I had to force myself out of bed the next morning, bleary-eyed and porridge-brained from lack of sleep. Larrie’s phone had finally stopped buzzing at around 3.00, by which time I was so deliriously tired I couldn’t even concentrate on thinking about Josh any more.
Mum took my silence in the car as a sign that I was sulking and used the five-minute drive to give me a lecture about how I should make more of an effort at home. Mentally, I was going ballistic about the fact that I was the one being told off when it was Larrie’s fault I’d had so little sleep, but I didn’t have the energy to put my thoughts into words.
“Big night?” asked Dylan when he saw me inspecting the bags under my eyes in the prep-room mirror.
“I wish.” I filled him in on Larrie’s quest to sabotage my possibly blossoming love-life.
“Sounds like someone’s worried that her little sister might be taking her place as Kingston’s most sought-after girl,” said Dylan, who’d always lent a sympathetic ear when I needed to vent about Larrie. “How much longer have you got?”
I checked the calendar above the sink. “Two weeks and four days.”
“Hang in there, kiddo.”
I was rotating the wheels of parmesan in the coolroom and contemplating a third coffee when I felt my phone buzz with an incoming message.
Sorry you had to go. Hope I didn’t get you in the poo last night. xo Josh
My stomach flipped. Josh texting me meant that he liked me enough to get my mobile number from someone. And he’d signed off with a kiss and a hug! I couldn’t help thinking that if Larrie hadn’t butted in last night, those might have been real instead of virtual.
I tried to think of a casual but cool reply, but everything I came up with sounded either lame, boring or far too keen. Another text arrived before I had a chance to send even a “Yeah, let’s do it again sometime”. For a lightheaded moment I thought perhaps it was Josh again, wanting to know whether I was free tonight (yes, yes, absolutely), but it was just Maz.
You left before they announced the finalists – Vertigo Pony is in! Come over tonight to plan our victory.
I messaged back that I might be busy, clinging to the fantasy that Josh was going to make me an offer I couldn’t refuse. Maz called a minute later.
“I think you missed the bit in the fan club president job description where it says you’re our number one fan. You didn’t even hang out with us last night.”
“Sorry, Mazzle. That’s the effect Josh has on me. When he’s around I forget everything else.”
“And everyone else. You can make up for it tonight. Vertigo Pony needs a kickarse backdrop for the final and I’ve got the perfect idea for it. Come to my place at seven. And wear something you can paint in.” She hung up before I could object.
I spent the rest of the work day composing and recomposing my reply to Josh, eventually settling on:
S’ok, am used to big sis poo. HAHA. xo Al
The moment I hit “Send” I knew the chances of him replying with a romantic invitation were zero. Big. Sis. Poo. Three words that should never be used together in a message to someone you want to ask you out.
“Start filling in the letters,” said Maz. She handed me a paintbrush and pointed to the king-size sheet that she’d already drawn an outline of the band’s name on. “And try not to go outside the lines like you usually do.”
Having assisted on many of Maz’s art projects over the years, I did as I was told. She got to work painting the background image – a winged horse standing at the edge of a cliff – and we soon fell into an easy rhythm of painting and chatting. I told her how mortified I was about sending Josh the “poo” text.
“Do you think it’ll put him off me forever?”
Maz looked up from the intricately detailed wing-feathers she was painting and paused for a moment, choosing her words with care.
“I reckon anyone who’s turned off by one badly worded text message isn’t really worth bothering with,” she said finally.
“That’s easy for you to say when Nicko’s practically falling at your feet. Josh is the first guy who’s shown any interest in me since Pete Kelly asked me to the movies at Easter – and you remember how that ended.”
I raised my right eyebrow to indicate that, even though I’d brought it up, I still wasn’t ready to discuss the Incident at the Movies (as Maz had dubbed it after I threatened to never speak to her again if she told anyone I’d accidentally tongue-kissed Pete’s left nostril in a dark cinema).
“That’s not true,” said Maz, trying not to laugh. “Simon shows interest in you every day.”
“Ugh. Please don’t start on about Simon again. I really want Josh to like me.”
“Yeah, I noticed that when you took off with him last night without even saying goodbye.”
“Josh had nothing to do with me leaving early! That was all Larrie’s fault. She said I had to go home with her and Beth. She was jealous that a cute guy was more interested in me than her.”
Maz’s expression turned to sympathy. “Okay, in that case I withdraw the charge. Hopefully, by the SkoolDaze final Larissa Miller will be a distant memory at Whitlam. I bet by the time the new school year starts, no one’ll even remember who she was.”
“Or they’ll know what she’s really like. It may be starting already – her own year seems to be turning against her.” I told her about the names Mitch’s mates had called Larrie in the car park.
I expected Maz to share my schadenfreude (the one word I remember from my semester of German in Year Seven – it means taking pleasure in the misfortune of others) at the guys’ play on Mitch’s pet name for Larrie. Instead, her eyes went wide and she inhaled sharply, like her lungs were constricting.
“Maz, what’s wrong?”
She studied the paintbrush in her hand. “It’s just … I mean … I didn’t think you knew … I didn’t want to say …” she rambled when she found her voice.
It wasn’t like Maz to be lost for words, especially with me. Panic (and the stir-fry Maz had made for dinner) rose in my throat. I took a couple of deep breaths to try to push it back down.
“Didn’t want to say what? What don’t I know?”
“I – I really didn’t want it to be me who you heard it from.”
Maz sounded apologetic, another very un-Maz quality. Whatever she hadn’t told me, it must be bad. I couldn’t stand it any longer.
“Heard what, Maz? Tell me!”
“The lezzo thing,” she whispered. “I mean, I knew it would get back to you eventually, but …”
I stared at her in disbelief. “Let me get this straight: my sister has an unflattering nickname at school and you didn’t want to tell me because – why?”
“Because even though Larrie gives you the irrits she’s still your sister and I thought you’d be upset about it.” She paused before adding, “And from what people are saying it’s not just a nickname.”
“And what exactly are people saying?”
Maz studied her paintbrush again. “I’m only going on what I hear, okay, and it’s just a rumour, but word is that Larrie and Beth are more than best friends. If you know what I mean.”
“Larrie and Beth?” It sounded so ridiculous that I almost shouted it. I mean, a) most of Whitlam’s male students were tripping over their lolling tongues to ask Larrie out, and b) Beth/Velma/Pugsley? If my sister was gay, surely she’d have better taste in women.
“Who did you hear it from?” I demanded.
Maz closed her eyes and tilted her head, like she did when she was trying to recall key dates in history tests. “I think it was Tracy who first told me. Or maybe it was Lily. Or was it Nicko?”
“So basically our whole year is spreading this rumour and you didn’t think you should mention it to me?”
“Oh, it’s not just our year,” said Maz before realising she was making things worse. “I’m sorry, Al. I didn’t know how to tell you. I mean, it’s a bit of an awkward topic, isn’t it?”
“Is there anything else you haven’t been telling me that I should know about?” I asked, expecting a hasty and emphatic “No!” in response.
“Umm … Larrie’s not denying it.”
Al Miller can’t believe her ears.