Faking Sweet

by J. C. Burke

  ‘All right,’ she said. ‘You put your bag away then meet me up the back.’

  I threw my bag like I was in the javelin finals and bolted off behind her, praying like a born-again that Jess was in a dressing room.

  Luckily there were a couple of girls waiting, which gave me a moment to get my head together. If I slid down the wall a bit I could scan the feet under the doors.

  In number seven, a honey-skinned foot with the softest pink polish lifted itself off the floor. It had to belong to Jess. I crossed my fingers and held my breath.

  I was right! Out of number seven stepped Jess Flynn.

  Wow! How amazing did she look in the tiniest pair of black shorts and the tightest little t-shirt. We all watched her checking herself out in the mirror. I’m sure I heard one of the waiting girls groan.

  Another assistant stood there, her freckly complexion turning a shade of speckled green. ‘How is it?’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘Maybe you should try another size in the shorts.’

  ‘Mmm?’ Jess checked the rear view, first over her left shoulder then over her right, just in case her bum magically looked bigger from either side. Then her button nose began to screw up. Like how could she not be happy with what she was seeing?! Us hefalumps in the queue were about to catch the escalator to the top floor, link hands and jump off!

  ‘The shorts are a bit big,’ Jess said. ‘Maybe I’ll try an extra, extra small.’

  That time I definitely heard a groan.

  While Jess and the green-skinned assistant went off in search of a smaller size they kept reserved for the Ethiopians, I casually wandered up to dressing room number seven and peered in.

  Jess’s uniform was screwed up in a ball on the floor with her shoes and socks thrown in either corner. Nothing else. No suspiciously empty coat hangers. Definitely no bag. Nothing … that was on view.

  Carefully I slid my foot into the cubicle and hooked it under her uniform, gently lifting it off the floor. Nothing under there either. There was absolutely positively no secret stash of clothes in there.

  A male voice was looming up behind me. A horror thought struck. Maybe it was the Spotti security guard wanting to know what I was doing snooping in someone else’s dressing room. Swiftly I turned around to slip back into line when, whoops, I found myself face to face with Jess and quite a cute, well actually an extremely cute, guy who maybe, well perhaps, looked a little bit like Scott.

  ‘Holly, hi,’ she said, surprised.

  My forehead, my cheeks, my whole face was burning up. I was almost touching noses with the boy who’d broken the heart of my bestie.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she laughed. ‘I always get the dressing rooms mixed up here.’

  I swore I saw Scott nudge her.

  ‘Oh this is Holly. From … Melbourne.’ Jess pronounced ‘Melbourne’ a bit too loudly. ‘Holly, this is Scott.’

  He was better looking than in Calypso’s photo. Like much, much better looking. He was tall and his eyes were a deep greeny-brown. Not that he impressed me. It was just interesting to note what the camera hides. Perhaps I wasn’t as ugly as all my photos suggested.

  Scott smiled quickly, giving Jess a little shove along.

  ‘Well, bye, Holly.’ Jess waved and slipped back into number seven while the obedient boyfriend waited for her like a dog.

  ‘The dressing room’s free now, love.’ The gullible assistant was holding open the door to number five. The clothes I’d selected were staring at me from their hangers. I could almost hear them whispering, ‘You stuffed up again.’

  ‘I’ve changed my mind.’ My phone was beeping in my pocket. ‘I’ve got to go.’

  ‘I don’t blame you,’ said one of the hefalumps from the line. ‘Too depressing after seeing that girl.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I muttered, taking my mobile out and bracing myself for the message.

  News please. Now.

  I read Calypso’s demand then zipped my mobile back into my pocket. Down the escalators I kept going until I found myself in the food court. The only remedy was to stuff my face with a jumbo cup of hot chips. They would do nothing for my skin but I didn’t care. Maybe the fat would give me some breast tissue. Anyway that was the least of my problems. What was I going to say to Calypso?

  Beep again. Bugger off, I told it.

  How was I going to pull this whole revenge thing off? I was no shoplifter. I wasn’t even an adequate observer of a shoplifter.

  I picked up my bag and walked out of the mall, the mobile vibrating in my pocket. I was almost sure I could hear it sniggering, ‘Loser, loser.’

  ‘You’re home!’

  ‘What’s up with you?’ I managed, once I’d wriggled out of my mother’s cheek-flattening bear hug.

  ‘Your father suggested we all go out for pizza this evening. Doesn’t that sound like fun?’

  Poor Mum; she was so desperate for us to be a normal family.

  ‘Like all of us being me, you and Dad?’ I just couldn’t share her enthusiasm. ‘Wow, what a party. Is that why you’re dressed up?’

  ‘No. I’ve been in the city. And guess what?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Guess!’ Her eyes were bulging so much they resembled a giant gobstopper. ‘Come on, Holly, guess.’

  ‘Um, you cracked the giant showcase this arvo?’

  Mum was shaking her head with each word.

  ‘I know … you got it all right first go?’

  ‘No!’ she shouted. ‘Much better!’

  ‘Better?’ I frowned. ‘But there isn’t any better. For you, that is. Is there?’

  ‘I saw Sally!’

  ‘Sally? Sally who?’

  ‘Sally! Sally, the main model. You know the one who sits in the car and waves at the end of the show.’

  ‘Oh.’ My mother needed a life, or a lobotomy.

  ‘Even more stunning in real life, she was. Beautiful, really beautiful. I wished you’d been there, Holly.’

  ‘Mmmm.’ I was backing my way down the hall.

  ‘I wanted to go up to her. I really did. I wanted to get her autograph but I was –’

  ‘I’ve, um, got to check my emails, Mum.’

  ‘Oh?’ For a moment she frowned at me, almost like she’d forgotten where she was. ‘Well, don’t forget we’re having an early pizza so don’t get too caught up gossiping with Miss Calypso. Make sure you tell her I saw Sally. Sally’s her favourite too.’

  ‘I’m not coming to dinner, Mum.’

  ‘But your father wanted to celebrate our first week in Sydney.’

  What was the catch? My father had never suggested celebrating our first week anywhere. He was always too busy ‘settling in’. Probably just as well, or we’d be fat blobs rolling from one pizza parlour to the next.

  ‘I’m tired Mum, and I’ve got stacks of Shakespeare to get through.’

  ‘You’re not hiding in English work again, are you?’

  She had a point. Usually that was my device for surviving a new school without feeling like the usual no-friends, nowhere-to-go loser.

  But this time she couldn’t have been more off the mark.

  ‘Bring me home some pizza,’ I called from my bedroom door. ‘No anchovies.’

  I shut the door, and for a while leaned against it, the masses of thoughts tumbling through my head.

  I scrolled through to Calypso’s last text. I couldn’t face the others. It said:

  Hello! Hello!

  ‘Hello yourself,’ I grumbled.

  I kicked off my shoes, laid on my bed and tried to figure out a plan that’d get me out of this disaster without looking like I’d stuffed up again.

  Number one, Calypso didn’t have to know Scott turned up. That wasn’t really breaking the honesty pact. In fact it was only omitting a tiny detail and it was in her interest. Just because Calypso said she was over Scott doesn’t mean she actually was.

  If Scott had been my boyfriend I would’ve found a more flattering photo for my bedroom wall. Then, come to think of it, if I lo
oked as good as Calypso did in that photo I would’ve had it up on my wall too. Calypso thought she looked a bit like Rachel Bilson from The OC and she did. But Scott was so much better looking in real life. Anyway what was I doing even thinking about Scott? He was only good looking on the outside. Inside he was a rat.

  I sat at the computer, my decision made. Honesty and loyalty. Calypso had every right to expect that from me. After all we were besties and we had a pact. Our friendship was the only thing that mattered.

  From: holly_hank21@hotmail.com

  To: baby_cal666@hotmail.com

  Subject: Unexpected arrival

  Hey Calypso

  I’m just going to be completely honest coz that was the deal we made. Someone rather unexpected turned up at Spotti. Drop the ‘p’ for a ‘c’ and that’s who it was – Scottie! Ouch! Sorry, I had no idea. He just popped out of nowhere. Don’t worry it wasn’t like he noticed me. Not that he was paying attention to Jess either. He seemed to have his head up his bum the whole time.

  Jess saw me. Don’t worry she thought I was waiting to try stuff on but it did kind of get in the way of completing Step 3. But I got a peek in her dressing room. There was nothing hidden in there I’m sure of that. The big Nazi of a shop lady made us all leave our bags at the door. Jess’s bag was there for sure.

  Got Mrs Gideon for English. Jess is definitely the TP. And I see what you mean about Jess being a complete performing hog.

  She pushed herself into getting the main part in the play we’re doing. Talk about hopeless. She could hardly read, let alone act. No wonder she was such a biiiatch to you. She would’ve been totally threatened by your talent.

  My mother says to tell you she saw Sally from The Price is Right. Mum reckons she’s even prettier in real life but to be honest I can’t think which one she is. Is she the blonde, the blonde or the blonde? Hah! Perhaps that should be Jess’s career. She could get her performing fix without having to open her mouth. That’d save the world a lot of pain.

  First week out of the way and counting.

  Miss ya heaps,

  Lotsaluv Hol xx

  I went to the fridge, got a Diet Pepsi and flopped onto the couch with Home and Away as my company. I dangled my feet over the armrest waiting for Calypso’s reply, and wondering if she was watching Home and Away too.

  Dear Me,

  Jase’s party was so so so so cool and I so so so wore the right outfit!

  That’s one thing Scott’s handy for-coming shopping and telling me what looks good. The black shorts were a hit. I’m pretty sure Jase thought so. I caught him having a perve a couple of times. No wonder Scottie said, ‘I don’t think you should wear them to Jase’s.’ Oh well’ it’s a free world and luckily that means I can wear whatever I want.

  Tonight I’m going to the movies with absolutely everyone. Scott scored some freebies from his dad. Don’t know what we’re seeing but who cares, coz Mum said I could get the top from Lipstix seeing as I finished my book. Well I didn’t read it to the very end but I read the last page so at least I found out the ending.

  The weekend would be perfect if I could just change one thing-it didn’t end.

  First period on Monday is English and I’m scared. Mrs G made me read out a huge part on Friday and I’m terrified she’ll make me do it again. The whole class was so quiet while I was reading. It was awful. My mouth kept drying up, which made that stupid Shakespeare even harder. I wished I’d got Holly’s part. She only had a few lines.

  I’m so glad I have you to talk to. You’re the only one I can tell all my secrets to. I found that you-know-what in the back of my drawer last night. I still don’t know what to do with it. I wish you had legs and arms so you could dispose of it for me. I know it brings me bad luck.

  One of the guys at the party was asking Saskia what happened to Calypso. I knew what was coming next so I went and had a dance with Scott. I still have to tell myself not to feel bad about what happened with us. I got lucky. She didn’t.

  Better go, Saskia’s on the phone. Probably ringing to tell me what she got up to last night. I know she hooked up with Jase even though she’ll deny it.

  Jess xoxoxoxox

  There had been no email from Calypso after Home and Away, or half an hour after that, or half an hour after that. Not even one on Saturday. No texts either.

  I checked MSN a million times. I knew Calypso was still banned but maybe she’d managed to bribe her painful little sister, Tiffany, into not dobbing. She wasn’t on. Instead I got chatting to some random Goth who only wanted to discuss her latest blue-black hair dye job, the black skirt she’d bought at some market, and how nobody really understood her. Like, who cares?

  There could only be one reason why Calypso hadn’t replied. Best case scenario, disappointed. Most likely, pissed off. I wanted to squeeze every pimple on my forehead until they were red and swollen. Why couldn’t I just get one thing right?

  Mum wanted me to go to the movies. Dad even asked me to go sailing with him. That almost shocked me out of the doldrums. But ‘no’ was the only word I could manage.

  I couldn’t risk being too far from my computer screen and, besides, I felt horrible. Moving and speaking was a chore.

  On Sunday, I was still in my pjs from Friday night. Dad kept hassling me, but it’s not like I had anything to get dressed for. I looked at the clock. It was 10.13 am, so my phone and I crawled back under the sheets, the stale smells of my bed my only comfort. How could it be thirty-six hours later and still no word from Calypso?

  When the ‘beep beep’ came it sounded like an explosion. I landed on the floor with the sheet tangled around my feet, the mobile trapped somewhere in the left leg of my pyjama pants.

  ‘Hang on!’ I called out to no one. ‘I’m coming, Calypso.’

  Her message read:

  This isn’t working. C.

  ‘This isn’t working?’ I repeated. ‘This isn’t working?’ What did Calypso mean by that? What wasn’t working? Step 3? The plan? Us?

  I typed: What do

  Then deleted it.

  Don’t get it? Deleted that.

  Finally I settled for the safe option.

  R u ok? and pressed ‘reply’.

  The number, Calypso’s number, the ten digits I knew as well as the fluff in my bellybutton, didn’t appear. Instead it showed a different one, but it did look kind of familiar. I could vaguely recall one that ended with 999. I just couldn’t remember whose it was. Maybe Calypso was using her mum’s phone. I hit ‘send’.

  Beep. With one eye shut I peeked at her answer.

  Y did u follow her??

  So she was pissed off.

  U told me 2. I replied.

  This was getting very confusing. Didn’t Calypso remember she told me to follow Jess? Didn’t she remember that I heard Jess say she was going alone? How did I know Scott was going to turn up? What difference did it make anyway? There she was again protecting Scott when he didn’t deserve it. It’s not like I would’ve been nice or friendly to him. Just like I knew Calypso would never be chummy with Joe or Miranda.

  Just ring her, I told myself. There’s nothing like direct conversation to sort things out. That’s what my dad reckons, except when it comes to the home front of course. Then the only direct conversation he likes is him talking while Mum and I listen.

  Anyway, I did it. Not straight away though. It took at least twenty minutes of psych up before I could even bring myself to touch the phone, let alone actually ring the number. Especially when I didn’t even know whose number I was ringing.

  Straight away someone picked up.

  ‘Yep?’ the voice on the other end said. It wasn’t Calypso. In fact it sounded like a bloke.

  ‘Um, who is this?’ I asked. ‘I’m after Calypso?’

  ‘Yeah, well, who are you?’ he grunted.

  ‘Um, Holly. I’m a friend of …’

  But the stranger started shouting, ‘Miranda? Miranda! There’s someone on your mobile. Miranda? Oi! She’s looking for Caly
pso.’

  The phone fell out of my hand. I watched it bounce on the carpet as another voice, a girl’s voice, that girl’s voice, chattered in my bedroom! ‘Hello? Hello? Hello there? Is anyone there? Hello?’

  I stumbled down the hallway and into the bathroom. I slid down the wall and onto my knees. The tiles were so cold. I lay on them, face down, staring till my eyes began to water and blur. Of course, the mobile ending with 999 was a number I once saw written on Joe’s hand.

  What on earth was Calypso doing with Miranda’s phone? What on earth was Calypso doing with Miranda?

  I got into the shower and turned on the cold, hoping that shock would override the one I’d just had. They say the brain can only recognise one site of pain; like if you burn your hand then whack your foot with a hammer. But I’d just proved that theory wrong. I felt pain everywhere.

  Dear Me,

  Scott was so mean to me at the movies last night. He kept whispering and laughing with Isabelle. Yet he’s always telling me what a pain he thinks Isabelle is. He was doing it just to get to me. He said my new top from Lipstix made me look like a real skank. I should’ve said ‘Jase seemed to like it.’ Which I swear is true. Jase seriously did NOT stop staring the whole night. That’s 2 nights in a row now. I can’t believe Saskia reckons he likes her.

  Less than 12 hours till English. I had a look at the play tonight but I just can’t say that Shakespeare stuff. It’s like my tongue gets stuck on the roof of my mouth. I can’t chuck a sickie either coz there’s Rock Eisteddfod practice all arvo.

  Saskia hooked up with some random hanger-oner who came to the movies with us. He was pretty cute but Saskia better watch herself or she’s going to start getting a name with the guys.

  I spoke to Isabelle about it coz I thought maybe we should say something to her but Isabelle said ‘no way’. I know this sounds kind of psycho but I reckon Isabelle would be quite pleased if Saskia got a bad reputation.

  You should’ve seen Isabelle flutter her eyelids when Scott said to her ‘Don’t you turn out like Saskia.’ I wanted to slap her across the face.