“We should open a bank account and put the costume money in it.”
“You’re so sensible, Velvet,” Hailie said. “You make me want to puke.”
“It’s only a hundred and fifty bucks,” Peter said. “We’ll get about five cents interest if we’re lucky.”
“Yeah, and we’ll be spending it all in a few weeks. What’s the point?”
“Well it’ll be safe there. What else can we do with it? Give it to you to look after, Jesus?”
“It’s totally illogical,” Peter said. “Can’t we give it to Mrs Mangalis to keep in the office?”
Mr MacDonald intervened. “I think it’s a good idea, Velvet.”
“Yeah, someone get the elephant stamp.”
“Whose name will we put it in?”
“You can call a bank account anything you like. You’re a drama company. What do you want to call yourselves?”
Jesus and Drago refused to be members of a group called the Drama Queens. Velvet liked Dramatic Irony, which according to the dictionary on her phone had something to do with the characters on stage not understanding what was going on. They all agreed that was pretty appropriate, but eventually settled on Stagefright. It might have been tempting fate, but it had a good ring to it.
“To open an account, we’ll need two people who are over sixteen to sign,” Mr MacDonald said.
“I’m sixteen,” Drago said.
“As if we’re going to give you the money!” Hailie said.
Mr MacDonald ignored her. “We need another volunteer. Mei, you’re sixteen aren’t you?”
Mei nodded.
“You’ll need a letter from the school. Ms Mangalis has them on file. We go through this all the time with sports clubs.”
“We’ll probably never see Drago again,” Roula said after he and Mei had gone to the bank. “Why did you give it to him?”
“I wanted Drago to know that we trust him.”
“You might.”
“This play has been good for Drago,” Mr MacDonald said. “He hasn’t been in trouble for quite a while.”
“What about when he threw a desk out of a first-floor window?”
“Apart from that.”
“And when he put Gladwrap over the toilets in the teachers’ loo.”
“Was that him? Anyway he’s only been suspended twice this year. That’s a record. And his grades are improving.”
“Yeah, he’s getting straight Ds now.”
“And that’s only because Velvet’s helping him with reading.”
“I brought my keyboard,” Velvet said.
“Fantastic,” Taleb said, smiling at her. “At least someone is focused on this play.”
Velvet felt her cheeks burn. She plugged in the Casio keyboard. It was bright red.
“Matches your face, Velvet,” Jesus said.
Velvet played a few bars of “Country Gardens” and “Amazing Grace”.
Taleb winced. “That’s not a musical instrument. It’s a toy!”
“Sounds like elevator music.”
“It’s all we’ve got,” Velvet said.
“It’ll do for practice,” Peter said. “Perhaps we can find something better later.”
Taleb picked up his guitar. “Okay, let’s run through the overture first, as a warm-up. Then we’ll work on the coronation song.”
They played the overture almost without a mistake.
“The sax sounds good, Hailie. And you’ve improved, Velvet.”
“I’ve been practising my improvising,” she said proudly.
Drago and Mei came back from the bank and everyone admired the Stagefright bank book.
“We couldn’t get a debit card,” Drago said. “We have to withdraw money over the counter.”
Taleb sang the coronation song. Velvet played the keyboard part flawlessly, but it was supposed to sound like a big church organ. On the Casio it sounded like something from Play School.
“That sounds like crap, Velvet,” Taleb said. “Can’t you make it sound better than that?”
She’d been working hard on the piece all week at home. Velvet felt her eyes start to prickle and fill with tears. The last thing she wanted was to cry in front of everyone, so she got up and walked out of T6 as fast as she could.
Velvet was angry with herself for letting Taleb affect her, and sick of her roller-coasting emotions. One minute feeling happy, the next devastated. She hid behind the bike shed, wiping her eyes and her nose on her sleeve. That’s where Taleb found her. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.
“I know it wasn’t your fault it sounded bad.”
Velvet blew her nose.
“The lyrics are good. The song will work well.”
Velvet sniffed.
“I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
“You’re always yelling at me.”
“You don’t usually get so upset.”
Velvet bit her lip to stop it quivering pathetically. “It’s my birthday.”
Despite her efforts to stop them, the tears welled up and started running down her face again. She hadn’t minded that all she’d got for her birthday was a badly crocheted scarf from her mother, a box of chocolates past their use-by date from her dad and the twenty dollars from her grandma. But this was too much.
Taleb put an arm around her.
“You should have told us.”
“And I went to Yarrabank Plaza on Saturday and you ignored me.”
He put his other arm around her. “I didn’t see you.”
“I was right there.”
“I wasn’t wearing my glasses. It stops me getting nervous if I can’t see the audience.”
“Really?” Velvet looked up at him. His arms were still around her.
“Yeah.”
Velvet wiped her nose again, on the hankie this time.
“We better get back to class.”
Taleb leaned forwards and kissed her on the mouth. His lips were soft and his skin smelled spicy and male.
Velvet forgot to breathe.
“Happy birthday,” he said.
When the others found out it was Velvet’s birthday, they talked Mr MacDonald into going over to Hades for the rest of the afternoon. Taleb promised he wouldn’t yell at anyone and Mr MacDonald promised he’d try to find a better keyboard.
Velvet spent a lot of time pondering her new relationship with Taleb – if it was a relationship. He walked Velvet to the station after school (taking the long way to avoid running into Hailie and Roula). They talked about the harmonies for the coronation song, what they would use for a backdrop and the latest home ec. disaster. Did that mean they were going out? Or was the kiss just meant to be a birthday present? A first kiss was a major milestone in a girl’s life, even more important than her first period or her first bra. But it was over and done with before she’d had a chance to realise what was happening.
“What was your first kiss like, Hailie?” Velvet asked during maths the following day.
“It was with Giancarlo Wong. Remember him, Roula, in Year 7? He left.”
“Yeah, he was cute. But, you know, not my type.”
“What was it like?”
“He was a bit too keen. He banged his teeth against mine and chipped a piece off my front tooth. I had to tell Mum I did it playing hockey.”
“My first kiss was wonderful,” Roula said.
“Yeah?” said Hailie and Velvet together, waiting for the crunch.
“It was this gorgeous boy in Greece. He was seventeen and I was only thirteen. Seriously. He was very passionate … on the beach … with the sun setting.”
“Was he your type?” Velvet asked.
“Not really.”
“What about your first kiss in Australia, Roula?”
“That was my cousin Con. I paid him two dollars to see what it was like.”
Velvet decided that her first kiss hadn’t been so bad after all.
Taleb rang Velvet on the weekend, late at night. He was the only student at Yarrabank who didn’t have a mobile phone, and as Velvet’s wasn’t reliable he used the landline. Velvet took the cordless phone to her room and they talked for nearly two hours without her having to worry about using up her phone plan or getting a brain tumour. She learned more about Taleb over the phone than she had all year in cultural studies class.
He told her about his family. He was the youngest, and the only one born in Australia. There were more than fifteen years between him and his eldest brother, who had just gone to Syria to support the rebels. His sister was married and there were two other brothers in their twenties still living at home. His sister and brothers all spoke English among themselves. As far as Taleb was concerned, Arabic was a language for speaking to parents and grandparents.
“So how does your family feel about your music and … your hair?”
Velvet could almost hear him shrugging on the other end of the line.
“I get away with a lot more than the others did. I wanted to buy a guitar when I was twelve. Dad said I wasn’t allowed, but my brothers convinced him it would be okay. I saved up for it by delivering papers and collecting cans after the footy.”
When Velvet was twelve, she’d had three rooms of her own, a monthly allowance of $200 and everything she ever asked for.
“Dad cracked it when I started growing my hair. But my sister said it suited me. He gave up.”
Taleb fell silent. Velvet was trying to think of something else to say, when he spoke again.
“I just finished the guitar solo for the dream scene. Do you want to hear it?”
“Sure.”
The house was dark and silent, but in her ear Velvet could hear the sound of Taleb’s guitar, played just for her.