“I hear your boyfriend’s done a runner,” says Ziggy through a mouthful of half-chewed vegie burger.
“Ziggy!” snaps Mum. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.” And then she launches into a long and involved story about how one of her second-year students tried to get an extension on an assignment by claiming that his mum had died, having forgotten that he’d used that excuse last year. I stop paying attention somewhere around the point where he threatened to report her to Student Services for being callous, but am grateful she’s changed the subject.
After dinner I sit at my desk, surrounded by open textbooks. There’s a knock on my door.
“I thought you might like a hot chocolate,” Dad says when I tell him to come in, setting a steaming mug in front of me. “Mum told me about your friend. You okay?”
I nod, taking a sip to avoid having to say anything because I know that if I utter a single word, I’ll start crying again. Dad seems to understand. He gives my shoulder a squeeze and closes the door behind him.
At about nine the phone rings. Mum knocks on my door. “Fray, Kate’s on the phone. Do you want to speak to her?”
I think about it for a moment. On the one hand, there’s nothing I want more than to download some of the worry that’s built up inside me over the past few hours, and on the other if I tell Kate, her first reaction is bound to be all “Why would you care about Skeletor?”, and I don’t feel up to defending myself in that conversation.
I open the door. Mum’s waiting there expectantly. “I think I’d rather not.”
“Okay, I’ll say you’re already asleep.”
I go to bed half an hour later, homework still untouched. I’m exhausted, but I can’t stop thinking about Daniel. What if he’s in trouble or he’s been kidnapped or something? I mean, I know it’s far more likely that he’s run away – especially after meeting his dad – but it’s possible, isn’t it? Or what if he’s done something stupid, like tried to hitch a ride somewhere and he’s been picked up by a psychopath? Or what if he’s really, really depressed and he’s done something to hurt himself – you know, on purpose? I can’t even let myself think about that possibility. At around one it starts to rain, heavy rain that buckets down for at least half an hour. I hope that Daniel’s somewhere dry. Somewhere safe.
I wake up feeling as though I haven’t slept at all and walk to school on autopilot, trying not to think about Daniel and what may have happened to him.
Belinda and Bethanee pounce as soon as I walk into the locker room.
“Freia Lockhart, this is your lucky day,” says Belinda, thrusting an envelope into my hands. It takes me a few seconds to realise that they’re waiting for me to open it. It’s an invitation to Belinda’s party after the final performance.
Great, that’s all I need today, I think, staring at the bedazzled piece of card.
“You could at least say thank you,” says Bethanee.
“Yeah, this is for your benefit, you know, Freia. A lot of people would have given up on you by now, but I thought you deserved one last chance to meet a non-freak. If this is how you’re going to be about it though, I won’t bother.” They look at me with something close to contempt.
“Thanks, Belinda,” I say, not even trying to make it sound genuine.
“That’s all right. Just make sure you don’t bring that skeletal friend of yours with you this time.”
I nod. That won’t be an issue if Daniel doesn’t come back.
“You look really tired for someone who went to bed when it was barely dark outside,” says Kate. I look at her blankly. “I called to see what you did your English essay on and your mum said you were already asleep.”
Bugger! One of the pieces of homework I’d managed not to do the night before was an essay for I-Do.
“I didn’t do it.”
Kate’s eyes go wide with shock. “You didn’t do the homework?”
I nod.
“Freia Lockhart hasn’t done her homework,” says Bethanee, sarcastically. “I think I’m going to faint.”
The morning passes in a blur. I almost feel like I’m standing outside my body, watching myself go through the motions. If Kate and the Bs notice that something’s up with me, they don’t say anything, although they’re all so distracted by the prospect of another party they wouldn’t notice if I sat down in the middle of the playground and set myself on fire. Even though I don’t really want to talk about Daniel with Kate, I kind of wish she’d at least ask if I’m upset about something.
Maybe it’s just because I’m tired or maybe I’ve reached a whole new stage of worry, but I’m not actually thinking about Daniel any more. I just have this overwhelming feeling of helplessness, as if nothing I can do will make any difference. To anything. Ever. I don’t even notice Siouxsie sitting next to me in Media Studies until she slides an article from the Parkville Post about Belinda being made a Youth Ambassador in front of me, accompanied by a gagging noise. When I don’t respond she passes me a note.
U OK?
I shake my head.
Want to talk about it?
With Siouxsie? Someone I hardly know and really want to like me? I’m not sure, but I find myself nodding in reply.
The next thing I know Siouxsie’s telling Mr Tynan that I’m sick and she’s taking me to see the nurse. When he asks what’s wrong she tells him that it’s “women’s business”. He blushes and waves us out. Siouxsie picks up both our bags and leads me to a bench behind the canteen.
“So what’s up?”
“I don’t know … I feel stupid even saying it …”
“Okay, I’ll try to guess. Let’s see … your mum’s finally lost the plot and is sending you to a nunnery to ensure you’ll never be tainted by teenage boys and their lustful thoughts. No? Um … Ziggy’s footy team’s short a player for the grand final and you’re the only one who can fit into the injured kid’s uniform? I know! Belinda’s decided you’re her new best friend and you have to lose two million brain cells by the weekend?”
I’m smirking even though I still feel like crap. I shake my head. “It’s Daniel. He’s disappeared and I’m … well, I guess I’m really worried about him.” I start crying again.
Siouxsie puts her arm around my shoulder. “That’s not stupid, dummy, that’s just being a good friend.”
I tell her about Daniel not being at rehearsal yesterday and the scene with Dr Fairchild and Mum and how I can’t stop thinking about Daniel and how helpless and out of control I feel about the whole thing.
“So what are you going to do?” she asks when I finish blowing my nose for the umpteenth time.
I shrug. “Got any bright ideas?”
“Well, we could put up missing boy posters, but the only photo we have is the one Steph took, and frankly that could be any disenfranchised youth in Parkville. Do you know what he does outside of school? Does he have any hobbies?”
“Not unless you count lasagna as a hob–” If we were in a cartoon, a light bulb would appear over my head right now. I hug Siouxsie. “Thanks, you’ve given me an idea where I might find him.”
“I have?” She sounds surprised. “Well, what are friends for?”
The bell goes for lunch and Year Eights start swarming around us.
“I reckon that’s our cue to go,” says Siouxsie. “I promised Steph I’d meet her at the art rooms. Want to come?”
“Nah, I’ve got an essay to write,” I say. “But thanks – for everything.”
She smiles. “No probs. See you later.”
Vicky’s helping a Year Seven use the catalogue when I get to the library, but we give each other a little wave. I sit at one of the desks in the quiet study area and open my English folder. I’ve only got forty-five minutes to write a one-thousand-word essay about a literary figure who’s inspired me. I write the first thing that pops into my head, even though I promised myself I’d never mention Charlotte’s Web in an academic context again. So what if I-Do thinks I’m emotionally retarded for admiring a character in a kids’ book. At least for once I believe the stuff I’m writing, which makes it a whole lot easier.
I bump into Vicky on my way out and we walk to English together. When I ask about her Ramones collection it’s like meeting a different person to the quiet, shy Vicky on the returns desk.
She raves about the limited edition album she just won on eBay. “One of the perks of doing library duty is lunchtime internet access to outbid people at the last minute,” she says with a cheeky smile that takes me by surprise.
When we get to Mr Naidoo’s classroom it only seems natural to sit with her. If Kate misses my company, she doesn’t show it. She sits between Bethanee and Brianna, passing notes to both of them while I-Do gives an impassioned speech about the importance of sound essay structure. Vicky listens with a rapt expression. Funny, I’d never have picked him as her type.
At the end of class I literally throw my essay on I-Do’s desk and run for the gate.
Normally, if I go to the Parkville shops after school, I catch the bus, since it’s a twenty-minute walk. But that’d mean getting on the School Special with the Bs, so I take a circuitous short cut through residential streets, walking towards my goal like a woman possessed. I’m almost certain that when I get to Switch Daniel will be sitting at his usual table, eating his usual post-school lasagna. So certain, in fact, that I feel almost stupid for going there, as if he’s going to look at me and say, “Well, where else would I be?” Still, I have to see for myself.
I barely register Nicky’s VW parked outside the cafe. She looks surprised to see me, but I don’t have time to explain. I march straight to the back room. It’s empty. Completely empty. No Daniel. No lasagna. I slump on the couch where Siouxsie and I sat, my head in my hands. The feeling of dread returns to the pit of my stomach.
“Freia, what’s wrong?” Nicky sits down next to me.
“It’s Daniel,” I tell her, no longer caring how stupid I sound. “He’s gone and I thought he would be here and he’s not and it’s my fault for not asking him what was wrong …” I want to say more, but I’m kind of hyperventilating and it’s getting hard to talk.
“Okay, start at the beginning,” she says. And I go over it all again.
I tell Nicky about Daniel and his reasons for running away, and about how guilty I feel for not doing anything to stop him.
“I was so busy telling everyone that he wasn’t my friend so they wouldn’t treat me the way they treat him, that I ended up being just as much of a bitch to him as they were,” I say, finally admitting to myself why I feel so terrible. “I’m as bad as any of the Bs.”
Jay puts a hot chocolate overflowing with marshmallows in front of me. “They say hot, sweet tea’s the best thing for shock, but I figured this’d be more comforting.”
“This isn’t your fault, Freia,” says Nicky. “With the benefit of hindsight you might see some things you could have done differently, but we’re each responsible for ourselves, and that’s all we can be.”
“But that’s just it, I feel like I don’t even know who I am any more. I don’t want to be anything like the Bs, but I also don’t want them to single me out for being different to them. Does that even make sense?”
Nicky nods but doesn’t say anything so I continue, “It’s like Kate’s whole ‘get a boyfriend’ thing. I mean, of course I want to meet a nice guy and fall madly in love and take long walks along the beach at sunset, but not with just any guy, and not just for the sake of doing it. And, yeah, I do want to look cool, but I don’t want to be flashing my undies in some tiny skirt to do it. And I like hanging out with Siouxsie and Steph and Vicky and talking about something other than what Cosmo says is hot this month …”
“It sounds to me like you know yourself pretty well,” says Nicky. “Perhaps you just need to let other people get to know you?”