I'll Tell You Mine

by Pip Harry

  Maddy even tries to talk to Annie about her school and her art.

  ‘So you do that graffiti stuff?’ she says.

  ‘Sometimes,’ says Annie. ‘On legal walls or canvasses. Not like that messy dirty stuff you see on the street.’

  ‘Oh right. So that’s like . . . art?’ ventures Maddy.

  ‘I think so,’ laughs Annie.

  I think they’re both trying really hard because it’s my birthday. But when Maddy goes to the bathroom Annie leans into my ear and says, ‘Maddy’s okay, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I whisper back. ‘She’s sweet. And I think she really likes you guys.’

  Nate’s the one who acts weird around Maddy. He barely talks to her and keeps reading texts from Jemina all night. I reckon it’s pretty rude. So does Annie.

  ‘Oi. This is a dinner party, Nate. You’re not supposed to text your girlfriend all night,’ Annie says.

  Nate looks up and shoves his phone in his pocket. ‘Yeah, sorry, Kate.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ I say. And I don’t really mind. Not anymore. I’ve gone off Nate heaps since I met Lachy.

  Speaking of Lachy, he sends me a text to tell me he’s thinking of me and to say Happy Birthday. And lots of XXXs and OOOs. It is the best present ever.

  After dinner Mum and Dad bring out a cake and Liv helps me blow out all the candles.

  ‘Wow. You are really old,’ Liv says after it takes us ages to blow out every last one.

  Mum laughs. ‘Wait till you’re my age, Kate, then you’ll need a fire crew and a hose to get them all out.’

  She hands me the knife and I cut into a chocolate mud cake. The knife comes out covered in rich icing.

  ‘Dirty knife. Kiss the nearest boy,’ says Dad, looking pointedly at Nate.

  Mum shoots me a look. She knows about Lachy and has been sworn to secrecy. She pokes Dad.

  ‘Kate probably doesn’t want to do that, David.’

  ‘Wait, there is a boy I’d like to kiss,’ I say.

  I stand up and walk over to Dad and give him a smooch on his stubbled cheek.

  Dad smiles. ‘Happy birthday, kiddo.’

  *

  In the morning it’s nice to wake up in my own bed and get up in my own time without a bell going, Emma Cobb pushing me out of the shower and Gabby waiting around the corner to bust me for being late or trying to wear my PJs to breakfast. I sit with Liv and we chat, eat cereal and play with Chilli on the floor. Dad gives me an iTunes voucher and a recommended playlist. Mum gives me tickets to an art show at the gallery.

  ‘Maybe we can go together?’ she asks. ‘Or you can take one of your friends if you’d prefer . . .’

  ‘Nah, it’s okay. We can go together,’ I say.

  Mum’s in a rush but she drops me at school on her way to the office. In the car she asks about my boarding decision. ‘Thought any more about what we talked about? About next year?’

  Apart from Lachy, it’s all I’ve thought about. But I still can’t decide.

  ‘I’m not sure yet,’ I say. ‘When do you need to know?’

  ‘Soon,’ Mum says. ‘We need to get things organised. Did you have a good birthday?’ she asks as I jump out of the car.

  ‘Yeah,’ I say. And I’m not lying. I really did.

  *

  Lou thinks we’re going to the corner shops to buy a Magnum, instead Maddy and I walk her towards the Great Hall.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she asks.

  ‘Oh, I lost my hymn book. I think I left it in the hall. Can we just look before we go to the shops?’ says Maddy.

  Lou guesses something is up when we hear muted singing from behind the doors, but we manage to push her into the room before she can bolt.

  ‘No way,’ she says, looking in fear at the girl singing her heart out on the stage. She’s not half as good as Lou.

  ‘We put your name down already,’ says Maddy. ‘Mrs Hopper has you on her list.’

  Lou crosses her arms and tries to look serious but she’s already smiling.

  ‘What if I’m no good?’

  ‘What if my story is no good?’ I say. ‘I already entered it into the competition. Too late now.’

  ‘I don’t know what to sing. I haven’t even practised anything.’

  Maddy and I look at each other. We hear Lou singing all the time. In the bathroom, in her room, under her breath at dinner.

  ‘Sing that Lady Gaga song. You know the one. “Born This Way”.’

  Lou takes a giant breath.

  ‘Well, I’d better do some vocal warm-ups then,’ she says. ‘You guys are so sneaky.’

  Watching Lou on the stage, Maddy and I clutch each other’s hands like nervous stage mums. But she actually seems comfortable once she gets up there. She coughs and smacks her lips together and looks at Mrs Hopper like she’s ready to start.

  ‘What are you singing today?’ Mrs Hopper asks.

  “Born This Way.”

  ‘And what role are you auditioning for?’

  ‘Just the chorus,’ says Lou.

  ‘Good. Go ahead, Louise.’

  Lou stands up really straight and looks out above our heads.

  And I know once she opens her mouth that we did the right thing.

  She’s a flat-out star.

  I look at Mrs Hopper, the choir director. Her mouth drops open slightly and she holds her palm up to her chest. I hear her say: ‘Oh my . . .’

  Lou’s voice fills the entire auditorium. There’s no corner it doesn’t get in to – reverberating strong and clear through every worn-out folding chair and piece of old gum, tatty poster and flattened school bag. I look down at my arm and see the tiny hairs raised up with goose bumps.

  Her sisters, Emmie and Celeste, are in the front row. They look shocked.

  When Lou is finished, everyone claps and Mrs Hopper shakes her head.

  ‘Is that enough?’ says Lou.

  ‘It was more than enough. That was spectacular, Louise. Where have you been hiding all these years?’ asks Mrs Hopper.

  Lou shrugs. ‘In the tuckshop,’ she jokes.

  ‘Well, I think chorus really isn’t where we want you. Come to me afterwards and we’ll discuss some other roles that might be more suitable.’

  Lou’s like a rock star after the auditions.

  Even Emmie and Celeste crowd around her and ask what role she’s going for. And if she would give them lessons.

  ‘Can you believe it?’ Lou says later. ‘E and C asked me for singing lessons. Unbelievable.’

  *

  It’s our final study group so Miss Horsell brings along afternoon tea – an iced fruit loaf and plastic cups of soft drink.

  We all sit around after class and eat off napkins.

  ‘You’ve all still got to study on your own,’ says Horse, who finds it hard not to be a teacher and just hang out. ‘But you’ve made a great start. I have faith in all of you doing very well on your final exams. And if you have any questions my door is always open.’

  I nudge Lou. We pitched in and got her a bunch of flowers to say thanks for helping us out in her spare time.

  Lou hands the small posy of roses to her.

  ‘Here. We all got you these,’ says Lou.

  Miss Horsell looks like she’s about to cry.

  ‘Oh, girls, it was my pleasure.’

  *

  We used to have lives but exams are all everyone can talk about now that they’re just around the corner. Anyone who’s in Year Ten or above has their nose stuck in a pile of books or is madly researching on the net, doing prac tests, revisions, writing out endless notes and testing each other. Maddy, on the other hand, seems determined to fail. We keep telling her she doesn’t have much time. Pointing out how much she has t
o do but she just laughs and spends her free time mucking around.

  ‘Come on, Kate. Don’t be so boring. Come to the gardens with me.’ She pulls on my arm but I ignore her, scribbling out the key dates for the Vietnam War in red pen on a timeline. It’s Sunday afternoon but none of the Year Tens are out having fun.

  ‘No way, Maddy. After this I have to finish reading Wuthering Heights. Then I have to write a prac essay on what Wuthering Heights bloody means. That’s if I can figure out what Emily Brontë is banging on about.’

  ‘Just for fifteen minutes.’

  ‘I can’t. Don’t you have some study to do too?’

  She sighs and flounces towards the door. ‘I’m going now.’

  I hand my notes to Lou, who is silent, holding her page in front of her nose, silently mouthing the periodic table.

  Lou is flat-out studying and learning all her lines for the school musical. They’re doing Grease and she’s playing Rizzo and has to dress up like a pink lady. She’s developed a huge crush on her singing partner, Richard Fuller – a skinny blond Holston day boy who plays Kenickie.

  ‘Do you have those Wuthering Heights notes?’ I ask Lou.

  ‘Sure,’ Lou says. ‘I’ve got some science prac exams if you need them too.’

  ‘I’m going now,’ Maddy sulks again, waiting for us to notice her. She hovers around the door, before leaving and slamming it dramatically. As she stomps down the hall I can hear one of the Year Elevens call out, ‘Shut up! We’re trying to study!’

  At 9.30 I’m still studying – highlighting my biology notes with a pink fluorescent marker. I’m not even sure what I should be memorising but highlighting seems like a good start. Lou has gone to the stairwell to practise singing, smacking her chewing gum and talking in a fake American accent, and now it’s just Harriet, Maddy and I.

  Harriet is listening to French language CDs with headphones on, occasionally murmuring some exotic-sounding French phrase that makes her sound sexy in a way she doesn’t have a hope of achieving by squeezing herself into a white bikini. ‘Aidez-moi, s’il vous plaît,’ she says, tucking her hair behind her ear.

  Maddy is lying on the floor eating Doritos. She’s crunched the last of the chips up and is tipping the cheesy dust straight into her mouth. Of course that’s the moment Lachy decides to call. My phone vibrates near Maddy. I make a desperate lunge for it but Maddy’s too quick. She’s smiling at me as she answers it.

  ‘Hello, Kate’s Call Girl Service,’ she says. ‘Would you like to make an appointment?’

  Maddy looks puzzled. ‘Lachlan?’ she asks.

  Maddy lies in bed, curled into a hard ball. I can tell she’s not asleep because she’s not snoring. I’m panicked that she’ll just freeze me out forever. That our friendship is over. I had no idea how much it meant to me until now.

  ‘Maddy, can we talk about it?’ I plead. I feel so lowdown and dirty.

  ‘No,’ she says, her voice muffled from the covers. ‘Just go back to your bed.’

  I crouch down next to her and put my hand on her back. She shakes it off.

  ‘Kate. Don’t try to suck up.’

  ‘I was going to tell you, I swear. I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings.’

  Maddy is unnervingly quiet. I wiggle into her bed. She doesn’t try to make room for me like she normally does.

  This might really be the end of Maddy and Kate. I have to make things right again somehow.

  ‘I’m so, so sorry. I should have told you.’

  ‘You think?’ she says. ‘He’s my brother. Were you two sneaking around that weekend at my farm? I thought something was going on. I even asked you if you liked him. You said no way, remember?’

  ‘Do you want me to stop talking to him? Because I will. If it’s a choice between him and you, Maddy, I choose you.’

  She hasn’t even turned around to look at me. She hates me. What was I thinking not telling her about Lachy?

  ‘You would do that?’ Maddy asks. ‘Stop talking to Lachy?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I would.’ And I would. It would hurt. But not more than losing Maddy.

  ‘You don’t have to choose,’ she says, letting out a big sigh. ‘It’s just weird. Now that you two are in love or something.’

  ‘We’re not in love,’ I insist. ‘I just like him.’

  Maddy groans. ‘I don’t want to hear about that stuff. Please. Kate. He’s my brother. I want to go to sleep,’ she says in a wobbly voice. She pulls herself into an even tighter ball.

  ‘Okay. Night then,’ I whisper. When I go back to my bed I realise this is our first real fight. And it makes me feel so terrible I end up crying myself to sleep.

  *

  Our first exam is English. We’re lined up outside the hall with our pens. Everyone’s serious and hushed. Everyone except Maddy, that is. She only read Wuthering Heights two nights ago and even then she skimmed it. She’s making me jittery with all her last-minute questions.

  ‘Who’s Linton again? Kate?’ Maddy asks. ‘What’s the whole thing with the moors do you think? Is that important? Why don’t they just get it on? Cathy and Heath baby? If they’re so mad for each other? Why does she marry that other dude?’

  I’m nervous enough without Maddy beetling around me for easy answers. ‘Maddy, the exam is about to start. You should have done this stuff ages ago. I can help you with geography later, and history. Meet me in the common room after this and I’ll give you some notes I got off Horse.’

  ‘Forget it, Kate. I don’t need your pity notes,’ she sulks.

  ‘I want to help you but I just need to concentrate now.’

  ‘Yeah, whatever,’ Maddy says, opening up her Cliff notes. ‘I’ll just do it on my own then.’

  My phone vibrates and I open the message – a good luck text from Lachy. It makes me smile.

  Maddy eyes me suspiciously over the pages of her book. ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Annie,’ I lie.

  Maddy’s been colder and more distant with me since she found out about Lachy. I’ve been trying too hard to make her like me again, bringing her cups of tea and offering to help her study. But the more I try to patch things up, the further away she gets. I’ve been leaning on Lou more, too. And I guess that makes Maddy feel even more left out.

  ‘Yeah, right. Annie,’ Maddy says sarcastically.

  I turn my phone off and try to ignore her. Maddy snaps her book shut. ‘Good luck then,’ she says, not sounding like she means it.

  ‘You too,’ I say as she flounces across the room and slumps into a corner.

  When she’s out of range I add, ‘You’ll need it.’

  At the door we surrender mobile phones, iPods, laptops. Anything that could store information. The main hall looks different to our normal weekly assemblies. It’s been stripped of folding seats and now has rows of little desks, each one patrolled by an unsmiling teacher. Each desk has a thick, foreboding stapled stack of paper. THE EXAM.

  I choose a table as far away from Maddy as I can. She’s giving me resentful looks, her face pinched with stress. I feel sorry for her but I have to concentrate. I settle into a plastic chair and arrange my pens, filling in my name neatly. Will the questions be easy or hard? Have I studied the right stuff?

  Zara Coughlin is tapping her pen nervously on the desk in front of me. The steady tap, tap, tap might throw me off completely. The clock ticks over to 10 a.m. Miss Horsell breaks the nervous coughing and scraping of chairs.

  ‘You have two hours to complete this exam. Please raise your hand if you need to take a toilet break or have a question. At fifteen minutes to go we will give you a warning. Please turn over your papers and begin.’

  My mouth is dry and sticky as I scan the questions.

  Question 1. In an argumentative essay, defend the thesis that Cathy remains a pivot
al character, even after her death.

  At first I panic. I don’t know this. I can’t write this. I’m going to fail.

  Then I start jotting down notes and I realise I’ve gone over and over every page of the book like a musician learning sheet music. I know this. I get this. I can do this.

  I start writing – furiously, passionately. I write so much I need extra paper and my hand cramps and I have to shake it out.

  I’m completely surprised when I hear Miss Horsell signal the fifteen-minute warning.

  ‘Was that really two hours?’ I ask Zara in a daze as we file out of the hall. ‘It felt like twenty minutes.’ I’m buzzing with excitement and leftover nerves when my phone rings. I think it’s going to be Lachy but it’s Mum.

  ‘Kate?’ she says. ‘I just wanted to see how the exam went?’

  I can’t believe she remembered.

  ‘Good, I think. I just came out.’

  ‘Wuthering Heights, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s right. I wrote an essay on Cathy.’

  ‘That’s great. And you got it all down?’

  ‘The time went quickly but I think so.’

  ‘Your first exam. I’m really proud of you.’

  In the background I hear someone trying to get her attention.

  ‘I’ve got to go but good luck for the next one. History?’

  ‘Yeah. Thanks, Mum,’ I say, remembering I have five more exams to worry about.

  In the quad Maddy is sitting cross-legged, her head in her hands. At first I think she’s listening to music but as I get closer I see her shoulders are shaking and she’s bawling her eyes out. I tap her on the arm and she looks up, her face snotty and blotchy. She doesn’t seem that happy to see me. I’m getting used to that look from her.

  ‘How’d you go?’ I ask.

  ‘F-minus. I just made half of it up. I have no idea what that bloody book is about.’

  I flop down beside her.

  ‘What about you?’ she asks.

  ‘It was okay. Hard I guess . . .’

  ‘Don’t lie to me. I bet you get an A. After all those extra sessions with Miss Horsell. You’re like her teacher’s pet or something.’

  Instead of biting back at her teacher’s pet comment, I break off half of the sausage roll I’ve just brought from the tuckshop and squirt some sauce on top. ‘Here,’ I say. ‘You need brain food.’