Yeah, pretty much.
Some might call it selfish and egotistical and self-centred. I called it prioritising. Or, at the very least, a slightly more pleasant distraction. A less painful distraction.
“Norah?” Lisa asked.
There I went. I literally jumped and wrenched my eyes to her, hoping I hadn’t been staring at off-limits things. “Yes?” I accidentally yelled and a bunch of people looked at me in surprise and amusement. I cleared my throat. “Yes?” I tried more quietly.
“You good?”
I nodded. “Fine. Just wondering if Hollard was still about?”
“Why? You interested in my sloppy seconds?” she chuckled.
I blinked. “You’re done with him?”
Yes, she was done with him. I’d worked that out last week before their second date and we’d confirmed after. Where was my head at?
At least we hadn’t had the full conversation about it yet.
I hoped.
Her shrug made me think my hope was correct. “I just wasn’t feeling it.”
I almost blurted out a reminder that she hadn’t felt the proverbial ‘it’ since Wade. But just because I was feeling some kind of ‘it’ around Wade now didn’t mean she needed me snapping at her.
I’d avoided him. Sort of. We were back to our usually sarcastic selves. On the outside.
“No? Okay.” I nodded. “Who’s next, then? When are auditions? Any prospects there? What about what’s-his-name? From last year. The guy with the braces. Was he the year ahead? Who’s even in our year? Am I talking really fast? I feel like I’m talking really fast.” I stopped to take a breath.
Lisa and Erin laughed and nodded.
“You sound like you’ve just finished your sixth FUIC,” Lisa said.
Out loud, Farmer’s Union Iced Coffees were called FUICs – which, rightly or wrongly, we pronounced ‘fwick’ – as it was the closest we could get to swearing at school without landing ourselves in detention. The worst we got from the teachers, when we had to explain ourselves, was a stilted warning about making sure we didn’t swear in class. It had seemed devilishly clever when we were twelve, and was now just an in-joke.
“Or you’ve just decided to mainline it,” Erin added.
I shook my head. “No. Nope. Just…a little…”
“Randy?” Lisa suggested.
Why not? Those teenage hormones might as well be of use for something other than monthly enforced blood loss and other awesome bodily changes. “That.” I nodded. “Just been a while, I guess.”
Look, it wasn’t a lie.
It didn’t help that I kept reliving my kiss with Wade. It didn’t help that, as far as kisses went, it had been objectively phenomenal. It didn’t help I had this nagging sense that there was something right about it. It didn’t help that my mind remembered the brief moment of peace and quiet we’d had. It didn’t help that my body had the sudden urge to see what else Wade was good at.
“Well, you’re a big girl. You know what to do about it,” Lisa laughed.
Oh, no. Not going to happen. I didn’t trust myself at all just then.
“Yeah. And what about you?” I asked.
She smiled. “What about me?”
“When are auditions?”
“Last week.”
“I missed them?”
She looked at me like I was insane. “You wished me luck on my way there on Thursday.”
My eyes widened and I tried to look less like a stunned mullet and more like the friend who wasn’t totally self-centred and kept up with important events.
“And?” I asked.
Lisa shrugged. “I was amazing.”
“We knew that. No prospects?” I clarified.
“Yeah, I dunno if I’m going to date another theatre nerd.”
“What? Why not? This’ll be your last chance,” I reminded her.
“Eh. There’s only room for one drama queen in my relationships, and that role has been filled already.” She was – rightly – very proud of that.
“They can’t all be drama queens. Isn’t anyone doing it just for House Points?”
Lisa’s eyes rolled up and she thought about it. “Don’t know. Maybe. They’re usually the backstage people, though.”
“Like set builders?” Erin asked.
“Strong at least,” I encouraged.
Lisa laughed. “You make a good point.”
“Did you say Matt was starring opposite you this year?” Erin asked.
That got my attention. We liked Matt. At least, I thought we liked Matt. Up until the point I became a bit of a narcissist, I couldn’t think of any reason we didn’t like Matt. And that was as good as anything.
Lisa nodded then kicked her head. “Well, understudy to Christian.”
Of course. Christian was some local theatre hotshot who got the lead role in all the plays he did. Mostly these occurred outside school because who in the heck cared about school roles on a resume? Cue eye roll.
“He doesn’t usually do the school play,” I said, frowning. And not just because Wade had caught my eye across the room.
The way he was looking at me gave me that antsy feeling again. It was the kind where I knew I was being a childish idiot and needed to face up to my actions. But I didn’t want to. I couldn’t trust myself not to yell at him or kiss him again. And I didn’t think either was really advisable.
I was certain that, if I gave it time, things would go back to the way they’d been before the kiss. Wade could be a confidant of sorts, like a port in a thundering, storm-riddled sea, and we could pretend the kiss had never happened.
Only it had happened. I was painfully aware it had happened. I just had to be thankful that it had happened at school where there was no possibility of anything else happening. Not that there weren’t rumours of kids getting up to all sorts of things in the back stacks.
I felt something hit my knee and looked back to Lisa. “Mmm?”
She looked behind her. When she turned back to me, she was smirking. “I know you’re not looking at Wade.”
It sounded an awful lot like she was saying the opposite of that.
“No,” I said forcefully. “I’m not.”
Lisa looked at me like she didn’t believe me. “And you’re not interested in my sloppy seconds…”
We knew she was referring to Hollard, but that statement could be true of practically all the guys standing with Wade.
“Vinnie,” Erin said.
I frowned at her. “I hate Vinnie.”
“Maybe that’s because you lurve him and he’s never spoken to you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Vinnie doesn’t speak to me because he tried to kiss me and I punched him.”
Lisa’s hand flew to her mouth as she supressed a laugh.
“Sorry. You did what?” Erin asked, awe in her voice.
I huffed. “It wasn’t on purpose. It was just a reflex. He moved in to kiss me and I didn’t mean to but I punched him.” I nodded as though that was an end to it. I was really hoping that was an end to it.
Lisa and Erin snorted.
“Seriously? When?” Lisa asked.
I took a deep breath. “I dunno. Year Ten sometime.”
“Where?” Erin asked.
“In the hallway to the loos.”
“What?” they both cried.
I nodded. “I know. Gross.”
At least it got them off any more questions about crushes or me staring at people who were definitely not Wade. Me punching Vinnie was all they could talk about for the rest of the day.
e
When I walked into the kitchen that afternoon, I found Koby stuffing his face with a bag of chips.
“Hey, you never told me when you’re having your birthday,” he said.
“You know, I was thinking April eighth sounded good this year.”
He frowned in confusion. “What?”
I paused in opening the fridge and
glared at him. “The same day as every year, idiot.”
He sighed. “I didn’t mean your actual day of birth. I know when that is.”
Doubtful. “Do you?”
His eyebrow rose like he was concentrating. “Um… October…?”
“Yeah…?”
“I wanna say…seven?”
“You’d be right,” I said grudgingly.
“Yes!” He fist-pumped and everything. “So, big One-Eight. When’s the party?”
I shrugged. “I’m not feeling it.”
“Young Linc!” he cried disappointedly, shaking his head. “No. You’re only eighteen once. You have to have a party.”
“What? Are you the party police now?” I asked sullenly.
The last thing I felt like was a party.
“Yes,” Koby answered and it was so self-assured that I smiled.
“Okay. But I’m not having one. It’s like a month out from exams. It’s too hard.”
Koby looked me over. “All right,” he said finally with a resigned sigh. “I will let you off with a pass this once.”
“How kind of you,” I told him.
“Hey,” he said as I started for the stairs.
“What?” I asked.
“You okay, Norah?”
I nodded, but felt the hot pricking in my eyes and the lump forming in my throat. “Sure. Why?”
He shrugged. “Just don’t quite seem like yourself at the moment.”
I licked my lips. “Year Twelve stress, you know.”
He nodded. “I do know. I remember well. I reckon I lost ten kilos that year.”
I scoffed. “Yeah, I wish. I think I’ve gained ten.”
He looked me over like he was trying to find them. “Eh. You’re fine.”
“I’m fine?” I was aiming for indignant and ended up mildly amused.
“Yeah. What? You want me to tell my sister she’s hot?”
I grimaced. “Ew. No.”
“Didn’t think so.” He gave me a single nod.
We shared a smile and I wandered up to my room. Homework had never been my thing, but it was my lifeline at home. It gave me an excuse not to be downstairs and watch my parents not speak or go out of their way to be in different rooms as each other. At least, being Year Twelve made my excuse more legitimate. Had I tried pulling it the year before, no way would anyone believe I was choosing homework over…even just sitting on the couch waiting for the carpet to grow.
I vaguely registered the front door opening and closing with the family’s coming and going. Mum home. Dad home. Koby out.
My phone dinged. I’d unlocked and opened the thread before I’d really stopped to think about what I was doing. It was Wade’s thread. The thread I’d been avoiding even opening all week.
“Damn it.” It got so much worse when I saw the latest message. “Damn it!” I swore a little louder.
Wade
I’m outside your house. We need to talk.
Norah
No. We don’t.
Wade
If you don’t come down here, I’m going to ring the doorbell.
On the tip of my tongue – or, I guess fingers in this case – were many hilariously scathing quips about how scared I’d be of a ringing doorbell.
I then stopped and realised what him ringing the doorbell meant and found I was actually a little terrified of even the idea my parents might see him at our house.
Norah
Fine. Give me a second.
I pulled on a cardigan and my sneakers and snuck outside. I made it without anyone seeing me and I doubted it had anything to do with a level up in my sneaking skills, despite the appropriate footwear.
“You are a manipulative bastard and a total wanker–”
“Thank you,” he interrupted.
I groaned. “You know that wasn’t a compliment.”
He shrugged. “Tough shit.”
“Why are you here?”
“You’ve been avoiding me all week.”
My arms flailed. “How is that different to any other week?”
“Uh. Well, I don’t remember us starting our normal weeks with a kiss.”
“I did not kiss you.”
He inclined his head. “I didn’t say you did. I said a kiss happened.”
I looked back to the house as though I thought someone was going to hear him.
“What do you want Wade?” I asked with an exasperated sigh.
“I want to know if you’re doing okay. I want to know why you’re avoiding me. I want to talk to you.”
Wade two years ago wouldn’t have taken no for an answer. Wade now, with all his added cockiness and self-assuredness, definitely wouldn’t take no for an answer.
I huffed another sigh. “My parents can’t see you.”
“Why not?”
I looked at him like I was asking if I really needed to answer that. Whether he understood that, or the why, he didn’t say.
“Why don’t we go down the park, then?”
A quick wander to the park and a talk was better than any alternative my brain was currently trying to come up with.
I had my keys. I had my phone. I was warm enough. My Matric jumper was in the car in case I got cold.
“Fine.”
I jogged over to the car and pulled out my jumper.
“Lead the way,” I told him sarcastically.
“How are things?” he asked as we walked.
I told myself I was imagining it, but the air between us felt charged. Again. Like weirdly charged. Like I either wanted to reach out and punch him or kiss him charged.
I shrugged. “Things are…things.”
“How are your folks?”
I kicked a non-existent pebble down the footpath. “Same old. They spend their waking moments avoiding talking to each other. Mum’s in her study or Dad’s in the kitchen, or they’re both on their phones. They say they’re busy with work, but…” I shrugged again.
“Do you think Koby’s noticed?”
I scoffed. “I only noticed because I heard them. Koby wouldn’t notice even if they gave him the divorce papers to witness.” I looked at him. “Do they do that?”
“What?”
“Do people witness divorce papers?”
Now he shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Some lawyer you’re going to be.”
He chuckled. “I don’t think I’m doing law anymore.”
I recalled something about that now. “No?”
He shook his head. “Nah. I still put it as one of my preferences.”
“What was your first preference?”
“What was yours? I definitely didn’t see Prostitution on the SATAC site.”
I smiled despite myself. “Yeah, that’d look good next to Law and Teaching and Med in the professions building.”
“Oh, a profession, is it?” he chuckled.
“The oldest, don’t you know?”
“I wonder if you could double-degree that with business?” he mused.
“Am I going to Madam or something?”
He looked at me. “I think you’d Madam quite well.”
“Yes.” I nodded sarcastically. “I’m well known for my organisational skills and aptitude with money and finances.”
He snorted. “All right. Maybe not Madam then.”
“I think I’d prefer to be the bouncer.”
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “I heard about you and Vinnie.”
I winced. “You did?”
He nodded. “Why did no one know about this before?”
I shrugged. “I guess it wasn’t my proudest moment.”
“Standing up for yourself wasn’t your proudest moment?” he asked like he was surprised.
“Wade, I punched someone. I know I talk a good game, but when it comes down to it, I’m not a very confrontational being.”
He stopped walking and I had to stop as well.
&nbs
p; “Excuse me?” he laughed.
“What?” I asked, legitimately having no idea what he was talking about.
“Not a confrontational being?”
I shrugged. “I’m not.”
“You’re confrontational with me all the time,” he hooted.
I waved a hand at him and started walking again. “You don’t count.”
He hurried to catch up with me. “I don’t count? Norah, you wound me.”
“You know what I mean.”
“For argument’s sake, pretend I don’t.”
“Oh, I couldn’t.”
“Why not?” He sounded legitimately offended.
I couldn’t have stopped the smile if I tried. “Because I’m not a very confrontational being.”
I hadn’t even finished the sentence when he lunged for me with a laugh. An embarrassingly high-pitched squeal-bordering-on-giggle left me as I ducked out of his way.
Thankfully, we’d just hit the park so I took off at a run.
“See?” I called back to him. “Flight, not fight!”
“You…” he laughed. “Only you would fight while in flight.”
“I’m not fighting,” I countered.
“You’re not–”
I’d stopped – because running sucked and I was incredibly unfit – and he crashed into me. His hands went to my body to steady me. My hands went to his body to steady him. Between us, we kept our footing. Between us, we also generated a very thick atmosphere of tension.
It was the good kind.
“Well, if you’d wanted me to chase you, Lincoln…” he said softly.
I smiled. “I don’t make guys chase me, Phillips.”
His eyebrow rose. “Really?”
I nodded. “Waste of time. I know I’m not worth chasing.”
Even I had to admit the look in his eye suggested he disagreed with me wholeheartedly. He didn’t say it though.
“Takes one to know one.”
“You, not worth chasing?” I scoffed.
“What?” he asked, full of humour. “You think I am?”
“Uh, no. But I’m apparently the only one who doesn’t.”
He didn’t take offence at my words. In fact, his smile grew larger.
“You going to maintain that after we kissed and everything?”
“I did not kiss you,” I reminded him.
He shook his head, never taking his eyes off mine. “Takes two.” He kicked his head as he amended, “Unless you’re Vinnie. Then you get punched.”
the Art of Breaking Up Page 10