I push the paper into the middle of the table so the others can read it. Tiffany smirks gleefully, ‘That’s like the coolest note ever!’
‘Yeah!’ Olivia rubs her hands together. ‘Charlotte’s gonna love it.’
My future super-nerd self, over at that desk, has faded to a pale outline.
‘How’s this group going?’ It’s Mrs McBain. Thank goodness Tiffany has grabbed the note and shoved it in her pocket. Hope she hasn’t crumpled it too much.
Mrs McBain picks up one of our books and gazes at it with interest. ‘What has an atlas got to do with getting a parenting license?’
‘We’re researching parents in different parts of the world,’ Olivia quips.
Mrs McBain raises her eyebrows at that, then picks up another book. ‘Caring for your Kitten? What relevance might that have?’
‘Kittens are kind of like kids,’ I giggle.
Mrs McBain gives me a serious look. ‘That’s pretty funny, Kaitlin. But we’ll see who’s laughing on the day of the debate.’
‘Were there a bunch of fatty boombas there?’
‘Kaitlin!’ Mum plops her handbag and some pieces of paper on the table. ‘There were several people struggling with obesity, if that’s what you mean.’
‘Yeah,’ I grin, ‘that’s what I meant.’
Mum grabs a serviette from the dispenser we have on the table and wipes her face with it. ‘They could use some air-conditioning,’ she says, ‘but the people are really nice. Could you get me a … glass of water?’
My mother never drinks water. She says she knows what fish do in it. Weight Watchers must be having an influence already. I put the glass in front of her and sit down. She taps a shiny brochure and says, ‘See this guy? I met him tonight. He’s the regional winner for last year.’
I pull the brochure over and have a look. A man about Mum’s age is wearing this huge pair of jeans that are like twenty sizes too big for him. He’s holding the waistband way out in front of him, grinning like he just won an Olympic medal.
‘He’s kept the weight off for six months,’ Mum says proudly. ‘He told me he feels normal for the first time in his life.’
I can relate to that, even without standing in a giant pair of pants.
‘Could you get me the scissors, please?’ Mum asks me.
‘What for?’
‘I want to put his picture on the fridge, for inspiration.’
‘Listen up, 7C!’ Mrs McBain is standing at the front of our home group, like she does every morning when it’s time to read the announcements. ‘I’ve got some good news. Our class has been mentioned in the Daily Bulletin.’
Vi and La and other people in the front row seat sit up straighter, looking pleased and interested. I know enough to keep my face blank.
‘What’d we do?’ Billy demands. ‘Rack up the most number of detentions?’
‘I said it was good news. Now kindly keep your witty comments to yourself for two minutes, Billy.’
He makes a big show of looking at his watch while Mrs McBain reads, ‘The chess club, led by Mr Bellview, continues to compete ferociously in the Games Room every lunchtime. First on the year seven and eight ladder is Hahn Chi of 8D …’ Mrs McBain pauses for effect. ‘Followed closely by Stephen Daley of 7C.’
A few people, including Mrs McBain, applaud. I don’t know if I should or not. Tiffany and Olivia aren’t clapping, so I don’t. But part of me wants to really badly. I want to cheer for Stephen, to show him I’m glad he’s making it at high school. Why did he have to choose such a nerdy thing to be good at?
As the applause dies down, Olivia looks over her shoulder at Stephen and asks me, ‘Where’d you say you found him? In a hole behind the bike shed?’
A few people giggle.
‘I never said that!’
‘Yes, you did,’ Tiffany insists. ‘You told us at the sleepover. You said you dug him up. He’s a zombie, risen from the dead!’
Stephen didn’t hear that, did he? It’s not like we’re the only ones talking.
‘Class!’ Mrs McBain says, ‘Settle down! We still have the rest of the announcements to get through.’
I glance back at Stephen. If he didn’t hear, how come he’s not looking happy?
‘What’s wrong with your chicken burger?’ Tiffany asks. ‘Is it off or something?’
‘It’s okay,’ I say. ‘I guess I’m not hungry.’
‘I’ll have it,’ Olivia volunteers. For a skinny person, she sure can wolf down the kilojoules. I hand her my lunch.
We’re sitting at our spot by the toolshed. I splurged on a chicken burger from the canteen because I thought it might make me feel better, but now I can’t choke down a bite. Ever since home group yesterday, my stomach has been clenched up like anything. I want to say to Tiffany and Olivia, ‘How come you let Stephen know I made fun of him at the sleepover? And why did you have to exaggerate what I said?’
But I already know their answer. ‘We were just kidding. God, Kaitlin, can’t you take a joke?’
I know it was a joke, but Stephen didn’t laugh at home group this morning when Billy turned around and asked him, ‘Did you find any good blood to suck last night?’
Matthew told him to shut up, and he did. I wanted to point out he’s too stupid to know the difference between zombies and vampires, but I didn’t. Kaitlin would never stand up to anybody. Charlotte’s note is gone, but I can still see her words.
I stand up now. ‘I have to go somewhere,’ I say.
‘Where?’ Tiffany wants to know, delicately licking her rainbow Paddle Pop.
‘Want us to come with you?’ Olivia offers.
‘No! Thanks, but …’
‘You keeping a secret from us?’ Tiffany asks.
‘I just really need to see somebody. On my own.’ I wish they’d stop giving me a hard time.
Tiffany’s blue eyes widen. ‘I bet I know who that somebody is.’
Olivia’s black eyes widen. ‘Could his initial be J?’
With that I head off. I take the long way around so Tiffany and Olivia won’t know I’m going to the library. I’d forgotten how many kids are at this school. Since I got my own group, I haven’t really been looking at anybody else. Now I see hundreds of faces above maroon and grey uniforms. I pass groups of girls talking together, big boys kicking a soccer ball, some younger boys pushing each other around and swearing. I reach a clump of trees that smell of smoke.
‘Hello, sweetie,’ a friendly voice calls out. ‘Do you want that drag now?’
It’s the girl from the toilet, the one who offered me her cigarette the day Charlotte spilled blue granita on my dress.
‘Uh,’ I say, ‘no, thanks. I’m just looking for somebody.’ I turn and walk on. Why did I have to see that girl on the one day when I’m by myself? I want to run back and tell her, I have friends! I have the coolest friends in our class! But I keep going.
Stephen was right about one thing. When I step into the library, the cold air that wraps around me feels like a present. As I head towards the Games Room, I spot Vi and La and Justine over by the computers, busily researching. Collecting points to use against us in the debate!
If they look like nerds, it’s nothing compared to what I find when I gingerly open the door to the Games Room. There’s about 30 people in here, paired up opposite each other, their heads bent over chessboards. It doesn’t take me long to spot the curly, blond head I’m looking for. Stephen is concentrating so hard he doesn’t notice me.
The teacher in charge looks up from the Age he’s reading and asks me, ‘You interested in joining?’
‘Uh, no thanks. I just wondered if I could talk to Stephen for a second.’
At the sound of my voice, Stephen does look up. And gives me the biggest smile. Which makes my stomach hurt even worse.
‘Mind breaking your concentration for a minute?’ the teacher asks him.
Stephen’s partner, a tall girl with a lot of pimples, looks annoyed. But Stephen says happily, ‘Okay.’
He fol
lows me out into the main part of the library. I lead him behind a tall set of bookshelves where no one can see us. I need to talk to him alone, without even Matthew around.
‘Sure you don’t want to learn how to play?’ There’s a sparkle in Stephen’s eyes that tells me he’s teasing. He’s a lot more confident and grown-up when he’s in the library.
‘I’m not ready for Nerdsville yet,’ I tease back.
‘I just …’ I take a deep breath. I have to say this! ‘I just wanted to tell you, I didn’t say that stuff about you at the sleepover. The stuff Tiffany and Olivia said.’
He looks at me. And smiles again. ‘I knew you didn’t.’
‘You did?’
‘Sure.’
‘How’d you know?’
He shrugs. ‘Because you’re not like that.’
How can he be so nice to me? I thought I’d feel better if I could make him understand. But I don’t. I say, ‘I’m glad you’re doing so good at chess. I’m proud of you.’ Now I know I sound like a prize dork. But it doesn’t matter, since there’s no one to hear except Stephen.
‘Thanks,’ he says.
‘Well … I guess you should get back to your game.’
‘Yeah,’ he agrees, ‘I should.’
As I’m walking back to our spot, taking the long way again, I hear a voice call out, ‘Hey, Kaitlin, alone already?’
I whirl around. It’s Charlotte. She has a girl with her, somebody from another form. ‘They sure did finish with you quick,’ she smirks.
‘No, they didn’t!’ I want to shake her till she understands. ‘I just needed to do something on my own.’
‘Really?’ she asks knowingly.
‘Yes! Really!’
She looks at me like I’m a pathetic little loser. ‘They’ll dump you soon enough. They’re just using you, like they did me.’
‘You don’t know anything!’ I’m so mad I want to rip a handful of hair out of her head. ‘You’re nothing but a low-class, white-trash wildebeest!’
Now I feel better.
I turn and march off.
‘I’m saving that note you wrote,’ Charlotte yells after me. ‘For evidence!’
‘I’ve lost a kilo already, but I did gorge myself stupid before I went to the first weigh-in.’
Mum is on the phone, sitting at the kitchen table, doodling on the message pad like she always does. She must be talking to Margaret, but there’s something about her voice that sounds a bit different. I wish she’d get off because Tiffany’s supposed to call me tonight.
‘Are you kidding?’ Mum giggles in a way I’ve never heard before. ‘If I could look half as good as her I’d be happy.’ She listens for a minute, then says, ‘I know what you mean. My daughter’s been nagging me for ages to lose weight, but I had to wait till I was ready.’
I turn away from the low-fat ice-cream I’ve been scooping into a bowl. ‘I did not nag you!’
She covers the mouthpiece with her hand. ‘Every time you rolled your eyes heavenward at what I was eating, that was nagging.’
I catch myself rolling my eyes and stop. Mum says into the phone, ‘She’s twelve. Just started high school.’
She’s definitely not talking to Margaret, who’s known me since before I was born.
‘Well,’ Mum says, ‘she likes talking on the phone and watching DVDs.’
‘You make me sound like a bimbo! Can’t you wait till I’m out of the room to talk about me?’
Mum isn’t paying any attention to me. ‘Seven would be great,’ she says to the phone in a syrupy voice. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’
‘Who were you talking to?’ I ask as she hangs up.
‘Rick.’
‘Who’s Rick?’
She points to the photo of the giant-pants man on the fridge. ‘Him,’ she smiles.
‘Do you think we’ll still be friends in 2030?’ Olivia asks with a dreamy look on her face.
‘Probably,’ Tiffany says, ‘but I’ll be with an international agency by then. I’ll be living in New York, with my hot husband and my two poodles.’
We’re millions of miles from New York right now. We’re back in the library, working on our debate. Supposedly working. At least I found a few books that have something to do with parents for us to hide behind.
Mrs McBain is sitting with Vi and La and Justine’s group. She’s telling them stuff and they’re looking at her like she’s Encarta come to life. Every once in a while they write down a point on a palm card and look extremely satisfied.
Our team hasn’t got a single point yet, let alone a palm card. ‘Don’t you think we should start working on our debate?’ I ask.
‘Nah,’ Olivia says with a swish of her black hair, ‘we can do that at home. Let’s not waste time when we’re together.’
‘We have been talking about a parent,’ Tiffany points out. She’s been telling us about some good friends that her mother’s known since high school. They’re getting together this Saturday night at her place. She reckons they’re nice, but it gets embarrassing after they’ve drunk a few bottles of champagne and start dancing around to 80s music.
‘Hey!’ Tiffany’s eyes light up. ‘I’ve got a great idea.’
‘What?’ Olivia gets a little purple brush out of her pencil case and runs it through her long black hair, which unlike most people’s never gets frizzy. She seems a bit sleepy this morning.
‘You could both come over on Saturday night.’ Tiffany is so excited she bounces on her chair. ‘We could have our own party. Mum always has heaps of yummy food at those things.’
Olivia suddenly wakes up. ‘Now you’re talkin’, girl!’ She turns to me. ‘Wait till you see Tiffany’s pool! It’s so fun swimming in there when it’s dark. It’s only an above-ground, but it’s got these cool lights.’
All I can do is smile. It’s only two weeks and three days till they make their final decision about me, and for just a second I let myself imagine that their answer will be a definite yes. Things have been going really well between us this week.
Charlotte’s avoided me and the rest of the group since the day I yelled at her, so I guess that thing she said about keeping my note was just an empty threat. She’s at the table furthest from us right now, with Elise and Chloe. I noticed she’s been hanging around with them outside class, too. It makes me mad how easy it is for her to make new friends. But I guess I shouldn’t care. As long as she leaves me alone.
‘Why don’t you come over about six,’ Tiffany says.
‘Are you sure it’ll be okay with your mum?’ I ask.
‘It’ll be fine! She’ll be rapt to have me out of her hair.’
‘Her mum’s so cool,’ Olivia says to me, ‘She lets us do anything we want.’
I love the way they totally expect me to be there. Maybe we will still be friends in 2030: I imagine us all strolling through Central Park with Tiffany. Her poodles are those elegant, tall ones that look like they’re walking on high heels …
Suddenly, I remember. ‘I can’t come!’
‘Why not?’ they both ask at once.
‘I have to go to Canberra.’
‘Canberra. What for?’
‘My dad lives there. I have to go and see him.’
‘Can’t you make it another weekend?’ Tiffany asks.
‘Yeah,’ Olivia says, ‘this is more important than a dad.’
‘But Mum spent ages on the Internet looking for the cheapest flight!’ I can hear the whine in my voice.
They just look at me like I’ve made a really, really bad choice.
The doorbell rings. ‘Oh, god,’ Mum says, ‘he’s not here already, is he?’
She’s just come into the kitchen from her office. She’s wearing one of her working outfits: grey tracky daks splotched with paint from when she renovated the bungalow, teamed with a tight blue T-shirt that says Make Love not War and shows her stomach rolls. Her hair is straggling out of a loose ponytail and it’s really greasy.
‘You better not let him see yo
u like that!’
‘I know!’ The doorbell rings again. ‘Could you let him in and get him a drink while I have a shower?’ She disappears down the corridor.
She didn’t give me much choice. I open the door to see a tall, slim man holding a bunch of flowers.
‘Gee,’ I say, ‘you look heaps better than in the picture.’
Rick smiles at me. ‘You must be Kaitlin.’
‘Yeah … uh, Mum’s in the shower. She never leaves enough time for anything.’
‘That’s the opposite of me. I’m always early.’
‘Do you wanna come in?’
‘Sure, thanks.’
I lead him into the kitchen and motion for him to sit at the table. Then I think maybe I should have taken him to the lounge room. ‘Me and Mum never go in the lounge room except for when we watch TV,’ I tell him.
‘I like it here,’ he says as though he really means it. ‘Do you have a vase for these?’
‘Oh, yeah, sorry.’ It’s a big bunch of flowers – purple and yellow and pink – so I get out our biggest vase. ‘Do you want a drink?’ I ask him. ‘Glass of wine? Vanilla Coke? It’s diet.’
He smiles again. His eyes are grey with flecks of blue. ‘A glass of water would be great.’
After I’ve got his water and put the flowers in the middle of the table, I sit down opposite him. When Mum was talking to Rick on the phone, I thought they’d arranged a hot date, but then she told me he was only picking her up for the Weight Watchers meeting.
He looks at me like he’s trying to think what to say. Some adults have trouble with that. I hope he asks me about school. I like saying the word ‘friends’.
‘I love this table,’ he says.
‘You do?’ I never think about it myself. It’s just a big wooden table that occupies the middle of the kitchen.
He runs his hand over the wood. ‘It’s a lovely grain, and beautifully finished. Walnut, isn’t it?’
‘Uh … I guess so.’ I wish Mum would hurry up and get out here.
He puts his hand under the edge of the table and tries to lift it. ‘Nice and heavy,’ he says approvingly, ‘and I like how it’s big enough to have your things on it without looking messy.’
Term in Year Seven Page 9