‘What?’ Dad said, his back straightening, as if he was ready for a fight.
‘It would be very expensive if you had to pay back the fees,’ Mrs Willis said. ‘And I don’t want that. But if you go public with any of these details, the board will expect you to repay.’
She shifted in her seat, like the couch had suddenly become uncomfortable.
‘You can’t be serious,’ Mum said.
‘What exactly are you trying to say?’ Dad said at the same time.
‘It’s in the contract when you accept a scholarship,’ Mrs Willis went on, ‘that you “won’t bring the school into disrepute”, and if you do, that you’ll repay the fees. It’s all there, if you care to look it up. But the board has agreed to waive the fees. For the moment. So long as there’s no further bad press.’
‘You’re bribing us,’ Dad said.
‘You’re a lawyer,’ Mrs Willis said, turning to him. ‘What’s the legal term for it? Whatever it is, let’s settle for that.’
She put her hands up in two full halts, like a policewoman.
‘I’ve spoken to a couple of the principals from other schools in the area,’ she continued. ‘Allumby and Belford Grammar have both indicated that they’d be happy to have a chat with MC and see if they can come to some sort of arrangement regarding next term. Of course, it won’t be a scholarship, but it’s as good an outcome as we can hope for. MC can complete her remaining Term 3 assignments from home, and submit them via Mr Martin.’
None of us said anything.
I wasn’t going back to Whitbourn.
It was as big and as huge as that.
‘I’ll leave you to have a chat,’ Mrs Willis said, standing up. ‘I’m sorry it’s such unhappy news, but hopefully one of those schools is of some interest to you. It will be in the papers tomorrow morning – the expulsion, I mean. And then, with luck, this whole episode will be put to bed. That’s what I’m hoping, anyway.’
Dad and Grandpa walked Mrs Willis to the door.
‘I can’t believe this is the only solution,’ Grandpa said. ‘I know it’s none of my business …’
‘Of course it’s your business,’ Mrs Willis said. ‘She’s your granddaughter.’
‘… but expulsion seems so extreme.’
‘Honestly,’ Mrs Willis said, taking a deep breath, ‘I think it’s the only way we can throw cold water onto it. Once Annick’s mother went public with this story and our school was splashed all over the headlines, we were hamstrung. Annick’s mother has said she doesn’t want Annick or her younger daughter having to spend one more day at school with MC there. She’s not going to let up until MC has been expelled. We have no choice. It’s the only way to get the media off our case. Give me a call tomorrow,’ she said to Dad, turning away from Grandpa, ‘and let me know if you want me to set up interviews with Allumby or Belford. Or both. And now, I’ll leave you to it. Have a good evening.’
Chapter 24
Early the next morning, my phone rang. Yumi’s name came up on my screen. I considered not picking it up. But of course I pressed ‘accept’.
‘It’s me,’ she said when I answered. Not in her usual Yumi voice – a bit quieter. Shyer, maybe.
‘Hey,’ I said.
‘I’m at Liv’s,’ she said. ‘We thought we might come over to yours.’
I laughed. ‘Well, that’d be interesting. With all those journalists. Anyway, I’m not home. I’m at my grandpa’s.’
‘Oh. Okay. Well, do you feel like coming to my place instead?’
I wasn’t sure if this was a joke. Was there a punchline I was bowling into? But I wanted to see them both. They were my best friends, and I missed them.
I hesitated. I wasn’t sure I was ready for this.
But finally I said a small, ‘Okay.’
And if there was a bigger punchline coming once I got round to Yumi’s, I was just going to have to deal with it.
#
Harley offered to drive me over there.
‘I can walk, you know,’ I said to him. ‘It’s not far.’
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I want to see Wilder. All this, with you and your friends – it’s made me realise how shit it is to not talk to a mate.’
I watched out the window of Harley’s car as the traffic slid around us, people driving to wherever they were going, busy doing whatever they were doing, oblivious to the hell they’d heaped on me, the trolling, the comments, the opinions, even though here I was sitting in the lane next to them, a normal sixteen-year-old girl.
#MCwhataB.
‘All this time,’ Harley said, ‘I’d assumed Wilder would have told everyone about what happened that night. But he didn’t. Or, at least, I don’t think he did. He didn’t tell you, or Yumi. And when I think back, everyone else seemed confused about why I stopped seeing them; why I stopped replying to texts. I didn’t handle it well. But I wasn’t ready. And now, I’m ready. And, actually, everyone will be fine with it. I don’t think anyone will judge me for it.’
‘They definitely won’t.’
‘And if they do, fuck ’em.’
‘Exactly.’
We went to the front door at Yumi’s and knocked, neither of us feeling that we were back-door friends anymore.
Mr Yumi answered the door and stepped forward to give me a hug as soon as he saw me – a squeeze, like he was trying to wring the last of my tears out of me. Then he moved in and gave Harley a hug too.
‘Been a while, mate,’ he said.
‘Yeah,’ Harley said.
‘Wilder’s watching a movie out the back, if you want to go see him. The girls are up in Yumi’s room,’ he said to me.
But Wilder wasn’t out the back. He was standing at the end of the hallway, grinning at Harley.
‘What the fuck?’ he said, coming down the hallway towards us. ‘Since when do you use the front door?’
Harley smiled.
Wilder came up and put his arm around Harley’s shoulder, dragging him away from me and down towards the back.
‘You’ve missed me, I can tell,’ I heard him saying to Harley. ‘I can’t say I’m surprised – you’re only human.’
I watched them disappear into the belly of the house. I wasn’t ready to move up into the second storey of Yumi’s house yet.
‘You okay?’ Mr Yumi said to me.
I shrugged.
He put his arms around me again; then he released me and stepped back, so that I could walk up the stairs and into whatever came next.
I took the stairs one step at a time. Slowly. Reached the landing. Walked down the hallway and opened the door to Yumi’s room.
Liv was there. Yumi was.
And so were Anouk and Hattie.
Hello, punchline.
My eyes filled up with tears. I’d never cried so much in my entire life. I felt like this would never end. But instead of letting the tears fall, I pushed them away with the heel of my hand, and looked at the four of them.
‘You’ve been expelled,’ Liv said, leaning against Yumi’s desk and looking at the floor.
‘Yeah …’ And I wanted to add that Anouk’s mum must be feeling pretty happy, now that she’d got rid of me. Now that Anouk and her sister didn’t have to run into me in the schoolyard anymore. But then I realised that was my problem. I’d always felt like I could vent whenever I wanted to. But maybe that wasn’t right. Maybe I didn’t have to tell everyone every single thing that was rotating inside my head – just the important stuff. Maybe I could take that sarcastic comment or the bitchy remark that was clanging against my brain, and instead of venting on the internet, I could put it in a box and lock the box, then take the box out of my head and put it in a cupboard, and shut the cupboard and not open it again until the bitchy comment had shrivelled up into nothing.
‘Yeah,’ I said simply. ‘Me and Whitbourn, no more.’
Anouk started crying. ‘I got your email,’ she said.
And then, like a Mexican wave rippling through the room, the rest of u
s were all crying too – me, Yumi, Liv, Hattie, all five of us. I went over and put my arms around Anouk, the two of us sobbing into each other’s shoulders.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I said to her. ‘I can’t believe I did this to you.’
‘No,’ she said, shaking her head against my ear. ‘I can’t believe she’s done this – my mum. Everyone’s saying to her, You’re a warrior mama, and I know she was only trying to protect me, but because she went to the media she’s actually ruined your life. I can’t believe you’ve been expelled.’
‘But she’s right,’ I sobbed, feeling the weight of everything draining out of me as I kept my arms around Anouk. ‘I’m a bully. I just honestly didn’t realise that I was. When I did those videos that night …’
‘I can’t believe I didn’t invite you.’
‘… I kind of, I don’t know, it’s all stuff I would never have said to your face. But for some reason, I felt like I could put it out on the internet and that would be fine. And now you’ve got all the press out the front of your house, all that stuff happening online. I mean, shit, I can’t believe I’ve put you through that. And all because of stupid Jed.’
Anouk shook her head; I felt the movement of it against my collarbone.
‘He called me, you know,’ she finally said, stepping back from me. ‘After I was outed as the Anouk everyone was looking for.’
Of course he would have called her. Of course he would have called.
‘We went and got a coffee,’ she continued. ‘He said all this stuff, about how cool it was that I was all over the internet; about how he’d always liked me. He started talking about Merimbula, you know – remember this, remember that – and as we sat there I realised that the only reason he’d called me was because I was the girl from the internet. Because I was “trending”.’
I didn’t answer for a moment. And then I said, ‘He called me too.’
Anouk grinned at me. ‘Because you’d become a hashtag?’
I nodded.
‘Seriously, what a douchebag,’ Yumi said. Her first words since I’d entered the room.
‘He’s such a dick,’ Hattie agreed.
I felt tears well up in my eyes again.
‘But now the trolls, the press, all the stuff I’ve put you through,’ I said to Anouk, my chin crumpling. ‘I’m so sorry. I don’t blame you for hating me.’
‘I don’t hate you,’ Anouk said. ‘It was bad at first, I’ll admit. All those creepy guys online saying all the gross stuff they wanted to do to me, it freaked me out. But Mrs Willis organised for the tech guy from school to delete all my accounts – I didn’t even see half the stuff that was written about me in the end – and I’ve got a whole new bunch of accounts set up, so it doesn’t really matter. For all the new accounts, I’m back to being Annick. And Jed? Not on my list of contacts.’
She took a step back and looked at me.
‘But you: definitely back on there. You weren’t the only one who did the wrong thing. I was a bitch too. As for the press, well, there are only a couple of them left,’ she said. She was still holding my hands. ‘Mum went psycho at them this morning. She told them it was all over, that you weren’t coming back to the school, so that was that. Also, I think there’s been a pretty big backlash against them, against the media, because we’re still schoolkids. Everyone’s being all like, Hey, lay off the kids. And the funny thing is, after Mum went off, they just kind of packed up their gear and left. You know what Mum’s like. You wouldn’t get in an argument with her.’
‘I’ll say,’ I said, laughing and crying at the same time.
‘Oh God,’ Anouk said, her hands going up to cover her mouth. ‘I shouldn’t have said that.’
‘No!’ I was more laughing than crying now. ‘I’m joking. There aren’t as many at our place either apparently, Mum said. I think maybe it’s all kind of winding up. They know who we are. They know what I did. Know I’m a massive bitch. End of story.’
‘You’re not a massive bitch,’ Anouk said.
‘Are you joking?’ Liv said, looking into my eyes and grinning. ‘She’s a totally massive bitch. She’s even got a hashtag to prove it.’
It was so good to have Sarcastic Liv back on board.
Six weeks later
19th September
Claudie and me
Chapter 25
My version of a party is this: a bunch of people chucked in together, music cranked up, cute boys (with fifty bonus points if you kiss one of them), dance-face with Liv, selfies, photos, noise, mayhem, no parents.
Mum’s version is pretty different. First up: there’s food. Lots of it. Clearly, when you’re older you like eating a bunch of stuff – she’d made a lasagne, chicken sandwiches, sausage rolls, party pies, baguettes sliced then slathered with pickles and ham. Plus sushi and sashimi, brought by Maude, and tiers of cupcakes, baked, iced and decorated by Prue herself.
Liv, Yumi, Anouk, Hattie and I were given instructions on what to heat up when, how to slice things up (like that was hard), and in what order to bring things out to the party. Sushi and sashimi were first; chicken sambos next; lasagne, party pies and sausage rolls after that. The cupcakes were to be brought out and put on the table around ten; then, weirdly, the pickles-and-ham baguettes were for later in the night, ‘when everyone’s getting peckish again’.
I felt confident no one would be feeling peckish later in the night if they went through all that food beforehand, but as I said, parents party differently.
Anouk’s mum hadn’t wanted Anouk to come, of course. But Anouk had said it was bad luck, she was coming anyway.
I think Mum felt a bit weird when Anouk arrived, but she simply gave her a hug and said, ‘Nice to see you,’ even though I’m not sure she really meant it.
Harley and Seth and Wilder were serving behind the bar, under strict instructions to not drink its entire contents.
Mum had originally said she’d cancel her party, what with me being expelled and all six weeks ago, but I’d told her I wanted her to go ahead with it. It seemed important that she have it on the anniversary of the day Dad had moved out, and really I was just as keen to have something to celebrate as she was.
Mum was wearing a navy-blue dress with black stockings and black shoes and her hair pulled up off her face in a casual bun at the back.
‘You scrubbed up alright for an old bird,’ Maude said.
Maude was wearing an animal-print kaftan with bling sewn around the neckline and flat sandals. Prue was wearing a black-and-white dress, with her hair blow-dried and big dangly earrings – which looked like they were mine … Actually, they were definitely mine, but I didn’t want to say anything because she’d probably got them from Liv’s room, and Liv would have got them from me at some stage, and none of it mattered anyway.
There were other friends of Mum’s – her old schoolfriends; Tim, who Mum used to work with; and a bunch of other people I didn’t know, but who all seemed to know exactly who I was, and told me how pretty I was, how much like Mum I was, some of them asking how Dad was going, like it was all very friendly.
Things are still nuclear, I felt like telling them. And then I realised, as I looked around the room, that actually, things weren’t nuclear anymore. Things were fine.
A mushroom cloud lifted from my shoulders and drifted out the front door, which had been left propped open so that Mum didn’t have to keep going and opening it every time a new person rocked up.
She got that Hansard job, by the way – Mum did. She loves it. Parliament only sits every second week, but when it’s on, she’s there no matter till what time. Sometimes she doesn’t finish until three o’clock in the morning, and then she’s straight back in there at nine the next day.
But she’s happy. Things are good for her.
Milla is six weeks old now, and still tiny and frail. Harley and I have been to see her in the hospital, washing our hands for a full two minutes each time before we’re allowed into NICU.
The Neonatal Intensive Care
Unit.
The things I know now that I didn’t know six weeks ago.
She’s in a humidicrib. We aren’t allowed to touch her or hold her. Her skin is kind of sticky-looking, but that’s because she’s so prem. There are still no guarantees, but we’re hoping she’s going to be okay. She seems good so far.
I went for interviews at Allumby and Belford, too.
They both seemed good, but there was something about Allumby that I preferred.
Nicer uniforms, for one.
And something else, as well. During our interview, the headmistress there, Mrs Ralston, made a comment that stuck with me.
She said, ‘All these people pay lip-service to the fact that the human brain isn’t fully developed until you’re in your mid-twenties, but as soon as a teenager steps out of line, does something regrettable, everyone comes down on them like a ton of bricks.’
It wasn’t that she was saying what I’d done was okay, and she wasn’t making excuses for me, but ‘regrettable’ sounded a whole lot more gentle than some of the stuff I’d seen written about me.
So, I start at Allumby on the first day of Term 4.
‘Allumby on a Mond’y,’ as Liv keeps saying.
I worry about how it will be. I imagine turning up there in my new uniform; sitting at a desk next to someone I don’t know, in a class full of girls I don’t know. I wonder if they’ll figure out I was the one who started the whole fook Anouk thing. They’ll at least think it’s strange that I’m changing schools this late in the year. But they might assume it’s for some other, boring reason – that we’ve come from interstate or something – and just not ask. I remember that happened last year at Whitbourn: Emily Maton came to school, stood up the front of English, was introduced by the teacher, and that was it. New girl officially a part of our year level. I still don’t know why she moved schools.
Oh. And I’ve changed all my social media accounts, of course.
Changed my name, too.
That’s the kind of thing a person does when they become a hashtag.
My Life as a Hashtag Page 20