Unspoken Words

by K. M. Golland

  Standing outside the school hall, a pleasant summer breeze blowing the purple flowers of the Jacarandas lining the schoolyard, I waited for Ellie with her family, unsure of how I felt. Seeing her and Tristan so close with one another had really thrown me.

  “ELLIE!” Mrs Mitchell dashed toward her daughter when the door to the hall opened and the cast, crew, and teachers involved in the production started to file out. “You were incredible!” she said, enveloping her in a tight hug.

  Ellie threw her hands to her face in an attempt to hide her smile. “Really? You really think so?”

  “Yes! You did such a great job. And that song … oh my goodness!”

  Mrs Perez pointed a finger at Tristan, who’d been right by Ellie’s side. “And you! Where did all that singing and dancing come from?”

  Ellie laughed, pulled away from Mrs Mitchell, and playfully punched Tristan’s shoulder. “How good was he?”

  The fucker pretended she’d hurt him and even pouted his stupid fucker lips. It boiled my blood. I wanted to show him just how much a punch could hurt.

  He shrugged. “Dunno. I guess it was always there. Just needed someone to draw it out of me.” He glanced at Ellie and she blushed. That’s it! Let me at the prick.

  My hands balled into fists at my sides.

  “Easy there,” Lilah murmured as she walked by me en route to her brother.

  I pretended I didn’t hear her and approached Ellie, relaxing my hands and draping my arm over her shoulder.

  “What did you think?” she asked, her green eyes darting from side to side, her finger solidly clamped between her teeth in anticipation of my answer.

  I didn’t want to lie and tell her I’d loved it, because I hadn’t. Seeing that fucker pretend to be her boyfriend and put his hands all over her had made me feel murderous. It had prevented me from concentrating on her performance as much as I should’ve, as much as I would’ve, and as much as she’d deserved. But I couldn’t tell her that. Not all lies favour the liar.

  “I thought you were great,” I answered, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

  Her eyes narrowed just slightly. “You didn’t like it, did you?”

  “Ellie, you were amazing.”

  “Why don’t I believe you?”

  “I don’t know. Why don’t you?”

  “Maybe because it’s written all over your face.” Her shoulders tensed, and she crossed her arms. “Admit it, you hated it.”

  “No. I didn’t,” I said with an awkward chuckle, my eyes bouncing from Mr and Mrs Mitchell, to Chris, to Lilah—who was smirking—to Tristan, who was also smirking.

  “You did.” She stepped out of my embrace.

  “Okaaay. I think it’s time to go,” Mrs Mitchell chimed in. “I have a cheesecake in the fridge with our names on it.”

  “Finally!” Chris clapped me on the back for the second time that night. “I’m happy to admit the play was shit for the both of us. Now let’s go home.”

  “Christopher Roger Mitchell! Take that back.”

  “Or what, Mum? I’ll have dishes duty?”

  “Yes. For the rest of your life.”

  He laughed. “You’ve already told me that. And, anyway, I said the play was shit, not Ellie. Ellie and Jenny in those tight leather pants were the only good things about it.”

  Mrs Mitchell threw her program booklet at him, or at least tried to throw it at him—she missed … by a mile. “Get in the car.”

  “I’m driving,” he said.

  We all groaned.

  The drive back to Ellie’s house would normally take twenty minutes, but with Chris driving, we arrived in ten … with a renewed sense of faith.

  “You’re a psycho, Chris. You’re never gonna get your licence.”

  “Shut up, Elliephant.”

  “You’re so original, idiot.”

  Mr Mitchell gave Chris a stern look before he unlocked the door to their house. “Next time, Chris, try slowing down when the lights turn amber.”

  “I made an informed decision to proceed with caution.”

  “You call that caution? I call that insanity. You pull a stunt like that during your test, you can kiss your licence goodbye.”

  “Okay okay. Maybe there was time to slow down and stop.”

  “Maybe you’re just an idiot,” Ellie mumbled as she brushed past Chris and me and headed toward the backyard.

  I took my cue and followed her down her driveway to the garage where she’d picked up her netball and was shooting the ball into the air and catching it. “Why’d you hate it?” she asked, her tone flat, her eyes on the ball.

  “I told you, I didn’t hate it.”

  “Then what’s your problem?”

  Sucking in a deep breath, I put my hands in my pockets and kicked a stone into the garden. “You lied to me.”

  She caught the ball and turned her head—exorcist style—in my direction. “What?”

  “You heard me. Why’d you lie?”

  “I didn’t lie. What are you talking about?”

  “Tristan.”

  She rolled her eyes. “What about him?”

  “You never told me he was playing Doody.”

  “So?” She turned to face the netball ring and took a shot, the ball sailing through for a goal and bouncing off the garage door.

  Every bounce amplified, like a drum, and I tried to ignore it, to suppress the sound like I’d practised over the years. “Didn’t you think I deserved to know?”

  “I don’t see why it matters.” She snatched the ball as it bounced toward her and played another shot, and this time the sound of it bouncing made me snap.

  “Because he wants to get inside your fucking pants, Eloise, that’s why.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know his intentions.”

  “Connor, where is all this coming from?”

  “He flirts with you, stares at you, touches y—”

  “He does not touch me,” she said, squaring her shoulders, her hand on her hips. “What the fuck?”

  “He does. He has it bad for you. I don’t trust him.”

  “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “Am I? Maybe you should ask Lilah then.”

  “Lilah? Why would I ask—Oh, I see.” She turned her back to me and walked toward the house.

  “You see what?”

  She didn’t answer, nor did she stop walking.

  “Ellie!”

  Whipping her body around, she threw the ball at my chest. Hard. “Lilah is a slut, Connor. Her reputation precedes her. Why do you think they moved here in the first place, huh?”

  I shrugged. I really didn’t care.

  “Maybe you should ask her then, because if anyone wants to get into anyone’s pants, it’s her, so wear a belt.”

  “I hate belts. And, anyway, you’re the only person I want in my pants.”

  She pursed her lips, her hands on her hips. “I know.”

  I couldn’t help the smile that crept onto my face. “Ellie—”

  “Goodnight, Connor,” she said, as she walked away.

  “Ell—”

  “Just leave.”

  “Baby—”

  “I’m done arguing. Tonight was supposed to be special, and thanks to you it’s ruined, so go home.” She opened the back door, entered her house, and slammed it shut behind her.

  Fuck! She was so goddamn stubborn. When Ellie lit a fire, you blazed and burned to a crisp, left only to lick your wounds in the ashes. And I just knew that this fire was gonna burn for days, weeks even.

  About to place her ball down and make my way home, I noticed the curtains move in one of the windows next door, and the thing that concerned me most was that I wasn’t sure who’d been standing behind them … Lilah, Tristan, or both.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ellie

  “Ellie, what about your cheesecake?” Mum called out, as I stormed past my family and slammed the door to my bedroom.

  “Life doesn’t rev
olve around cheesecake, Mum,” I shouted back, slumping to the floor, my back pressed to the door.

  I wished it did. I wished all problems were nothing more than cream cheese and a biscuit base, but they weren’t. They were jealous boyfriends, slutty neighbours, a super sweet friend who fancied you, and many other things I preferred not to worry about until I had to, like taxes and mortgages. Life wasn’t cheesecake.

  “Stupid, vampire whore.” I kicked off my Chucks and pulled some bobby pins out of my hair, one snagging a few strands as it was removed. “Ow!” I threw them at my vanity desk before dropping my head to my hands, tears springing from my eyes.

  I hated when Connor and I fought. I hated when he was right, and I hated that he hated the play. I’d wanted so much for him to be proud of me and my song, a song he’d inspired. Instead, he’d been more focussed on Tristan. Stupid, jealous jerk.

  So what if Tristan liked me more than he should. He was my friend and nothing more. Tristan hadn’t crossed any lines or painted Connor in a bad light, and he certainly hadn’t touched me like Connor said he had. That was just ridiculous. Ugh! My boyfriend wore green better than The Hulk.

  “Elliephant, you all right?”

  “Go away,” I snapped.

  I heard a thud followed by a scrape, which sounded like Chris’s back sliding down the other side of my bedroom door. “You need me to kick Bourke’s arse?”

  “Yes,” I sulked.

  “Okay. Done.”

  I wiped tears from my nose and sniffed. “Good.”

  “You wanna tell me what I’m kicking his arse for?”

  “Not really.”

  “Okay.”

  We fell silent for a few seconds until my brother did what all brothers were good at—he farted.

  Scampering away from the door like a spider on roller skates, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh my God! You’re so disgusting.”

  My door flew open and Chris fell into my room, belly-laughing on the floor.

  “Get out!” I half-yelled half-laughed, one hand pointing at the hallway the other covering my nose.

  He wouldn’t move, so I grabbed my can of Impulse and sprayed him as if he were an insect, which he kinda was.

  Reaching up, he snatched the can from my hands and pulled me down, securing me in his arms. “Breathe in. It will take your mind off your dickhead boyfriend.”

  “Let me go.” I tried to wrestle out of his arms but he was too strong. “Chris!”

  “Tell me what he did and I’ll release you from my stench.”

  I stopped struggling. “He called me a liar.”

  Chris let me go, so I edged away and propped myself against the bed.

  “Did you lie?”

  “No. Not exactly.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “I didn’t! I just … I just didn’t tell him that Tristan was my boyfriend in the play, let alone a part of the play in the first place.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’s jealous of Tristan.”

  Chris grabbed a screwed up piece of paper that was peeking out from under my bed and shot it like a basketball into my rubbish bin. “Should he be jealous?”

  “No.”

  “No from your point of view, or no from his point of view?”

  I rubbed my face with the palms of my hands. “Why should that even matter?”

  “Of course it matters,” he said, securing a rogue flip-flop from underneath my Cosmopolitan magazine. He slid it toward him before tossing it into my bin as well.

  I furrowed my brow.

  “So, does Tristan have a thing for you?”

  “No. Well, maybe. Oh, I don’t know.”

  “Ellie, you’re not stupid. You’re one of the smartest girls I know. If Tristan has a thing for you, you’d definitely be aware of it.”

  “Okay, yes! I am aware of it.”

  “Then so is Connor.”

  Chris picked up my Cosmopolitan magazine and flicked through the pages before tossing that at my bin too.

  “Hey!”

  He ignored my protest and reached for Ruby—my stuffed rabbit—clasping his fingers around her tattered, floppy ears.

  “Don’t you dare toss her.”

  He pulled her onto his lap instead, a shit-eating grin on his face.

  “I mean it.” I gave him a stern look before continuing. “And, anyway, Connor has absolutely nothing to worry about, so it doesn’t matter whether he’s aware of Tristan’s feelings or not.”

  “Maybe, but Connor loves you. A lot—”

  I scoffed. “How come he’s never told me so?”

  Chris paused his pretend petting of Ruby. “What? Never?”

  I nodded. “Never.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he doesn’t like saying it.”

  “But why?”

  “Beats me. It’s a fast track to greater things,” he said, closing his eyes as he practically molested poor Ruby.

  I kicked his foot and snatched my bunny from him. “You’re such a jerk.”

  “Yeah, I am. And that should tell you that your boyfriend isn’t, that he’s not fast-tracking anything.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him he was an idiot, but the words wouldn’t come out because he wasn’t one. He was genius. “Oh my God! You’re right.”

  “Why is this such a surprise to you?”

  “He won’t tell me he loves me because he’s not a jerk. He thinks that if he tells me it’ll fast track me sleeping with him.”

  “Bingo.”

  “He wants to fast track but respects me enough not to do it.”

  “Bingo.”

  “Oh, we’re totally going to fast track after I’m finished being shitty with him.”

  “Bing—wait. What? No, you’re not. You’re too young to fast track anything.”

  “Oh shut up. I’m only a couple of years younger than you.”

  “Yeah. That’s too young.”

  “It is not.”

  Chris shuddered. “Why couldn’t Mum and Dad have had another son?”

  “Because you scarred them for life.”

  “Pfft. I’m the easy child. You’re the early heart attack.”

  I glared at him. “I am not.”

  “Are so. I bet Mum is having palpitations right now because she has half a cheesecake leftover.”

  I laughed. “She probably is. I should go and eat some, huh?”

  “Yeah, you should. And you should cut Connor some slack. He loves you. Anyone can see that. It’s actually gross how much that dude loves you.”

  My smile lingered a little longer. “It’s not gross. It’s sweet.”

  “So don’t punish him for it then.”

  “He deserves to be punished; he ruined my night.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll kick his arse for that.”

  Hugging Ruby to my chest, my smile dissipated.

  “He did something else, didn’t he?” Chris asked, narrowing his eyes.

  “No, not really. It’s not what he did, it’s what he said.”

  “About?”

  “Lilah. I think she likes him, but unlike her brother, I think she’s trying to break us up.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because she put Tristan in the shit and told Connor that he likes me more than a friend. Why do that other than to cause trouble? Tristan is her twin brother. Placing him in the shit for no good reason other than to cause trouble between Connor and I just doesn’t add up.”

  “True. I think she’s got some serious issues. I overheard Dad tell Mum that he had to give her a warning for acting inappropriately toward one of his staff. He said she trailed her finger down a male teacher’s chest.”

  My eyes nearly bugged out of my head. “Oh. My. God! Are you serious?”

  “Yep. Dad said he had major concerns about her mental state and wanted to speak to Mrs Perez about the ‘incident’ at her former school.”

  “Did he say what the incident was?”

  “No.”

&nb
sp; I tugged a loose thread on the hem of my dress, deliberating whether to share what I knew. “Promise you won’t say anything?”

  “No, but tell me anyway.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Tristan told me she flashed a teacher.”

  Chris burst out laughing.

  I whacked his leg. “It’s not funny. It’s sick. She was thirteen. He would’ve been like fifty or something.”

  “She’s definitely got issues.”

  “Um … yeah, that’s why I don’t trust her. And I don’t understand why Connor even talks to her. He doesn’t like girls like her.”

  “Connor’s not stupid. He wouldn’t let someone like Lilah get in the way.”

  Letting out a long-winded breath, I tapped Ruby on her pink button nose. “I hope you’re right.”

  “I am.”

  “Good. Now get out. You stink.”

  He wiped his armpit on my head before standing up. “You love my stink. Admit it.”

  I didn’t. But I did love him … sometimes.

  I’d stayed shitty with Connor until I received a note on my bus seat on the last day of school. He’d been sitting behind me, mucking around on his guitar when I unfolded the paper. Or at least I thought he’d been mucking around until I’d married the words I was reading with the tune he was playing, soon discovering he was serenading me with “When I See You Smile” by Bad English.

  My heart had melted, as had my underwear, which I’d removed rather quickly after we’d walked to his house and ‘made up’. Not make-up sex. Just kissing, touching and playing around like we always did. I hadn’t wanted our first time to be off the back of a fight. We were worth so much more than that, which was why now, sitting by the river on my cozy picnic rug at our annual family camping trip, I planned to finally give him my virginity. It was perfect—at the place where we began.

  Shaded by the draping branches of a Weeping Willow tree, I scribbled notes in my notebook while appreciating the sight of Connor’s delicious body as he fished. Tanned, taut skin accentuated by muscles that weren’t too big or too small glistened with perspiration from the sun’s relentless heat.

  I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth and smiled. I loved when he was shirtless, when I could see with my own eyes the strength of his arms and chest and know they were all mine and no one else’s.