnants of her tea and reset the kettle. ‘You want some?’
‘Can I do anything?’
Mum shook her head. ‘Just grip that turquoise tight today. This family needs that hippie power.’
‘Why today?’ I asked, my voice suddenly trembling. Mum was clearly awash with dread and it was contagious. ‘If there’s something going on, you’d tell me, right?’
‘Would you tell me?’ she said with a flat stare. I responded too slowly, because she added, ‘What did you do to your hand?’
‘Just a little burn,’ I said. ‘My pendant got hot in the sun, and—’
The small amount of colour she had faded from her cheeks. She looked as if she wanted to say something, but couldn’t. ‘Who dressed this?’ she demanded.
‘The nurse at school and it’s perfectly fine – it looks a lot worse than it is because I have been super-cautious treating it.’
‘You’re taking care of yourself, aren’t you? At the school?’ She let go of my fingers.
‘At the moment I’m more worried about you.’
Mum pulled out a canister from her tea shelf and started mixing up leaves for another brew. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said.
I stood there, waiting for something – anything – that might explain her behaviour.
‘Don’t miss your bus,’ she said, and turned back to the kettle.
‘Mum!’ I said.
‘Everything will be all right if you just get to school,’ she said.
Not knowing what else to do, I left.
49
Mum’s state this morning had confused me. There was something wrong, something she wasn’t telling me, and that made it impossible for me to concentrate in class. English passed uneventfully but for the welcome absence of Ashley Ventwood. In Ancient History, and Art after that, I nodded, smiled and did what I was told, and took nothing in.
Recess was a blur of snacks on the grass, Belinda flirting and me puzzling over an SMS from Mum. It turned out she had gone to work, and everything would be all right soon. Soon?
More than once I held my pendant, just for a sense of security. I wondered if the people around me noticed I was doing it. As the bell rang and I picked my bag up for Maths, something was pressed into my uninjured hand.
The presser was Kylie. ‘What’s this?’ I said. Looking down, I saw a chocolate bar.
‘Michelle told me you were worried about your mum,’ she said. ‘I’m sure she’ll be all right. If she’s not and you need something …’