Screw Loose

by Chris Wheat

  ‘Don’t allow yourself to be alone with him.’

  ‘We are only travelling together. It’s a ruse, Mother.’

  Her mother nodded. ‘I trust you, Tamsin, but please don’t speak to reporters.’

  ‘And don’t lose your grandfather’s top hat. He was married in it,’ warned her father. But he was smiling.

  She and Georgia had decided to dress up for the occasion, although many of the Magdalene girls had decided to dress down, as a patronising signal to their Vistaview cousins that they were really all equal. Georgia and Tamsin had agreed that this was disgraceful. Her grandfather’s top hat rested beside her on the seat. Three cigars nestled in her top pocket – borrowed from her father’s humidor.

  She waved goodbye to her parents and sat back. The federal police got into their car and the little convoy moved off from her parents’ floodlit mansion. These bright-red cars, emblazoned with their yellow stripes and AFP logos, had followed her like family pets for the last few years. She tapped her fingers on the upholstery and smiled to herself. She’d never been out with a boy before. This was going to surprise a few people.

  She had to hand it to Bunsy – her event had attracted an outrageous amount of publicity. Tickets were being auctioned on eBay for the same price as most major concerts. Much of the buzz was the result of Angelo Tarano, the notorious football bad boy, announcing he would attend with the Outback wild child Matilda Grey. Matilda had recently gone missing for eleven days; she’d been found on Thursday wandering along the river wearing a rabbit-skin hat. The photo had flashed around the world. This had coincided with Angelo Tarano’s notorious brush with terrorism. The press was in a frenzy.

  The infamous Matilda Grey was actually the girlfriend of Tamsin’s partner for the night, Craig something-or-other. Her dear Georgia had set it all up. Matilda Grey was being forced by her mother to attend the formal with Angelo Tarano for publicity purposes, so Tamsin was now going with Matilda’s boyfriend to keep it all sweet. Georgia had neatly arranged to go with Angelo’s girlfriend – who would be dressed as a guy! Tamsin was looking forward to meeting her – and possibly challenging her to a duel.

  The limousine pulled up beside a house which she realised was Chelsea Dean’s. Heaven help her. The door slid open – and a boy climbed in.

  ‘Yo,’ he said and sat down with a thump.

  She examined him. He looked presentable. ‘Yo,’ she said politely. ‘Is Chelsea Dean with you?’

  He shook his head. ‘She’s coming in her own limo.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ she said. ‘I’m Tamsin.’

  ‘I’m Craig.’

  She smiled at him. ‘Hi. You’re my partner, I believe.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Tamsin. Great hat.’

  ‘My grandfather’s.’ The limousine pulled away. ‘You’re Matilda Grey’s boyfriend,’ she said, wishing to add Show us your tongue but thinking better of it.

  ‘Yep.’ He sighed. ‘There’ll be masses of cameras and paparazzi, as per usual.’ He sounded a bit unhappy about that.

  ‘She went bush, I heard.’ Tamsin wanted to find out the truth. ‘Where was she all that time?’

  Craig shrugged and grimaced. ‘Great limo.’ He patted the seat.

  It didn’t look like he’d talk. Never mind. ‘So why were you at Chelsea’s?’ she asked, tactfully changing the subject.

  ‘I live with her.’

  ‘Live with her? She moves fast.’

  ‘My dad and her mum got together, so I have to live with her now.’

  This was gold! ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Don’t worry. So am I.’

  Tamsin wanted more information, but the car was slowing again. Two people were silhouetted on the footpath. The driver opened the door.

  Georgia got in first. ‘Hi Craig,’ she said. She was dressed in a yellow-and-green sari and had pearls in her hair. She really did look like a princess.

  Tamsin had never met Zeynep, although she had seen her in a beanie and sunglasses on YouTube – but this must be her getting in next. She was very beautiful and was dressed in a suit.

  ‘Hello Craig,’ she said.

  ‘Yo, Zey,’ said Craig.

  ‘Tamsin, this is Zeynep,’ Georgia said as she slid onto the seat beside Tamsin and pecked Tamsin on the cheek.

  Tamsin reached out and shook Zeynep’s hand. ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Nice suit.’

  Zeynep blushed. ‘It’s my brother’s. He doesn’t know I’m wearing it. I’m disguised.’

  ‘As…?’ asked Tamsin.

  ‘As a guy. My boyfriend said he likes it; and my parents have grounded me, so I’m being surreptitious.’ Zeynep looked at Tamsin’s outfit. ‘You’re disguised, too!’

  Tamsin shook her head. ‘I’m not disguised.’

  The car pulled away again and Tamsin pondered this stunning person sitting opposite her. Zeynep was the one who had been accused of terrorism on a plane with Chelsea Dean. Vistaview Secondary College – they should write a book about it.

  ‘We’re going to borrow the limo in an hour to go back to Zeynep’s house quickly,’ Georgia said to her. ‘Zey wants to put out a load of washing.’

  How very odd. ‘Are you a slave?’ she asked Zeynep.

  ‘I like washing. My parents think I’m in the laundry doing my homework right now, so I have to race back and hang it out so they don’t get suspicious.’

  The limousine was now cruising through a neon-lit shopping precinct. ‘I’ve been thinking,’ Tamsin murmured quietly to Georgia. ‘If Ms Defarge presses charges and you can’t go back to Maggers, why don’t you and I enrol at Vistaview?’

  Georgia laughed and shook her head. ‘No way. I slapped their principal too, remember.’

  ‘I can get you back in easily enough. For heaven’s sake, I can have Vistaview bulldozed if I nag Mum enough.’

  Georgia looked thoughtful.

  ‘But you have to stop slapping principals,’ Tamsin added.

  ‘Promise me.’

  Georgia squeezed Tamsin’s hand. ‘I promise.’

  The car was slowing down.

  ‘It’s Khiem and his new girlfriend,’ Craig said. ‘He picked her up in the river.’

  ‘Penny Wong-O’Neill,’ Tamsin said, peering out the window.

  ‘That’s sweet. We shared a room at Mt Buller once. She’s very good at chess.’

  Penny climbed into the limousine, followed by her partner.

  They sat down beside Zeynep. Penny’s partner appeared to be the guy whose camcorder Tamsin had thrown into the river.

  Whoops. Now he had another one.

  ‘Penny, hi,’ Tamsin said, and Penny leant over and kissed her on the cheek.

  ‘This is crazy,’ Penny smiled. ‘The formal is already on the news, and the doors haven’t even opened yet. Tamsin, I’d like to introduce you to Khiem Dao. He goes to Vistaview.’

  Tamsin smiled. ‘Khiem, hello. I’m terribly sorry for disposing of your camcorder a while back. I’d offer to get you another one, but I see you’ve already replaced it.’

  He looked surprised to see her, too. ‘It was Chelsea Dean’s camera,’ he said.

  ‘Thank goodness,’ she responded.

  ‘Her mother went right off,’ Craig chimed in.

  ‘Divine,’ Tamsin answered and laughed. ‘Is she terrorising you all over there?’

  There was a little hubbub of assent and several hoots of laughter as they took off again. She liked them all so far, especially the boys, who were amusing and weren’t trying to impress.

  Khiem turned to Zeynep. ‘Zeynep, you look really interesting.’

  Zeynep shrugged and giggled. ‘I’m with Georgia.’

  Khiem nodded and put his arm around Penny. They both snuggled into the seat. Penny’s father was a member of the police force and would have run a police check on any boy she went out with. This Khiem must be okay.

  ‘This is Matilda’s street,’ Craig announced, peering through the window. ‘I hope she comes.’

  ‘I can’
t wait to meet her,’ Tamsin said quietly to Georgia. ‘Is she dangerous?’

  ‘No!’ Craig answered firmly.

  The door slid open and there were Angelo Tarano and Matilda Grey.

  Matilda Grey popped her head in first; she looked around and sniffed. ‘I’m wearing lipstick,’ she announced. ‘See.’ She smiled widely at everyone and scrambled in. ‘I’m sitting next to Craig.’ She was wearing jeans and what looked like a handknitted pullover with the head of an Alsatian on the front.

  Zeynep squeezed up and Matilda squashed in beside Craig.

  Tamsin grabbed the top hat as Angelo sat down silently next to her. He had strange, stripy tips in his hair. Matilda licked Craig. That was fascinating.

  Tamsin turned to Penny. ‘I’m dreading those Ethels,’ she said. ‘You know what they’re like – standing about making comments about us.’

  ‘They’ve been told to wear school uniform,’ Penny said, rolling her eyes.

  ‘Angelo,’ Khiem spoke up, ‘just a warning. The Magdalene girls are having a competition to see who can kiss you first.’

  Zeynep frowned. ‘He’s with me,’ she said. ‘Angelo, I’m Zac Brown. Do you like it?’

  He grabbed her hand and smiled weakly. ‘I like it. You’re really with me once we get inside.’

  Tamsin surveyed her fellow passengers. Vistaviewers! There had to be something in the drinking water – but there was also something real about them. Real people were what she was missing at Magdalene. She needed to have a serious discussion with George.

  ROCKERS

  AND

  ROLLERS

  JOSHUA YEATMAN WAS at his post, sitting at a table inside the foyer of the Mary Magdalene Ladies’ College auditorium. Heath was sitting next to him, occasionally squeezing Joshua’s hand under the table. Heath was checking the tickets, and Joshua was stamping hands for pass outs.

  Their relationship had survived the bedroom vomit, but only because of Joshua’s lies: he’d told Heath he’d eaten a pie at the station and had food poisoning. Heath’s mother had sent Joshua home in a taxi. So Heath remained unaware that it was the smell of massed guinea pigs that had made Joshua heave. The truth had to come out. But not tonight.

  ‘Your spew didn’t stink,’ Heath reassured him. Few remarks could have made Josh happier.

  But there were more important issues at hand. Joshua’s life had been a nightmare over the last few weeks: his carefully organised ticketing system had gone belly up soon after Chelsea had advertised the formal on Facebook. She had named Angelo and Matilda as special guests. Word about the event had spread across the country, and indeed the world, in hours. Chelsea had also sent out a press release.

  A number of last-minute demands and changes had thrown him into confusion. He was not to sell tickets to six Mary Magdalene girls who had been cruel to Chelsea in Year 8, one of whom was Tamsin Court-Cookson, Georgia’s girlfriend. That demand was impossible – so he ignored it. She’d also asked him to exclude anyone with forged tickets, but short of a magnifying-glass examination of each ticket, that was also impossible.

  A few hours earlier, she’d rung to request that just before her limousine arrived he was to tell Channel Ten, who’d set up cameras outside the entrance. And she had asked him to inspect the auditorium to make sure the Magdalene staff had taken down any pictures that showed saints being tortured – but to leave the Mary MacKillop.

  Josh had been contacted day and night by all sorts of people demanding tickets. He was pretty annoyed at Chelsea for publishing his phone number on Facebook. The Japanese Embassy had asked for ten tickets, and the Hobart Cockatoos Football Club wanted two. Someone in India had also demanded two; someone from the Wild Child Research Institute in Los Angeles needed four; at one point, even the office of the Deputy Prime Minister had asked for three. There just weren’t enough to go round.

  At least he didn’t have to bounce. Fortunately, the federal and local police were present, and Mary Magdalene had hired a private security firm as well. They would be needed, as a huge number of people were already gathered at the door. Crowds of Vistaviewers had arrived early, looking like much of their hard-earned cash had gone on new clothes and on their hair. There were two green Wilderness Society koalas with donation buckets among them. He knew all the faces, and the guys all high-fived him as they entered now. Heath’s three friends from Flinders Street Station were right behind them. Chelsea would be mad, but if they had tickets, what could he do?

  He stamped their hands and cheered up. A Japanese television company had set up outside, and he allowed them to erect a camera platform in a corner of the hall as well. Two men from India arrived. One of them, dressed in a bright-red jacket with a gold belt, was wearing a sword. Josh looked across at security and they shrugged and called out, ‘It’s okay – a dress sword is acceptable, so long as it remains sheathed.’

  ‘It will remain sheathed,’ replied the Indian. ‘Except when I am Bollywood dancing.’ Another Indian man in white followed him in.

  But it was the St Ethelred’s boys he was worried about. They had a reputation for arrogance that made his heart pound.

  None had arrived early.

  Now through the door burst a noisy gaggle of Mary Magdalene girls, all dressed very casually.

  ‘Hi,’ the first one said, thrusting a ticket at him. ‘Are you the ticket boy?’ He indicated Heath and lifted the pass-out stamp.

  ‘Stop!’ she cried, pulling her hand away. ‘I’m allergic to stamps; could you stamp my shoe?’

  In these cases it was easiest to just go along with the revellers, as there were no teachers about to help. Now each of the girls demanded he stamp their shoe or a sock, and he found himself down on his knees.

  ‘We’ve dressed down for this occasion,’ one of them told him quietly, ‘so as not to make you Vistaview people feel bad.’

  ‘Left the Dior on the floor,’ her friend giggled.

  ‘That was kind of you,’ he answered.

  Then he heard a general gasp. ‘Oh, look what escaped!’

  He looked up to see what they were gasping at. A woman with frizzy hair rushed past them into the auditorium. He assumed she was a Mary Magdalene teacher.

  She came back just as fast. ‘The saints have been removed!’ she snapped. ‘Why are you girls dressed so badly? You look like rockers and rollers.’

  ‘We’re trying to blend in, Ms Defarge,’ one girl explained.

  ‘Is Phoebe Choudbury-Foote around? If Phoebe Choudbury-Foote is afoot, I must be told immediately: I must speak to her.

  Why is there a helicopter on the hockey field?’ She rushed back into the auditorium, not waiting for answers.

  The girls exploded into giggles as soon as she’d left. Joshua stood up. Staring at him was a crowd of St Ethelred’s guys in their blue-and-green school uniforms – and a few were in kilts. They moved forward in an orderly and bored shuffle, thrusting their tickets at Heath and proffering their fists for Joshua’s stamp.

  How was he to stamp the backs of their hands without holding the hand? You grabbed the hand of a St Ethelred’s guy – you died.

  He stamped a proffered fist without touching it, but he came down too hard.

  ‘Watch it,’ snapped the boy.

  He grabbed the next hand without looking at the face and stamped a little less firmly. The boy said nothing. Next hand.

  He looked up at the boy. The Ethel was looking away, as if he was about to get an injection. Next hand. He looked up and their eyes met. The Ethel scowled. ‘Come on!’ the boy snapped.

  Josh stamped fast. They only arced up if you looked at them: it was an Ethel thing. He kept his head determinedly lowered.

  Suddenly the male hands stopped. This one was female. He glanced at the girl with relief. He didn’t know her, but Khiem Dao was beside her.

  ‘Josh,’ Khiem smiled. ‘Homie. I was supposed to be security but they don’t need me. This is Penny. She goes here.’

  Penny smiled at him. ‘Hi. You’re a rower. We nearly
drowned together.’ She seemed nice.

  ‘I’m Josh.’

  ‘You’re doing a great job,’ she added.

  Khiem winked. Joshua liked Khiem. He was carrying Chelsea’s camcorder. The poor guy had been roped into recording Chelsea’s life.

  Suddenly the foyer exploded into flashes and noise, and there were Angelo and Matilda. A group of Japanese girls burst into the foyer, screaming ‘Machiruda! Machiruda!’ and waving rubber bones.

  Angelo was holding Matilda’s hand. She had lipstick smeared across her cheek and was wearing a childlike jumper with a dog on the front. Angelo looked sullen.

  ‘How’s it going?’ he asked Angelo sympathetically.

  Angelo shook his head. ‘Man,’ he said, holding out his hand, ‘this whole thing sucks. Seen anyone who looks like Cockies management?’

  Joshua shook his head. He cradled Angelo’s hand very supportively and slowly pressed the stamp down. Chances like this came once in a lifetime.

  Heath kicked him under the table. Joshua let go, and Angelo waved without looking at him and followed Matilda through the throng. Lights flashed, the screaming increased, and then they had vanished.

  Two dubious-looking guys turned up in their wake, their eyes shifty. They weren’t Vistaviewers, they weren’t Ethels.

  ‘Seen Khiem Dao?’ one asked. ‘We need to talk to him. It’s urgent.’

  ‘You can’t get in without a ticket,’ Heath said.

  ‘We’re not staying, we just want to see him,’ the other said.

  Suddenly they both bolted into the auditorium. Joshua looked at Heath and shrugged, feeling a twinge of concern.

  Heath shrugged back. There was no time to deal with shifty gatecrashers.

  Next came Zeynep. She leant towards Joshua as he stamped her. ‘I have to leave in the middle with Georgia to hang out the washing. Is that okay? Then we’ll come back.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said.

  She gave a little shiver. ‘This is so fun.’

  ‘The suit looks great. You’ve got guts.’

  She put her hand to her face and giggled.

  Georgia put out her hand now. ‘Her parents think she’s in the laundry doing her homework and the washing.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Josh, this is Tamsin.’