by Em Bailey
‘I’ll take a bottle of water.’
I got a bottle from the fridge and took a choc-top out of the freezer, placing them in front of Miranda. She stared at the ice-cream, like it was something I’d just coughed up.
‘I didn’t ask for that,’ she said. ‘Just the water.’
‘It’s not for you,’ I said. ‘It’s for Katie. She always has one. This one’s on the house.’
I was suddenly determined for Katie to get her ice-cream. It was her first date night in weeks, and that probably meant her first non-diet food in ages too. It felt like some fundamental law of nature would be upset if she didn’t get a choc-top.
‘You think I’m stopping her?’ said Miranda icily.
I leant forward on the counter. ‘I don’t know. Are you?’
Miranda held my gaze for a few seconds before swivelling round. ‘Hey, Katie? Honey? Do you want a choc-top?’
Katie was still leaning against the wall. But now her eyes were closed. A word formed on her lips. But the sound that came out didn’t match the expression of longing on her face. ‘No.’
Miranda turned back to me and smiled that victorious smile she’d recently perfected. She picked up the bottle of water and strolled off.
Fifteen minutes after Miranda had gone, I was still fuming, smarting from the humiliation of defeat. I just couldn’t shake it. So, after a bit of angry restocking – slamming down coffee cups so hard they buckled – I went over to the freezer and fished out a fresh choc-top.
‘What are you plotting?’ asked Ami.
‘Katie is going to get an ice-cream,’ I said determinedly. ‘I’m going to deliver it myself.’
Ami frowned. ‘Aren’t we steering clear of Miranda?’
‘I’m not asking you to come with me,’ I said, heading towards the closed cinema doors. But Ami slid off the bench and followed me. Just as I knew she would.
My plan was pretty basic. Sneak into the cinema, wait until my eyes adjusted to the dark, locate Katie, deposit the ice-cream in her lap, and sneak out again. More complicated was my motive for wanting to do it in the first place. Was it because Katie looked like she needed help? Or was it about proving something to Miranda? I decided not to dwell on it.
The soundtrack was blaring loudly as Ami and I slipped into the cinema. As my eyes adjusted, heads and shoulders of varying heights and widths began to emerge.
Ami nudged me. ‘Over there.’
Sure enough, up the back of the cinema, not far from where we were standing, were the outlines of a tall guy with a longhaired girl on either side of him. Katie had her head resting against Cam’s shoulder and he had his arm draped around her neck. Miranda was slumped down in her seat. I smiled in the darkness. Easy. I could just lean over Katie’s shoulder and hand her the ice-cream. But as I stepped forward Ami stopped me.
‘Something’s not right. It’s all around the wrong way.’
I peered at the three shapes again and saw what she meant. The girl with her head on Cameron’s shoulder – the one he was holding so close – wasn’t Katie. It was Miranda. Katie was the one scrunched up in her seat. And when I edged a bit closer, I heard soft, snoring sounds coming from her. I hesitated. Should I shake Katie awake and tell her what was going on? I curled my hand around the choc-top and the plastic wrapper crinkled. It wasn’t very loud, but it was enough to cause Miranda’s head to turn.
My eyes had adjusted to the gloom enough for me to see her face quite clearly. She looked at me, and when she smirked, it was clear she knew exactly what I’d been planning to do. I froze, half-expecting her to speak, but she turned back again without saying a word. A moment later she gave a contented sigh and nuzzled her head deeper into Cameron’s shoulder.
Ami and I looked at each other. The choc-top was softening in my hand. ‘Just let her sleep,’ Ami whispered. ‘Maybe tell her another time.’
I nodded slowly. But I knew I probably wouldn’t talk to Katie about it. It wasn’t like she would listen.
By the time Ami and I were behind the snack bar again, the ice-cream had begun melting through the perforated plastic onto my hand. I dumped it into the rubbish and went to wash the sticky mess away. We didn’t say much for the rest of the night, but I was pretty sure Ami had the same word going around in her head as I did. A word that kept coming back no matter how often I tried to evict it.
Shapeshifter.
‘No way, Ami,’ I said. ‘I’m not going. Forget it.’
You think you know someone. And you think they know you too. You especially think they know the things that you are absolutely not prepared to do. Ever.
Ami had started talking about the formal. As in, suggesting that we go to it. At first I thought she was kidding. I mean, if there was one thing I’d been clear about since I came back from the clinic, it was that I wouldn’t be doing crap like that any more. And I’d thought Ami was with me on that. It was one of the things we’d bonded over, for god’s sake! But now she seemed to have changed her mind.
‘It could be fun,’ Ami said.
‘It will be horrific,’ I retorted. ‘And cheesy. I used to be on the committee, don’t forget.’
‘Horrific, cheesy fun,’ said Ami, shrugging. ‘What’s wrong with that?’
‘It’s not my thing,’ I muttered.
Ami folded her arms. ‘What is your thing these days, Olive? Hiding in your room doing nothing? Ignoring the hot guy who clearly has a thing for you?’
‘Listening to Luxe isn’t nothing,’ I retorted. ‘Anyway, aren’t we supposed to be staying away from Miranda?’
We had been, too. Since that date night at the Mercury, I’d been trying extra hard to shut Miranda out of my mind - attempting not to notice that her personality and magnetism was growing stronger every day while Katie kept fading into the background. But all the same, that rubbishy shapeshifter website kept floating at the edges of my mind, especially whenever I noticed how limp Katie’s hair was looking next to Miranda’s luscious locks.
‘I don’t think it’s Miranda you want to avoid,’ said Ami flatly. ‘I think it’s Lachlan.’
‘Couldn’t we just hire a bunch of DVDs instead?’ I pleaded. I was starting to feel clammy. ‘Eat corn chips and salsa?’
‘Look, I can’t make you go,’ said Ami.
‘That’s right,’ I agreed quickly. ‘You can’t.’
‘It’s just that …’ Ami stopped and bit her lip.
‘What?’ I said, like a total dummkopf. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s just that I’d really, really love to go,’ Ami sighed. ‘And you know I can’t go without you.’
Of course then I started thinking about all the things Ami had done for me. How she’d made school bearable. How she hung out with me at work, making me laugh and keeping the boredom at bay. The countless hours she’d spent talking to me about Dad and making me feel that maybe, one day, I’d feel OK again. I wondered yet again what I would do without her.
‘All right, all right,’ I said. ‘I’ll go. But only for a micro-second. Do you get me?’
Ami squealed and danced around.
‘And I’m going to avoid Lachlan all night,’ I said. ‘So don’t get any ideas about that.’
‘You can hide under a table if you want,’ said Ami. ‘I’m just happy we’re going.’ And then, because she liked to torment me, she mused, ‘I wonder what Lachlan will wear?’
Once I’d agreed to go, Ami and I spent quite a bit of time coming up with costume ideas for the winter beach-party theme – something a bit more interesting than the inevitable bikini tops and little fur-trimmed skirts for the girls, and tuxedos paired with board shorts for the blokes. My first idea was to cover myself in blue make-up and go as someone with hypothermia, but then Ami suggested going as a shark-attack victim. Nothing to do with winter, but too good an idea to pass up.
This involved a number of visits to the local charity shop, which of course I was happy about. When I first started going there it was because none of my old clothes fitted �
� neither my body nor my personality – so I’d bundled pretty much everything I owned into a bag and chucked it away. But I had limited money for replacements, hence the charity shopping. I never expected to find things I actually liked – but that’s exactly what happened.
The hunt part became addictive. In normal shops you just walk in and see something that looks OK, then check for your size. It didn’t work like that in op shops though. I had to be patient. Sometimes – often – I came home empty-handed. But there were times when I found something so lush that it made all the failed visits worthwhile. The best bit was that my purchases only ever cost a couple of dollars.
Sourcing my formal outfit was one of those sweet experiences. I found a dress right at the back of the shop, folded up with the fifty-cent bed sheets, and even before I smoothed it out I knew it would be perfect. A bit mouldy with age and tight in the waist, but beautiful anyway – pale minty-green with little beads sewn on to the bodice. Something that a girl from the 1950s probably wore to her school formal. Except that she wouldn’t have worn it the way I was planning to.
Later, as I held the scissors above my new purchase, I found myself hesitating. Poor dress. It had really come down in the world. But then I thought about how amazing it would look when I’d finished and I stopped feeling like I was destroying the dress and told myself that this was more like re-creation. I had to do it anyway. This would be my way of letting everyone at the formal know that I wasn’t taking the event seriously.
On the night of the dance, I put the dress on and smeared the skin that was exposed by the ‘shark bite’ with fake blood. I didn’t even mind that my pudgy stomach was showing. Blood smears can be very flattering when they’re applied vertically.
Ami directed me while I did my hair. Prissy on one side. Chaos on the other. When I’d finished, she nodded. ‘Perfect.’
I had to go into Mum’s room to see my reflection. My mirror was another thing I’d removed, post-clinic. The shark-attack side was only visible if I turned to the left. From the other angle I looked completely normal. It was this side that freaked me out the most.
‘I look so …’
‘Pretty,’ smirked Ami, drawing out the word so it rang in my ears. ‘Preeeeetty.’
I clasped my hands together. Fluttered my eyelids. Channelling the 1950s girl who’d once owned the dress.
‘Maybe some dreamy guy will dance with me tonight,’ I said in a sugary voice. ‘That would be so peachy.’
I put on my shoes. Mint-green kitten heels – another op shop purchase and one I never thought I’d actually wear. They were perfect, especially with just a tiny splattering of blood.
‘Well, Cinderella, I wonder what Lachlan will think of your outfit?’ said Ami.
‘That’s something we’ll never know,’ I said, ignoring the sudden lightness I felt. ‘Seeing as I’m going to avoid him. And we’ll only be there for half an hour. Max.’
All the same, it was an interesting question.
The formal was being held at the town hall, a lush old building down on the esplanade with all these crazy turrets. It was painted a pale creamy colour and because it was the tallest building on the street it loomed up against the evening sky like an oversized sandcastle. As Mum turned onto the esplanade, I started catching glimpses of people from school. Sadly I’d been right about the bikinis and little fur-trimmed skirts. Seriously. Some people are insane.
My feeling of dread had started to reach dangerous levels before Mum even stopped the car, and the moment I stepped out onto the footpath I knew this was a huge mistake. No matter how rad my costume was. But by then Mum had already pulled away, leaving me and Ami on the footpath. Music – scheiss music – blared from the town hall. Two girls arrived, dressed as mermaids, their skirts so narrow around their ankles they could hardly walk. They clutched each other to keep from falling. Each one was wearing a little icicle tiara that went nicely with their cold little smiles. They stopped on the steps, listening to the music.
‘Oh my god,’ screamed one mermaid.
‘I love this song!’ screamed the other, nearly tripping on her tail.
‘I’ve changed my mind,’ I announced, pivoting on my heel. ‘I’m going home.’ There was a bus stop nearby – I could be home in twenty minutes.
Ami threw herself in front of me. ‘No! You promised me you’d stay for a bit. Just remind yourself that we’re here to have fun. Or will that break some Princess of the Alternative rule?’
‘No,’ I said, laughing. ‘We’re allowed to have fun. We just don’t like bad music.’
‘Well, put on your headphones and listen to your own music,’ said Ami, clearly exasperated. ‘I bet you brought some. Let’s go inside.’
‘Everyone is staring,’ I muttered as we walked up the steps and through the ornate wood and glass doors.
‘That would be because of the gaping, bloodied hole in your dress,’ Ami pointed out.
Oh yeah. I’d forgotten about that. I straightened up. The only thing worse than turning up in a bizarro costume is looking like you regret it.
Inside the hall, set to one side, was a table for refreshments. None of it looked very refreshing – just a bowl of flat orange punch and a few platters of crisps. Clearly Miranda and Katie hadn’t wasted much of the budget on food.
Nearby, Cameron and his friends were standing together, all of them wearing tux jackets with ties shaped like tropical fish. Either they’d planned it or they’d all had the same dumb idea. Cameron looked edgy. He kept fiddling with the fish, his eyes continually flitting towards the door like he was waiting for someone to appear. Not Katie, obviously, because she was standing right near him, silent and grey as a shadow.
‘It’s a worry, isn’t it?’ As usual Ami said exactly what I was thinking. ‘She looks like she’s being drained of life.’
I nodded, my eyes still on Cameron. I was pretty sure I knew who he was looking for, and when his face suddenly began to sparkle I followed his gaze. Miranda had arrived. And it wasn’t just Cameron who turned to look. We all did. Almost like we had no say in it.
‘Hi, Miranda,’ said Cameron, stepping forward and holding out his hand. Like he was a prince. ‘You look …’ He stopped. Because silence described how Miranda looked, better than any word could. In any language.
I found myself remembering how Miss Falippi had told us about the Sirens. How they sang songs that were irresistible to the sailors, who would wreck their ships and die because they were so desperate to get closer to the music. Although Miranda wasn’t actually singing anything, I could sort of feel the pull myself – like an undertow.
Miss Falippi. I realised I hadn’t thought about her for ages. I’d heard a rumour the cops were going after her for drug possession, but I didn’t hear what happened. She’d resigned without ever coming back.
Somehow Lachlan walked up without me seeing him until he was right there, totally unavoidable. Ami – my supposed friend – not only failed to warn me, but had now completely disappeared.
‘Hey.’ Lachlan was smiling – and not in a ‘so you came anyway’ way or a ‘what the hell are you wearing?’ way. He just looked pleased. Pleased to see me there.
I’d thought about what to do, of course, if this situation arose. Make an excuse and get away from him as quickly as possible. No chatting. No getting dazzled by his pretend flirting.
‘Oh. Hi,’ I said. ‘I was just …’
But for some reason I forgot all my pre-planned excuses and felt this weird little quiver in my stomach – probably because I hadn’t eaten much dinner. Groping around for something to say I noticed Lachlan’s outfit - an old-fashioned suit, in pristine condition, and the funniest shirt I’d ever seen.
‘Where did your shirt came from? It’s so lush.’
Lachlan eyed me cautiously. ‘Does lush mean “something a wonk would wear?”’
‘No. I really like it,’ I said. ‘It’s so … ruffly!’
‘It was the ruffliest in the entire formal-hire shop,’ he r
eported proudly.
‘I like your jacket too,’ I said.
Lachlan stroked one of the lapels. ‘This belonged to my Grandpa.’
‘So you decided to skip the whole beach theme huh?’
‘No, I’ve got this.’ Lachlan fished out something hanging around his neck – a large, hooked tooth, threaded onto a piece of leather. ‘This was my Pa’s too. He told me he’d pulled it from the mouth of a live shark.’
I laughed. ‘How long did you believe that?’
‘Way too long,’ Lachlan admitted. ‘Especially as it’s got this on it.’ He turned the shark’s tooth over and pointed out the writing on the back. Made in China. ‘By the time I realised it wasn’t true it didn’t matter.’
‘He sounds interesting,’ I heard myself say, even though I was breaking my own rules. It doesn’t hurt to be nice to the new guy, Olive, I imagined Ami saying.
‘He was … someone who didn’t like to swim between the flags, I guess.’ Lachlan squinted at me. ‘You remind me of him, actually.’
My instinct was to crack a gag. I remind you of an old man? Maybe I should use a better moisturiser. But even I could see that he hadn’t meant it that way. My mouth was dry. I imagined again what Ami would say. Get it together, Olive.
‘The trouble with avoiding the flags is you end up like this,’ I managed to croak, pointing to the shark bite in my dress. The way Lachlan’s gaze brushed over me made my exposed skin turn to goose-pimples, despite the blazing heat of the hall.
‘I guess that’s why it’s good to have your own personal lifesaver around,’ he said. ‘Watching out for you.’
A new song started playing. Lachlan tilted his head. ‘Come and dance?’ he said. Casually. Like it was possible I’d say yes.
‘It’s such a wonkish song,’ I said weakly.
‘I’m a wonkish dancer.’ There was something very determined about him. ‘Come on.’
So hopefully that explains how I ended up dancing at my school formal – or at least as much as it’s possible to explain something so unexpected. But here’s the really strange part. Once I’d calmed down a bit, I started to enjoy myself. Lachlan wasn’t such a bad dancer after all. He lost himself in the music – moving about in this cute, happy way, his long limbs flopping around. And he didn’t do that other thing that some people do, where they spend the whole time checking if there’s someone better they should be dancing with. Lachlan looked at me. Only at me.
