“That reminds me,” said Khalilah. “Where are Mom and Auntie Nor? They should be here by now.”
Jefri looked around the hall but could see neither of his relatives who were supposed to be chaperoning them for the night.
“Maybe they got held up,” Will said with a smirk, and gave an exaggerated bow inviting Sofia to dance.
Alana narrowed her eyes at Will while her friends returned to the stage. Will may not be a vampire but he was definitely Up To Something. Before Alana could give it another thought, though, Jefri was leading her in another head spinning waltz.
CHAPTER 55
Perfect timing
Alana was right. Will was Up To Something. Or he had been. Will Löfgren loved to play pranks, as the vampire fangs and Ouija board could attest to, so when he spied an Out-of-Order sign on the school’s service elevator, he couldn’t resist taking it down. It was a harmless enough joke. Nobody but the catering staff used the elevator, anyway. Or so he thought.
Ten minutes later, Dr. Nicolette Luciano, Mrs. Amal Madzaini, and her sister, Nor, smiled their thanks at the woman who held the service elevator doors open. Amal and Nor could not have looked more different. Both women wore their headscarves for the occasion but where Amal’s face was open and warm, Nor’s face was stern and disapproving. As Sofia confided to Alana: “She’s the scariest-looking nun I’ve ever seen.” Behind them, an older woman grumbled at an elderly man like a farmer harassing a wayward donkey.
“I told you to stay at home. You and your bunged up knee. Maddie’ll be done before we even get there,” she griped.
“There’s a lift, Auntie Mo and Uncle Joe,” the woman in the elevator called out. She gave Dr. Luciano, Mrs. Madzaini, and Nor an apologetic smile for the delay.
After several more minutes of good-natured bickering and painstaking shuffling, the elderly pair joined the others in the elevator. The doors closed with a clunk and a grind and began a shuddering ascent that stopped abruptly midway.
“Maximum weight: 1,740 kilograms,” Auntie Mo squinted. “See, I knew you shoulda never-a come.”
Uncle Joe made an attempt to suck in his stomach which lasted five seconds before flopping over the waistband of his dress trousers. Nancy Dawson gave the number one button several more jabs. Amal Madzaini and her sister, Nor, exchanged worried glances. Nancy smiled reassuringly although concern clouded her aquamarine eyes. With a triumphant shout, Auntie Mo spotted the answer to their troubles and punched the red emergency button so hard it fell to the ground.
Everybody’s backs stiffened.
“He-he, don’t know me own strength,” Auntie Mo muttered.
“I do,” Uncle Joe piped up.
Auntie Mo aimed a swift mock blow at Uncle Joe’s bicep to shut him up. See? His wounded expression seemed to say.
“Should we try the phone?” Nicolette Luciano interrupted. She could feel the walls collapsing in on them, the smell of stale cigarette butts and pine forest cleanser hung thick in the air. But the box where the phone should have been was empty, and nobody’s mobile phone could get reception.
After half an hour of yelling and banging on the doors, the five of them settled down for a long wait. Pretty soon it was revealed that Nicolette was Sofia’s mom, Nancy Dawson was Maddie’s, and Amal was Khalilah’s. Although their girls were best friends, had often stayed at each other’s houses, and the adults had even spoken on the phone, none of them had met until now. The conversation twisted and turned from school work to music practice and then the trials of bringing up a teenager.
“I don’t know what garbage they’re feeding them these days.” Auntie Mo sniffed. “All this fairytale nonsense.”
“Oh, yes,” Nicolette agreed, “Sofia’s utterly obsessed with those romance books, the ones where the human girl, vampire, and werewolf are caught in a love triangle.”
“My Khalilah, too,” Amal revealed.
“Romantic love,” Nancy sighed with a roll of her eyes.
The women warmed to their topic as they spoke about books and overrated love and unrealistic expectations. Real Love, they said, was the warts and flaws left behind when the Fairytale Love of hearts, flowers, and happy-ever-afters had faded. How could the girls possibly know what Real Love was? They were like tadpoles looking up through the water and imagining life as a frog. They didn’t even have legs, and yet they wanted to jump through the air! Yes, yes. They agreed. Yes! Uncle Joe tuned out the babble by flicking off his hearing aid and settling down for a nap.
“They puke, they snore, they fart,” Auntie Mo said, repeating her favorite mantra with crossed arms, “and the sooner they realize it, the better!”
On cue, Uncle Joe’s backside erupted with such ferocious intent he woke himself up. To his astonishment, when he opened his eyes he saw all four women screaming and bashing the elevator doors with renewed vigor. Tears streamed from their eyes.
“Must’ve been some explosion,” he muttered, checking all his limbs were present and accounted for. “’s okay, ladies,” he assured them, “I’m alright.”
CHAPTER 56
A ball like no other
Mr. Turner, the deputy principal and acting head, made his speech to the Year Tens and their parents and teachers, who were assembled in the school hall. As Year Seven students, he reminisced, they were encouraged to “explore, experiment and enjoy.” Now, a mere four years later, he was sending them off to be the best they could be, to fulfill their potential and to create their own path with the tools the school had given them. Not all of the students would continue their studies at Gibson High. Some would graduate and take up apprenticeships or attend community colleges or go overseas as part of the foreign exchange program with partner schools. “Be the change that you want to see in the world,” Mr. Turner advised with his arms outstretched, “and you will create a world of change.”
Emma looked around nervously. Most of Mr. Turner’s speech was going over her head, not least because she was distracted by his looks. Over the years Mr. Turner had grown even more portly and his beard had turned puffy and white. She half expected him to erupt with a “Ho ho ho!” even though Christmas was three months away. Beards. Hmmm. With November coming up, she could do a piece on the Movember Foundation that funded men’s health programs... Emma jotted down a couple of ideas on the tablecloth and made a mental note to sneak it home later. She noted with dismay that tonight’s nail art was totally ruined. Emma’s fingernails had been bitten to the quick. She didn’t want to admit it but NONE of the evening’s entertainment had turned up! She certainly wasn’t saying anything to Corinne Löfgren who was basking in the praise of the Parent-Teacher Committee members like a gecko soaking up the sun. James assured her that they were on the way, possibly stuck in traffic, Newtown was notorious for it, but it didn’t stop Emma racing backward and forward so much she’d made a groove in the red carpet. She was running out of time.
Thank goodness Emma had the Elvis Convention organizer on speed dial!
In the meantime, Emma asked Katriona and Ling Ling to be on the lookout for the Stars, and to direct them backstage as soon as they arrived. The classical orchestra had already cleared the stage of all their instruments and DJ Yama was ready to finish the night off. If only the Stars would arrive to fill in the middle!
The sound of polite applause heralded the end of Mr. Turner’s speech and he searched the sea of faces for Emma to introduce the next item on tonight’s agenda: the Entertainment. Emma squared her shoulders, walked up the stairs and took the microphone from him with a frozen smile. There was no choice but to use Plan B.
“Welcome everybody,” she said. Emma’s voice broke midway and she cleared her throat longer than necessary to buy some time. “First of all, I’d like to thank Corinne Löfgren for the incredible job she has done transforming the Gibson High School Hall. What a stunning job, Corinne. Simply stunning.” The audience clapped and yelled as Corinne hid her head in Will's shoulder. “And speaking of ‘stunning,' I want to take this opportunity to wi
sh my ‘stunning' daughter a Happy Birthday! Happy birthday, Alana!”
Alana's face flamed as Flynn blew the first few notes of Happy Birthday on his saxophone while her friends clapped and cheered.
“You know, fifteen years ago, if you had've told me that this tiny, cute little bundle with rosy cheeks and hair, oh my gosh, so much hair, well, I thought, no wonder my tummy was so big, she practically had a mohawk when she came out...” Emma's arms flung high to demonstrate.
Alana buried her face in her hands. “Make her stop,” she moaned as Emma began reliving Alana's childhood that began with a difficult birth. Almost as if he had heard her, Mr. Turner stepped forward halfway through a story on Alana’s potty training, and whispered into Emma’s ear.
“Oh yes,” said Emma, “our entertainment. Our entertainment for tonight’s theme of a Star-Studded Occasion is FULL of Stars. In fact, it has so many Stars that we should have called it a Galaxy-Studded Occasion!” Emma’s laughter was high-pitched and forced. She laughed again, and then snorted. And then laughed because she’d snorted. And then laughed again. “I’m sorry,” she said to the audience who were now staring at their feet or away. “I always make that awful sound when I’m nervous.” Alana’s expression was bleak.
An urgent Psst! off-stage finally caught Emma’s attention and what she saw turned her feet to stone. Emma wasn’t quite sure if she believed in reincarnation. She was even less committed to the idea of zombies. But if she did prescribe to either or both, she could have sworn Mrs. Moira Cronenberg, nee Zsa Zsa Demure, was back!
The figure was short and stocky. The faint line of fuzz that sat above the painted rosebud mouth had been plastered over with foundation and dusted with powder. Long, fake eyelashes framed a pair of hazel green eyes. Ruffles, oodles of them, hung off the person’s white, pudgy shoulders and wrapped themselves around their body like a spiral staircase. The headpiece was a glittering tower of plastic jewels and fake curls. It was a figure you expected to drawl, “Dah-ling!” before air-kissing the side of your face, three times. It was definitely star-studded. “Mrs. Moira Cronenberg” ghosted forward to take the microphone from Emma, who managed a squeaky “Let the show begin!” before staggering off the stage.
“At first I was afraid, I was terrified. Kept thinking I could never live without you by my side...” Colin Johnson’s voice started out faint and shaky, but gained strength when someone in the audience gave an appreciative hoot. Here was Colin Johnson — the Year Nine boy known to be more comfortable with a drawing pencil or a joystick in his hand ... and now a dress.
An Elvis joined Colin on stage. And then another. And another. Soon the stage was full of them. There was Aloha-jumpsuit Elvis. Gold-lamé-tuxedo Elvis. Red-matador-suit Elvis, and Rhinestone-cape Elvis. Elvis with sideburns. Elvis with slicked hair. Elvis with flares. As the disco beat pumped its rhythm, the Stars on stage belted out the seventies classic with so much zeal and verve, it was impossible for the Year Tens to resist. So retro! they nodded to each other like ostriches. Wicked!
Katriona and Ling Ling stood outside the doors of the school hall, trying to direct the flood of Elvises in the right direction. Two figures caught their attention immediately. They were not an Elvis, but as impersonators, they looked almost as good.
“Name?” Katriona asked, checking the list Emma had given her.
A petite woman answered with a hint of a smile in her voice. “Kylie. Kylie Minogue.”
“No, no. Not who you’ve come as. Your real name,” Katriona said.
“My real name is Kylie Minogue.”
A voice piped up beside her. It belonged to a vision of otherworldliness — an Amazon of a woman with regal bearing and piercing, blue eyes behind a pair of glittering, curlicue-shaped eyeglasses. She looked like a multihued butterfly emerging from an opera-house-inspired chrysalis - if the butterfly weighed eighty kilograms. Sharp blue eyes narrowed as they took in Katriona’s depleted halter neck and swollen bell bottoms. “She really is Kylie Minogue, Possum.”
Katriona rolled her eyes at Ling Ling who shrugged. Katriona was sick of the fake Elvises, their rocking pelvises, and their well-a, well-a, huhs. They’d both had a long day on their feet at The Beauty Bar. Was it too much to ask for a straight answer to a straight question? But no, here was another one giving her a hard time.
Katriona looked the woman up and down. “So, you’re the real Kylie Minogue?” Two pairs of scathing digits encompassed the word “real.” The petite woman nodded.
“Well, there’s an easy way to prove that!”
...
When Jefri saw two women stride angrily past him on his way back from the bathroom, heading straight for the service elevator, his neck turned like it was made of rubber. He recognized both of them from his book, Australian Icons.
“Tipu!” Lies, he cried. “I knew it was all real!”
The ding of the elevator heralded its arrival. It discharged Dr. Nicolette Luciano, Mrs. Amal Madzaini, Nor, Auntie Mo, and ... an ungodly smell. The four women pushed past Jefri, coughing and spluttering and wildly batting at the air, as if they could punch the smell away. When the stench reached the two women waiting for the service elevator, they clutched at each other with glazed eyes, before staggering blindly for the stairs.
“What did I miss?” said Uncle Jo, emerging through the doors with a slow shuffle as he turned up his hearing aid. “What did I miss?”
...
Back in the school hall, with all Elvises present and accounted for, Katriona and Ling Ling and Emma led the others in shaking their bootie and jabbing their fingers in the air. Even though it was a little bit late in coming, Katriona couldn’t have asked for a better birthday present.
Her friends had managed to Turn Back Time.
CHAPTER 57
Happy never after
All things considered, Alana was quite happy with the way her 15th birthday was turning out. True, Emma had embarrassed her in front of all her friends and the seniors at the school ball. True, Emma had forced Alana to ride to school in a hearse, and true, she’d been made to dance the waltz in public. But Alana wasn’t in hospital and more importantly, Coach Kusmuk was nowhere to be seen. Plus DJ Yama was playing some wicked beats that, even though they weren’t rock, weren’t bad. Thanks to Flynn, Alana’s mind was now open to a whole new world of music... even if she drew the line at Tom Waits.
“Miss you, Dad,” Alana aimed at the glittery ceiling in a whisper, imagining him with his frizzy hair, acoustic guitar, and tender smile before he blew her a birthday kiss.
The track changed suddenly to reflect Alana’s melancholic mood. The frantic beats shifted to something unhurried and gentle: a slow dance that forced the hordes to sway somewhat stupidly to the music, or surrender the dance floor to couples.
Alana looked around to find Khalilah communing with the desserts table. Maddie and Jefri were congratulating Colin. Sofia was schmoozing it with Will. She’d been abandoned by everyone except Flynn, who stood in front of her, shirt buttoned wrongly as usual, hair an unkempt mess, and eyes, two fathomless pools.
“So,” he said, stepping forward, “you did good, Oakley.”
“I had a good teacher,” Alana said, taking a step forward, too. “Well, ‘good’ might be an exaggeration.
One more step and there would be no space between them.
“When are you going to learn that it doesn’t get any better than me?” Flynn said, all trace of humor gone.
Alana shot him a look that would have melted Medusa herself, but Flynn had thick skin and remained standing.
One more step and there would be no space between them.
Alana wondered whether she should ride her bike home. She wondered if she had seaweed stuck between her teeth. She wondered how old you should be for your first kiss.
One more step and there would be no space between them.
Alana bent her head and noticed there was no more space between them. She looked up...
... at her mom, Emma?
“Hi Alana, Flynn, are you having a good time? Goodness, for a minute I thought it was going to be a com-plete disaster, but it just goes to show, you never know.”
Alana stepped back. The moment lost.
“And everybody loved those stories of you! I didn’t even get to tell them that funny one about the bed-wetting. Remember that one, darling? You were so cute when you were little! Oops, excuse me, I must say thank you to Colin...” Emma hurried past them both.
Alana took another step back. Away from Flynn’s smiling eyes and barely contained laughter. She’d known in her bones that her birthday had been too good to be true. That she was crazy to think she could get away with mere public humiliation. At least it was only Flynn.
“Careful not to drink too much before bedtime, Alana,” said a familiar voice. “We wouldn’t want to have an ‘accident,’ would we?” With a sinking feeling, Alana turned to face Coach Kusmuk. Kusmuk pretended to lower her voice as she gestured toward Alana’s mouth, “And you’ve got a bit of uh, seaweed, stuck between your teeth.”
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