My Life as a Hashtag

by Gabrielle Williams

  ‘I’m sick,’ I said, keeping my eyes on Harley, but my peripheral vision totally checking out the guy behind.

  He was tall and slim, this guy. He had dark, sandy-coloured hair, cut shortish, messy. He had a goatee (although it wasn’t strictly a goatee; it was more of a barely noticeable not-shaved patch at his chin), blue eyes, a square jaw, and a ridiculously cute smile. He was wearing a pair of jeans that hung like washing clipped to his hip bones, and a checked shirt, with a jumper tied around his waist.

  And he was chewing gum.

  As it turns out, I’m a sucker for people chewing gum. Not all people. Most people look gross chewing gum. But when a cute guy walks into your house, with his jumper tied around his waist, and he kind of smiles, then he chews his gum, just one chew, in the back of his cheek, well, honestly, what’s not to love?

  ‘Oh, yeah, this is Seth,’ Harley said, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder at the guy behind him. ‘This is my sister, MC.’

  ‘Hey,’ Seth said.

  He scratched his stomach, which was probably one of the sexiest things I’d ever seen: pushed up his shirt, just the tiniest bit, so that his stomach was right there on display like an advertisement. I felt myself staring as he ran his fingernails against his skin, then pushed his checked shirt down and got back to the matter at hand.

  Which was standing in our kitchen, looking handsome.

  Harley might have his faults as a brother, but he’s always been pretty good at supplying me with Handsome Brother’s Friends to eye off and crush on.

  Jed who? I felt like saying to the world. Jed the fuck who?

  ‘You don’t look sick,’ Harley said.

  I shrugged. ‘Didn’t want to go to school.’

  I could almost see the cogs in Harley’s brain clicking over as he tried to figure out whether me staying home today had anything to do with me losing it with Nique on Saturday night, without being sure how to put it into words to actually ask me.

  So instead he said, ‘We’re getting a burger. You wanna come?’

  Could I be bothered? I’d have to have a shower, put on clean clothes, brush my teeth. But hello, Handsome Guy. ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I’ll go get dressed.’

  We ate in, the three of us sitting around a cheap pine table in the fish-and-chip shop, chowing down on our burgers with the lot.

  Seth dismantled his burger, pulling out the slice of beetroot and eating it on its own, then putting some chips in under the bun and starting to eat his new version, all the while scrolling through his feed.

  ‘I can’t believe people are still sending lolcats,’ he said, looking at me, then at Harley. ‘You know that chick Larissa from uni?’ Harley nodded. ‘Didn’t lolcats die in the arse about five years ago? Seriously, Larissa,’ he said, picking up his phone and speaking straight to the screen, as if he were on Facetime with her, ’you want to post lolcats, at least post one with attitude.’

  Harley looked across at Seth. ‘What you’re saying is she needs more … cat-titude?’ he asked, deadpan.

  Harley had always been partial to the odd pun – it was something he got from Dad – but I couldn’t believe he’d said something so lame in front of his cool-arse friend.

  Seth ignored Harley’s attempt at humour, as if he didn’t want to embarrass him by acknowledging how truly bad it had been.

  ‘No,’ he said instead, shaking his head, ‘what I’m saying is it has to be … purrfect.’ He grinned, then added, ‘Sorry, just kitten around.’

  Harley put his hand to his mouth like he was going to vomit. ‘I’m fe-line sick from your terrible jokes.’

  They both grinned at each other.

  My brain started stumbling over everything kitten-like I could think of. Kitty litter. Mice. Fur.

  ‘Personally, I thought it was clawsome,’ Seth was saying to Harley.

  ‘I’m all fur bad jokes,’ Harley said back to him. ‘But paw-lease.’

  ‘You gotta admit, I’m pretty a-mew-sing,’ Seth said.

  It was like watching a tennis match – a rally that kept going, each lob sailing over the net; each time, one of them hitting it back. The two of them were grinning at each other like they were both champions.

  And if I wasn’t in love with Seth before we went to get a hamburger, I definitely was after that.

  Chapter 15

  I walked to the tram stop the next morning on my own.

  I hadn’t texted Liv back when she’d messaged me about catching the tram together. I still felt mad at her for being on Anouk’s side. But I didn’t care anymore about Anouk’s party, about Jed. About any of it.

  Because, as it turned out, a hamburger and a cute guy were all I’d needed to feel better.

  Jed could have Whatshername, he could go for it. I had Seth.

  Heart. Seth.

  Well, I didn’t have him, but I had spent an entire afternoon with him yesterday, and that had been a pretty good first step, I thought.

  I felt a ping of irritation when I saw Liv sitting at the tram stop.

  She looked up at me. ‘I texted you,’ she said.

  ‘I didn’t get your message,’ I said.

  She looked at me like she didn’t believe me, but I didn’t really care.

  Be Anouk’s best friend, I felt like saying to her. I had a hamburger with a cute guy yesterday, and I’m not even going to tell you about it, because I don’t tell stuff to people who defend Anouk. I only tell stuff to people who are my friends.

  We sat at the tram stop, both of us running our thumbs up our screens as we went through our feeds, me determined not to start a conversation. Then Liv looked across at me and said, ‘Hey, I just remembered, you never finished telling me about the home invasion guy. You know, with your mum.’

  I wanted to stay annoyed with her, wanted to hold a grudge against her – I hadn’t forgiven her. But I started laughing, because I suddenly saw the whole thing all over again – me thinking through which moves I’d take him down with; the look on Mum’s face when she saw me standing there – and the ridiculousness of it all suddenly hit me.

  ‘Well, let’s just say I was there in the bathroom, trying to work out which karate move I’m going to use on him for optimum damage, when he says to me, Question: where’s the toilet? and apart from everything that was so cringey about the whole deal, who says “question” when they’re about to ask a question? I mean, does he think I don’t know the basics of conversation, so he has to explain what type of speech he’s about to launch into, so I know what sort of answer I’m supposed to give?’

  ‘Statement,’ Liv said, holding up her finger at me. ‘He sounds like a douche.’

  ‘Complaint,’ I added. ‘He was buttoning up his shirt as he walked in on me as well.’

  ‘Wondering out loud,’ Liv said. ‘Do you think he’s from Tinder?’

  ‘Temptation to vomit before answering,’ I said. ‘Gross. Yuck. Why would you even bring that up?’

  And by the time we got to school, things almost felt back to normal.

  Almost.

  #

  Anouk came up to me as we were all walking out to lunch.

  ‘MC,’ she said, putting her hand on my arm to stop me.

  I stared at her, my eyes hardening into chips of flint.

  ‘I just …’ She tipped her head back, as if the words she needed were written up there on the ceiling. Then she looked back at me. ‘I just wanted to say … I feel really bad that I didn’t invite you to my party. You know, that I blocked you and everything.’

  I chewed on my cheeks.

  ‘It’s just that …’ Again she searched the ceiling for clues then looked back at me, like this apology was killing her. ‘I don’t know. I think I felt like you didn’t care less that I was into Jed. And making me go swimming on my own, it just felt really mean.’

  ‘I didn’t make you go swimming on your own,’ I said, my fury rising red, like a thermometer going from zero to hero. ‘I didn’t want to go in, in the first place. You seem to keep forgetting tha
t I said right from the start that I didn’t want to do it. You make out like I deliberately stopped him from jumping in or something, but I didn’t. He could have jumped or not jumped, it was up to him. Do you think I actually held on to him or something?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘No. I guess … it’s … You know, anyway, it doesn’t matter. Especially after I saw him with that other girl. I just thought: what are we even fighting about? That was why I sent you that photo. To say: what a douche; we’re both idiots for liking him.’

  I didn’t answer her.

  ‘Liv said yesterday,’ she continued, filling the space between us with words, ‘that you thought I was being sarcastic or something when I sent you that text from the party, but I wasn’t.’ I felt a chill down my spine at the thought of Liv telling Anouk what I’d said; filling Anouk in on how I felt. ‘That was why I said “wish you were here” afterwards, because I really did. It wasn’t the same without you.’

  ‘Oh yeah, I’m sure you had a terrible time. I’ve seen the photos: you looked really sad.’

  ‘I do. I wish you’d been there. It wasn’t the same without you.’

  I laughed. Or, more exhaled an irritated puff of air out my nose.

  ‘Anouk, I don’t even care,’ I said and went out to the quad to sit down beside Yumi, clenching my jaw, crunching down on any words that might have wanted to escape; the parallels of my mouth holding firm against the thought that maybe, just maybe, she might be telling the truth.

  Chapter 16

  I’ve got a scholarship – I told you that already.

  However, my scholarship-winning talents don’t stretch to footy, which I played every Wednesday through winter.

  I’d signed up because I’d thought it would be a bit of fun, but as it turned out, a lot of the girls who played were really serious about it, and really good at it. They kicked straight and true, goal after goal, and I spent at least two-quarters of every game on the interchange bench.

  The Wednesday after Anouk’s party, I was sitting on the bench, a blanket wrapped around my shoulders, watching everyone except me running around the oval while the coach discussed tactics with the assistant coach. They were pretending they hadn’t noticed me – basically confirming that my sole purpose for the afternoon was to act as a spare body available to them in case someone came off injured.

  There’s nothing lonelier than the interchange bench during a game. Although at least spare body parts meant I served some purpose, which was more than I could have said about myself on the night of Anouk’s party.

  ‘MC,’ I heard over my shoulder. I looked behind me.

  Dad stood at the wire fence, his winter coat buttoned up and his collar tugged up around his ears.

  ‘I had a spare afternoon,’ he said. ‘Thought I’d come and watch your game.’

  Dad had never had a spare weekday afternoon, in all the time I’d known him. Which was all my life, duh.

  ‘How did you know where I was playing?’

  ‘Through my amazing powers of deduction. Also, I looked up your fixture.’

  ‘Oh. Right.’

  ‘I’ve texted you a few times this week,’ he said to me.

  I really didn’t feel like rehashing Saturday night. And if he’d come to have another go at me, I wasn’t interested.

  I turned back to watch the game I wasn’t required for.

  ‘But it’s okay,’ he went on, speaking to my back. ‘I called Mum, and she said you got home safely.’

  His first time coming to watch a game of mine, and all he wanted to talk about was me not texting him back?

  ‘You guys are doing well,’ he said. I turned to see him pointing over my shoulder at the scoreboard, as if I didn’t know where the score was written down.

  ‘Ah, great goal,’ he said, clapping his hands together, his gloves muffling the sound.

  ‘Good hands,’ he said a little later, when Liv went for the mark.

  He provided a running commentary throughout the rest of the quarter, with me offering up the occasional ‘yeah’ and ‘hm’ and ‘nice one’ as I slowly got into the game, caught up by Dad’s enthusiasm.

  At the end of the second quarter, we all went into the changing room to hear the coach’s ‘rah rah, we’re killing it, keep up the pressure, girls, yada yada’, and then I got sent on ground for the last two quarters. (I think the fact that Dad was standing there made my coach feel like he had to be seen to be employing me in some capacity.)

  After the game, Dad said he’d drive me home. I wanted to tell him he didn’t need to; that I had two perfectly good legs that could get me where I wanted to go; that I’d catch the tram home with Liv.

  That chivalry was dead.

  But I was tired of being angry with him. With everyone. With the world. So I said yes.

  We dropped in at a café on our way home, a whoomph of hot air hitting us as we walked through the door and into the electrically manufactured warmth. We sat down at a table and both of us studied the menu as if we were going to be tested on it later.

  When I was a kid, I’d just unzip my brain to Dad, and whatever was in my head would tumble out for discussion. School, friends, tennis, running, drawing, telly, books, Harley, Mum, getting a dog, Disneyland, whales, dolphins, next holidays, whatever – it was all valid content.

  But now that my skull was bulging like an overstuffed stocking, I couldn’t think of a single thing to talk to him about.

  A bowl of chips and a juice (me) and a beer (him) came to our table.

  I pulled the longest, saltiest chip out and held it triumphantly up, pointing skyward, for him to envy, then chomped down on it. The hot soft centre of it burnt the roof of my mouth – divine retribution for my scalding words the other night.

  ‘I’m sorry I got so angry the other night,’ I mumbled.

  Dad took a draught of his beer, then put the glass back down on the table, the two of us watching the bubbles fizzing.

  ‘It’s been hard for you these past few months,’ he said, rubbing his finger down the glass and creating a path through the frost. ‘It’s taken a lot of adjusting. For all of us. You, me. Harley. Mum.’

  He took a chip out of the bowl, not as big as mine, and put it in his mouth.

  ‘And now’ – he didn’t look at me – ‘the whole thing with Tosca, that adds a whole new dimension.’

  I looked across at him.

  Here we go, I thought to myself.

  ‘What about Tosca?’ I said, playing innocent. Pushing him to say the words. To tell me she was pregnant.

  He looked up from his glass, straight at me.

  ‘Well, as you noted the other night, she’s my girlfriend.’ He pursed his mouth. ‘And the fact is …’ Here he hesitated, grappling to fully put his mouth around what he had to say next. ‘Well … she’s moved in with me. To the new house. I should have told you before now. I wanted to tell you. But it didn’t seem the right time. But I should have told you.’

  I didn’t speak, waiting for him to tell me the rest of it. The pregnant bit. I selected another chip, the act of fishing out the fry giving me something to do.

  ‘I know it probably seems rushed.’ He sighed. ‘You only met her a few weeks ago, and now here she is, moving in with me. But … well, the fact is, we’ve been together for a while now. So while it might seem rushed, it’s not really.’

  I didn’t say anything, still waiting for the next part. The Having a Baby part. But he didn’t say anything else. That was it.

  He reached into the bowl and grabbed the last big chip for himself, our hands brushing against each other as he took it out and held it level with my eyes.

  ‘Mine,’ he said.

  ‘Hey! No fair.’ I pouted.

  ‘Ah, you’re a chip off the old block,’ he said to me, and put the chip in his mouth.

  I looked at him and, despite his terrible dad joke, I laughed.

  I’d seen the empty pack in the bin. But then I realised: a pregnancy test didn’t necessarily equat
e to a pregnant person.

  I felt the release in my shoulders as it settled into my brain that Tosca wasn’t pregnant after all.

  I wasn’t much good at footy, but hell, I was scholarship-worthy at jumping to conclusions.

  Chapter 17

  A big group of us girls sat in the quad eating our lunch.

  Everything was back to normal. Almost. It had been a couple of weeks since Anouk’s party, and even though I still wasn’t talking to her, things between us weren’t as bitter as they had been. We were both starting to soften.

  An announcement came over the intercom: ‘Yumi Martin, please come to reception and pay for the pizza you ordered.’

  Yumi looked up at the corner of the ceiling where the speaker was positioned, then looked around the table at us and shook her head. ‘Good one, you guys.’

  We all looked at her with our biggest, most innocent eyes.

  ‘What?’ Liv said. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Apparently I ordered pizza?’ Yumi said.

  We all stayed silent.

  ‘Fine,’ she said, rising from the table and dragging Liv up by her shoulder, making her go to reception with her. ‘I’ll pay for it. But if any of you think you’re having a slice,’ she said over her shoulder as they walked up the stairs, ‘you can think again. Because it’s mine. All mine.’

  We all burst into squeals of laughter, laughing even harder when they came back down the stairs with the gigantic, family-sized pizza box Liv and I had ordered in Yumi’s name.

  Yumi wouldn’t let any of us have a slice for a couple of minutes, savouring each bite, making a big deal about how delicious it was, until in the end we all attacked the box and grabbed a piece for ourselves.

  As we ate, Hattie told us what had happened to her the day before, her rushing voice slightly hampered by the pizza she was chewing on.

  ‘… so I was sitting on the train, going into the city, and I saw this girl, and from the back she looked exactly like one of our neighbours – this chick called Mira, who used to live up the road from us.’

  She barely took a breath before she went on, in true Hattie style.