by Maria Boyd
A perfect note to close rehearsals, I heard Andrews offer. Thanks, everyone. See you next week.
I was throwing my guitar into its case as he spoke. I’d worked up a bit of speed by the time I’d made it to the doorway.
Will?
I hesitated for a second. That kid had a radar system you could sell to the Australian army.
Hey, Freak, I’m kind of in a hurry.
He half jumped and waved at the same time.
See you next week!
Yeah, next week.
I raised my hand to him and as I did I caught the bloody prom king and queen arm in arm going to talk to their adoring public.
Chris’s place
It’d been a big week for someone who’d spent the last six months not being bothered, what with Andrews and the assignment, the mother-son bonding the other night and now the kiss. I needed some serious normality. I took the bike out of the shed, hooked the guitar under my arm and rode three minutes to Chris’s place.
Weekend nights were always fix-it-yourself over there, and one more wasn’t going to matter. I walked in to see the footy on the TV and the boys in various positions around the room, cheering on their teams and telling the ref to get stuffed in alternating intervals. I said g’day and, as usual, received barely a grunt. This was exactly the type of response I needed.
When I walked into the kitchen Mrs. Holden got up from the table and came over and kissed me just like she’d been doing for the past thirteen years. I shook Mr. Holden’s hand and was moved into a huge bear hug. This was also expected. They were big about touchy-feely stuff in this family. Because they had four boys, five including me, they were really into making sure we were all in touch with our feelings and stuff. The boys were used to it. They just rolled their eyes and made really bad faces. I wondered how they’d work it with Jess. Everybody in the family, especially Chris, fell over themselves to give her kisses and hugs. She was only two but she pretty much ran the place. Pity the bloke who asked her out first. There’d be no touchy-feely bullshit from the Holden boys then, I bet.
Chris was in the bathroom, getting her ready for bed. I followed the splashing and squealing noises until I found him kneeling over the side of the bath squirting a rubber ducky at Jess.
I sat on the edge of the bath. Chris squirted water from the duck’s backside straight into my face. He and Jess thought it was hysterical.
Get f—
Now, now, Will, not in front of the child.
I glared at him.
What’s wrong with you, mate? It’s not like you not to get revenge.
I shrugged. They kissed.
Who?
You know who.
Chris looked at me blankly. Then he got it.
You mean really kissed?
Yeah, I mean lips and mouths and stuff.
Tongues?
Shut up, Chris!
So?
So what?
How serious was it?
I don’t know. They had to kiss for the show.
Chris looked at me and sighed.
Kissed for the show? That’s a completely different story.
He took the face cloth Jessie had put on her head and spoke directly to her. Uncle Will’s such a loser! She nodded her head in agreement.
Man, I haven’t seen you this uptight about anything forever, Chris said, lifting Jess out of the bath and cocooning her bug-like into a big, fluffy towel.
I followed him into Jess’s room and watched as he went through the pj routine.
Will, you’re going to have to speak to the girl, otherwise you’re going to turn into a major pain in the arse.
Yeah, but I don’t know what to say.
Well, don’t ask me. The only girl I get to spend any time with is Jessie here.
What do you mean? All the girls love talking to you.
Yeah, they may love talking to me but that’s it. I’m the guy they love to talk to but don’t want to date. Unlike you, my friend, I still cannot lay claim to ever having a proper girlfriend. Apart from Penelope Barry in Year Six, and that only lasted for a week after she held hands with Peter Sharkey at Tim’s party.
I was so used to Chris having every corner covered in terms of the bloke most likely to succeed at absolutely everything, I hadn’t thought about him and girlfriends. I knew he had plenty of girl friends, but when I thought about it, he’d never had a relationship girlfriend.
Do you want a girlfriend?
Yeah, I want a girlfriend, you idiot, but I can’t exactly go out there and demand one, can I? No, mate, for the moment the closest thing I’ll get to a relationship is hearing about you and this Elizabeth, so hurry up and do something about it so you can introduce me to some of her friends.
He bundled Jessie up in her pajamas and called out to his dad. Jessie work tended to be done in shifts: Mr. Holden was in charge of stories and bed. Chris flew her into the kitchen and rugby passed her to his dad.
Chris and I moved our way into the lounge room and sat right in front of the twins, blocking their direct line of vision. It was something we’d done for years, which, because of size disparity, produced a guaranteed end result favoring Chris and myself. The next stage was the rumble, which we always won, and then of course the final part of the strategy—us getting the best seats. It worked every time. I settled back and relaxed. It was comforting to know not everything was going crazy.
A different game plan
I went through the week wondering what the next move was. Chris was all for me coming down after training to meet Mark—apparently the guy was good enough for the reps side as well as the Sunday comp. But I told him I thought we’d established it wasn’t Mark I was after.
I knew I was becoming a pain in the arse, like Chris had said. I had to stop complaining and get on with it. I went to the next rehearsal ready to rip off what I knew was going to be a really scabby Band-Aid. It would hurt. But hopefully it was going to be worth it.
I waited until the end of the day. Andrews and Mark were going over the last scene, which meant Elizabeth was finished and on her own. I stood and watched her laughing with the other girls. She talked to everybody, including the adoring Year 7 chorus girls. I figured that would have to work in my favor: if she talked to everyone, then the odds were she would talk to me.
I began to walk toward her on three occasions and chickened out each time. I was on the fourth attempt and about two meters away when her mobile rang. It was right about then I tried really hard to look casual, like I wasn’t trying to talk to her at all. I focused intently on the wall and kept walking. Idiot!
I got to the wall. I knew I needed a reason for being there, and fast. I was dead certain she’d watched me walk all the way to the other side of the hall and was retelling the whole story to whoever she was on the phone to. I was desperate. A discarded St. Andrew’s Angles was lying on the floor near where I was standing. I haven’t in my whole school career found a newsletter so fascinating. Let’s face it, it was probably the first time I’d ever read one. I walked back across the hall reading every word of it. As I passed her I was determined not to look. I repeated in my head, Don’t look up, don’t look up. Just as I reached the point of intersection, I looked up. And, even worse, I was mouthing the words Don’t look up when I did. Elizabeth was looking directly at me. In fact she didn’t take her eyes off me as she continued her conversation. She could have got an instant tan I was giving off so much heat.
Then I had one of those déjà vu moments. I was positive I had done this before—stood in front of her like an openmouthed idiot. But there was no going back now. I’d made myself look like a prize dickhead so I might as well sit it out and wait till she was off the phone. My heart began to make dangerously loud drum noises and I was breaking into a sweat.
Yes, Mum. OK, Mum. Yeah, I’ll be waiting out the front of the hall.
This was my chance.
The phone call was drawing to a close. I began to walk closer. She half watched my approach. Nearly
there. I opened my mouth to speak when …
Will?
Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! That was the wrong voice and it was definitely coming from the wrong direction. Sighing, I turned around, still clutching the St. Andrew’s Angles. There standing in front of me was the Romeo to my Juliet, and Juliet was now walking out of the hall to meet her mother. Bloody typical! I felt the same intensity of heat from three minutes before start to radiate from my body as I wondered if he’d been witness to everything I’d just done. It was then I became aware of the St. Andrew’s Angles newsletter I was clutching. I dropped it and watched as Mark’s eyes followed its path to the floor right in front of his feet. He decently made no comment, although I could have sworn he had a grin on his face.
Yeah … Hi. I stared at him for a moment and then realized he was waiting for me to shake his hand.
Mark Newman.
I shook his hand.
Yeah, I know.
Look, I was at training on Thursday and Chris was telling me to come and introduce myself seeing as we seem to be the only seniors in the place.
So this was all Chris’s fault!
Yeah, he mentioned something like that to me too. Except I wasn’t having any of it.
Jock and Tim have been sharing some stories …
I could just imagine.
Don’t listen to Jock and Tim, they compete with one another to see how much shit they can talk.
I noticed. You should hear the crap I get about being in the musical. Playing football and being in the musical are mutually exclusive activities according to Jock. He’s convinced I’m only doing it for the girls.
For the first time in his life Jock may actually be right.
That’s why I introduced myself. They’ve just texted me to say they’re throwing the footy around at the park.
I thought about it for about two seconds. I wasn’t in the mood to bond with the competition.
Thanks, mate, but I’ve got to get home.
My first reaction was to be pissed off. Why would the boys text Newman and not me? Just then the phone beeped. It was Jock. I proceeded to text him where he could shove his football and felt just a little bit better.
I watched as Newman drove away and waved from his cozy, warm car as I put on my beanie and climbed onto my beaten-up old bike. Just once I would like a rehearsal to end with me coming out on top. Just once.
This week’s game plan—there is no game plan
When I saw Chris at school on Monday I told him what happened. He cracked up laughing and gave me grief about not coming for a run. It turned out the boys went out for pizza and continued the bonding session. Then I had to put up with Tim and Jock carrying on during bio about how much of a good bloke Mark was.
Not that what Newman did was going to worry me anymore. I’d decided on another game plan for the Elizabeth, Mark and Will triangle … I was buying out completely. It was causing me way too much hassle for absolutely no gain. I wanted my life to go back to normal. It was too much energy and uptightness. I was determined to just turn up at rehearsals, do the band thing, yell at the geeks, save the Freak and go home. It wasn’t as if I was some social reject who needed to make more friends. I didn’t need to get hung up on a girl who didn’t even know I was a part of the cosmos, let alone the human race.
I couldn’t shake the Freak, but he was becoming bearable in an annoying kelpie cross fox terrier puppy type of way. I hadn’t had to save him from any nerd bashing since Wednesday. Brother Pat had insisted I attend the Wednesday band rehearsals instead of detention. He was all fired up about the excellent job I was doing with the geeks, and he carried on about it being unfair not to reward me by canceling detention and allowing me to attend band, and he was going to make sure Waddlehead understood. What could I do, he thought he was doing me a favor.
Anyway, last Wednesday at band practice the geeks raided the Freak’s lunch box. His dad had taken to giving him afternoon tea as well as recess on Wednesdays and the geeks found out about it. I conducted my own investigation and applied some gentle encouragement for the goods to be returned at the next rehearsal. This week was like a food drive, there was so much of it. The Freak invited Brother Pat, any of the other teachers who came by to listen, and the geeks who had taken it in the first place, to have afternoon tea with him. I tried to tell him to leave out the guys who had stolen from him, but he said it didn’t matter. Maybe this kid was one of those Dalai Lama midgets that the Buddhists hadn’t found out about yet. Anyway it turned into a food fest. The Freak was at the center of it and he was stoked. Needless to say his lunch box hadn’t been touched since.
If I was really honest, I liked hanging out with the kid. He didn’t expect anything from me. He was happy and I was happy. I just wished he’d shut up more often.
On Saturday I rode in thinking that it wouldn’t be long before I would have my life back.
Hey, Freak!
Hey, Will!
He wasn’t doing his usual hello dance so I could tell something was up. I looked around quickly for any sign of the geek gang.
What’s up, mate? You’re usually pogoing all around the place at the beginning of rehearsals.
I can’t stay. We have family commitments and Dad thinks it’s important we both go.
I pointed out to him that this was also a commitment but he wouldn’t budge.
I thought of my mum and how family things like that were a big deal.
I know what it’s like, Freak, but your dad wouldn’t have said it was important if it wasn’t, right?
He nodded his head in agreement but still looked pretty tragic.
Cheer up, mate. I’d love to break out of here.
But you’re not me.
He had a point.
So how come you’re here then?
I told Dad it was important I explain why I can’t be here to Brother Patrick and Mr. Andrews.
He paused. I wondered if he’d been given any trouble.
So have you let them know? I’ll walk in with you if you like.
No, I’ve already seen them. I was waiting for you.
Me?
I wanted to let you know we can’t have our breaks together. Sorry, Will.
And the kid was genuinely sorry. That’s why you couldn’t help but like the little guy.
Hey, don’t you worry about me. I’m the one who has to watch your backside, not the other way round. But it’s going to be a really boring day without you.
The Freak started to pogo again.
Really?
Well, yeah, who else am I going to flog all that great food from?
I looked at him quickly; you’ve got to be careful with the Freak.
It was a j—
I know, Will. I can tell when you’re joking now.
Maybe the kid was going to turn out OK.
It looked like I’d have to deal with the love triangle on my own.
And that was more difficult than I thought. As much as I wished the Freak would be struck dumb when we were stuck all day in the pit, he did provide a constant source of distraction. In his absence I spent a lot of time listening to my MP3 player and mucking around with my guitar. And there’s only so many ways you can restring a guitar. By lunchtime I was getting desperate. I was about to bolt to Chris’s, even talking to Brother Pat was looking like a good option, but in the end it didn’t matter. I watched Mark and Elizabeth and some other people go off in Mark’s car. Fine by me. I scoffed Mum’s sandwiches and played really sad songs on my newly tuned, newly restrung guitar.
Brother Pat had to go somewhere after lunch, which meant I had to step in. Conducting meant that everything else went out of my head. The geeks were so full-on about their playing I had to take it halfway seriously. It was a quick finish to a bad day. I packed up as Andrews was doing his usual roundup, grabbed my stuff and bolted.
And then the day got even worse. What the …! I found myself sprawled facedown in a pile of St. Andrew’s festering rubbish—you know, the type that no one eve
r picks up when the teacher on playground duty asks.
What’s your problem? I began as I removed my guitar case from the two-day-old squashed banana and tried to eyeball the dickhead who had just laid me out. I couldn’t quite make him out but I knew that voice. Bloody Romeo again!
Hey, Will, sorry. I got to my feet and glared at him. He took my guitar case and began to clean it off on the grass. I was keen to get out of there, if you know what I mean.
I tried to get rid of my pissed-off tone but it didn’t work.
Yeah, right. Don’t worry about it, Mark. I’m used to ending up in shit. In fact I’m pretty good at it. You seem like you’re in a hurry, going anywhere special?
I’ve got an Economics assessment due tomorrow and I haven’t even started yet.
Well, if he was that bloody worried, he should have worked during lunchtime and not gone off somewhere with Elizabeth, shouldn’t he! He offered me my guitar case, which now had banana and grass stuck all over it.
Thanks. There was no point even trying to hide the sarcasm.
He just stood there looking uncomfortable. Not so smooth now, Romeo!
Look, I’m driving, can I give you a lift home? Apology and all that?
I weighed up whether I was going to get more pissed off by riding home or by spending time with Mark. It took about an eighth of a second to decide. Call me a hypocrite but he owed me. The bike could have another school sleepover.
That’d be good.
You don’t live thirty k’s away, do you?
I was tempted to say yes and get him to drop me at a mate’s place just to make him suffer, but even I thought that was pretty sad.
About fifteen minutes by car. Down near the BP servo.
I think I know the one.
We arrived at an old Holden. I’m pretty sure it was an FJ or the next one out; whatever it was it was pretty cool. I had to give him that.
Nice car.
Thanks.
I bought it in Melbourne. Well, Dad did.
Yeah, Chris said you were from there.
Shit, did Chris tell me that or did I pick it up from Elizabeth and him in that conversation I wasn’t meant to hear? I tried to move on quickly.
