‘We’ll meet you by the canteen,’ Matthew says as he and Stephen head for the door. We found out the canteen sells really good granitas. But the lines are like a kilometre long. If you don’t get there quick you have to wait ages, so they run out of the nice flavours and you get stuck with lemon.
I go up to Mrs McBain’s desk. She looks around to make sure everyone else is out of the room, then says, ‘I wanted to talk to you about the story you wrote.’
She must mean that ‘Most Wonderful Thing’ assignment we handed in yesterday. What was wrong with mine? Maybe she thought it was too gross.
‘I won’t be marking all the stories till Thursday or Friday,’ she says, ‘so I’ll wait till then to hand them back. I didn’t want to say this in front of the other kids …’ She sighs deeply, as if she’s looking for the words she wants to say. Then she continues in a stronger voice. ‘Last night I was feeling pretty fed up. I took home a stack of corrections as usual, and there I was at my kitchen table at ten o’clock, ploughing my way through them. Early retirement was looking like a pretty good option. Then I read your story and I …’
She looks down at her desk, like she’s embarrassed, or shy. I never thought a teacher would feel that way. Then she looks up at me, and her eyes are all shiny. ‘It’s just so exciting when I come across a piece of work like that. It’s like … I don’t know … it makes teaching seem worthwhile again.’
‘Gee,’ I say, ‘thanks.’ Maybe this is worth the granita time after all.
‘Is everything you wrote true?’ Mrs McBain asks.
‘Yeah.’
‘Wow. That’s so special you got to see your own sister born. I’ve always wanted to see a baby born. I mean I’ve had a baby, in fact I’ve had two, but I wasn’t in a state to do much looking.’
She smiles at her recollection, then says, ‘You’d better get out and have your lunch now. I just wanted you to know how much you brightened up my night.’
I don’t know what to say to that. Finally I decide on, ‘Uh … that’s okay.’
Walking through the schoolyard by yourself at lunchtime is one of the worst feelings in the whole world. ‘I’ve got friends, too!’ I want to yell at the maroon-coloured pairs and groups I’m passing through. ‘They’re waiting for me by the canteen.’
They may be kind of strange friends, but they’re definitely better than nobody. I’ve reached the canteen now. Where are they? Don’t tell me they’ve let me down like every other so-called friend I’ve ever had …
‘Katie!’ Matthew’s standing in the shade cast by the building, holding two styrofoam cups. I go over to him, trying not to show how glad I am to see him. ‘I got blueberry,’ he says proudly as he hands me a granita. I fish a dollar coin out of my dress pocket and give it to him. Now that I’m in high school, Mum lets me have fifteen dollars a week because she reckons it’s time I started making my own financial decisions.
‘Where’s Stephen?’ I ask, taking a sip of the granita, feeling the icy sweetness slide down my dry throat.
‘He went to the chess club. He said it’s in room 202 and we can come if we want to.’
‘Yeah, sure, like I want to become a member of Nerd Association Incorporated.’
‘That’s what I thought you’d say,’ Matthew chuckles as we head towards the bench we discovered, under a big peppercorn over by the bike racks. I know it’s a peppercorn because Will and Eve taught me the names of different trees when we went for all those walks together.
As we walk, Matthew’s unwrapping the sandwich he brought from home. I left mine in my locker: it’s too hot out to eat. I’m saving the rest of my granita to savour once we get settled on our bench. I hope no one else got there first …
Suddenly, I feel someone bump into me from behind. And then they push my right arm, the one that’s holding the granita. It happens so fast it takes me a second to realize that a big blob of coldness has hit my chest and is sliding down my stomach.
‘Sorry!’ someone splutters. I turn and see Charlotte. The other cool girls are with her, watching as the stickiness begins to seep through the dress onto my skin.
‘I didn’t mean it!’ Charlotte yelps.
‘We have to get somewhere fast,’ Tiffany says, as if that explains everything. As suddenly as they appeared, they disappear into the crowd.
I can’t believe it. I stare down at the empty cup in my hand.
‘She did that on purpose,’ I say.
‘I don’t think so.’ Matthew shakes his head. ‘She said it was an accident.’
‘It wasn’t an accident!’ I can’t keep the stupid tears out of my voice.
‘Then we better go tell Mrs McBain.’
‘No,’ I answer.
‘Why not? She’s our home-group teacher …’
‘I don’t want to go running to a teacher!’ I snap. ‘I’ll handle this myself.’
I march off to the toilet, anger clenched in a fist around my heart. Why did she do that to me? Thank goodness I don’t see anyone from my class on the way to the toilet. Inside there’s only some older girls – Year 10 or 11 – sitting in the corner with their backs against the cement wall, smoking. I don’t want to stay in here with them watching me, but what else can I do? Hopefully they’re so engrossed in their conversation they won’t notice me.
Standing at a sink, I turn on the tap and look around for something to wipe the mess off my dress with. Of course there’s no paper towels! I go into a cubicle, unwind a heap of toilet paper, take it back to the sink and soak it with water. As I swipe at my dress with the sodden, disintegrating mass, I fight not to cry. Why did I ever think I could be different at high school? Why don’t I just have the word Loser tattooed across my forehead and forget it?
‘Are you right?’ one of the smokers calls over to me. They did notice me. They think I’m a sooky baby.
‘Want a drag?’ another girl offers. I look over at her. She doesn’t seem to be making fun of me. She gives me a nice smile and holds out her cigarette invitingly.
‘No, thanks.’ I shake my head.
‘Good decision,’ the girl furthest in the corner says. ‘It’s a bitch tryin’ to give up.’
I go back to mopping at my dress. The blue is coming out pretty easily, thank goodness.
‘Me and Mum are gonna get patches,’ one of the girls tells her friends.
‘Your mum smokes like a chimney.’
‘Duh! That’s why she wants patches. Were not gonna get them till Simon moves out, though. Mum says till she gets rid of him she needs her nicotine big-time.’
I give my front a final swipe, toss the toilet-paper ball into the bin, splash some cold water onto my red face and head for the door.
‘Your dress’ll dry in no time in this weather,’ one of the girls assures me.
‘Just stay in the sun for five minutes,’ advises the one who told me not to start smoking. To them I must seem like the preps did to me last year.
I emerge into the light carefully, glancing around to see if any of my classmates are lurking. Instead I find Matthew waiting. Wasn’t he afraid he’d look like a pervert, standing right next to the girls’ toilet?
‘Here,’ he says, holding out a styrofoam cup.
I take a gulp of granita. It’s lemon. Sour as.
‘I don’t have any money to pay you back,’ I say. The dollar I spent on the blue granita was the only one I brought today.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ he shrugs. ‘Mum gave me extra to get an icy-pole on the way home.’
‘Thanks,’ I answer. But at the moment I don’t feel like being thankful for anything.
As I let myself into the house, the ache that’s been in my stomach since I drank that lemon granita eases a bit. Mum’s nowhere to be seen, so I wander out to the bungalow and open the door to its dim, cave-like atmosphere. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust and make out anything apart from the computer screen.
Finally I recognise Mum in the gloom. She says, ‘Hi, kid,’ while still peering at her work.
I go over to the fridge disguised as a cupboard and grab a vanilla Coke. ‘You want a Coke?’ I ask Mum.
‘Thanks,’ she answers distractedly. She manages to take the can I give her, drink from it, put it down, then reach into the travellers’ pack of M&M’s beside the keyboard … all without looking away from the screen.
‘You should open the curtains,’ I tell her. ‘It’s dark as a tomb in here.’
‘Too hot,’ she mumbles through a mouthful of M&M’s.
‘Then why don’t you get an air-conditioner? I bet a lot more customers would come if you did.’
She doesn’t bother to respond to that, just hunches closer to her precious computer. She’s working on some big project this week so she more or less lives out here. Sits there for hours on end, nibbling at Pizza Shapes and popcorn and anything else she can pick out of a bowl and pop into her mouth without looking at it. If she doesn’t watch out, her bum won’t fit on that gas-lift chair much longer.
I settle into the client’s seat, take a sip of Coke and think how Sarah got skinny again only a couple of weeks after Alice was born. Except for her boobs, which Dad teased her about, saying he wished she’d keep on breast-feeding till Alice was twenty.
‘So after that you won’t mind if I go back to having tiny boobs?’ Sarah asked him, smoothing her hand over Alice’s head as she fed her for about the tenth time that day.
Dad sighed dramatically. ‘By that time I’ll be too old to care.’
I remember how it feels to hold Alice in your arms and rest your hand on the top of her head. Her skull is hard, and hot, covered with the thinnest layer of wispy blonde hair. Under your fingers you can feel her soft spot throbbing, measuring out her heartbeats.
‘Get diet next time,’ I say.
Mum ignores me, frowns and taps something into her forest of numbers.
‘Hey!’ I use Billy’s volume level. ‘Earth to Mum! Next time we need diet!’
She swirls around on her fancy chair. ‘What are you talking about?’ she demands. At least now she’s frowning at me instead of her screen.
‘Next time you go shopping,’ I say only a few decibels lower, ‘get diet vanilla Coke.’
Her frown deepens. ‘Was that really worth interrupting me for?’
‘I don’t know!’ My voice comes out all choked up. ‘I guess nothing I say is worth interrupting anybody for.’
Mum’s face softens, and at last I can feel her attention disconnecting from her accounting program. ‘Did something bad happen at school?’ she asks.
Her question makes my stomach clench up again. Charlotte spilling that granita over me reminds me too much of when Shelley, my supposedly best friend, sprayed Impulse in my face. And I wanted this year to be really different from last year.
I stare down at the forest-green carpet, wishing I could tell Mum I’m sailing through, that I love every lesson and I’ve made at least three new friends. I take a deep breath and manage to keep my voice steady. ‘School’s fine.’
Mum doesn’t indicate whether or not she believes that. Instead she says in her I’ve-got-a-plan voice, ‘Listen, kid, I really need to concentrate on this job for the next few days. The deadline’s Friday at five o’clock and I’m going to have to make every hour count till then. But I could use something to spur me on. I’ll need to collapse on Friday night. How about we go out on Saturday? Maybe to the Vietnamese?’
She knows I love Vietnamese food. Right now I feel like I couldn’t ever look forward to anything, but I can’t say that to Mum.
‘Okay,’ I nod. ‘That sounds good.’
‘Are you goin’ to the chess club again at lunchtime?’ Matthew asks.
‘Yeah.’ Stephen nods enthusiastically.
We’re in home group, the part where we get to chat before Mrs McBain takes the roll.
‘You guys should come, too,’ Stephen says. ‘202’s like this meeting room. It’s sort of part of the library. It’s air-conditioned.’
‘Uh,’ Matthew looks at me. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘I could teach you how to play. There’s some others who aren’t very good.’
I only half-listen to Matthew’s response, because I’m trying to tune in on what the cool girls are saying. I want to know if they’re talking about me, laughing over the granita Charlotte spilled on me and planning what they’ll do today. It’s not that easy training my right ear to focus one row ahead and over towards the door. At least Billy isn’t here to get in the way yet: he’s always late.
‘It’s gonna be so grouse!’ Olivia is bouncing on her chair. ‘Mum’s taking me to Coles on Friday night and we’re getting giant pizzas, a bunch of Doritos, stacks of lollies …’
‘I’ll bring Tim Tams,’ Charlotte interrupts. ‘Double choc and Tia Maria ones.’
‘Dad’s burnt me some more CDs,’ Tiffany says. ‘I’ll bring them.’
‘And we’ll walk up to the video shop, right?’ Charlotte asks.
‘Like we always do!’ the others chime.
They’re not talking about me. Sounds like they’re planning a sleepover at Olivia’s. Maybe yesterday really was an accident.
‘Miss!’ Up in the front row, Chloe has her hand in the air.
‘Yes, Chloe?’ Mrs McBain says.
‘After you do the roll, can I read the daily bulletin to the class?’
‘Well,’ Mrs McBain considers, ‘do you think you can read it slowly and clearly enough for everybody to understand?’
Chloe answers slowly and clearly, ‘Do I ever.’
‘Okay then,’ Mrs McBain smiles at her, ‘I’ll give you a chance.’
‘What a dork,’ Tiffany mumbles. I shouldn’t feel so good to hear them use the D-word on somebody else.
‘Yeah,’ Olivia agrees in a voice loud enough for at least the back half of the class to hear. ‘She’s such a T.P.’
‘What’s a T.P?’ I whisper to the boys.
‘Toilet paper?’ Stephen whispers back. Sometimes he knows things that surprise you, but I guess not this time.
‘Hey, you … uh … Olivia!’ Matthew calls in a voice loud enough for the whole class to hear.
Olivia looks at him like he’s a creepy thing she discovered under a rock.
‘What’s a T.P?’ Matthew asks her.
She gazes at her creepy discovery for a couple of seconds, then tells him in a quiet but scathing manner, ‘A teacher pleaser.’
When she turns back to her friends, I turn on Matthew. ‘How could you do that?’ I hiss.
‘Do what? What’d I do?’
‘Oh, never mind!’
He’s so dumb. He couldn’t develop a dorkometer if he tried for a hundred years. Even though mine’s severely disabled, I know you don’t come right out and display your total ignorance to the coolest kids in the class.
I’m standing at our kitchen sink, looking out the window over the back garden, munching Corn Pops cereal straight out of the packet. Mum’s making every hour count at her computer and I couldn’t be bothered with a proper dinner. Will’s out there weeding his (our) veggie patch, taking advantage of the shade that spreads across it at this time of the evening. He straightens up, kneads the base of his spine with his hands, then notices me at the window, gives me a big smile and waves. I wave back, but I’m too jittery to go out and make conversation.
This has been my worst day of high school so far. In every lesson, I kept catching one or two of the cool girls looking over at me and the boys. Then they’d turn back to each other and start whispering and giggling.
I grab a big handful of Corn Pops and stuff them in my mouth. I need something to grind between my teeth. Every time I remember Matthew blurting out to the cool girls that we didn’t understand what they were talking about, I wish I had one of those torture apparatuses they used in medieval times. An iron maiden, preferably. I’d usher him in with pleasure and shut the door very slowly.
How could he have done that? Up till today the cool girls were ignoring me. Unless that wasn�
�t an accident yesterday and they were looking for me in the schoolyard. One thing’s for sure, now they’re watching me like anything. They’re waiting for me to say something really dorky, or to do something absolutely nerdy, then they’ll pounce. After that everybody will know they’re allowed to find things to laugh at me about. I’ll be in Justine’s position, the bottom girl in the class.
Suddenly, a scream rips through the kitchen so loudly that I drop the Corn Pops. They scatter across the floor as I realise it’s only the phone. I have a crazy premonition that it’ll be Ashleigh from my primary school, telling me she knew my downfall would only be a matter of time.
‘Hello?’
‘Hi, Sweetie!’
It’s Sarah. I’d forgot it’s Wednesday, her and Dad’s night to call.
‘Hi, Sarah.’ I watch a tiny yellow ball roll under the fridge.
‘Your dad sends his love. He had to cover for someone at a seminar tonight.’ Her voice is warm and comforting, like a soft multi-coloured blanket when you’re watching TV on a winter’s night.
‘Oh, right.’ My voice is a skinny grey thread compared to hers.
‘It was a last-minute thing. But you know how they are over at the uni. He couldn’t really get out of it.’
‘That’s okay. I can talk to him later.’
‘I thought you’d understand. Hang on a sec …’ I hear rustling, and some little baby whimpers, then Sarah says, ‘That’s better. Jake’s at my mum’s for the night, so it’s just me and Ali here. She’s slurping away as usual. You and I can have a nice long talk.’
Ali? I never heard them call her that before.
‘Kaitlin?’ Sarah says. ‘Are you still there?’
‘Yeah, I’m here.’
‘So! How’s your second week of high school going?’
‘Fine.’
‘Tell me some of the highlights.’
Pictures spring into my mind and collide with each other like bumper cars. A stream of blue granita. A scathing look from Tiffany. A mean acrostic crumpled in Matthew’s hand. I don’t want Sarah to know about those highlights!
Term in Year Seven Page 4