As agreed, I wait for Chay in the empty science block toilets before the bell. I made it in without seeing anyone I know, although I’m pretty sure a group of boys at the school gate mentioned my name. Before laughing.
I’ve never moved so fast to get away. All while trying to appear casual and unconcerned. I bet Coach would improve my athletics attitude grade if he saw that effort.
That embarrassment fresh in my mind, I stand in front of the mirror and practise the knowing expression Chay talked about last night when she explained the plan for the fake guy. The one that’s supposed to tell the world I don’t care about Lana’s bitchy stunt and that I’m completely over Joel.
‘Are you all right? You look like you’re going to be sick.’ The question comes from some anonymous year nine girl with a sweet concerned smile and far too much make-up.
Heat rises in my cheeks and I turn away from the mirror. So much for that expression. ‘No. But thanks.’
She washes her hands and exits with one last sympathetic glance.
I turn my back on my reflection.
Where is Chay? I bet she could show me how to act like I’m not the laughing stock of the whole school.
My phone buzzes.
Meet up at break. Long story
Crap. Now I’m going to have to walk out of here alone. And first up I have history. One of the subjects I share with Joel. The dread I’ve been trying to ignore rises up as an acid taste in the back of my throat.
Will she be there? Outside the room, perhaps. Loitering in the hall for one last kiss to last the hours until they share a break.
I cover my face, rubbing at the stinging in my eyes. It won’t go away.
The first bell signals my move out of the safety of the girls’ bathroom. My insides are quivering but I’m holding my head high and trying to project casual confidence. It’s not something I’ve managed in all the years I’ve been at this school so it’s unlikely to work today. But the alternative is to hide out forever – and that will make the dream of getting into a uni where I can finally be my own person pretty hard.
Images flicker through my brain like one of Mum’s old family movies on speed. The envelope I didn’t open. Lana’s smirk. The pity on Joel’s face. Chay’s cherry red lips in an encouraging grin. The fake guy in his tux. And Sebastian.
Always Sebastian.
I shove the image away. I don’t even know him and I don’t want to. The whole mature, mysterious act doesn’t work on me.
Then I blink and he’s in front of me on the path. Real. Flesh and blood – I’m guessing he is anyway.
And the air of mystery and aloofness surrounding him dries my mouth and scrambles my brain, leaving my tongue thick and stupid. I’m beginning to think I can conjure him with some hidden mind powers.
He stops in front of me. His pine eyes are fixed on me with an intensity that makes me think our meeting isn’t accidental. ‘Hey, Kath.’
I blink fast, irritating my stinging eyes even more. He knows my name?
Hot on the surge of unexpected joy comes a painful realisation. Of course he does. I’m famous around school now, thanks to his sister.
‘Hi,’ I reply. And it takes all the prepping I did in the bathroom not to drop my head and look shyly at the ground.
He shifts his weight from one foot to the other and his mouth opens a beat before he speaks. Is he nervous? Unsure? Then the hesitation is gone. ‘Look, I know she can be mean, but it’s nothing personal.’ His eyebrows come together beneath his messed-up-as-usual hair. He studies me even more intently than normal. ‘At least, I don’t think it is.’
His gaze drops and then lingers. I’m not sure whether he’s checking out my body or the locket I slipped on this morning. And I don’t know which I’d prefer. The locket means he might have an interest in old stories and mysteries, and if it’s anything else then he might just be interested in me.
I try to follow what he’s saying. It’s not easy when I’m breathing in his fresh, clean scent with every breath. His hair is still shower-damp where the wind hasn’t blown it dry. ‘You’re here to apologise for Lana?’ The lift from seeing him, the anticipation I didn’t even want to feel, fizzles away like a kid’s party balloon left out in the sun.
He looks down then. At the toe of his sneakers sketching a line in the dust.
It gives me the opportunity to let myself look at him properly. His electric blue sneakers are different to the orange and navy I noticed the first day he showed up looking way too grown up to be an ordinary student. Today his jeans are dark blue and battered in a perfect mix of bought-that-way and worn to be uniquely Sebastian and he’s wearing a black, hooded jacket with a soccer logo across the back. His shoulders are even wider this close, like he could carry the weight of the world on them, and the hint of stubble on his jaw suggests he’d be man enough to. His once pale blue t-shirt is almost white and bare of any logos or brands. It’s caught up at his waist so I can see his black leather belt and ancient-looking buckle. An item so out of place with the rest of his style I can’t help staring.
I get that same tingle I do when I find a tale in an antique on a Choose-Day with Mum. There’s a story in that belt, and for a second curiosity overwhelms everything else.
But then he sighs and I remember who he is and why I’m here.
‘Look, I don’t want to pry or anything, but I saw you go this way with your friend yesterday after we collided.’ He shrugs. ‘I wanted to make sure you were okay.’
This is my moment. This is what Chay meant when she talked about whether I could be a victim or stand up for myself. I don’t want this boy to feel sorry for me, to think I’m someone he needs to check on because his stunning little sister has left another broken heart in her wake.
I aim for a casual grin. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ And if instead of airy and light the words come out with a squeak, I figure it’s at least a start.
He rubs at the back of his neck. ‘You were, ah, with that guy she’s hooked up with, weren’t you?’
My shoulders lift in a shrug I don’t need to force. ‘Not really.’
Not as far as that guy was concerned anyway.
Just me and my hopes and my lifetime crush, but standing here with Sebastian I’m struggling to even picture Joel. And I hate it because I don’t want this boy to fill my thoughts. I don’t want to end up hurt again so soon. With someone like Sebastian, there could be no other outcome. He’s not like the other guys here and his sister hates me.
In my attempt to look anywhere but at Sebastian, I see a familiar shape loping into the computer building. The skinny arm of Bobby Moss waves and I lift my hand in acknowledgement.
‘How do you know Bobby?’ Sebastian asks. ‘I’ve seen you talking to him before.’
My belly flips. He noticed me before yesterday?
‘He’s Joel’s brother,’ I explain, but I’m still marvelling that this aloof guy has noticed plain old me.
‘Yeah, but I don’t see any of the rest of the year speaking to him.’
I don’t know whether the scorn in his voice is aimed at them or me. Bobby is young. He’s in year nine and a year younger than most of his year thanks to his brilliance with all things maths and science related. But he’s a nice kid and I’m not ashamed to know him. ‘I tutor him in English but he’s a friend too.’
Sebastian doesn’t say anything for a minute and I look up. Into smiling eyes. Eyes filled with warmth for me. ‘I helped him with a password lock in the computer lab last week. He seemed pretty decent.’
So the scorn was for everyone else.
The attitude adds to Sebastian’s allure. Why would he care that I’m friends with Bobby?
I lower my gaze in case he sees my interest, but I’m hyperaware that Sebastian Elliot is standing close. My heart rate has dialled up from its usual pace and I’m trying to ignore the strange stinging in my eyes.
I think I’m doing okay until he edges closer to peer right into them.
That’s when I feel the tear oozing down my right cheek. Ducking my head, I wipe at the wet, sticky trail and then wince.
‘Have you done something to your eye?’
I lift my head. He’s close. Real close. I catch his gaze and can’t look away. ‘Is it red?’
He nods. This close I can almost count the dark grey flecks in the green of his eyes. My breath jerks in my chest as my mind races.
Think.
If only I’d lingered in the bathroom for a few minutes longer. Or at least looked more closely. I flinch as I brush the corner where it stings most. ‘Crap that hurts.’
If I had any hope of projecting a cool, composed facade, it’s gone with the agony that radiates from my right eye. Embarrassed heat rises from my neck to meet the wave of pain.
Sebastian’s left hand lifts and for a second I think those tanned fingers are going to touch my cheek. In that moment I don’t breathe at all. I swear I can count every thump of my heart against my chest cavity as he decides. Then it drops back to his side and I breathe again, but his not touching me becomes another ache in my heart.
‘Is it from … crying?’ He’s being sympathetic even as his eyes dart around the still-empty courtyard. The awkwardness of the whole situation is obvious in his desperate scan for someone to help him with a teary girl.
‘No!’
Or not the crying he thinks. Not directly. It has to be the slimy cucumber. If I wasn’t so rattled earlier I would never have put something that smelt that bad on my bare skin.
In an irony that makes me look a liar, tears well in my stinging eyes. All that effort not to give Lana and Joel and the entire student population the idea that I cried myself to sleep last night, and here I am about to walk into class red-eyed and puffy.
And for extra points in the game of self-humiliation, Sebastian is witness. Again.
The laugh begins deep in my chest. It rises like bubbles in my favourite cola and explodes as an unladylike, uncool, uncomposed guffaw that sends a light spray of snot through my nose. Only because my hand is already up near my eye do I manage to catch it.
I sneak a peek at Sebastian and the wide-eyed panic in his face makes me laugh harder until I’m gasping for breath and doubled over. Now the tears streaming from my eyes are from laughing. The hot liquid cleans them out and the stinging sensation eases off a little.
The laughter quickly subsides to the occasional giggle. ‘Sorry,’ I manage, still trying to force air back into my lungs.
He shakes his head. ‘You’re crazy.’
‘No one has ever described me as crazy before.’
His brow arches.
‘Really.’ I have the laughter under control now. ‘Usually it’s “ordinary”. Sometimes “boring” – if it’s Chay doing the describing.’
Why did I say that to the most interesting guy in the whole school?
I’ve just admitted that even my very best friend thinks I’m boring, but he doesn’t seem to care. ‘You’re nothing like ordinary.’
I don’t have heaps of experience reading the opposite sex – I mean, look how great my instincts were about Joel – but I swear it’s admiration in his tone and wonder in his eyes.
Eyes looking into mine. At me.
The thick, stupid thing happens again with my mouth and it doesn’t matter because it’s not like I have a clue what to say.
Sebastian doesn’t seem to have that problem. ‘Do you need to go see the nurse?’ He gestures to my eye.
The tears of laughter helped wash out my eyes but I can tell from his concerned expression it must still be red and swollen.
If I go see the nurse she might send me home.
Everyone will assume I’m running away and the whole plan not to be a victim will be ruined before it really starts. Besides, the white envelope is lurking for me somewhere at home and I’m in no real hurry to see it again.
But the other option is walking around all day as the poster girl for the broken-hearted.
‘No. I won’t go to the nurse.’
‘You sound unsure.’
‘I didn’t plan to look red-eyed today.’ Of all days. Stupid cucumber. ‘If only I’d worn a hat. Or a paper bag.’
His lips twitch. He rubs the back of his neck again and then pulls off his hoodie. He shoves it toward me. ‘Here.’
As soft and inviting as the material looks, I don’t take it. ‘I’m confused.’
He chuckles, a rumble of sound I feel through to my bones. ‘Me too.’ His gaze slides up and down my body. ‘That jacket you’re wearing is great. Cool and all. But with mine you could put the hood up and hide your eye a bit.’ He shifts his weight to the other foot. ‘If you want to.’
Want to wrap myself in this boy’s hooded jacket? Yes please. Just carrying it will distract people from my eye and create the impression I’ve not been sitting home pining over Joel.
Somehow I stay casual and control the instinct to grab it out of his hands. ‘You won’t be cold?’
‘No,’ he insists. ‘It’s the least I can do.’
So this is about him feeling guilty on behalf of his little sister.
My enthusiasm wavers. He thinks of me as a charity case. The boy I thought of as Mr Aloof is really Mr Responsible for his family. I don’t know whether it makes him more or less attractive.
Before I can change my mind he hands over his jacket. The material is still warm from where it rested against his lean body. My body warms in response. Strange when all my casual – okay, maybe contrived – brushes against Joel never had this effect.
‘Thank you. I’ll get it back to you … After.’ If I survive the next few hours.
His mouth stretches and shows a flash of almost straight teeth. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’
Is that interest in his eyes? Something more than the prospect of his hoodie being returned? Like maybe that he’ll have to see me again.
My heart trips at the thought but I manage not to blurt out any of the questions cascading through my brain. ‘Great,’ I say inanely instead.
The trill of the bell cuts off whatever he’s about to say. He jerks his head to the new building behind. ‘Better go, computing first up.’
‘See ya.’
‘You too.’ But from him it doesn’t seem like a throwaway line. I imagine he never says anything he doesn’t mean. My heart swells, pushing out the last of the dread about my upcoming meeting with Joel.
I don’t want to watch him walk into the IT labs just across the yard so I look down. The squiggle in the dust isn’t just a random pattern. A glance at the doors shows he’s gone in already and I take a step around to where he stood a moment ago.
Clutching his jacket close to my body, still glowing that he gave it to me, I look down where his shoe traced lines in the dirt. It’s not a pattern or a word as I expected but numbers. There’re three: 4, 0, 4. What do they mean?
The question fills my walk through the rapidly emptying hallways and takes my mind off the boy I’m about to see. The nerves only build again as I round the very last corner. No Lana. No Joel. There is, however, Mrs Butler, my teacher. If she beats me to the classroom and the second bell has already rung it’s a trip to the office.
I’m a few feet away.
I break into an ungainly jog, my hopes of a dignified entry to the classroom fading fast.
But her eyes behind the steel-rimmed spectacles flicker in recognition and she slows, allowing me to reach the classroom door ahead. I shoot her a grateful smile and step inside.
In all the hurry I forgot what would be waiting on the other side.
The heads of my classmates swivel as one, all their eyes focused on me, like I’m the ball in a slow-motion tennis replay as I scoot through the door a pace ahead of Mrs Butler. From a murmur to a whisper to a volcano of sound, they commentate as I walk to my seat. Some are replaying the events of yesterday, others analysing how bad I’m hurting.
I take my seat. Diagonally behind Joel’s.
The nerves are back in belly churning force. I breathe slowly, trying to halt the flood of heat through my cheeks and keep my hammering heart to a survivable tempo.
He alone says nothing. I force my gaze to skim over him like he’s nothing to me. Keeping my head high is easier with Sebastian’s hoodie in my hands. The black material becomes a barrier to the scrutiny.
‘Cold outside, is it?’
I can’t see who asked the question, and with Mrs Butler clearing her throat, there’s no time to answer, but I don’t have to fake the secretive grin spreading across my face. I couldn’t begin to explain why I have my enemy’s brother’s hoodie if I tried.
At the last second, when everyone else has moved their attention to the teacher, Joel turns. There’s a question in his eyes. And maybe an apology.
I turn away. I don’t want either from him.