‘Kaitlin,’ Olivia leans over and whispers to me, ‘we should have said, your mother has a protruding navel. That would have been a good rebuttal.’
I can’t help smiling. She’s practically memorised my insult and curse book. Suddenly I catch Chloe staring at us from the audience. She looks so jealous. Ha, ha! She was too good for me on the first day, but now I’ve got the top girl in the class whispering jokes in my ear.
I think I’m going crazy.
‘Bye, Kaitlin,’ Tiffany calls over her shoulder as she heads out of the locker room. She turns and blows me a kiss, then she’s gone. Out the door, where Olivia already went. It feels so good to know that all the kids in here saw those cool girls say goodbye to me. It feels so bad to still be mad at them! It’s like there’s a deranged wolf snarling inside me.
I slam my locker shut, wishing I could trap the wolf in there with my Italian workbook and my PE runners. I imagine the whole block of lockers shaking as frantic howls emit from number 102. Maybe I’ve gone spazzo from lack of sleep, from working my brain to a frazzle trying single-handedly to save our debating team from defeat!
The room is nearly empty. Everybody with a normal mind has rushed off home. There is one person near me, shoving stuff into his schoolbag, running late as usual.
‘Hey, Matthew,’ I say, ‘do you wanna walk home with me?’ I want him to turn and give me a huge grin, like he always used to do. He does turn to me, but he doesn’t smile. He looks at me for a second, then says, ‘Uh, not today. I’m kinda busy.’
Busy! What’s he got to be busy about? The wolf is back inside me. ‘You just don’t want to walk with me,’ I snarl. ‘That’s it, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ he says quietly.
‘Why not?’ The words come out so loud they echo amongst the lockers.
‘Because …’ His voice is shaking. ‘Because you’re not the same any more. You used to be … I don’t know … you used to be you!’
I turn and march out the door. I don’t want to see him ever again!
‘Have another cardboard cracker with Clag?’ Mum holds out a platter of fat-free biscuits with low-calorie dip.
It’s a tradition of ours to have a picnic at the Botanical Gardens on Labour Day. This year Rick came with us. We got here early so we could stake out our favourite spot: the island of shade underneath a Morton Bay fig, near the top of a hill that slopes down to the lake.
‘We used to bring a big fat chook from the Chicken Machine,’ I tell him, ‘with this really yummy potato salad. And then later we’d have mud cake.’
‘That’s nothing,’ Rick grins, taking a cracker from Mum. ‘When my mother and I used to go on a picnic with her brothers and sisters, we’d start chomping at noon and we’d still be going when night fell.’
‘What did you eat all that time?’ I ask.
‘Well …’ Rick smiles like I’ve just asked him to speak about something important. ‘First we’d have a whole roast goat stuffed with baby rats, then we’d bring on the pickled pigs’ trotters and … let’s see, what was it … sautéed sharks’ livers! Finally we’d finish off the meal with about forty of my mother’s home-made cookies.’ He pauses for effect, ‘Each.’
Mum laughs. ‘Where did you grow up? Transylvania?’
‘No, Templestowe. But Weight Watchers came as such a shock, I can tell you. I didn’t know a zucchini from a zygote till I joined up.’
‘What kind of cookies did your mum make?’ I ask.
‘Every kind! Macadamia nut, chocolate chip, cherry shortbread …’
‘Stop it!’ I clutch my stomach. ‘You’re making me hungry for real food.’
‘Remind me when we get home and I’ll fry you up a shark’s liver,’ he offers.
‘I said real food. With chocolate.’
‘You two,’ Mum scolds, ‘you carry on like pork chops.’
‘Yum …’ Rick licks his lips. ‘I love pork chops.’
‘I could bake you some,’ Mum says shyly, ‘with the fat cut off.’
‘Wow,’ I say to Rick, ‘that’s the first time Mum’s offered to cook for anybody.’
‘Kaitlin!’ she protests. But she’s looking happy in a way I’ve never seen her before.
‘Usually your idea of entertaining,’ I tease, ‘is to open a box of Pizza Shapes.’
‘I beg your pardon,’ she counters in a posh voice, ‘I can be gourmet when I choose. On those occasions I provide the finest cracked-pepper water crackers with Camembert and pâté.’
Mum is stretched out on the picnic blanket, her eyes closed. I nudge her with my bare foot and she doesn’t respond. ‘Yep,’ I say to Rick, ‘she’s out cold.’
‘Does she do this often?’ Rick looks worried. Two seconds ago, Mum was still saying ‘hmmm’ in response to Rick’s description of different types of roses.
‘She always falls asleep in the afternoon. She’s an owl. She works at night.’
‘Well …’ I can see he’s wondering what to do next.
‘Let’s take these crackers and feed them to the ducks,’ I suggest. ‘Maybe they like cardboard.’
‘Good idea. Do you think they want the dip as well?’
‘I don’t think so,’ I say as I put my shoes on. ‘They do have some pride.’ I take my time tying the bows, even though Rick probably won’t notice I’m wearing Converse. Dad bought them for me when I was in Canberra.
We walk down the slope to the lake. ‘So how’s high school treating you?’ Rick asks me. With Mum asleep, he’s become a normal, serious adult.
‘Okay.’ I wish we were still talking about roasted goats and baby rats. Now that he’s put the word ‘school’ in my mind, I see the locker room on Thursday: Tiffany blowing me a kiss, Matthew saying he’s too busy. My locker shaking and howling with rage. I can’t tell him about that! He’d never go out with Mum again if he knew her daughter was bonkers.
‘I hated high school,’ Rick says. He spits the words out with such bitterness that I look up at him sharply.
‘How come?’ I ask.
‘I don’t know …’ I can tell he does know, he just needs time to choose his words. ‘Especially the first few years … looking back, they seem like the worst time to be human.’
We’ve reached the edge of the lake. Some brown and green ducks are paddling around lazily. I toss them a cracker and they watch it half-heartedly as it sinks. ‘Hey,’ I chide them, ‘you could have at least tasted it.’
‘Overfed,’ Rick pronounces, ‘that’s my diagnosis.’
‘There are a lot of people here to give them stuff,’ I agree. Little kids are scampering around while their parents munch on scones and cream at the outdoor cafe. I look up at Rick again. ‘Why was it the worst time?’ I ask him.
He sighs. ‘I was gross, Kaitlin. And I just didn’t seem to have the protective mechanisms that the others did. I wasn’t confident enough to be the funny fat guy, and I didn’t have the strength to fight them off physically. I just took it, whatever they decided to dish out.’
Should I tell him about my dorkometer, how I’m trying to develop it? Maybe if I get to know him better, I will. Right now he’s in another world. His high-school world. ‘Home was my refuge,’ he says. ‘I couldn’t wait to get back there every afternoon. Mum would have a feast waiting for me, then I’d work in the garden. Even then I loved growing flowers.’
That would have gone over great with the other guys, I think.
‘What’s your name?’ A stray toddler has her head tilted right back so she can look up at Rick.
‘Golem,’ he answers, handing the kid a cracker.
‘Melissa, get back here now!’ a scone-eater cries.
‘It took me a long time,’ Rick goes on, ‘to work out that it didn’t matter what they thought. My mother said it, too, when she was dying. Ignore the crap, she said, or words to that effect. What matters is what’s important to you.’
He said that as if it’s the number one Rule for Life. I wander further around the lake, to where a pair of
swans are gliding in a slow circle with their noses in the air like royalty. It’s obvious they wouldn’t be interested in a cracker. They’d demand watercress sandwiches.
Is it really that simple, I ask Queen Swan. I should just do what’s important to me?
I look back and see Melissa the Toddler leading Rick by the hand, over to show her mother. Hope she doesn’t pinch him off Mum!
I turn to King Swan, who looks like he knows everything. What is important to me? I have a little think as I kick some fallen leaves into the water. And then I answer myself.
Ever since I can remember, I’ve wanted friends. Girl friends. Now I have two that I can be super proud of. What could be more important than that? I’ve been stupid, worrying about that debate. What good would winning a debate do me in the long run? And if Matthew wants to snob me off, that’s his problem. He and Stephen were like an interlude in my life. They were nice while they lasted, but now it’s time for me to grow up. What’s really important is that I get through the trial period and become a permanent member of Olivia’s group. And the trial ends this Friday.
‘Whew!’ Rick has appeared by my side, having left Melissa with her mum. ‘That’s one upfront baby.’
I give him a shove, pretending to try and push him into the lake. I don’t feel quite so crazy anymore.
She writes her name on the whiteboard. Mrs Vascaris. She’s our emergency teacher for maths.
‘Good morning, class,’ she says, turning away from the board. She’s tall and plump, with long brown hair. A bit younger than Mum. ‘I … uh … this is my first time at your school. I’ve been on family leave for a few years. But I’ve decided to come back a couple of days a week and be with you big kids.’ She gives us a smile bright with pink lipstick.
Olivia whispers to me, ‘What’s she telling us that for?’
I shrug and roll my eyes. My dorkometer warns me not to say that I was wondering how many children Mrs Vascaris has, and how old they are. When I was in Canberra, Sarah kept agonising over child care, feeling guilty about when she’d have to go back to work.
‘Okay,’ Mrs Vascaris says. ‘I’ll take the roll and then you can get started on your work.’ She nods towards the board, where she’s written the exercises we’re supposed to do from our textbook. ‘If you need any help,’ she says cheerfully, ‘that’s what I’m here for.’
She picks up the roll. ‘Lisa Avenal,’ she calls out.
‘Here.’
‘Tiffany Foster.’
‘Here!’ Olivia says loudly.
Some of the kids turn and look at Olivia, but nobody says anything. Mrs Vascaris keeps calling out names, and everyone answers correctly until she gets to, ‘Olivia Hunter.’
Olivia nudges me. ‘Here!’ bursts out of my mouth.
Tiffany and Olivia giggle. Mrs Vascaris glances at them briefly, then keeps on taking the roll. She calls the next name. But more people are laughing now.
‘Am I missing something?’ Mrs Vascaris asks.
‘A teacher’s licence, I reckon,’ Billy mumbles, too low for her to hear.
‘Sorry, Miss,’ Olivia says.
Mrs Vascaris continues down the roll to the last name, which is mine. ‘Kaitlin Williams.’
‘I’m here, Miss!’ Billy says in a high, ultra-girlie voice. This time the whole class laughs.
‘I’ve had enough of this!’ Mrs Vascaris explodes. ‘Who is Kaitlin?’
‘I am, Miss,’ Tiffany says seriously.
You can feel the class trying not to laugh anymore, so they won’t give the secret away. ‘All right.’ Mrs Vascaris looks she doesn’t quite know what to do. ‘You can get on with your work now.’
The class relaxes. Time to chat.
‘Miss.’ Vi’s hand is already up. ‘Can you help us with something?’
‘I’ll try.’ The happy look Mrs Vascaris wore when she came into our class returns.
I open my maths books and find the right page, even though I suspect I won’t be getting much work done this period.
‘She looks like a little mouse,’ Olivia says, glaring across the room at Vi, who is listening intently to Mrs Vascaris. ‘But she acts like a feral sow.’ I knew Vi wouldn’t get by with talking back to Olivia.
‘Squeak, squeak,’ Tiffany says without moving her lips. Billy must have been listening to Olivia because he joins in with a snort like a pig. Mrs Vascaris turns sharply and stares at our corner of the room. Tiffany is writing neatly in her exercise book. Billy thumbs noisily through his text. ‘What page are we doing, Miss?’
‘Have a look at the board,’ she says crossly. It’s obvious she can’t work out who squeaked or oinked. She sighs and goes back to helping Vi.
‘You do one now,’ Tiffany whispers to me.
What if I get caught? I bet if I get another detention they’ll tell Mum for sure. Olivia and Tiffany are both looking at me, waiting. They make their decision in two days’ time. I hear Rick’s voice: What matters is what’s important to you. And their decision is what’s important right now.
‘Meooow.’ I try to be like Tiffany and not move my lips.
They look a bit confused, then Chloe shrieks, ‘I get it! Cats eat mice.’
The class starts laughing and talking all at once.
‘What’s your name?’ Mrs Vascaris barks at Chloe.
‘Elise.’
‘Well, Elise, if you want to earn yourself a detention, just keep on acting like you have been!’
‘You’d have to have boobs as big as watermelons to wear that!’ Tiffany screeches. We’re in the underwear department at Target, and she’s holding up what must be the hugest bra in Victoria.
‘Look at this.’ Olivia pulls a see-through purple bra off a rack and dangles it by one strap.
An old woman pawing through a stack of humongous cotton underpants snorts at us in disgust.
‘I think she goes to my dentist,’ I whisper.
The others laugh as though I’d cracked the best joke.
We’ve been planning to come to the mall together ever since we heard that Target is having a fifteen-percent-off sale today. Olivia said she’d rather drape a python around her neck than buy actual clothes here, but they do have good underwear and makeup. Her mum dropped us off after school. Tiffany’s dad is picking us up at 5:30, and we’re going to their place to wait for our mums.
‘Let’s go to the food court,’ Tiffany says, folding up the size thirty-eight bra and putting it back on the shelf. ‘I’m starving.’
‘I wanted to try on some stuff,’ Olivia reminds us.
Tiffany and I look at each other. Somehow I get the feeling she’s not keen to try on bras either. What if Olivia insisted on seeing how they looked on us?
‘I’m hungry, too,’ I say. ‘I’ve had a craving for a smoothie all day. We can come back here later.’
Olivia looks a bit put out, but she follows us into the mall. We walk past Strand Bags, Colorado and a book shop. Olivia points at Best & Less. ‘I bet that’s where that old underpants woman buys her clothes.’
‘Only if she’s feeling really extravagant,’ I say.
My friends giggle, and I feel so lucky to have them. Tomorrow it will be exactly a month since we went to the city together and they told me I’m on trial. Tomorrow they tell me their decision! I stick my left hand in my pocket and cross my fingers, wishing with all my might that their answer will be yes.
‘That skirt would totally look good on you, Kaitlin.’ Tiffany gestures towards Jay Jays.
A thought flies into my mind. Maybe they’re going to tell me today. That could be why Olivia was so keen to come to the mall. That could be why they haven’t mentioned The Decision. I’ll bet they’ve been planning a surprise for me!
‘Kaitlin!’ It’s a child’s voice. And then a different one. ‘Kaitlin!’
Suddenly, I’m being hugged on each side by two small girls. ‘Erin,’ I say. ‘Bethany.’ It’s like they popped out of another world.
Erin stops clutching me and chirps, ‘
We haven’t seen you for a long time. We miss you!’
Bethany looks up at me. ‘Remember when we played What’s the Time Mister Wolf every day?’
My friends look at the girls, and then back to me, as if they can’t believe what they’re hearing. I can’t believe it, either. It feels so good to see my little friends. But it feels so bad to have Olivia and Tiffany see how I was in primary school.
‘We didn’t play that every day,’ I protest to Erin and Bethany.
‘Yes, we did!’
‘No,’ Erin says primly to Bethany, ‘sometimes we played Giant’s Treasure, or tiggy.’
I want to clamp a hand over each of their mouths.
‘There’s no good big kids at school anymore,’ Bethany pouts. No loners who want to hang around with prep kids. I bet that’s what Olivia and Tiffany are thinking.
A tall, pretty woman walks up to us. She holds out her hand to me. ‘You must be Kaitlin, I’m Christine, Erin’s mother.’
I take her hand and shake it, ‘Uh …’ I mumble. ‘Hi.’
‘I wanted to meet you last year. Erin was always going on about some game you’d taught them, or what you said. I never got to thank you for all the time you spent with her and Bethany. Not many girls your age would have done that.’
I feel like I’m standing in front of an X-ray machine and everybody in the mall can see what’s inside me.
‘Can’t you come and visit us?’ Erin has grown taller since I last saw her. But her eager little face hasn’t changed.
‘I don’t know …’ I hesitate. I want to visit them! But I don’t want Olivia and Tiffany to know that.
‘Come on, girls,’ Christine says. ‘Let’s let Kaitlin get on with what she was doing.’ She drags them off, one little hand in each of hers.
‘Bye, Kaitlin!’ Erin and Bethany call back.
‘Bye.’
‘Who were they?’ Olivia asks.
‘Our teacher made us have prep buddies last year,’ I say. I feel like I’m betraying Erin and Bethany and Mr Callaghan. But it was still a good answer.
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