Screw Loose

by Chris Wheat

  He nodded and hurried away on his mission.

  Chelsea lifted her head up and touched her tiara, feeling satisfied. Well, almost satisfied; something was still missing on this, her special night. She knew what it was.

  Vistaview Secondary College hadn’t quite lived up to its steamy Mary Magdalene reputation as a place bursting with wildly attractive males. Sure, there were a few, but Craig Ryan was now out of the question, Angelo Tarano remained obsessed with Zeynep Yarkan, and Joshua Yeatman was running around in another playground altogether.

  Sun Goddess Barbie had suggested she take Khiem Dao to the formal, but Khiem was besotted by Penny Wong-O’Neill – who was almost certainly entranced by his high distinction in the Australian Maths Competition. Khiem did have nice skin, nice teeth and natural obedience – and certainly no Magdalene girl would have accused her of bringing along a trophy boyfriend – but even Khiem had been snapped up.

  Without a partner, and emotionally divided between two schools, Chelsea was standing in the centre of the auditorium feeling just the teensiest bit disappointed when out of the Ethel scrum strode a vision in a kilt that took her breath away.

  ‘Chelsea Dean?’ the vision enquired politely, bending towards her. In the looks department, he got a six-star rating: tall, broad-shouldered, messy blond hair, blue eyes, dimple. She had once explained to Zeynep that she would choose her guy for looks alone. You were stuck with your looks, she’d explained, but the personality could be moulded.

  ‘Yes?’ she gasped. Her smile would be twinkling like the tiny tiara on her head. Along with her dress and the limousine, the tiara had been one of her mother’s conciliatory birthday presents. Her mother had much to feel ashamed of, and Lindy’s gift of the Manolo Blahnik shoes had certainly shaken her out of her maternal complacency. They were now on affectionate terms again, and despite her mother’s limited income, Chelsea had decided to put the installation of a lift back on the negotiation table. She shook her head. Focus!

  ‘Well, at last. I’ve been looking for you all over the place. I’m Fraser Murray, head of St Elthelred’s. We spoke on the phone about the music arrangements.’ He smiled warmly, in a very gracious way – a very St Ethelred’s way; the product of hours of homework, Saturday sport, and long, regular detentions.

  ‘Hello.’ Her skin tingled. He had, she noted, the most attractive knees.

  ‘I want to congratulate you. I thought this formal would be a joke when I first heard about it, but it’s great, and you’re responsible,’ Fraser said gallantly.

  She could see from the pins on his blazer that he was Captain of Debating, Captain of the First Eleven, Captain of Rowing, and some sort of national winner of a Schools Clean Up Day competition. He was also, if her pin-reading skills served her correctly, some sort of General thing in the St Ethelred’s cadet unit. A boy in a kilt and with his own army: the ultimate catch.

  ‘It’s nothing.’ She laughed and glanced at his knees again. ‘I love kilts,’ she added coyly.

  ‘I could tell from your voice you were gorgeous,’ he replied immediately. ‘If you were taller, you’d be a supermodel for sure. May I dance with you later?’

  ‘Oh, why not?’ she giggled. ‘I am short, but all the better to admire your kilt.’ She beckoned him down to her level and cupped her hand around his ear. ‘Please don’t tell a soul, Fraser, but it’s my birthday today.’

  ‘Your birthday? Hey! I’d love to light your candles, Chelsea.’

  And he bent forward and brushed his lips across her cheek.

  Yes!

  She looked at her hands and giggled. ‘But I don’t want this formal to be about me,’ she explained. ‘I want it to be about our three schools.’

  Fraser shook his head in admiration. ‘I really like girls with gumption.’

  ‘I just find I have to do things for others,’ she said, still staring at her hands, which suggested just the right degree of humility, she hoped.

  ‘You’re the one!’ he announced.

  Just as she was about to say One what? and smack him lightly on the back of the hand, someone awful appeared over the horizon – Priscilla Marginson. Priscilla was the school captain of Mary Magdalene, and she was bearing down on them in a pair of cut-price jeans and an awful green T-shirt.

  ‘Chels, you’re such an utter duper super star,’ she cried. ‘Well done! I thought, oh dear, Chelsea Dean is trying to arrange a formal with other schools. It’s sure to be such a catast. But no! And you look scrumptious – pink is so tomorrow. Hello, Fraser. Your kilt looks scrumptious, too. Very.’ Priscilla winked at him.

  School captains were often drawn to one another, and Priscilla was drawn to Fraser like a mutton bird to its burrow.

  Fortune favoured the brave. Chelsea grabbed Fraser’s hand. ‘Oh, these things come naturally to me,’ she yelled above the noise. ‘Come on, Fraser, I need your help.’ She dragged him away.

  Now, in the midst of her creation, and with Fraser in tow, something wonderful bubbled within her; this was going to be the most unforgettable birthday party ever.

  ‘I’m just mingling and supervising,’ she yelled. ‘Perhaps you can support me.’

  ‘Sure,’ he yelled back. ‘I love supervising.’

  She resisted the urge to explain that it was her party, therefore she was the supervisor – and he the assistant supervisor. He would learn through observation.

  She smiled to herself as they made their way through the dancers. She could see Heath and Josh making themselves useful; they had ceased training for Circus Oz and were just finishing setting up the projector for the end-of-festivities screening of Mysterious Girl One. Khiem had put that together. He was shadowing her right now, recording significant moments, like, she hoped, Fraser’s very significant congratulatory kiss.

  They bumped into Zeynep and Angelo, who were dancing together. Zeynep was wearing an awful pinstripe suit and looked very happy.

  ‘Hi, Chels. I’m having soo much fun! Angelo and Tamsin and Georgia and I will be going back to my place soon to peg out my washing. Everyone’s going to help me! Do I look like a guy?’

  Chelsea smiled generously. She knew Fraser would be intrigued by this little gem. She had such radical friends.

  ‘Fraser, these are two Vistaview students. This is Zeynep Yarkan, and her boyfriend Angelo Tarano, the Cockatoo. We’re very close. Zeynep’s parents grounded her for five years, so she goes out dressed like a guy.’

  ‘Ex-Cockatoo,’ Angelo said.

  Fraser and Angelo shook hands in a very manly way. But Fraser was looking a little perplexed. Just how she wanted him. Some Magdalene girls were moving closer to Angelo and giggling. Chelsea knew what was going on. She needed security – and security would need pepper spray.

  ‘Come on.’ Chelsea grabbed Fraser’s hand tightly and pulled him along. She caught the eye of a federal policeman and nodded curtly in Angelo’s direction. He saluted and headed off to do his duty. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Fraser taking all of this in. His presence was driving her to new heights of managerial efficiency.

  Detective Inspector O’Neill had turned up too, she was pleased to see. He was chatting with his daughter. She and Penny had known one another since Year 7, when Chelsea had decorated Penny’s locker door with a glitter-stick as an act of friendship, and Penny had been ordered to clean all the locker rooms in the school as a punishment. That was Mary Magdalene for you: acts of friendship rewarded with time-consuming punishments.

  When she’d first rung Detective Inspector O’Neill to ask for help with security, Chelsea had reassured him that although his daughter was consorting with a known criminal, the criminal was now in a rehabilitation program – hers. Penny’s father had seemed impressed. She wondered idly how he and Khiem were going to get on.

  ‘Hey, Chelsea.’ Fraser leant closer. ‘What are those guys doing?’

  She peered through her wildly dancing guests to the back of the auditorium and frowned. Heath and Joshua had disobeyed her; they were doing
cartwheels again. She kept her head close to Fraser, so he could hear her, and moderated her frown. ‘Oh, Fraser, they’re just a couple of gay guys. We have gay students at Vistaview; it’s a very diverse community. They’re trying to attract the same sex.’

  He nodded. ‘We don’t have gay guys at St Ethelred’s,’ he said confidently.

  She rolled her eyes and moved on, because Joshua’s brother’s completely inappropriate band appeared to have finished their set. They had ended with Eat the Rich – not the sort of sentiment she could ever embrace. She had ignored it. Now Magdalene girls were mobbing the band members while they were trying to pack up. Joshua’s brother was in a tug of war over his guitar, and the drummer was providing piggybacks. It was disgraceful. Both Magdalene and Vistaview teachers were struggling to restore order.

  ‘Is your DJ ready?’ she asked Fraser, hoping for a smooth transition.

  ‘Sure thing,’ he answered. ‘We’ve lined up all the great dance favourites: The Time Warp, Hokey-Pokey, Bus Stop, Nutbush. I can’t wait.’

  She stopped and looked up at his handsome face. Smile, look all bubbly and winning. ‘Fraser,’ she said sweetly, ‘those songs are now passé. I banned them.’

  ‘We used St Ethel’s funding to buy a mobile disco,’ he said simply. ‘The St Ethelred’s boys have been practising dance moves all week.’

  She smiled warmly again and looked into his eyes. A mobile disco? This would require quite advanced negotiation skills. If he thought he was in control at this early stage in their relationship, he would be running rampant within two weeks.

  ‘It’s my party, remember,’ she giggled and squeezed his hand.

  ‘It’s my mobile disco,’ he laughed, and returned the squeeze – a little more firmly.

  Nothing came easily. She had just met the most impressive boy at the formal, only to discover that he was on a power trip.

  Well, he would have to learn that you couldn’t always have things your own way.

  A GREAT

  MOMENT

  CRAIG RYAN HAD been looking for Chelsea for hours. He wanted to give her some amazing news – news his old man had passed on just before Craig left for the formal. But there were so many people milling about in the auditorium, and so many of them wanted to gawk at Matilda, in the end he’d just given up.

  Right now, he was leaning against a fire extinguisher watching his mad girlfriend dance. He shook his head. She was as happy as he’d ever seen her – bounding high into the air to the beat of the St Ethelred’s mobile disco, her tongue flopping out and her Inspector Rex jumper bouncing up and down. But he knew what she was trying to do: attract a pack of girls to chase bikes with her.

  Recently, Matilda had become a big problem at the bike racks at school. In fact, since returning from her ‘holiday’ by the river, she appeared to have regressed quite a bit. He couldn’t help feeling partly responsible; almost as soon as he’d left her alone with Arnold in her little hide-out, he’d felt guilty. He’d returned the following day with a big salami and tried to coax her and Arnold to come home, but she wouldn’t budge. It had taken him over a week of secret visits to convince her that it was for the best.

  Since then, she’d upset her Biol teacher by curling up on the floor in a patch of sunshine; pinched a cricket stump in the middle of a game and run around the oval with it in her mouth; and started regularly pulling food out of the school bins.

  ‘You hopeless binscab!’ he’d yelled at her one recess. ‘You make me embarrassed, Matty. Supermarkets are where you get food.’

  ‘I’m a mangy, mongrel, mad dog!’ she had boasted loudly.

  ‘Well, if you keep embarrassing me I’ll be finding a real girl,’ he’d threatened.

  She had rolled on the asphalt and laughed in her croaky way. Deep down, they both knew that he was bluffing – she was a pain, but he wouldn’t leave her. She was too cute. ‘Like a girl that wears thongs and pinkity tops?’ she’d said. ‘You can’t track prey if you wear thongs!’

  Now some of the Magdalene girls were starting to imitate Matilda’s dance. That was bad news.

  Craig finally saw Chelsea in the middle of the room, headed his way. She was dressed to the nines, all sparkly and pink, and she was with some big St Ethelred’s dude.

  He smiled to himself. Things were a little bit better between him and Chelsea at the moment. When Matilda had vanished, Chelsea had seemed to feel some sympathy for him. She’d told him if Matilda ever returned they could use the pool room. To show his gratitude, he and his dad had spent an afternoon down in the garage, panelbeating the wok and the fridge door. The wok still looked pretty ordinary, but his old man had done a great job with the fridge.

  Craig’s smile faded as he noticed Khiem: he and his girlfriend were trailing Chelsea, filming, and Khiem’s two crim mates were right behind them. Craig hated those guys. What were they doing here?

  Chelsea reached Craig, towing the big lanky guy behind her. He was wearing a kilt. Total freakoid.

  She pointed angrily at Matilda. ‘She’s lowering the tone, Craig. Take her outside for a walk.’

  A song had just ended, and Chelsea’s voice had reverberated around the auditorium. Matilda was panting, very loudly. The Magdalene girls closed in around her; they were all eyeing Chelsea. Not good.

  Matilda pulled a bin-liner out from under her jumper.

  ‘Matty, no!’ Craig yelled. He stepped forward.

  ‘Control her, mate. She looks vicious,’ the kiltman ordered.

  ‘I have things under control, Fraser,’ Chelsea retorted. She glanced at Khiem, who held the camera. ‘Turn it off,’ she ordered. ‘Get her out, Craig! See, I told you, Fraser. She’s a blot on the landscape.’

  Matilda growled. The TV cameras were focused on them all. The music hadn’t started back up again, either, and by now the whole formal was watching the showdown.

  Chelsea may be a pain, but he had to protect her – the Magdalene girls were closing in like a pack of wolves. There was only one way of dealing with this.

  He grabbed the fire extinguisher.

  ‘Back off!’ he yelled at the girls. ‘Matty, get out of the way!’ He took aim. This was the sort of thing that got you instantly expelled.

  Matilda was shaking out the bin-liner, undeterred.

  ‘Matty, don’t do this! I know she’s just a stuck-up poodle, but she’s not worth getting wet over.’

  ‘What?’ Chelsea shrieked. ‘Fraser. Did you hear that? Fraser, remove her!’

  The big dude started moving in on Matilda.

  ‘You back off too, mate!’ Craig warned, pointing the hose at the Ethel. ‘Unless you want a squirt up your kilt!’

  That stopped him.

  All eyes were focused on Matilda when Khiem suddenly hit the deck at Chelsea’s feet, jumped by his crim mates! Penny screamed. Chelsea gasped in fright. At first it looked like some kind of joke – but Khiem was hurt.

  Craig looked from Matilda’s pack to the crims. What to do? Spray them all! He took aim and fired.

  Khiem’s attackers reeled back under a stream of foam. Chelsea and the kilt guy got caught in friendly fire, and Chelsea went down screaming.

  The guys were still after Khiem. He was having trouble getting up; they’d smashed him hard.

  ‘Watch out, Matty!’ Craig yelled as he foamed the Magdalene girls. They retreated in a shrieking pack of bouncing ponytails, sliding into one another and dragging Matilda with them. She was laughing and jumping into the air – and was foam-free, thanks to his almost perfect aim.

  Then Craig swivelled to face Khiem’s attackers again – just as Joshua Yeatman cartwheeled into them and they both went down.

  ‘Security!’ Chelsea spluttered, her arms spinning and her body shimmying as she tried to get rid of the foam. ‘Detective Inspector O’Neill, Mr Dunn. Assault! Duty of care, Mr Dunn!

  The Magdalene girls were slinking away. There was foam all over the floor. A cop had turned up – Penny’s old man, judging by the way he hugged her. Khiem had said he
was a copper.

  The cop took a moment to help Khiem to his feet. Khiem said something, and the cop patted him on the back. Then he grabbed the punks by their necks, and he and some security guys marched them away.

  Around Craig, a few remaining Magdalene girls were yelling abuse and shaking the foam off their clothes. The music started back up.

  He was stuffed now. You got major fines for fooling around with fire extinguishers. Penny’s dad would be back.

  ‘And he lives with you?’ he heard the Ethel ask Chelsea.

  ‘Not for long,’ she snapped as she brushed her dress off.

  ‘And was that some kind of gay martial art?’ The Ethel was squeezing out his kilt now.

  Khiem hobbled up.

  ‘You okay, mate? What was that about?’ Craig asked.

  ‘Don’t worry about it – it’s over now. And I’m okay. I think they tried to bottle me. Thanks for helping,’ Khiem said.

  ‘Thanks, Craig,’ Penny added. ‘You saved him. Don’t worry about the extinguisher – my dad will understand.’

  She kissed him on the cheek, then looked across at Matilda and put her hand over her mouth. ‘Hope you don’t mind, Matilda. It was just a little thank-you kiss.’

  Matilda didn’t hear. She was wide-eyed, watching a group of Vistaview students sliding across the floor in the foam.

  Craig put his arm around Matilda. ‘Don’t stir those girls up again,’ he said gently. ‘And forget Chelsea. See how wet she is? You want to dance with me?’

  She shook her head. ‘Can I do skiddies in the foam?’

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘But no rough stuff.’

  She bounded off.

  Chelsea had been watching. She charged at Craig, tugging the Ethel behind her. She was ready to kill.

  ‘Thank you, Craig,’ she hissed. ‘You’ve ruined my party, and you’ve ruined my dress!’

  ‘I was only trying to protect you!’ he protested.

  ‘Hah!’ the Ethel sneered. This guy was asking for another squirt, but there were cameras around.

  He decided it was a good time to tell her the news. ‘Chels,’ he said. This was going to be a great moment. ‘Sis—’