Will

by Maria Boyd

  I had to pretend to Jock and Tim that I was going over to Chris’s place instead of catching the bus. They would have been really suss if they knew I was hanging around school on a Friday afternoon and I wasn’t about to have that conversation with them. I felt too much like a loser as it was. But after lead rehearsals was the only time I knew I could get Mark on his own.

  I could hear Elizabeth’s laugh before I saw her. She was in her school uniform and she still looked great. She was pulling on her badge-covered blazer as she spoke.

  Are you sure you can’t come, Mark? The parents have given me tonight off. And they like you.

  Mark shook his head and pointed to his overfull backpack. She dragged her own bag onto her shoulder.

  All right, be boring then. Looks like it’s a girls’ night.

  She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and walked off. I waited until she had turned the corner, took a deep breath and started to walk toward him.

  Mark?

  He stopped, turned around, saw it was me and kept walking.

  I’d offer you a lift but I’d be afraid you’d think I was going to jump you before you had a chance to put your seat belt on.

  Fair enough.

  Mark, I—

  He cut me off.

  No, really, Will, you must know that’s why I had to leave Melbourne. I went around to every school musical in the area and tried to get unsuspecting, straight guitar players into my car.

  Mark …

  He turned around and looked directly at me.

  I … acted like a … a wanker. I was a wanker … I’m sorry.

  He took a moment before he spoke, like he was trying to weigh up whether I was worth the effort. When he did, it came out in one breath, like he’d been practicing.

  Will, I’ve put up with this type of shit since I was fourteen. And believe me, I’ve had a lot worse than your let me out of the car routine. I appreciate the apology. I’m not about to get hung up about it. If you have a thing with me being gay, that’s your problem. I’m not making any more apologies about it.

  I stood there, unsure what to say next. I felt like more of a dickhead now than I did the other night.

  It’s just that, you know … Chris reckons you’re a nice guy … and a good footballer …

  The roll of his eyes shut me up again.

  What’s Chris got to do with it?

  It’s just that …

  Anyway, he already knows I’m gay.

  Chris knew he was gay, but he didn’t say anything! How long had he known? Then that must mean—no, surely he hadn’t told Jock and Tim?

  I’m not stupid, I’ve only told Chris. I’m waiting for the right moment to break it to the other footy fellas. Like right about when they’re cuddling in close for a scrum.

  His eyes had become less dark.

  Yeah, or the next time you’re at practice and you’ve got Jock’s backside in your face.

  There was a two-second pause, which indicated that I may have gone a little too far, but then Mark said, What a tragic image!

  And we both cracked up.

  Mark started again, except this time it was like he was really talking.

  I took a risk telling you I was gay. You know, it’s not normally something I do when I first meet someone.

  He reached in his pocket for a cigarette, looked around to see if anyone was watching, put it in his mouth and then spent the next minute tapping his pockets trying to find a lighter.

  I don’t know, I figured since you were a good mate of Chris’s and we’d be seeing more of each other at the musical—he took a deep drag and blew out the smoke, waving it away as he did—and I suppose you took a risk in telling me about Elizabeth, I just thought, why not? I get sick of it always having to be this big secret.

  He looked at me dead on. Your reaction did spin me out, though.

  Typical. I reacted like a jerk and Chris probably hugged him and told him how proud he was of him.

  Mark butted the half-smoked cigarette and flicked it into the nearest bin where some sicko Year 8 kid would probably find it and try to light it up.

  Look, I came up here determined to make it work, the school, making friends. In my head, me being gay is not a big deal, but you know what a school like this is like. I decided before I left Melbourne I was just going to be honest and get on with it. Other people have to get over it, or not. So if we’re going to be mates then that’s the score. If you can’t deal with it then fine.

  It felt like it was up to me now.

  So does that mean I can get a lift home?

  Are you sure you’re not going to freak out again?

  No, I reckon I can cope, just keep your hand on the gear stick!

  You wish, buddy! You wish!

  He grabbed his bag and went through the same routine as the lighter looking for his keys. I thought about the bike in the bike shed. It meant having to get Mum to drive me to rehearsals again but she’d get over it.

  We both lightened up on the drive home. I was asking him about Melbourne and he was giving me crap about Elizabeth.

  You didn’t say anything to her, did you?

  I might have said I thought someone was interested in her. But don’t worry, she doesn’t think it’s you.

  Thank God.

  Yeah, I told her you were gay.

  You didn’t! You f—

  Relax, mate. I’m joking. But I did ask if she thought anyone in the band was cute and she singled you out. But let’s face it, there’s not a lot of competition, is there.

  Thanks.

  You’ve got to have a game plan.

  I’m not sure I need to have girl advice from a gay guy …

  Yeah, well, you’re not doing all that well on your own now, are you?

  He had a point.

  And let’s not forget she’s already seen the best part of you.

  He grinned at me.

  Very funny. Back off from my arse, would you?

  We were talking about Elizabeth, not me, you loser. This weekend’s the perfect opportunity. You’ve got all day Saturday, and if Andrews is right, we’ll be there until late on Sunday too.

  No, that’s not meant to be happening yet, is it?

  That’s what Andrews said tonight. He wants to have a complete run-through. Everyone else knows ’cause they had to have permission or something.

  No, it must be just you guys. I don’t know anything about it.

  No way, mate, it’s everyone. What’s the problem? This is perfect for the planned meeting.

  I was not sure even meeting Elizabeth was worth forty-eight hours at school. A picture of her in her school uniform appeared in my head. Then again …

  I’ll introduce you during the break.

  No. No, you can’t do that.

  Why not?

  She’ll know straight off.

  Know what?

  That I like her.

  By introducing you?

  Yeah.

  I’m only introducing you, not—

  No!

  All right, what do you suggest?

  I don’t know. Can’t we just be talking and then she comes up and I smile at her, and …

  And I introduce you. Yeah, that sounds like a great idea, he said sarcastically.

  Let’s just leave it.

  We’d been talking so much I nearly missed my street.

  That’s my street on the right.

  Is it really your street?

  What do you want me to do, go and get my mum?

  He laughed.

  Thanks for the lift, Mark … and for being all right about it all.

  Thanks for the apology. See you tomorrow, nine a.m. sharp!

  Making the right move

  I’d spent the whole night trying to figure out a way to introduce myself to Elizabeth. I couldn’t come up with anything that didn’t seem totally obvious. Maybe Mark was right. Maybe he could introduce us. But that’s when you risk the horrible three minutes’ silence where everyone is trying to figure o
ut what to say. It’s in those awkward, not very smooth silences that I begin to glow a rosy, very uncool red. That just can’t happen.

  I was still thinking about it during the trip to school.

  Are you all right, Will?

  Yeah, Mum.

  So it looks like from here on in I’ll be taking care of the veggie patch….

  But then it would be better because there’d be other people around so I wouldn’t have to be the only one talking.

  Will?

  Yeah?

  As long as Mark didn’t carry on.

  Meaning … it’s getting down to the final weeks.

  I looked over at her, wondering what she was going on about.

  Well, that’s what the note on the fridge says, full rehearsals for the next three weekends and then the show.

  So that’s the only time I have left. I have to make my move today, otherwise there’s no point.

  Will …? It would be nice if you actually listened while your mother tried to communicate with you.

  Yeah, no, it’s all good, Mum.

  Well, I never thought I would ever hear Will Armstrong say that spending three consecutive weekends at school was good. You must be enjoying it.

  Maybe Mark was right, maybe all I had to do was …

  Have you made any new friends?

  I willed myself back into the car and back into the conversation. She had given me another lift to school after all. And I knew she was making up for lost veggie-patch bonding time.

  A couple.

  Pause.

  Any girls, Will?

  Left field! Left field! Back up! How did she do that? I looked over at her, trying to suss whether she had one of those I know everything about you smiles on her face. Mum always asked a lot of questions but she never asked those types of questions. She left that up to Dad.

  Come on, Mum. It’s a school musical, not somewhere you go to pick up.

  I know that, Will, I was just wondering if there was anyone, well, you know, special?

  Anyone special! As soon as the opposite sex is mentioned Mum turns into one of Andrews’s walking stereotypes. That was the difference—if I told Dad we’d end up having a laugh, I tell Mum and it’s serious. I pushed that thought straight back out of my head as soon as it got there.

  We pulled up outside the gates again. The unanswered question filled the car.

  No, Mum, but if there is I’ll fill you in—as long as you don’t ask me if she’s special.

  Deal.

  I reached over and threw a kiss on her left cheek. I was getting used to that smile, and I liked it.

  As soon as I had picked up the guitar and turned toward the hall the Freak had sniffed me out.

  Is that your mum?

  I turned to find him doing the fox-terrier jump at my side. I hadn’t seen him since last week.

  Hey, man, where did you spring from? Nice to see you back.

  He nearly did backflips in response.

  I was waiting for you. So was that your mum?

  Who else would it have been, unless I had this whole older-woman thing going on?

  She seems nice.

  I looked at him. He was one of the strangest earthlings I had ever met.

  So were you waiting outside for a reason? Are those geeks giving you a hard time again?

  Nope, they’re scared of what you’ll do to them. I told them that you’re my best friend.

  Yet another strike to my almost nonexistent image. I attempted to reset the boundaries.

  Ahh, well, I wouldn’t go that far. I mean, I’m pretty much older than you are.

  But that doesn’t matter. I’m used to having older people as my friends. Dad thinks it’s good for my development. Anyway, Dad’s my other best friend and he’s much older than you. I told him all about you and he said I was lucky to have someone as nice and caring as you as a friend.

  I gave up then.

  All right, mate. Let’s go inside.

  The rest of the geeks were playing the latest geek craze on their laptops and Zach was very obviously not invited. They might have backed right off him but that didn’t mean they were going to let him infiltrate their geekdom. I could feel the confidence in him grow as he walked beside me. He had to get some mates. But for the moment it looked like I was it.

  Waddlehead

  As the Freak and I set up our gear it took me a few seconds to sniff out that Waddlehead had entered the building. Usually before rehearsals Andrews would say, I know it’s only happy noise but could you keep it down to a yell? Today there was silence. All the kids knew that in Waddlehead’s world there was no such thing as happy noise, it was all bad noise except when there was no noise. But it wasn’t just Waddlehead-associated fear that shut us up. His appearance marked something unusual. On reality TV this would be the scene they’d put on the ads all week to suck people in to watching.

  Brother Pat, Andrews and Waddlehead were positioned right at the front of the stage. Waddlehead had his head down, with his hands inside the pockets of a gray parka. Obviously part of his casual gear. He must shop where my grandfather did. Andrews was moving his hands around a lot. Brother Pat said something very loudly once and then said nothing else. He stood there in his usual position; hands resting on his stomach, slowly rocking back and forth on his heels, whistling quietly through his teeth.

  At one point Andrews sprang over to the pit, grabbed his production folder and then sprang back. He held it with one hand, right up in Waddlehead’s face, and flicked the pages with the other. Waddlehead looked at the folder once and continued shaking his head. Andrews stopped. There was nothing for thirty seconds, then Waddlehead turned and left by the stage door, hands still in his pockets.

  Andrews and Brother Pat said nothing for another thirty seconds, then Andrews ran out after Waddlehead. The entire occupancy of the hall started to gravitate toward the doors just to see if there was going to be some action outside. Unfortunately Andrews came back in before we got there, but he was definitely looking more pissed off than when he left.

  Then no noise turned to lots of noise, full of gossip and rumor. Everyone swore they knew exactly what was going on. Andrews had been busted over the weekend by the cops and Waddlehead had told him he had to resign: Waddlehead had heard from one of the parents that there was full-frontal nudity and a love scene and demanded that the musical be stopped immediately: someone had a contagious disease and we were all quarantined until further notice.

  In my experience no dealings with Waddlehead are ever good. And wherever he went he left a long trail of misery behind him. So I knew it wasn’t going to be pretty. Andrews spent another five minutes talking with Brother Pat, who remained quietly rocking with his hands folded, except this time he was doing a lot of nodding.

  Andrews moved forward.

  Right, everyone. As you have no doubt just seen, Mr. Waverton was here.

  Why is it that teachers always state the obvious?

  He said to wish you the very best success, he applauds all of your dedication and hard work and he is sure that The Boy Friend will be the most successful musical yet.

  Yeah right! That’s exactly what he was saying!

  Unfortunately he also delivered some very difficult news—but nothing we cannot overcome.

  Pause.

  It appears the hall has been double booked on the dates of our performances. Due to bookings every weekend of the holidays and the HSC commencing as soon as we return next term, we are going to have to bring the performances forward by a week. Which means that these two weekends will be the final two weekends before the actual performances.

  For a second time in twenty minutes the hall was filled with noise: high-pitched squealing and dramatic yelling.

  You’ve got to be joking, sir!

  No way, that’s not fair.

  A couple of the more theatrical types actually left the hall, only to come back in again really quickly so they wouldn’t miss anything. It was probably the best news I’d heard in a wh
ile, if I forgot about the Elizabeth thing. But I didn’t think it was that big a deal.

  Now I have every confidence we will be ready, but it does mean that the time we have left is vital for all of us. We absolutely must, must, must all pull together as a team. That goes for every single band member, every backstage person, every chorus member, every lead, the prompt, Ms. Sefton, Brother Pat and myself.

  As he labeled each group he paused and stared at where they were sitting, even the teachers. When he got to himself he pointed, as if we didn’t know it was him he was talking about.

  From now on, we do not have time to wait for people who forget their cue, to wait for the Year Eight chorus to repeat their dance to “It’s so much nicer in Nice,” to wait for people to move stage left instead of right. And chorus, absolutely no more faking with the words of songs!

  Leads—he turned and looked to the left of the stage—there is absolutely no excuse for not having lines learned nor blocking onstage. I will be expecting you all to work with me three times a week for the next two weeks.

  He looked in Brother Pat’s direction.

  It is up to Brother Pat what he wants to do with the band.

  We’ll be ready, Mr. Andrews, don’t you worry!

  Thank God for that!

  OK, people, it is up to you now! Five minutes, then we are on.

  So Waddlehead didn’t just destroy the lives of students. I watched as everyone did their own thing to try and get their heads around the news. Andrews went outside again. Mark went in the opposite direction, no doubt to have a sly cigarette even though he told me he’d given up again. Elizabeth went straight to the dressing room. Yep, Waddlehead had done his job well.

  The aftershock

  Waddlehead’s news meant that the morning was high pressure, punctuated with mini explosions of steam that escaped from bubbling creative tempers. Mr. Andrews, who is normally Mr. Ice Man, lost it at Mark, who is normally Mr. Placid. Mark then lost it at Elizabeth, who is normally Ms. Nice, who lost it with the music teacher, Ms. Sefton, who is normally Ms. Understanding. Ms. Sefton then lost it at us, the band, who are normally kept out of all that hypertension crap. It was at this time Andrews called for a break and instructed all of us to leave the hall and go for a walk, run, whatever, just so long as everyone lightened up.