Burnt Snow

by Van Badham

‘And, for the sake of your father’s delicate heart, you’re going to keep it on all night,’ he said with a smile. ‘You don’t want to tempt the vampires.’

  ‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ I said, wondering, for the first time, if Brody would be wearing a costume tonight.

  Dad pulled in behind a queue of cars parked on the gravel by the side of the road. Ahead of the cars stood the surf club, its little car park full. The sun had truly set now and the sky was a ripe, dark purple. There were people hanging around the front of the clubhouse, and I could already hear the thumping bass of music in the distance. ‘Look,’ I said to Dad when I spotted them. ‘Adults.’ Two formidable-looking guys stood outside the clubhouse in black suits, checking names off a list.

  ‘I’ll wait till you’re inside before I go. Now, Soph, you know the rules.’

  ‘Better than that – I know the consequences,’ I said, leaning over and kissing him goodbye.

  ‘Sobering talk with Lauren?’ asked Dad.

  ‘Very.’ I checked my makeup in the passenger mirror one last time. I shook my pendant at Dad. ‘A promise is a promise,’ I said.

  ‘Text me in one hour,’ Dad said. ‘Have a good time.’

  I smiled and got out of the car. As I walked towards the clubhouse, my phone beeped.

  Lauren. Crazy bear! read the message.

  I said I loved you. Stalker. I wrote back, dropping the phone into my bag.

  As I approached the clubhouse, I heard a squeal. ‘Soph!’ Nikki cried. ‘Show us! Show us!’ She was leaning against the front of the building, talking to Kylie. Nikki was wearing a full-body leopard-print catsuit and a pair of cat ears on a headband. Her nose was painted black and whiskers were drawn on her face. Kylie wore a yellow cheerleader’s outfit and rustled a pair of purple and yellow pompoms above her head as I approached. Both had made their faces white, wore blood-red lipstick and had fake blood dribbling from the corner of their mouths.

  ‘What do you want me to show?’ I called back, lining up in front of the guys with the clipboards, ignoring something obscene said by Jared, who was in front of me in the queue.

  ‘Your outfit!’ Nikki cried, scurrying over with Kylie.

  ‘Sophie Morgan,’ I said to the twenty-something guy with the list. I watched Jared – dressed either as a zombie or a sloppier version of Jared – walk ahead of me and around to the side of the clubhouse.

  The second guy running security clipped a band around my wrist while the first crossed off my name. ‘That gets you your soft drinks and a hotdog,’ one of them said, pointing to the wristband.

  Nikki was at my elbow. ‘Take your jacket off! Let’s see!’

  ‘Don’t we walk into the clubhouse?’ I asked Kylie as Nikki bustled me around the side of the building to a set of steps that led down to the beach.

  ‘That’s where they’ve got the band,’ said Kylie. ‘You’ll see. There’s a bonfire – that’s where Belinda and the guys are.’

  ‘They’re boycotting the band ’cos Brody’s in it – I reckon you don’t pick a fight with a psycho unless you want your nose broken. They’re totally boring,’ Nikki said, yanking at the fabric of my jacket.

  ‘He’s playing already?’

  ‘Can’t you hear it?’ said Kylie.

  I could. The unseen band was playing a song I knew from the radio, but louder and faster.

  We started down the steps. I wondered how my heels would cope on the sand. In the distance, crowds of kids from our school moved about in clumps of mostly black costumes.

  ‘Come on!’ Nikki insisted.

  I stepped carefully from the last step of the stairs, feeling the base of a heel sink into the sand. Walking on the balls on my feet, I peeled off the jacket and the cardigan, gave the hemline of my dress an adjusting pull, and shook my hair out over my shoulders. When I saw the amazed look on Nikki’s face, I straightened my spine, smiled, and felt ten feet tall.

  ‘Whoa!’ said Kylie. ‘Babe-o-rama!’

  ‘Fran is so going to want that dress back!’ Nikki cried.

  ‘Soph, you look – wow, you have great legs,’ said Kylie.

  ‘Wait until Matt sees you!’ Nikki gushed.

  ‘Out of his one good eye,’ Kylie said, winking at me.

  A group of black-suited boys dressed as secret servicemen were passing us; one turned his head and stared at me. ‘Can I try to get you pregnant later?’ he said. One of the others slapped him on the side of his head and then gave me an apologetic look. Then he glanced at my legs.

  ‘Belinda’s going to be hell pissed off,’ said Nikki, staring at the boys, and at me, and shaking her head.

  My cheeks flushed with the attention. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you look better than she does!’ laughed Kylie, taking my arm. ‘Let’s watch the band for a bit.’

  And with my arm linked in Kylie Mundine’s I walked towards the best party of my life.

  63

  Gretchen had devoted parents – that was obvious. Turning the corner at the bottom of the steps, the first thing I noticed apart from throbbing, joyous music were the rows and rows of fairy lights and coloured lanterns festooning the back of the surf club.

  The clubhouse opened onto a large timber deck that spread between the building and the sand. A window where drinks were being served was open to the side of the main area of the clubhouse, which was exposed by what were either sliding or folding glass doors. More lights and lanterns hung around a fence that skirted the deck, and there were some tables and chairs out here too.

  Most of the deck, though, was a dance floor, crowded with the jumping, bouncing bodies of vampires, ghosts, zombies and the occasional werewolf. They were cheering to the sound of electric guitars, banging drums and men singing a Britney Spears song.

  Nikki was talking but I wasn’t listening. As if we were in a trance, Kylie and I climbed the stairs that led to the deck and walked through the jostling crowd.

  ‘You dress up nice,’ some idiot boy with strips of carpet glued to his face said in my ear as I glided past. Dancing bodies melted away as Kylie and I came close to the stage.

  The surf club doors were open because on a small stage behind them, a band was playing. A guy with spiky black hair was furiously bashing drums; a tall guy with long black hair was thumbing what I guessed was a bass guitar; and two guitarists were sharing a microphone stand, belting out the Britney Spears song with ironic, masculine gusto.

  One of the guitarists, in black jeans and a black T-shirt, was the long-haired, bespectacled flatmate known as Al.

  The other wore black jeans, grey snakeskin shoes and a white cotton grandpa shirt that was sticking to his chest with sweat. His hair was wet.

  It was Brody Meine. He had come to Gretchen’s party as a rock god.

  64

  Brody sang. He played his guitar. He hopped across the stage. He wasn’t taking the gig seriously. None of the band were. They played pop songs like they were metal anthems. They played Madonna’s ‘Like a Virgin’ and sang in deep, male voices. If they forgot the words of a song, they made them up. Brody and Al impersonated Jim Morrison from the Doors, and Mick Jagger from the Rolling Stones. Everyone on the deck jumped, shook, cheered and laughed.

  I had never been to a party like this before, but it was only after ten minutes of leaping around with Kylie that I realised I’d never danced in public before either. By the time the band played a Wolfmother song, everyone in the crowd was jumping and chanting as one.

  I was having such a good time throwing myself around, I almost didn’t notice when a girl in heavy makeup and a black dress grabbed my elbow.

  ‘Oh my God!’ shouted Michelle ‘You look amazing!’

  ‘You too!’ I shouted back as Brody and the band ripped up Stevie Wonder’s ‘Superstition’.

  ‘Wanna get some water?’ Michelle cried. I nodded. Hand gestures to Kylie and Nikki led all four of us to the open window where drinks were being served.

  Darkness had almost fallen and the clear night was already
awash with stars. The moon glowed on the water. As the girls and I queued for drinks, I couldn’t believe it when a glance at my phone revealed I’d been at the party for an hour. I quickly texted Dad: Having a great time! Love you!

  ‘How good is Brody!’ squealed Nikki.

  Kylie leaned towards my ear. ‘I know this is bad,’ she said, ‘but I am dirty proud that I’ve kissed him.’

  I tried to keep the smile on my face. Elbows and shoulders rubbed against us in the crowd.

  Michelle had overheard Kylie. ‘Was it good?’ she asked.

  ‘I can’t remember!’ cried Kylie. ‘Life is so unfair!’

  Out of the throng of people surged Gretchen Eighfield. Her face, chest and arms were painted white; she wore a long silver dress and her hair was woven into a silver crown on top of her head. Silver glitter was all over her eyes. ‘Sophie!’ she cried. ‘I’m so glad you came!’

  I took Gretchen’s hand and pulled her into the queue. ‘It’s the extremely hot-looking White Witch!’

  ‘And the Witch in the Incredibly Short Black Dress!’ said Gretchen, with a big smile. ‘Are you having fun?’

  I nodded. ‘Scott better love your outfit.’

  ‘He’s dressed as the Swamp Thing!’ she laughed. ‘He’s such a freak!’

  ‘You can say that again,’ said Nikki, near my shoulder.

  Someone else pulled at Gretchen’s hand and she was absorbed back into the crowd.

  At the counter, I flashed my wristband to a woman I presumed was Gretchen’s mum and asked for lemonade. An open can of drink was placed in my hand and I was surprised by how quickly I drank it. Kylie took my arm and signalled towards a far corner of the deck where the other girls waited for us. The band played. I felt a cool breeze dry the sweat in my hair.

  ‘Makeup check!’ cried Nikki as I approached. She handed me a mirror. Looking in it prompted me to fetch lipstick from my handbag. I was glad to discover my jacket and cardigan were still tied around the bag’s shoulder strap.

  I was staring in the mirror at my lips when I registered another person had joined our group. Looking up, I saw a cloud of tulle and netting with a sour face attached.

  ‘Hi, Belinda!’ I grinned. ‘You look nice.’

  ‘I’d look nicer if my boyfriend could be here,’ Belinda said. She was wearing a white tutu with a beaded bodice and a pair of wire and netting wings was attached to her back. She wore a glittering tiara, and her face bore the same white powder with red lips and blood dripping as the other three girls.

  ‘Where are the boys?’ asked Michelle. ‘I think the band are winding up soon and they have to have at least one dance.’

  ‘They’re still by the fire,’ Belinda said. ‘They’re not endorsing psycho-boy just because he’s got a guitar.’

  ‘They’ve made their point,’ said Kylie, adding, with a frown, ‘If Steve doesn’t get up here for the last dance, maybe we should be over.’

  ‘You don’t mean that,’ I said and, turning back to Belinda, ‘I love the wings.’

  ‘You’ve got black stuff smeared all over your chest,’ Belinda said.

  I looked down. Sweat had caused the word witch to literally melt from my skin. All that remained were illegible grey streaks.

  ‘Have a tissue,’ Nikki said, offering one from her handbag.

  ‘Thanks, Belinda,’ I said, wiping my skin clean. I took the opportunity to give my pendant a quick squeeze.

  Be careful, it said.

  I smiled. As I checked that the tissue had cleared all the marks, I noticed a grey piece of ash in its folds. I looked over the back of the crowd to where the large bonfire was burning by the water. There were the guys from our group in a dark huddle, all wearing black wigs.

  ‘What are they dressed as?’ I asked the girls.

  ‘They all came as Ashley Ventwood,’ Nikki said. ‘How funny is that? Why waste a good idea, even if it was Fran’s.’

  ‘Has Fran been seen?’ I asked.

  Michelle nodded. ‘By the side of the building, kissing Joel for the past hour.’

  ‘She’s his little princess, all right,’ Nikki said, pretending to be sick.

  The song ended, and in the sudden silence, everyone on the deck looked towards the stage and the band.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ said Al, gripping the microphone, ‘the time has come for all good bands to go to their next gig. We’re the Gretchen Eighfield Birthday Band, with me, Al Wexford, on rhythm guitar, Shane Eighfield on drums, Lou Polonis on bass and some random guy we met in a car park on lead guitar.’

  The crowd cheered.

  ‘Before we let you dance the night away to the fat tracks of guest DJ, Gretchen’s iPod, it’s that time of the evening where you grab a partner and use the music as an excuse to get close … and steamy.’

  I saw both Nikki and Kylie reach for their mobile phones and start talking into them. Glancing over the edge of the deck, I laughed to myself as I watched Steve and Ryan answer phones, stand up and start trudging towards their girlfriends.

  ‘Grab a boy, grab a girl, grab a hatstand or a wooden chair, because leading us out for the end of the evening is … Brody?’

  Brody leaned into the microphone. ‘I reckon we’re gonna rock some old school INXS.’

  Everyone cheered. Nikki and Kylie swooped to collect Steve and Ryan from the crowd.

  ‘I’ve got one thing to say to you, Yarrindi …’ Brody’s eyes seemed to be searching the crowd for something or someone. He put his hand up to his eyes to block out the lights pointed on the stage.

  And then he stopped looking at the crowd.

  He was just looking at me.

  ‘ “Need You Tonight”.’ His eyes dropped to his guitar. ‘If I can remember how to play it,’ he said, laughing at himself, blushing. He test-played a couple of notes and wiped his fringe out of his eyes. ‘Okay, we’re good,’ he said. ‘Man, this is so cheesy. Here goes …’

  The drummer started to play the rhythm of the opening bars.

  ‘I’m going to sit this one out,’ Belinda announced, leaning against the railing.

  ‘You wanna dance?’ Michelle asked me.

  Nodding, I took her hand and drew her into the crowd. We passed Steve and Kylie, Nikki and Ryan, Scott and Gretchen, Louise Parker and Greg Shoal and, horrifically, Fran and Joel as we pushed towards the stage. Couples I didn’t even know were couples had their arms wrapped around one another.

  I just wanted to be near him.

  Brody brought his mouth to the microphone and started to sing.

  Michelle and I clasped our hands together and danced. Our hips swayed as we twirled one another around. Michelle giggled. Everyone around us seemed to be snogging.

  Without looking at the stage, I knew, tonight, in this crowd of kissing people, under this clear sky and perfect moon, Brody Meine was singing every word to me.

  65

  The song finished. ‘Madam, you’re a lovely dancer!’ said Michelle, raising my hand in the air.

  ‘I learned it all from you,’ I said, giving her a curtsey.

  People in the crowd who’d managed to tear their lips away from their partners were crying, ‘More! More!’ but the guys from the band just thanked everyone, wished Gretchen a happy birthday and, as lights flickered on above their heads, started to pack up their equipment. After everyone clapped, and a few people wolf-whistled, someone plugged something in somewhere and recorded music started to play.

  Already the crowd on the dance floor began to scatter and disperse. It was properly night now. Like moths to the moon, people started wandering over to the big orange bonfire, in clumps and gangs.

  ‘Bonfire?’ suggested Michelle.

  I was about to say yes when I heard, ‘Sophie – Sophie, wait—’ over my shoulder. It was Brody.

  I took a couple of steps in his direction, aware that both Michelle and Al were watching. Brody was on the ground, packing his guitar into a guitar case and rolling up some kind of cord.

  ‘Man, you look exhausted,’
I said. His white shirt was plastered to his shoulders and chest. I tried not to stare.

  ‘I’ll be right,’ Brody said, catching a towel that Al threw him and rolling it around his neck. ‘You hanging round?’

  ‘I thought you were doing another gig,’ I said.

  ‘Nah, the guys are going out, but I thought I might stay. For a bit.’ Brody ripped his wet shirt from his head and slung it over his shoulder, padding his chest with the towel. Behind me, I heard the sound of a girl gasping. Brody ignored it. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’ve got to have a shower because I stink. And I think Gretchen’s dad is going to give the guys some beer or something out the back. Wanna meet back here in about fifteen, twenty minutes? You’re not going anywhere?’

  ‘If I do I’ll be back in fifteen minutes,’ I said, smiling.

  His green eyes shone. ‘Hey, I like what you’re wearing.’

  I almost said, ‘Hey, I like what you’re not wearing,’ but, hilariously, Belinda Maitland saved me by shuffling up to the stage and near punching me out of her way.

  The moment she appeared, Brody became intensely fixated on his guitar case.

  ‘Hi, Brody!’ she said in a girly voice. ‘That was really awesome. You know, a group of us are gonna start our own bonfire a little further down the beach and we’d really like you to come and join us.’

  ‘How’s Garth doing, Belinda?’ Brody said, latching something.

  I noticed a second piece of ash was stuck to my arm. Wiping it away left a thin grey trail.

  ‘The other day was just a big misunderstanding,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘The guys are really sorry and I think they want you to come down to our bonfire so they can apologise.’

  ‘You right, Brode?’ called Al from behind a half-packed amplifier.

  Brody nodded, waving him away and standing up with his guitar case. ‘Maybe later,’ he said to Belinda.

  ‘Whenever you’re ready,’ she said, leaning forward, thrusting her breasts in his direction.

  Brody looked at me as Belinda skipped off. ‘Definitely later?’ he said, pointing to the ground.

  ‘Definitely fifteen minutes,’ I said as I turned back to Michelle and tried to walk away in a straight line without squealing.