Summer Skin

by Kirsty Eagar

  ‘Not bad. Had a few wins.’ Adrian pulled on the suit jacket he’d slung over the back of the lounge. ‘But listen, I’ve got a taxi waiting outside. I was just dropping my bag off.’

  ‘You’re going into work now?’ Mitch asked.

  ‘Well, yes. It’s only ten-thirty, and it’ll give me a head start on the week. There’s a shitload of follow-up to do.’

  And that’s the type of person he is, Jess thought. A clock head. Knows exactly what time it is without checking. He reminded her of the mature-aged students she’d met: work-worn and irritated, martyrs hurling down pronouncements from the cross: You don’t know how good you uni students have got it. Wait till you hit the real world. Which always made Jess want to respond with a flippant Fuck that!

  Adrian grabbed his briefcase. ‘Nice to meet you, Tess.’

  CHAPTER 24

  MY NUMBER

  Jess clapped her hands to her face and looked at her econometrics tutor, Erin Shaw, pulling her cheeks downwards in her best impression of Edvard Munch’s painting The Scream. ‘Do you ever suspect that a whole bunch of economists got together and said, Hey, if we just make up some really big words we can pretend it’s a science? Heteroscedasticity—what’s that, like, six syllables?’

  Erin smiled—big of her, given that there was a long line of stressed students needing time and attention outside the door, and her scheduled two-hour consultation time would probably run way over. ‘Eight.’

  Jess counted it out on her fingers. ‘Jesus, I can’t even get that right.’

  ‘You know what you need to do?’ Erin said decisively. ‘You need to forget about the number of syllables and concentrate on the intention. A linear regression is an attempt to model a suspected relationship. But can we trust the predictions? Statistically speaking, it might look like a relationship, smell like a relationship, but unless it passes the tests for Goodness of Fit, it’s not significant.’

  ‘Right,’ Jess said, sounding dubious. ‘So then you use the different tests to see if there’s anything wrong with your data, like if the co-efficients are related or something, and once you know, you can fix it.’

  ‘Except it’s not the co-efficients,’ Erin said. ‘It’s the—’

  ‘The variables! That’s what I meant. The explanatory variables.’ Jess groaned, laying her head down on the desk.

  ‘Hate to interrupt your sleep, but …’

  Jess straightened. ‘Yes, I know you’re busy. But when I’m with you I feel safer. Like I won’t fall on my arse in the mid-term. And we’ve bonded, haven’t we?’

  ‘I’ve seen you twice.’

  ‘At your consultation, but do I ever miss a tute? I know I’m your favourite.’

  Erin’s mouth twitched. She was doing a research master’s on the economics of clam farming, so Jess was probably the best thing to happen to her all day.

  ‘Out,’ she said.

  Or not.

  •

  As Jess made her way downstairs she was hit once again by the same greasy, overwhelmed feeling she’d experienced before visiting Erin. It hardly seemed fair. Wasn’t that what tutors were paid to do? Make things better? That was the problem with uni: it was so easy to drift along, going out, working to earn a bit of coin, festering over your readings, typing up your lecture notes rather than actually trying to understand them, kidding yourself that turning up was enough—only to get smashed by big lumps of pressure around exams, or when assignments were due, and pay the real price for being there all in one hit.

  She reached the Level Two entrance and paused just inside the doors to put her ear buds in, wanting some respite from the panic in her head. She glanced up to see Mitch coming through the doorway. From the way his face came alive, Jess knew he hadn’t expected to see her—although it had only been a matter of time; economics, commerce and law shared the same stomping grounds, after all. Without discussing it, they moved to a dead-end corridor where they were less likely to be seen.

  Mitch faced her, leaning against the wall. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Had to see my econometrics tutor,’ Jess said curtly, taking out her ear buds.

  ‘Mid-term?’

  ‘Saturday.’

  ‘Stressed?’

  ‘Suicidal. What are you doing here?’

  ‘Tute.’ Mitch waited for Jess to meet his eyes. ‘Oh, come on, you’re not still holding onto that, are you?’ he asked, a smile pulling at his mouth. ‘Tess.’

  ‘Of course I am! Talk about humiliating. All those questions and I don’t even care about Melbourne. It was awful.’ Mitch laughed—through his nose, no less. ‘It’s not funny!’ Jess protested. ‘I’m actually really sensitive.’ And yet she couldn’t help but smile, which was annoying.

  ‘There it is. There’s the smile,’ Mitch said. ‘What’d you think of him, anyway? Adrian.’

  ‘I thought he was very nice. For an alien.’

  ‘Well, he measures his time in six-minute increments these days—it’s all got to be billed to somebody. He was probably just annoyed that the six minutes he gave us can’t be accounted for. And he wouldn’t have been expecting to walk in on that.’

  ‘Don’t make it sound like we were having an orgy. We weren’t doing anything.’

  ‘That’s worse. He probably suspects we were re-enacting The Secret History before he got there.’

  ‘I didn’t know you could read!’ Jess cried. ‘I love that book.’

  ‘Learned in my year off,’ Mitch said modestly. ‘Had nothing better to do.’

  Jess laughed, delighted, and in one cinnamon-sugar moment Sunday’s humiliation was forgotten, simply because talking to Mitch was just more fun than talking to anybody else. It was the same for him—she could see it in his eyes, his grin.

  ‘I’m glad I ran into you,’ he told her. ‘Thought I’d have to do the Wednesday night lecture again. All those stairs. All that tapping.’

  Jess held up her phone. ‘We could just swap numbers, you know.’ There was a beat, during which Mitch’s eyes slid away from hers. ‘Jesus. I’m not declaring eternal love for you. I just meant making contact would be less complicated.’

  ‘Yeah … it would …’ Mitch scratched his stubble. ‘But I don’t check my phone much.’

  ‘No stress. It’s all good,’ Jess said in a bright voice. She checked the time. On her phone. ‘Hey, you’re going to be late. And I’d better go.’

  Mitch didn’t move, still seeming slightly evasive when he asked, ‘Jess? You want to line something up now?’

  ‘Um … this week’s kind of busy,’ she said with a grimace. ‘I mean, my mid-term’s coming up and I’ve got a lot of cramming to do.’

  ‘How about after your exam? I’ve got a game that arvo, but I could get Adrian’s car and see you after that.’

  Jess wrinkled her nose. ‘I’ve got to work.’

  ‘I could give you a lift home.’

  Jess made an aw-shucks face. ‘We go dancing after.’

  Mitch was still for a moment. He was many things, but not stupid. ‘Sunday?’

  ‘Sorry.’ Jess gave him a million-dollar grin. ‘I’m going to that festival.’

  Mitch nodded slowly. ‘Some of the guys got tickets for that. I was thinking about it. Maybe I’ll see you there then.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Jess said breezily, popping her ear buds back in.

  ‘What are you listening to?’

  The correct answer was Tegan and Sara. ‘P!nk,’ Jess said.

  ‘Really? I would have put money on you saying some sort of Aussie hip hop. Even if it wasn’t. Especially if it wasn’t,’ Mitch said dryly.

  Jess just stared at him. ‘I should go,’ she said.

  CHAPTER 25

  HOLIDAYS

  Frozen cocktails in hand, Jess and Farren huddled around Leanne, who was holding the program. Allie, meanwhile, was busy documenting the moment, pursing her lips over her cocktail at her phone, using the others as a backdrop.

  ‘If it’s not on Instagram, did it ever real
ly happen?’ Farren asked Jess and Leanne in an undertone. Then, more loudly to Leanne: ‘Highlighters? You’ve been a busy girl.’

  ‘Green’s a must-see,’ Leanne told her. ‘Acts marked in yellow are the ones to run to after a green has finished if there’s a clash, and orange means worth checking out.’

  Jess took the drink Allie handed her, saying, ‘Don’t tag me, okay?’

  Allie looked at her for a second, then nodded, attention back on her screen, typing rapidly with both thumbs.

  ‘Caption?’ Jess asked.

  Allie read aloud: ‘Surprised at how much I’m enjoying today. Hashtag—Beachland Festival. Hashtag—girls’ day out.’

  ‘Can you be any more tentative?’ Leanne complained. ‘Own what you really think. Say, Beachland is fucking great. Hashtag—I’m here and you’re a loser.’

  Allie giggled, taking her drink back from Jess and sipping it. ‘Mmm, that’s good. What is it?’ she asked Farren, who’d bought the round.

  ‘Sugar,’ Farren replied. ‘Which is why we’re all bouncing off the walls.’

  It wasn’t just sugar, though, that had them all vibrating with the same barely suppressed energy, smiling like idiots. Maybe it was the festival line-up—dance and electronica, instead of just the usual indie staples; a mix that somehow made you feel a little more glamorous than usual. Or perhaps it was the setting: South Bank’s Cultural Forecourt, a grassed area that was back-dropped by the edifice of the Performing Arts Centre and looked across the Brisbane River at the buildings of the CBD. Or it might have been something as simple as girls liking occasions where they could wear a mix of animal prints, denim, lace and feathers, and feel totally confident that they were pulling it off. They were on holidays, even if just for a day.

  ‘Expensive sugar,’ Leanne grumbled. ‘Next round, beer. I’m skint. Skint and isolated, thanks to Buffet, here.’

  ‘Actually, on that …’ Jess cleared her throat. ‘I missed it at the time because I was studying for my mid-term, but Telstra made an announcement during the week. Not only are they now doing dividend reinvestment—’

  ‘That’s so fascinating,’ Farren said. ‘You should blog.’

  ‘—but they just announced their new CEO,’ Jess continued, giving her a sidelong glance.

  Farren clapped a hand to her face. ‘Who?’

  ‘It’s the guy everybody thought it would be.’

  Leanne looked up from the program. ‘What’s that mean?’

  ‘The guy who was second in charge. All the analysts were predicting it, and nobody wanted him, so everybody sold—which was when I bought. But then, when the announcement came out as expected, nothing happened—it couldn’t, they’d already sold. So then they had to close out their positions.’

  ‘English,’ Leanne growled.

  ‘The share price has gone up by about eighty cents since we bought. So that’s like eighteen per cent—thirty-six per cent on an annual basis. And that’s not including dividends. Isn’t that great?’

  The three girls blinked at her.

  ‘Anyway, I’m going to sell. You’ll have your money next week.’

  To Jess’s surprise, Leanne shook her head. ‘No, keep mine. Do something with it. I’m kind of liking the challenge of living off-grid anyway.’

  ‘Really?’ Jess said, excited. ‘Wow. That makes me feel like a real investor.’

  ‘Girl, you’re a gambler,’ Leanne said, and Allie and Farren laughed. ‘But I think you might be good at it.’

  Jess beamed at that. She looked from Leanne, to Allie, and then Farren, her beautiful friends, and the moment put an ache in her chest. ‘Hey, let’s take a photo. Of us. Now. Like this.’ Allie started to raise her arm. ‘Not a selfie,’ Jess said. ‘A photo. You know, something we can look back on when we’re old. Here—I’ll ask this girl to take it.’

  The girl said yes. And afterwards they crowded around the screen, shielding it from the sun with their hands. It was a beautiful shot, very natural: just the four them, in front of the city, their arms around each other, standing tall and smiling brightly at their future selves.

  •

  ‘Oh, I needed this!’ Jess exclaimed, looking up at the giant wheel as she and Allie passed beneath it, stark against an infinitely blue sky. The day was perfect: bathed in sunshine, hot but not swampy, friendly little breezes puffing through like puppy breath. The crowd was smiley—no ’roid heads. Jess linked arms with Allie, skipping to get in step. They were heading for the Rainforest Stage after splitting with Farren and Leanne, who’d decided on the Main Stage. ‘Miami Horror—yeeew! ’Cause I came to dance. Hey, I want that on a T-shirt. No! I want that on my tombstone. I came to dance.’ Jess jabbered away like this for a little longer before realising that Allie wasn’t responding. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Allie said, sweet-voiced. Her posture, though, was stiff.

  Jess stopped. ‘Allie, don’t eat it. Just this once. If I’ve done something, tell me. We’re friends. You can say it.’

  Allie looked away, then back at her. ‘Okay. It’s that thing you said about wanting a photo, not a selfie. And the fact you don’t want me to tag you anymore, like I’m so embarrassing. I know you think it’s hilarious that I take Instagram seriously—what was the comment? “Show us your personality.” But what if that is the way I show my personality? It didn’t make me feel very good. You’re supposed to be my friend.’

  ‘Hey, that was Leanne, not me,’ Jess soothed. And she thought it was solved. Leanne was rude to everyone; Allie knew that better than most.

  But Allie didn’t look any happier. ‘You can look me in the eye and tell me you’ve never judged me?’ She shook her head. ‘You know what? It doesn’t matter. Let’s go.’

  ‘It does matter,’ Jess said, clasping Allie’s shoulders with both hands. ‘Look, the tagging thing is because I’m worried you’ll get a bunch of horrible comments on your account. But … yeah, okay, there may have been times when I might have judged. It doesn’t mean I haven’t felt admiration too, though. To be honest, Al, sometimes I envy you, sometimes I wish I had your swagger, and sometimes I cringe. But, mainly, I just like knowing you in the real world.’ Jess dropped her hands with a shrug. ‘Anyway, what do I know? If you knew half of the stuff I’ve been up to lately … All I really think is that girls are allowed to collect life experiences, too, without it meaning that they’re ruined. Not that I’m saying what you’re doing is a mistake,’ she added quickly.

  ‘You know what it is?’ Allie said thoughtfully, and just like that the tension between them seemed to have passed. ‘Sometimes I get so down. Depressed. And then I take a photo of what I want my life to be like. Of what I want to be like. And when people like it, it’s confirmation—yeah, you’re good, your life’s good, nothing’s that bad.’ She cleared her throat delicately, with a little smile. ‘And then, when things are good, I feel the need to record that, too. Just to rub it in.’

  Jess laughed. They linked arms again, starting to walk, and she skipped to get in step. ‘See? Talking helps. I talk all the time.’

  Allie squeezed her arm. ‘Really? I never noticed.’

  A large group of guys had stopped to consult a program in the middle of the walkway ahead, disrupting the flow of the crowd like rocks in a river. Jess recognised Tipene first, and then saw Dud among them also, giving a loud phlegmy laugh at something one of the others had said, pulling at the waistband of his jeans, looking drunk and dishevelled.

  She ducked her head, feeling sick, but also excited, getting the electric tingle she now recognised as the precursor to seeing Mitch. She couldn’t help stealing a quick glance at the group as they passed. When they were further along, and partially hidden by the crowd, she looked back once more, frowning now, because he’d known she was coming …

  ‘Listen. The set’s starting,’ Allie said, and she grabbed Jess’s arm, pulling her into a run.

  •

  A wall of backs confronted them as they neared the Rainforest Stage.

&n
bsp; ‘This is no good!’ Allie wailed, up on her tiptoes, trying to see. ‘Come on, let’s pretend we know someone down the front.’ Pulling Jess along by the hand, she started to weave her way through the watching bodies, collecting an occasional not-so-accidental shove on the way—punishment for pushing in. Halfway down, the girls realised they did in fact know someone, spotting Callum in the crowd. When they reached him, they slammed into him, nearly knocking him over, and he took it with his usual affable good humour, enveloping them both in a hug.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Allie asked, shouting to be heard over the music.

  Callum reached for the stage with both hands. ‘Miami Horror! I love them!’

  ‘Me, too!’ Jess yelled, pulling on his sleeve excitedly. ‘I love that you love them!’

  ‘I love everybody!’ Callum cried, and Jess noticed his eyes were Manga-sized, but maybe that was his glasses.

  ‘Aren’t you hot?’ Allie asked.

  Callum looked down at his jeans and black hoodie as though wondering who’d dressed him. ‘I am hot,’ he said, sounding surprised. ‘I think I’ll go for a swim in the river.’

  Jess shook her head. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mr Buckley.’

  ‘Okay, I won’t then,’ Callum said, not only feeling the love but also exceptionally agreeable. He and Allie focused on the stage, raising their arms, but Jess was distracted, glancing at the crowd around her. Now would be a perfect time for Mitch to tap her on the shoulder …

  Jess gave an alarmed shriek as Callum’s head slid between her legs and he raised her up on his shoulders. She clutched at his hair, beating her heels against his chest, certain he was going to drop her, feeling terribly self-conscious. But she didn’t fall off, even with Callum constantly bouncing to the beat, and no one was paying her any attention—she was hardly the first chick to ever sit on someone’s shoulders at a festival. Slowly, her spine straightened, and she let go of Callum’s hair, starting to enjoy her new perspective: a sea of waving arms and raised phones.