by Hantz, Sara
“She’s dead.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She pauses. “What happened? Sorry I shouldn’t have asked.”
This is exactly why I decided not to tell anyone, because they’ll want to know what happened. And the thought of having to live through it every time someone asks is just unbearable. How do you tell people we couldn’t bury Rosie for ages because it took so long to find all her pieces? It’s so macabre you can’t even think about it. I can picture, as clearly as if it was yesterday, when the police came around during tea to tell us about the accident. And I’ll never forget the look on my Dad’s face as long as I live.
“An accident, just over a year ago. You probably read about it. It was in all the papers. The exploding helicopter.” Lori’s hand shoots up to her mouth.
“Oh no. That was your sister? I remember. It was awful.”
“Yeah.” I take the photo from her hand and stare at it before placing it back on my dressing table. “Please don’t say anything to the others. I hate talking about it.”
“Of course I won’t. You have my word.”
“Thanks.” We stand awkwardly for a moment. “Anyway,” I finally say. “What about Guy and tomorrow? Anything I should know in advance?”
Lori looks relieved we’ve switched to a different subject. I don’t mind. I’m sure I’d feel the same if I was in her position.
“Well, you know Rachel isn’t too happy about it. But she had her chance. Well, not her chance exactly. Guy knew she liked him but he told her he’d rather stay as friends.”
Great. That’s all I need. Rachel against me. Why didn’t someone tell me she had a thing for him? Shit. Shit. And triple shit.
“I didn’t realize. No-one said.” I shake my head.
“Don’t worry. She’ll get over it. At the moment she’s more concerned with getting herself elected to the Student Liaison Committee—you may have noticed her rather blatant campaigning.”
“Yes.” You’d have to have been living on another planet not to notice that one.
“Between you and me it isn’t because Guy wants to stay friends with her that he said no to them going out. It’s because she tells way too many lies.”
Chapter Eight
“The first round nomination results for seventh form representative on the Student Liaison Committee are: Michael Reardon, William Phillips, Suzy Green—”
My jaw drops and my heart skips a beat. Principal Roberts just called my name. That must mean loads of people put my name forward. I don’t believe it. You know, I’ve never been nominated for anything in my entire life. Non-conformists are always on the periphery when it comes to roles of responsibility.
Of course, that’s how I always wanted it. So I’m not complaining. But now it’s actually happened to me, I have to admit it does feel kind of good. I suppose Rosie must have felt like this all the time. No wonder she kept her butt firmly on the pedestal.
“Decide which of the five candidates you wish to vote for,” the Principal continues, “and place your voting slip in the box by the stage on your way out.” Did he say five? Who are the other two? My mind wandered after he announced my name.
“Yay, Suzy,” says Lori in my ear from where she’s sitting behind me. “Two from the gang nominated. May the best person win.”
I turn my head to face her. “What? Are you nominated too?”
“Duh. Not me. Rachel.” She laughs and shakes her head.
“Sorry. It’s just after he said my name I sort of tuned out. We’ve both been nominated. That’ll sure cause a stink.”
“Why?”
“Well, you know. I’m new and suddenly I’m nominated. I bet Rachel will really hate me now, especially because of my going out with Guy.” I get a warm fuzzy feeling when I mention Guy and the movies tomorrow night.
“Don’t worry.” She grins, looks from side to side conspiratorially and whispers in my ear. “I nominated you in this first round. But don’t tell Rachel.”
You could knock me down with a feather. I never in a million years expected her to suggest me over Rachel.
“Why? It’s not like I told anyone I wanted to be on the Committee.”
“That’s the whole point. You haven’t been begging for nominations like certain others. And that’s why people put your name forward.”
I pull out a pen from my bag and stare at the blank voting slip. Shall I vote for myself or is that not the done thing? Mind you, I’m not sure that I actually want to serve on the Committee. I like that I’m in the final round but if I win that means lots of extra work. On the other hand, it will look really good on my college application. And as I don’t have anything to put on it other than stuff from this year, it might not be such a bad thing.
“I think I’ll vote for Rach,” I say my pen hovering over the top of the slip.
“You freak,” Lori says, as she leans over my shoulder and grabs my hand just before pen hits paper. “Vote for yourself.”
“I can’t do that, it’s cheating.” Like that’s ever bothered me before. Not that I’ve cheated a lot in the past, but Maddie and I have been known to write ‘helpful exam hints’ on the inside of our shirt cuffs—only when things were desperate, though, like: ‘if you don’t pass this exam you’ll be chucked off the course’.
“It’s not. It’s called giving yourself the best possible chance.” She pulls the paper from my hand and writes my name on it. “There. I did it so it’s not like you can accuse yourself of cheating.”
“Thanks. I think.” I take the slip from her, fold it in half and slide it in my pocket—in case someone sees what she’s written.
It takes ages to get from where we’re sitting to the entrance because everyone keeps stopping to congratulate me. When we finally make it I give my voting slip a good luck kiss (under the pretence of coughing) and drop it in the box.
***
“Hey Mom, guess what,” I say the moment she arrives home. She’s never usually out when I get home, but isn’t it typical that today just because I had news she wasn’t here?
“What?” she replies not stopping to hear me out but heading toward the kitchen. I follow and watch as she reaches for the kettle and fills it with water.
“I’ve been nominated as seventh form rep on the Student Liaison Committee.”
The look of disbelief on her face is classic. Good job she wasn’t holding anything or she would have definitely dropped it. She hasn’t looked like that since the day I told her I was going to be a nun when I left school—luckily, the nun phase didn’t last too long. Once I found out you have to take a vow of silence it became much less appealing.
“That’s marvelous,” she says after a few seconds. “Well done. Your dad and I are really proud of the effort you’re making. We know it hasn’t been easy.” She gives me a huge hug and it brings tears to my eyes.
When I think of how close I came to destroying everything—as if things weren’t bad enough with Rosie dying.
“Yeah.” My voice is a little croaky so I cover it up by coughing. “A bit of a shock though.” She releases me and I turn slightly so she can’t see my tears—it’s not like me to get all emotional, but sometimes the enormity of what’s happened hits me without warning.
“I can’t wait to tell your Uncle Peter tomorrow. He’ll be very impressed.”
Oh no. Uncle Peter’s coming tomorrow. That brings me back to earth with a jolt. I don’t believe it. How could I forget that? What the hell am I going to do? Mom will never let me go to the movies now. A huge sigh escapes my lips. Nothing ever goes right for me.
“What’s the matter, love?” Mom asks.
“I forgot about Uncle Peter. And I’ve arranged to go out with someone from school.” I bite on my bottom lip.
“Just explain to her. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
“He won’t,” I mutter. An urge to stomp up the stairs is coming on big time. But I guess it’s not acceptable behavior anymore.
“He? Did you say he? You didn’t tell me you we
re going out with anyone.” She leans against the work surface and fixes me with a stare.
“I’m not going out with him. We’re just going to the movies, that’s all.”
A slow devious smile stretches across her face. “I’ll tell you what. Invite him around here for tea, which will give you time with Uncle Peter, and then you can go out with him.”
Yeah, that’s a great suggestion. I can just imagine Guy’s face if I ask him. I never bring boys home. Never. Mom and Dad would’ve freaked—the boys I knew were nothing like the boys Rosie went out with, who were all rich and heading for high-powered careers (well, maybe not all of them but definitely her last two).
Although, just for argument’s sake, say Guy did agree to come. He would definitely be boyfriend material from a parents’ perspective. It could work. The only thing is, how to break it to him?
“I’ll ask him and let you know.” Mom practically chokes on the sip of coffee she’s just taken. “Is that okay?” I ask, trying to keep a straight face and failing miserably.
“Sure. I’ll look forward to it.”
“I’m going to my room,” I say trying to act all virtuous. “Call me when dinner’s ready.”
I’ve got some serious planning to do. First thing is to text Lori and elicit her opinion on my best course of action. I race up the stairs two at a time, retrieve my phone from the dressing table and send Lori a message. In less than a minute my cell phone rings. It’s her.
“Hi. Can you believe Mom wants him to come to tea before the movies?”
“Why don’t you say no, if you’re not happy about it.”
“I can’t because my uncle is coming around, and we haven’t seen him for ages because he lives so far away. And Mom won’t let me go out if I don’t agree to Guy coming.” How sad does that make me sound? I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation. Old-Suzy would have just said ‘sorry Mom, I’ve made plans.’
And, more to the point, old-Suzy would’ve texted Maddie for advice of this nature. What sort of friend does that make me? In less than a couple of months Maddie’s been relegated to friend-when-it-suits-me. God, that makes me feel awful.
Thing is, she doesn’t know Guy like Lori does. Which is why Lori is the best person to ask. So I’m not really dumping Maddie. And I’ll definitely give her a ring as soon as Lori and I have sorted this mess out. If only to tell her about the committee. I just know she’ll barely be able to contain herself when she hears.
“But surely you can just have tea and then go straight out. Why does Guy have to be there? Or is she always like this about boyfriends.”
“No, she’s not. But things are different now. You know, with Rosie and stuff.” Stuff being the operative word and something not for sharing.
“Yeah. Well, looks like you have no choice then.”
“I reckon you’re right. But what shall I say?” I pause for moment. “Hey, maybe you can ask him for me.” I say it as a joke, but part of me wishes she would agree to do it.
“What, seriously?” I can’t see her face, but I can imagine the expression of disbelief on it.
“Nah. Only joking. But you can tell me what to say. As you know him so well.”
“I’m not sure.” She’s silent for a few seconds. “I know,” she continues. “Why don’t you say haven’t seen your uncle in a while, since the funeral—”
“I can’t say that. Guy doesn’t know about Rosie.”
“Um—actually he does.”
“How? I didn’t mention anything to him. The only person I’ve told is you—” I stop speaking. Oh no. Lori told Guy. I don’t believe it. After I specifically asked her to keep it quiet. “You told him didn’t you?” My voice comes out harsher than I intend. Though if you ask me she deserves it.
“I’m so sorry Suzy. It was an accident. I was going to ring and tell you but I felt so awful. It just sort of slipped out after school today when he gave me a ride home. But he knows you don’t want the others to know. And he’ll keep it secret, I promise.”
Yeah like she promised not to say anything. Well if this doesn’t prove that Maddie is the only person I can trust I don’t know what does.
“Whatever.”
“Please say you forgive me.”
“I forgive you.” That couldn’t come across as more belligerent if I tried. Maybe I’m being mean. These things happen. I’ve done it myself. What about when I accidentally dropped Maddie in it when she said she was at my house and she’d gone to that concert across town with some guy her parents said she couldn’t see. “Sorry. Of course I forgive you. But please don’t say anything to anyone else. It’s just that I don’t want to go through everyone staring and talking about me again. I had enough of that when it all happened.”
“You have my word.” She breathes an extremely loud sigh of relief down the phone.
I’m still cross, but it’s not going to change Guy knowing. Just as long as he doesn’t want to talk about it.
“So back to Guy. What shall I say?”
“Like I said before, say it’s been ages since you’ve seen your uncle. Failing that, just say that your Mom wants to meet him. That’s perfectly acceptable.” For around here maybe.
“Anyway, you better phone him now. Give him some warning.”
“I suppose. Wish me luck. I’ll phone you right back once I’ve done it.”
Chapter Nine
“Guy, anymore?” Mom asks, her hand poised threateningly over the homemade lemon meringue pie, which is my absolute favorite dessert and I’m hoping there will be some left for breakfast—don’t mock it ’til you try it.
Dessert aside, I have to say this has been the most excruciating tea in the history of teas. And if I never have to sit through another it will be too soon. First of all we had the twenty questions—there isn’t a thing Mom doesn’t know about Guy and his family. Then we had so many awkward silences it was embarrassing. Most unlike Mom. Especially with Uncle Peter there.
Now I know why I didn’t bring boys home in the past. I really don’t know how Rosie tolerated it. Though thinking back, I do remember Rosie giving Mom a talking to one time when Mom was so obviously impressed with this boy she was practically writing the wedding invitations.
I will admit, finding out Guy’s dad works for a TV company was pretty amazing. Maybe he can get tickets for us to watch a show being recorded.
“No thank you, Mrs Green.” He glances down at his watch. I think that’s a hint.
“We’ve got to go Mom or we’ll miss the start of the movie.” I jump up from my seat. “Bye everyone. Good to see you Uncle Peter. I won’t be late.”
Guy follows my lead and stands. You know, he’s got great manners. Mom and Dad should be very impressed. He even brought Mom some flowers when he arrived. Not only that Guy has all the right credentials: rich family, heading for an Ivy-League college and good career, virgin—okay obviously my mother doesn’t know that. Nor will she. Duh. Of course she does because she asked he was at the meeting the other night.
Guy’s car is parked at the end of our drive and when we’ve reached it I look back toward the house where Mom is standing by the window waving. I wave back then quickly close the door, sinking into the leather seat and wriggling around until I’m comfortable. I’ve never known an eighteen year old guy have a flash car like this before. Talk about how the other half live. And I bet his house is a mansion too, unlike ours.
“I’m so sorry for putting you through all that,” I say once Guy pulls away from the side of the road. “All those questions. Mom excelled herself tonight.”
He reaches over and rests his hand on mine, and my heart begins to zip-zap all over the place. Then, suddenly he snatches his hand away and places it back on the steering wheel.
Why did he do that? Ah. The handbook. No touching. This is going to be a lot harder than I thought.
“It was fine. I like your parents. They’re cool.”
Cool? What is he on? Cool is not a word any of my friends have ever used to de
scribe my Mom and Dad before. Not that they’re awful or anything. Just a bit boring and parent-like. Now if you want cool parents then look no further than Maddie’s—even if Maddie can’t talk about sex with her mom.
“I’ll take your word for it. And bringing flowers was definitely a smart move. Mom’s a sucker for anything like that.”
“I didn’t do it to get on her good side.” He sounds annoyed I would even suggest it, but come on. Why else do you do that sort of thing?
“Not even a little bit?” I tease. He visibly bristles.
“No. It’s polite to take a little gift when you’re invited places. I always do.”
Well according to that it sounds like I haven’t been brought up properly. Which is just not true. I do know how to behave, even if I don’t shower my host with gifts every time I call around for a visit.
For the next little while we travel in silence and I focus my attention on the cars parked in their driveways as we pass them. A couple of times I sneak a peek at Guy, but his eyes are firmly fixed on the road ahead and his chin juts out in a funny sort of belligerent way. I’ve never noticed it before. I’m beginning to suspect I’ve ruined the evening before it’s even properly started. Which is simply ridiculous, childish and pathetic. And I’m far too mature to let it continue.
“Hey, Guy,” I say brightly. “Fancy stopping at Starbucks on the way? I could murder a frappuccino.” He glances down at his watch and frowns.
“We don’t have time. But we can go after the movies. Okay?”
“Sure. As long as I’m not too late home.”
Shut up. Why do I always do it? At my age you don’t say you have to be in early. Arrggggh. What is it with me and this transformation? It’s playing havoc with any rational thought that enters my head. And turning me into my mother. If I’m not careful I’ll soon be buying sensible shoes and practical clothes.
“Me too. I’ve got a chemistry test tomorrow and I’d hate to fall asleep over my Bunsen burner.” He glances in my direction, grins then resumes watching the road.
