After Vertigo Pony’s set I asked Josh to come backstage with me to congratulate Maz and the guys.
I hugged Maz. “You were amazing,” I said before she could ask.
“Really?”
“Really. If you don’t get into the finals I’ll … I’ll lick Prad’s foot.”
“Ew. You must be absolutely certain to risk that.”
“That was pretty good,” Josh agreed. “Considering you haven’t had any professional training.”
Maz registered the backhanded compliment with a snarl, which I pretended not to see. Luckily, Prad was less easily offended.
“Thanks, dude. I guess we’re blessed with so much talent that we don’t need to pay people to teach us what comes naturally.”
Josh turned to Simon. “Nice percussion section you’ve got going there. If your rhythm on the field was that good, you might’ve made the team this year.”
Maz, Prad and Nicko turned their heads in unison to check Simon’s reaction. I laughed an awkward “ha” to try to relieve the tension, which worked to the extent that it made Simon break his staring competition with Josh and stare at me instead.
After an uncomfortable pause, he said, “Come on, Maz, I’ll help you pack up your gear.”
The atmosphere backstage had turned icy, so I suggested to Josh that we go and check out the other bands. He took my hand and led me back to where we’d been sitting. Sneaking a glance at our entwined fingers, I gave a silent squeak of happiness. So what if Maz and the others didn’t like Josh? I couldn’t imagine anyone I’d rather be with.
The rest of the contestants were pretty standard high school rock bands: teenagers in dirty jeans, expressing their anger with the world in general through dark lyrics and long guitar solos. It was a relief when Beth and four other girls, who looked like they all shopped at the same Punky-Librarians-R-Us outlet, got on stage and introduced themselves as the Gym Cynics. Their first song was catchy, but the singer couldn’t hold a note and the drummer kept catching her platform Mary Jane under the kick-drum pedal. I crossed them off the list of serious Vertigo Pony competition.
“You’re not the only one your sister’s got it in for tonight.” Josh pointed to the doorway where Larrie and Mitch were having an all-out fight.
From her body language (lots of standing with arms folded and one hip jutting out, interspersed with liberal amounts of finger pointing and air stabbing), she was pretty narked with him. Mitch kept shaking his head until she gave up and stomped out of the hall.
“Ugh. Your big brother can’t have been anywhere near as bad as that.”
“Oh, he was way, way worse,” said Josh. “He used to fart on my head to wake me up in the morning.”
“Larrie’s not that gross,” I conceded. “But I bet she’s meaner.”
“Really? Has she ever made you eat a caterpillar to win a bet with a mate? Or dacked you at Parkville Metro? Or poured water in your bed to make your mum think you’d wet yourself … when you were thirteen?”
Josh’s list went on and on until I was doubled up with laughter.
“Your brother couldn’t have done all that to you. He’d be in jail by now for child abuse.”
He reached for my hand. “Maybe not. But I bet it makes you feel better about your big sister, doesn’t it?”
All I could do was nod and smile.
I’d hoped she’d gone home in a huff, but Larrie reappeared the moment the Gym Cynics left the stage. It was as if she’d materialised out of thin air to torment me. Her eyes flicked to Josh’s arm, which was again resting round my shoulder.
“Come on, Beth’s giving us a lift home.”
“I’m not ready to go.” I raised my hand to my shoulder to thread my fingers through Josh’s. “I’ll get a ride with Maz or something.”
“Something” like maybe being walked home by Josh and stopping at the park round the corner for a little snogging action.
“If you don’t leave now, you won’t make it home by eleven,” said Larrie. “And Dad didn’t sound like he was joking about grounding you this time.”
Beth stood gawkily behind her, weighed down by her equipment.
“Sounds sensible, Al,” said Josh, drawing his arm away from me. “After all, you have to work tomorrow. Can I help you carry that?”
Beth handed over her amp with a grateful nod and led us outside to where her ratty old station wagon was parked. Larrie waited until Josh had loaded Beth’s gear into the boot and waved us off before starting in on me again.
“What are you doing hanging out with Josh Turner?”
So that’s what this sudden sisterly concern for me getting home on time was about. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I happen to like him. And I think he likes me.”
Larrie sniggered. “I can’t believe you’re so naive. Take it from me, the guy’s a complete sleaze.”
“What would you know about Josh? You think if a guy wants to hang out with me, he must just be after sex? You’re pathetic.”
Beth reached over, patted Larrie’s hand and shook her head slightly. Larrie scowled but didn’t say anything. I couldn’t think why Beth would want to stick up for me against her best friend, but I was grateful that for once someone was taking my side.
Mitch and his mates were standing in a dark corner of the car park, probably passing around a hip flask.
“Catch ya later, Lezza,” shouted one of them as we drove past. A chorus of “Heh-heh, it’s the Lezzomobile” and “See ya, Lesbos” followed.
I had no idea what Larrie had done to make herself so unpopular with the guys in her year (after all, when she dumped Mitch they were lining up behind his back to ask her out), but I couldn’t help smirking a little to myself. I waited for Larrie to yell something back, but she kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead. She probably thought she was being dignified and mature. Either that or she couldn’t think of a clever comeback.
The three of us drove home in tense silence. I wanted to ask Larrie what the scene with Mitch had been about and what was up with the name-calling, but I figured at best she’d tell me to mind my own business, and at worst she’d make me get out and walk. I opened my door before the car had even come to a complete stop and let myself into the house without waiting for Larrie. Mum and Dad were watching Lateline and pretending not to wait up for me.
“I’m home,” I called, already halfway to my room before they could respond. I knew I should go and say hello and answer their questions about how my night had been, but I wasn’t in the mood to listen to them congratulate Larrie on getting me home by my curfew. And, if I’m being completely honest, I wanted to try to recapture the feeling of Josh’s skin against mine before it faded from my memory.
When I got into bed I was exhausted, but I couldn’t sleep. Partly because my mind was fizzing like a sherbet fountain, thinking about Josh, and partly because Larrie’s phone was brrring-ing with text messages every two minutes. I banged on the wall between our bedrooms in protest. Ordinarily, Larrie would’ve banged back but she must’ve been too busy texting ranting replies to Beth to notice.
Obviously, she was riled by the thought of me and Josh together. Until now, she’d had a monopoly on the hottest guys at Whitlam, and I guessed it was tough for her to accept that only a week after finishing school she’d lost her grip. Perhaps my being with Josh would be the best revenge of all.
Al Miller is ready to shake things up.