‘Wait, Mr Head,’ I called, not wanting to have to physically stop him like I did to Nate all those months ago. Look how that ended up.
He slowly shuffled back around to me, eyebrows raised in his usual teacher’s face.
‘I appreciate you telling me that. Roman would feel the same way. You’re right, we may not see eye to eye on many things, but thanks to you I’ve toughened up a lot this year and I think I’m ready to face the big world now.’
‘Good,’ he said, niceties disappearing as quickly as they arrived. ‘Now, have you been drinking at all tonight?’
‘No.’
‘Liar. Go have a good time. Enjoy your youth.’ And with a cheeky, toothy smile, he disappeared out the door and into the dancing masses.
What a strange, moody man, I thought.
I waited a few more minutes to gather what was left of my senses before I followed him, looking for my friends.
They were dancing in a huddled group in the centre of the dance floor, worse luck. Shana grabbed my hands and tried to make me dance, but I pointed to my head and yelled, ‘I need some water.’
She nodded. ‘We got a table in the corner over there. Our stuff is on it and you’ll find your name tag at your seat,’ she yelled. ‘Come back soon.’
Recognising the girls’ belongings, I threw down my little handbag and searched for my nametag on the table. Sweet. I was next to Shana, who was next to James, who was next to Sarah, who was next to Roman’s friend, Ethan, who was next to two other people around the table who I didn’t know well. This left only one person to make up the eighth spot. That person was on my right. I picked up the tag and squinted at it. That person was Roman.
I fought the urge to scream at the girls and Roman’s friends for setting this up. I was on the committee who organised this whole night and I’m pretty sure I didn’t seat us together, or request it.
Wait. I wasn’t in the tables and seating arrangements/ decorations group in our meetings. Roman was. Along with a few others. Surely he didn’t do this?
I searched the room for him with grim eyes, half expecting to see him gazing at me from a dark corner and seeing my reaction to his ploy.
Shaking off my paranoia, I ran back on to the dance floor to muck around with my friends. They were doing the Macarena and grabbed my arms to help me join in.
The band we hired played a mixture of modern and old school songs and their live, interactive style beat a DJ by far. They consisted of two guitarists, a bass guitarist and two lead singers, a guy and a girl. For a second it seemed odd to me, to have two hundred students in suits and cocktail dresses dancing to a live band.
We were treated to a sit down, three-course meal half way through the night and the food was as impressive as the decorations and table arrangements. The musicians had a break and we were instructed to be seated and eat the entrees while our mains were coming.
Hesitantly, I sat down and looked at everyone else’s faces at the table except the one to the right of mine. He did the same. He didn’t seem surprised that we were seated together, but neither was he showing his cards, as usual.
‘What happened here?’ I whispered to Shana when I was sure Roman couldn’t hear me.
‘I know. How nice are the table cloths and chair covers,’ she beamed, rubbing the material between her fingers.
‘Not that,’ I spat. ‘Sitting me next to Roman. Are you trying to embarrass me all night?’ I quickly swept the table with my eyes. No one was listening.
‘Oh. I didn’t realise,’ she said.
‘Of course you didn’t. First we have to get photos together and now we’re sitting together? What’s next? Dance in each other’s arms?’
‘Wouldn’t that be fun,’ Shana exclaimed, to which every face at the table turned to look at her, then me.
I rubbed my forehead. It was no use. I may as well try to enjoy myself or leave.
‘Mm, the food is good,’ Sarah commented, raising her eyebrows at me. Her attempt at changing the subject still involved me at the centre of it. ‘Have you tried the other dish, Daisy?’
We were given one of two dishes and Shana and Roman had the other dish to my basil pasta. It was lasagne, my favourite, and I was dying to try some. But there was no way I was going to ask Roman for some of his. Shana had already given half of hers to James, so her plate was now empty.
I glared at Sarah. ‘No, I haven’t, but I’m pretty full now anyway.’
‘I’m sure Roman would share some of his with you. Lasagne is one of your favourite dishes, isn’t it?’ she teased.
Roman stopped spearing his last square of lasagne and glanced up at me. This was getting more awkward by the second.
I put my hand up to him. ‘She’s just kidding. You eat it, really.’
He was torn as to what to do, which seemed to symbolise the past few months of his behaviour. Our friends subtly watched us, waiting to see what would happen next in the lives of Daisy and Roman, the once best friends who now can’t string a sentence together in front of each other.
‘I was saving this part for you. Well, to offer it to you in case you wanted to try it. It’s nice,’ he said quietly, leaning towards me.
I was torn. Do I eat it to appease the group, or not eat it because I’m stubborn?
Curiosity won.
‘Let’s halve the last piece. Thanks,’ I said and leaned over him to cut the piece and spear mine with my fork.
I smiled in appreciation as I chewed the delicious piece of lasagne, wishing we could share hot chips, lollies and chocolate again like we used to. And kissing.
‘No problem,’ he replied, taking a drink of punch.
Dessert was more pleasant. We shared exactly half each of ours, which more than pleased my girl friends who were examining each step of our body language. I figured it was an easy way to make conversation without having to bring up anything awkward, like feelings.
As soon as all the plates were collected, our MC, a bubbly girl called Kelly, stepped up to the microphone and announced the next part of the night.
‘And now that you’re full and happy it’s time for the dance you’ve all been waiting for.’
We groaned as a collective and Kelly put her hands on her hips. ‘Shame on you. All this practice and you’re still sooking about it? Well too bad. I for one want to see you stepping on each other’s toes. Long live tradition,’ she screamed.
It was the one part of the night I was guaranteed to dread. Because St Dominic’s is so old, we have to retain tradition by learning a dance to perform as one group on the night. We’d been practising for six weeks and our teacher nearly gave up on us. Now, lined up in rows facing each other boy-girl boy-girl, I smiled weakly as I rearranged my mask and faced Ethan, our masks now camouflaging our once clear appearance. In my head I prepared for the imminent apology I would need to give him and all the boys I danced with, for stepping on their toes.
Classical music filled my ears as I desperately tried to keep count of the music, having lost the timing immediately. I loved music, but I was useless at keeping any sort of time. Nervously I watched those around me for the cue that proved I was stuffing up the dance already. Ethan smiled back at me, hinting at me to relax.
I recognised the introduction beat and spread my arms wide accordingly. Then I curtsied to Ethan, who stretched out his hand to invite me to dance. I stepped forward to meet him and he immediately spun me around using my hand above my head, while his other arm was neatly tucked behind his back. I giggled. This was much more fun than practice.
We stepped together in uncomplicated dance patterns and he led me with a mixture of a secure hand on the base of my back and our hands clasped together in front of us. His browny auburn hair shone almost orange in the lights as he smiled at me politely and bowed to me in thanks for the dance a few minutes later.
He steadily stepped to the right and met his new partner and we began the whole scenario again.
Still trying to keep up, I greeted my new partner with a no
d and a curtsy and stepped forward to be claimed by his eager hand. I didn’t know this guy very well, barely recognising him with the mask on, so I kept my steps simple and the safe distance of about a pillow between our chests.
Despite the fact that I’d somehow got into a different row to my girlfriends, I was enjoying myself. I realised I didn’t have to pretend. I didn’t really care what they thought.
The routine became natural by the time I greeted my seventh partner. I was so in the habit of starting the dance without talking to the person I was dancing with that I at first didn’t recognise him.
After the first twist, I was pulled firmly up against new boy’s chest, where I caught a strong whiff of cologne mixed with warm skin. I recognised that smell. It was the same smell as at Nate’s birthday party on the beach. It was the same smell I smelt every time my best friend gave me a hug the last six years.
I bit my lip and kept dancing, hoping he wouldn’t say anything and ruin our dance as strangers.
How did Roman get over this side of the dance floor? More to the point, how did I not notice Roman getting over this side? I guess all the boys are wearing black suits.
Did he know it was me? Of course he would. I was the only one wearing this colour dress in the room.
‘Daisy,’ he finally said, voice low.
He held me by my arms; this was the waltz part of the dance.
‘Do you remember the time you stayed with us one long weekend in year eight and we were fighting over some lollies? I was eating them all so you chased me around the block until you sprained your ankle.’
‘Of course I remember,’ I replied quietly. I hated you for it.
‘I felt so bad that I carried you home and let you eat the rest of the lollies.’
I stifled a giggle into his shoulder and nodded.
‘Sometimes I can be selfish. I can hurt people I care about without meaning to. But I always come good and realise my mistakes. It takes time,’ he said without looking directly into my eyes.
‘Everyone can be selfish,’ I murmured in reply.
‘By the way, you look gorgeous tonight,’ he said and stepped to the side to greet his last partner.
Before I could respond my last partner was waving at me from his side of the floor and I nodded in apology and stepped back to my line. I didn’t even get a chance to tell Roman he looked gorgeous too.
And what did that mean? Anyone could tell someone they looked gorgeous. I wanted to know what that meant to him.
The awards part of the ceremony was next and the end of the night was nigh. We stood in a giant group on the dance floor while King and Queen of the ball were announced, as well as other silly awards from the antics of the past year. I didn’t win any of the awards, but I didn’t mind either. I wasn’t the kind of person who needed that for affirmation. I have to admit though, secretly I was happy that Skye and the Blonde Brigade didn’t win anything. Whoever was on the voting committee had their eyes open.
The boys offered to take us in their cars to the after-party, as they hadn’t been drinking as much as we had. Roman said he would take his car and James would take his. Like a typical, confused fool, I stood between the two parked cars completely undecided about which one I should go in. It was like I needed to know Roman wanted me in his car with him. I didn’t want to jump in and take over. He had to show me he wanted me around him again.
Sarah wound down her window and called, ‘Daisy. You’re the last to get in a car. Hurry up or you’re walking.’
‘Is there room on the back seat for me?’ I asked her quietly.
‘I’ll make some for you,’ she grinned and dragged me into Roman’s car.
Roman was a great driver. His eyes were always on the road, he didn’t drive dangerously and I bet he wouldn’t constantly distract me while I was trying to drive.
The after-party was situated on a farm property; at someone’s house I didn’t know. I wanted to leave as soon as I arrived. It wasn’t that it wouldn’t be fun. It wasn’t that I didn’t have good friends there to hang out with. I think the reason I wanted to leave lay in the simple fact that the last party I went to with these people resulted in my heart being broken. I was tired, my feet hurt and Roman was so changeable I couldn’t take it anymore.
Even greater was the desire to be alone with my thoughts.
At around midnight I escaped the noise of the house and sought some fresh air on the front kerb. Staring peacefully up into the street lights, I was disturbed only by the sound of crunching grass behind me and the party security guard put his fat, strong hand on my shoulder and asked if I was all right. I nodded and he left me to return to the front door.
Alone in my thoughts, I began to wonder how Roman could give me pieces of kindness and hope, then appear to take it away by ignoring me at our biggest party of the year.
Not that you are seeking him out, my inner voice said.
I’ve tried that, I hissed back at myself.
Did that mean I had a right to give up?
‘Hey, loser,’ a familiar voice spoke sharply behind me.
I didn’t turn around to defend myself. I didn’t even jump at the company. I already knew who it was.
Skye sat down roughly next to me and rubbed her nose ungracefully with her wrist. She stank of alcohol and smoke and appeared upset.
‘Skye,’ I said quietly and nodded to her.
‘El Capitano,’ she giggled back and patted the concrete with her fist. ‘Mind if I join you on this kerb of yours?’
‘You already have.’ So what, did she want to be friends now that we’re finishing school?
‘Do you want to know what I’ll miss most about school?’
she asked loudly as she turned to face me, eyes blinking in front of mine.
‘I’m sure you’re going to tell me,’ I replied, picking at tufts of grass out of the cracks in the pavement.
‘You and Roman.’
I rolled my eyes, ready to defend myself.
‘Prancing around each other for years, acting all innocent.’
‘Can we not do this?’ I asked, but she wasn’t listening.
‘Be glad you have a guy like him to fall back on.’
‘He’s not my fall back guy, Skye.’
Why am I still talking to her?
‘Don’t treat me like I’m stupid. I’m not stupid, Daisy,’ she replied slowly, using my real name for once. ‘It gets me more attention if I act like it.’
‘So … be yourself.’
Her head was shaking again furiously. ‘I can’t now. It’s too late.’
‘How is it ever too late to be yourself?’ My eyebrows knit together at her swaying form.
‘I’m being punished for not doing it sooner.’
This wasn’t going anywhere.
‘You’re drunk. Maybe I should call a taxi and get you sent home. Although, you’ve never made sense to me.’
‘Don’t call anyone. They can’t help me.’
‘Would you stop the cryptic comments? Either tell me what you came to see me for, or get lost.’
I stopped after the last two words and bit my lip. She hadn’t made any rude comments to me; the only thing she did wrong was sit next to me and talk truth like a typical drunk. I immediately regretted the way I spoke to her and, without particularly wanting to, but knowing I needed to, I began to apologise.
‘Skye, listen, I’m …’
‘Yeah I know. You’re just like everyone else … sorry.’
Heaving herself on to both feet and spreading her arms wide like she was about to fly, she gingerly took five steps on to the road before tripping over her heel and landing face first on the bitumen.
I got up instinctively to check on her, see if she was hurt. No car lights were approaching. I half expected her to burst into tears and show me where her face grazes hurt, blaming me for everything wrong in her life.
Instead, to my surprise and distress, she began to laugh. Starting as a low, gurgling sound in the pit of her stomach
, her insane laugh worked its way up her throat until she was screaming with laughter.
‘Hey,’ I said with unveiled uncertainty, ‘we need to get you off this road.’
As I knelt on the bitumen to check for injuries and help her up, she suddenly turned wild, slapping my hands away in a frenzy of hostility. Her overreaction led to her striking me in the face, right across my left cheekbone.
Stunned, I held one hand to my face and fell back on to my bum on the road, blinking in a daze.
‘Now look what you did,’ she said, pointing to the security guard who was staring at her from the property and speaking on his two-way radio. He looked like he was calling for assistance for the two psycho girls having a bitch fight and sitting in the middle of the street.
‘I know you never liked me, but I didn’t think you’d hit me,’ I said, neither angry nor upset, merely stunned.
‘I didn’t think I’d be a teenage statistic, either, but here we are.’
Her blonde hair fell loosely in sweaty waves now, instead of spaghetti straight, around her face and shoulders. She had a fever and I still had no idea what she was talking about, so I said nothing. This made her angrier. She obviously wanted me to know.
‘Say something you stupid cow. Tell me I look fat, and that I deserved it, and that my life is ruined now.’
‘I would if I knew why I was saying it,’ I glared back at her.
The security guard and his new friend were trotting towards us and Skye began giggling again.
‘If there’s something going on, there are people you can talk to,’ I said, wanting to help her now, before the men came to take her away and send her home.
‘Talking,’ she screamed. ‘Yes, talking is how I got myself into this mess. Talking,’ she repeated over and over.
‘I don’t know how I can help you,’ I said urgently.
Friendship on Fire Page 36