‘Great.’ I stuff it back in the bag. I bet the rest is along the same lines.
Chay has moved on already, flicking open my laptop. ‘Mind if I log in?’
She brings up Aaron Winter’s personal page before I finish my nod and I scoot across the rug to look over her shoulder. He is rather hot, with a mature look unmatched by any of the boys at school, except maybe Sebastian.
I blink. ‘No freaking way. Three hundred friends already?’
‘I made a few more friend requests this morning.’
She must have been busy. ‘He has more friends than me.’
Not that it’s hard. I tend to only add people I’ve met in real life and since I’ve lived in this tiny town since I was eight the numbers aren’t huge. There’s a few out-of-towners – mostly people I’ve met on our antiques trips – but nothing like this. I skim over his wall. There are already dozens of posts.
She scrolls down. ‘Look at this.’ One of the girls from school has left a message reminding him he promised to call after last weekend’s gig. ‘He ripped it up on stage Saturday night apparently.’
Her giggle is infectious. I shake my head. ‘I can’t believe it. People talking about a band that doesn’t exist.’
She grips my fingers. ‘But they do. I knew I’d heard the name Fake somewhere. It’s a thrash group that play in the city sometimes.’ Excitement shines from her eyes. ‘Lana’s next.’
I move to my bed, absently running my fingers along the edge of my blanket. I can’t quite meet her eyes. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Don’t tell me you’re wimping out?’
Her scathing tone is hard to ignore but the day at school wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I know I won’t be able to carry Sebastian’s hoodie with me all the time but I think people are already forgetting. And from the look in his eyes in class, Joel seems genuinely sorry about the way it all happened.
‘I don’t see the point.’ My teeth clamp my lower lip as I try to gauge just how pissed at me she is.
She stands. Her hands settle on her slender hips. ‘Grow some balls, Kath.’
‘What?’
‘Toughen up. Stop being a victim.’ Her voice rises. ‘Nine years I’ve known you and you always just let life treat you like crap. This is your chance to get one back.’ She leans down over the laptop again and her fingers fly across the keys. ‘Read this.’
I don’t move from the bed so she brings across and plunks it in front of me.
‘Read this,’ she repeats.
It’s Lana’s page and I can’t escape looking at it.
Lana Elliot agrees it was probably stolen.
It … The hoodie … Sebastian’s hoodie. Then below.
Lana Elliot wonders if that bitch thinks we’re stupid.
Hot and then cold washes over me and I hate that my body is a stereotype. I can’t even feel upset with originality. I push back the anger rising to flood my vision and my senses.
‘No. She’s probably not even talking about me.’
Chay shakes her head. ‘Maybe, but look below.’
There are a few comments on her post. Two arguing for her guess and one against. None make it clear what she’s talking about until …
Joel Moss Lay off her babe
It’s typically sweet and this time when my eye stings it’s not the allergy from the cucumber. Joel’s pity hurts more than Lana’s bitchiness. He liked me, he did. I just wasn’t enough for him to keep interested in when someone like Lana came along. Someone special.
Chay turns the computer back around and strokes the keys.
When she points it back my way it’s back to the handsome, popular Aaron and a friend request to Lana Elliot. ‘It’s up to you.’
I squeeze my eyes shut so I don’t have to read the screen. I hate, hate, hate decisions.
Okay, think.
Chances are the whole plan will fizzle out, but if it doesn’t Lana will discover what it’s like to be me: to be not good enough for someone you like. Maybe then she’ll hesitate before screwing someone else over. And maybe then the dark hollow feeling deep inside me will go away.
This is not about Joel anymore. He’s just a tool for Lana to spread hurt. I open my eyes. ‘Fine.’
‘Fine?’
I reach out. Take a deep breath. Click the button. ‘Fine.’
Chay’s grin is triumphant.
I feel a little sick. What will I do if she accepts?
CHAPTER
6
By Saturday morning I’m tired of checking to see whether Lana has accepted Aaron’s friend request. I know she’s been online twice from her updated wall posts – yep, she friended me along with pretty much the rest of the school when she first arrived. Now I’m lost in the hundreds.
I would have thought she might delete me after the Joel thing but she’s probably forgotten. Or she’s enjoying sharing the sickly sweet notes they write each other.
Chay is confident she’ll add Aaron, but I’m starting to think I worried about the big revenge plan all for nothing.
I shower while I’m waiting for my computer to warm up. Today is Chay’s detention and I’m no closer to working out which of her outfits I should wear. Every time I think of walking into the library and getting marked off as my friend, the dread in my belly expands another degree. I reckon by nine I’ll be a walking stress ball.
The hot water on my skin does nothing to ease the tight muscles of my shoulders but at least it delays my clothing decision. Soon my skin is wrinkled and I can’t put it off any longer. I stand in the middle of my room in only my underwear and examine the clothes spread out on my bed. The shower hasn’t helped make any of them cover more skin.
There’s a knock on my door and it opens instantly.
‘Mum.’
She makes a show of averting her eyes, her smile amused, as I scramble for my dressing gown.
‘Okay, you can look now.’
‘I’ve changed your nappies,’ she reminds me for the bajillionth time.
‘Really? And here I was thinking I arrived from space, fully toilet trained.’
My sarcasm doesn’t dampen her mood. ‘I’ve left a pasta bake in the fridge. Twenty minutes in the oven should be fine.’ Her smile widens. ‘Don’t wait for me.’
It’s then I notice she’s wearing her favourite jeans and prized suede jacket. And her make-up isn’t of the staying home variety. It’s all soft colours with a hint of gold glitter on her eyelids.
‘Where are you going?’ I glance at the clock even though I’m fully aware it’s not even eight. ‘It’s barely dawn. And how come you might not be home tonight?’
I can’t control the whine in my question. It’s great that she trusts me home alone but it’s unusual for her to disappear for a whole day. It’s not as though she doesn’t have her own life. She casually dated Steve Sullivan, the town dentist, for three years. They broke up four months ago and she didn’t even cry.
But usually she gives me some warning. And usually she doesn’t have excited anticipation radiating from her pores.
I pull my navy towelling dressing gown tighter around my body, instinctively preparing myself for whatever she’s about to say. She seems to be debating how much to reveal, her eyes distant and mouth uncertain. That only increases the dread inside me.
Here I’ve been worrying how I’m going to explain leaving the house in Chay’s clothes and where I’m going, and she’s not even going to be around to notice.
‘I’m having lunch with a friend in the city,’ she eventually says to a point over my shoulder.
It’s a non-answer if ever I heard one, but I’m too wimpy to call her on it. We’ve circled each other this week like cruise liners sharing a port. Unable to come too close, lest we gather too much momentum and crash. Wednesday night she left the envelope in the hallway just outside my door.
It’s sat there ever since. Neither of us has mentioned it.
‘Drive safe,’ I say in my best imitation of her lecture voice.
She ignores everything I’m not saying. ‘I will. And I’ll have my mobile if you need anything.’
‘Yeah.’
I’m already turning away. I don’t want her to think I care that she’s keeping secrets.
She stands in the doorway for another minute before stepping out into the hallway and closing it behind her. The clip of her boots on the floor mark her journey down the stairs.
I move to the window and watch her walk out into the drive.
As usual Mum deviates on her way to her car to inspect the struggling miniature lime tree we planted just after we moved in, pausing to peer between the green branches.
It’s our standing joke. She’s convinced with the right TLC it will one day bear fruit and has promised to make lime pie when it does. I believe we own the only lime leaf tree in the country.
A moment later Mum’s hatchback reverses out the short drive at the back of the salon. Her hand lifts in farewell as she sees me watching from the window. I flirt with childishly ignoring the gesture but then lift mine in return.
She usually works on a Saturday morning. Normally I would have noticed if she’d crossed the morning off in her appointment book, but I haven’t exactly hung out down there this week.
As I turn away, the ding of my computer tells me I have an email. I scan my inbox. Mostly spam and one reminder about a test next week. Before I shut the laptop down ready to head to school, another update arrives.
Lana has accepted Aaron’s friend request.
Moments later there’s a text from Chay.
Did you see???
Yes
OMG she wants to check out his band
I hadn’t got that far. I can’t believe this is working so well already. I skim the page and find her message. Wow, just wow. She’s practically gushing. You wouldn’t know the girl has a boyfriend. I rest my fingers on the keys, debating how to respond, when a reply comes up from Aaron on his wall.
Aaron Winter A honey like you? Anytime
Chay’s answered for him and I admit the smooth line sounds like the kind of guy Lana would like. She immediately rates his comment to back up my suspicion.
I text Chay.
I thought I was going to write for him
Whatevs
It’s hardly an answer but I don’t have time to discuss it. If I don’t dress and leave the house in the next three minutes I won’t make it to school on time. Which outfit? The miniskirt, the shorts or the dress that’s closer to a leotard.
Decide.
The short shorts and red tank are the best of a bad bunch and I grab the impossibly high wedges and leather trench coat to complete the look. I wince at my reflection. Chay might be able to pull an outfit like this off but I might as well be wearing a sign flashing ‘tramp.’ Or more accurately ‘uncomfortable as anything, inexperienced tramp’.
Thank goodness I took the time to shave my legs because white and too curvy is bad enough, but hairy would be even worse. I wrap my hair in the black scarf, add the sunglasses and finally the red lipstick. I snap a photo and send it to Chay.
No one is going to buy this
I have to try though. I said I would do this for her, and not turning up will get my best friend in even more trouble. Back in our first year of high school my period arrived in a rush one lunchtime, soaking through my skirt. Chay shivered through the rest of the day so I could wear her jumper tied around my waist.
I’m out the door with my study stuff rammed in my bag before she replies.
They TOTALLY will. Awesome
As I walk beneath trees branches waving in the chill breeze I find that I’m swaying my hips a little like Chay does. It must be because my legs have gone completely numb from the cold. In comparison the jacket is warm enough and my hair is already sticky with sweat from the scarf. I have to stop myself nervously licking my lips in case I smudge the red lippy.
I’m fine until I step into the empty school grounds. I walk under my lunchtime gum tree and approach the library from the back. The better for avoiding anyone who might blow my cover.
My feet begin to drag as I climb the steps near the door. It’s the oldest building at the school and I think it was once a fancy house or meeting hall. It has a stone front bordered by dusty red bricks and the door sits beneath a matching stone archway.
I’ve always liked the high school library. It’s shared with the primary school and I hid out here for most of my first week in town before Chay adopted me as her best friend. Today my hands shake and frozen knees tremble as I step through the brand new sliding doors into what was once my sanctuary.
I swallow to moisten a dry mouth. The teacher is at the end of the entry hall, just like Chay said he would be. He’s staring down at the screen of his mobile phone and doesn’t look up as I pause just inside the doors.
I try to make my legs move, but it feels like someone has swapped the carpet for setting concrete and I’m going to be stuck here forever.
Move.
My legs ignore the command. Maybe the cool temperature has literally frozen them in place.
Or maybe I’m too scared to do this.
I take a deep, fortifying breath. ‘Get your name crossed off and you’re home free.’
‘Talking to yourself, Kath?’
I know that choc-peppermint voice. I spin and nearly trip because of the heels. Sebastian’s hand reaches out and catches me under the elbow.
‘How did you know it was me?’
His eyes crinkle in a smile that doesn’t need his lips. ‘Your signature blue legs.’
I look down, unsure whether to be offended. ‘They are rather blue.’
He nods seriously but his eyes are still smiling. ‘Probably because it’s freezing out there.’ He looks down again. ‘Not that I mind the view.’
I need Chay here. She’s so much more experienced with boys than I am. She’d know whether his words were supposed to make my skin tingle or whether he’s just teasing.
‘Are you stalking me?’
He chuckles. ‘No.’
I wait for him to explain what he’s doing here but instead he turns the tables. ‘I could ask you the same question. We’ll find my name on Mr Jones’ list. Will we find yours?’
He looks me up and down again. It’s pretty damn obvious I’m not dressed as my usual self. I’m going to have to come up with something because if he calls me Kath near that teacher, then this whole thing will have been a waste of time.
And I didn’t dress up like a fool for nothing.
‘It’s hard to explain.’
He folds his arms in a classic I’m not going anywhere pose. I can’t help but notice how it shows off his arm muscles in the long sleeved grey t-shirt he’s wearing. They’re just about perfect. Exactly the right amount of lean strength without being obvious. Unlike Chay, who can be found admiring anyone working out, I’ve never been into guys who pump weights.
Unaware of my arm appreciation, Sebastian is still waiting.
I lower my voice. ‘I’m doing Chay a favour. It’s no big deal.’
And the words are true except that it is for me, and I think from the way he looks at me, with understanding in his smile, he knows.
‘Come on then.’ He slips an arm around my shoulder as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He’s a mile taller than me, even with the heels adding inches, so it settles across my back lightly, but every cell in my body is attuned to the contact. The warmth heats my blood through the trench coat and the tiny singlet.
We fit together. Like a couple.
He’s steered me toward the teacher and the sign-in sheet before I can stop him. Or prepare. Or even panic. Much.
‘Aw, Chay,’ he says with a whine. ‘Say you’ll come out with me tonight.’
I look up, way up, into green eyes that are telling me to go along with him.
‘I, ah …’ My voice is all croaky but it doesn’t matter. His voice carries to Mr Jones whose head jerks up at the loud volume. The teacher glares befo
re glancing down at his list. ‘Chayanne Davy?’
I nod, my voice gone. I couldn’t speak if I tried, but my mind is screaming, I’m Kath. Can’t you tell I’m actually Kath? I’m like a person told to stay back from the edge of a cliff, who can’t help but lean out into the empty nothingness.
Sebastian anchors me to his side. Can he hear the thump of my heart? He must be able to. It’s drowning out everything else and I don’t know whether it’s more from pretending to be someone I’m not or this gorgeous boy’s proximity.
He leans forward, reading the list upside down, and points to his name. ‘And Sebastian Elliot.’
Moments later we’re ticked off and through the door into the welcoming book-lined library.
Sebastian sits next to me at one of the long tables, ignoring Mr Jones’ glare. ‘Study time,’ the teacher calls out. ‘This is detention, not a social gathering.’
‘Yes, sir.’ We reply in unison.
I’m fighting fits of giggles. I can’t believe it was so easy.
I open the textbook to finish my assignment and start up one of the school computers in case I need to look something up but the words blur in front of me. I’m far too aware of Sebastian to concentrate on the text. If I move my knee a little my bare flesh will brush against his denim-encased thigh.
‘Why?’
His soft question is muffled by the walls of books on three sides, and the low sound doesn’t make the teacher look up. I look his way and meet the green eyes that have monopolised my waking and sleeping thoughts. I can only hold his gaze for a second. It’s hard to frame a sentence when he looks at me like he is now.
Intense.
Interested.
As though I am somebody.
Part of me hopes if I can keep him from really seeing me then he won’t discover the truth. I am neither crazy nor interesting. I’m plain Kath, despite my outfit today, and I’m not the kind of girl for a boy like him.
‘Why what?’ I mutter. I’m not as skilled at the whole speaking softly thing because Mr Jones startles at my words. He doesn’t look our way though, instead stretching and standing. ‘Coffee machine,’ he calls over his shoulder.
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