On Monday morning I steel myself before entering the locker room. All the way to school I’ve been repeating a mantra of Get in, get books, get out and trying to use the power of positive thinking to will it to be that simple.
Kate and the Bs are gathered around Belinda, gushing over something she’s showing them.
Get in, get books, get out, I repeat to myself as I grab what I need for morning classes without them even seeming to notice me. I run into Steph on my way out and she asks me to come to the art rooms at lunchtime to help her choose the final selection of photos for her exhibition. All in all, this being a no-friends freak thing is working out pretty well.
When Kate and the Bs walk into English I understand what they were fussing over this morning. Next to Kate’s school badge a little gold bee catches the sunlight. It shines almost as brightly as her smile. She sits at a desk diagonally opposite mine, fiddling with the bee for the entire double period. At last, she has got her wish. She is officially a B and I can’t help wondering whether ditching me was what it took to earn it.
Mr Naidoo hands back our essays. When he gets to mine he automatically heads to where Kate and Bethanee are sitting and does a double take before looking all around the room and finally spotting me with Vicky.
“Not the best structured essay you’ve ever written, Freia, but passionately argued. Well done.”
Vicky smiles and gives me the thumbs up.
Steph’s photos from rehearsals cover an entire wall of the room. En masse they look like a typical collection of school production stills but, when you look closely, every one of them reveals a tiny detail, like a movement or an eye roll, that hints at what’s going on behind the scenes. I’m entranced, looking intently at each of them to spot the hidden detail, trying to catch the subjects betraying their true characters when they think no one’s looking. It’s like a game.
“What do you think?” asks Steph.
“I think they’re all great. I don’t know how you’ll choose.”
“I know what I’d do,” says Siouxsie. “Expose these fakes as being human after all.”
“It’s tempting, but when I took these I didn’t intend for them to be some sort of bitchy exposé. It was more about catching moments when peoples’ guards were down than making them look dumb,” says Steph.
“Some people manage to do that all by themselves,” says Siouxsie, indicating a photo of Luke staring slack-jawed at Belinda’s boobs.
“Exactly. There’s no challenge in stuff like that. I think what I want to show is more like this,” says Steph, pointing to a photo in the corner.
At first it just looks like a photo of the chorus with Kate standing in the front row, grinning a showbiz grin, but on closer inspection I notice that the only other person smiling in the photo is Alex, and then I see his hand on her waist, which is definitely not part of the choreography for the Ascot races scene.
“Whereas this one,” says Steph, indicating a shot of Bethanee in the wings with Luke’s tongue down her throat, “is probably not the vibe I’m after.”
“Have you considered using these for blackmail purposes? I reckon you could get a new lens for your camera for what Bethanee’d pay to have those negatives destroyed,” I say.
Steph laughs. “Luckily for Bethanee, I’m all about the art.”
Finally, we get it down to about thirty pictures, including the one of Kate and Alex and the shot of Daniel the afternoon before he went away.
“Now all I need is somewhere to exhibit them,” says Steph. She stands back to admire her handiwork.
“Actually,” says Siouxsie, “I have an idea about that.”
Everyone involved in the play is excused from classes at recess on Tuesday to prepare for the preview performance for Westside and Parkville juniors. I walk there by myself, taking cover amongst the Year Nine chorus members chattering excitedly about Belinda’s party.
I know Daniel and I have our lighting down pat, but I still feel a bit queasy at the thought of doing it in front of an audience. He’s already sitting at the desk, even though it’s still almost two hours till the show begins. He greets me with a grin.
“I suggest you stay here. Wilson’s having a nervous breakdown and Darryl’s out for blood – it’s not safe down there.”
“That goes double now that Belinda’s arrived,” I say, nodding to where she’s standing with Luke. She’s giving him a proper telling-off, if the fierce expression on her face is anything to go by. “So what do we do till they’re ready to begin? I thought they’d have us on hall detail, putting out chairs and stuff.”
“Nah, it’s all been done, care of yesterday’s detention duty – every chair you see down there has been precisely positioned at 180 degrees to the stage by me and a guy in Year Eight called Paul Pinkus who suffered the indignity of being caught hiding in the change rooms to avoid being beaten to a pulp in thugby.” Daniel reaches into his bag and pulls out his iPod. “Want to share?”
I nod and he makes a show of wiping the earbud on his jumper before offering it to me. He presses play and something screechy with a lot of electric guitar blares. I try to look like I think it’s cool, but when it gets to an extended and particularly loud guitar solo I can’t help grimacing.
Daniel catches my eye at exactly that moment and laughs. “Sorry, I forget that Led Zep’s not everyone’s bag.” He hands me the iPod. “You choose something.”
I’m so technically backward that the closest I’ve ever been to an iPod is looking at (no touching allowed!) the one Bethanee got for her birthday. I hold Daniel’s iPod with both hands, as if I’m six years old and carrying Grandma Thelma’s best crystal vase. I think back to Bethanee showing us how she’d loaded every single Pussycat Dolls album on hers, and try to imitate the way she twirled her finger round the control pad to scroll through them. Thankfully, it works, but I don’t recognise any of the names appearing on the display. Then I see it, like a beacon in the musical dark: Ramones Mania. I hit play and breathe a sigh of relief. Saved.
“Good choice,” says Daniel, with an approving nod, as “I Wanna Be Sedated” starts. If Kate and I were still friends, and if I could talk to her about Daniel, I know she would say that it’s A Sign. Siouxsie would probably tell me he just has good taste.
The performance goes pretty smoothly except for Luke stepping on Belinda’s foot twice during the waltz. (Call me a cynic, but it didn’t look so accidental the second time.) At any rate, the juniors seem to enjoy it and they clap their little hearts out. Belinda takes three curtain calls and would go for a fourth except Darryl refuses to open the curtains again.
Mr Wilson and Ms Burns gather us all around the stage afterwards and give us a pep talk about keeping up the momentum for opening night tomorrow. When they finally tell us we can go home Belinda positions herself by the doors, handing out invitations to her party. I feel a wave of panic, praying to avoid a scene, but she acts as if she doesn’t see me and Daniel at all.
“Let me guess, Queen B’s having an exclusive soiree and only the fairest princes and princesses in Parkville are invited?” says Daniel.
“Yeah, something like that,” I say, speeding up to get past the Bs as quickly as possible.
“Are you going?”
I open my mouth to answer him, but it’s suddenly bone dry. I manage to (literally) choke out, “Uh, I think my invitation may have been revoked. I’m not exactly in Belinda’s good books at the moment. Anyway, I don’t think parties are really my thing.”
“I think that might all depend on who you’re there with. And imagine how much it’d bug her if we went together,” he says and, at the risk of sounding like a complete girly-girl, I feel like a million small things have taken flight in my stomach.
And I don’t know whether it’s because I’ve made it past Belinda unscathed or because I’m thinking maybe the Ramones thing is A Sign, but the next thing I know I’m saying, “Youwanttogowithme?”
And he nods and gives me a huge, huge smile and a flash of blue, twinkly eyes. And things are taking flight in my stomach again, but this time I kind of like it.
So we’re going to the party on Saturday night. Me and Daniel. Daniel and me.
As long as I can get the crumblies to agree.
1. Not to go would be social suicide. (Might work a little bit on Mum, unlikely to move Dad.)
2. I need “closure” on my school musical experience. (Could work if I can find something to back it up in The Book.)
3. I am a normal teenage girl who wants to do normal teenage girl things. (Has never worked in the past.)
4. They need someone to do the lighting on the dance floor. (A stretch, certainly, but if they think I’ll be too busy to actually enjoy myself, they might agree.)
5. Could be my last chance to spend time with Daniel. (DON’T use this one if Dad is around.)