The Boarder liked what he was seeing and she was liking being it. Fran almost forgot about the dork dancing opposite her, who she’d escape as soon as the song ended.
‘Another dance after this?’ Brian Ryan Junior asked.
Oh Lord. ‘Thanks, but I’m so thirsty.’
‘Are you? Would you like a drink?’
‘No, no, I don’t, thanks.’
It took him a moment before finally getting the hint, and he crept off towards the men’s toilets. She headed over to the bar area and was about to order a drink when…
‘Want a drink?’
His accent! Could it be…? He was Scottish!
She asked him a lot of questions and he liked that. He talked a lot. She could hardly understand him. His father worked between Melbourne and Singapore, he might have said, and dumped him here. He’d been playing cricket somewhere or other and had either won or lost.
She was glad he didn’t ask her any questions. What on earth would she have said?
He was too cool to even bother to change out of his uniform for something as stupid as an Ash Mountain police-run reprobate kids’ disco. He wore his shirt unbuttoned, had very white teeth and enough money in his wallet for a lifetime of lemonade. ‘Lemonade, ta,’ said Fran.
‘No, I mean a drink.’ 78
She should have asked what was in his flask, but she knew she was going to take a swig from it no matter – what with everyone, including Tricia Gallagher, watching and all. Fran was about to nab the coolest boarder in town. Christ, the stuff in his flask was like petrol.
Brian Ryan Junior was looking at her too. He was putting on his coat just as ‘I’m on My Way’ came on. The Proclaimers. Fran and The Boarder grabbed each other’s hands at the same time – how about that, that meant something, did it not? – and raced to the floor. A ha. A ha. A ha. A ha.
It was so unfair, really, that The Boarder just happened to get the perfect song. Fran would never have followed anyone out the back after dancing to ‘Kokomo’ or ‘Handle Me with Care’, for example, but ‘I’m on My Way’ was a sign and it gave her courage. She was Sofia again, with a good dollop of perm-haired Olivia thrown in. She smiled at Tricia Gallagher, took another swig from The Boarder’s flask, and followed him out the back door, from misery to happiness. A ha.
Uh-uh. The Boarder had completed his courting and his tongue was in her mouth. She didn’t know if she liked it or not, but she didn’t want to stop it. She was just really surprised they’d not talked beforehand, at all. Having had a few seconds to think, she now had quite a few things she thought she could say. When some local boys came out for a cigarette, he removed his tongue—
‘Come, I know a special place.’
Two minutes later they were lying on the cricket pitch in the middle of the oval, staring up at the southern sky. Fran stopped herself from saying something about the stars or the universe and finished off the last drop of his petrol.
‘As they say in the movies: isn’t this romantic?’ he said, rolling over for the type of grope she’d expect to happen 79several months later. She hardly realised what was occurring until she suddenly felt stuffed, literally, and a little sick. Can’t have been more than two minutes when he rolled off again and did up his trousers.
A group of boys were walking along the main street. The Boarder stood and tucked himself in. ‘I’d better go,’ he said.
Her zip had broken. Her bra was twisted and stuck above her chest. If that was sex, she was going to find it very easy to avoid from now on. Her dad could sell the ostriches.
The Boarder had reached his clan on the main street – they were laughing. One yelled, ‘Mountain Slut!’
It was true.
‘Fran?’
A boy was behind her. She jumped up, prepared herself to run.
‘I told your dad you were in the loo; we’d better hurry. Are you all right?’
She wasn’t sure if she was all right, nor why she hugged Brian Ryan Junior and cried into his chest.