Being Not Good: as opposed to being bad

by Elizabeth Stevens

  ****

  After school on Friday, I was hanging out in the kitchen with Mum while I waited for Blair to arrive and help me get dressed for my big date.

  “Do you think Mrs Lewis would prefer the periwinkle or the forget-me-not?” Mum asked as she held up the swatches.

  “Periwinkle,” I told her without a doubt.

  “Good eye, sweetie.” Mum smiled at me before looking back down to her board.

  Mum was one of the reasons I was the way I was. Her interior design company prided itself on its bold use of colour and I’d been in love with the swathes of bright, vibrant fabrics that had been littered around our house since before I could walk. It was virtually impossible to be unhappy when you were rolled up in a toga of canary yellow with a hat of magenta flowers and a staff in chartreuse for bopping your little sister on the head.

  Colour in my world meant happy.

  I remembered when Mum’s dad died. I was only about seven and I’d been devastated – he’d always been a bright and bubbly force in my life. Mum had told me not to be sad he was gone, but be happy he’d been in our lives. She said that’s what he would have wanted. I hadn’t quite known what she’d meant for what felt like the longest time. But for his funeral Mum had insisted I wear the dress he always loved me in. It was a bright pink thing more suited to a Disney dress-up party than a funeral, but Grandpa had always said it was his favourite dress.

  So I wore it and I started to see what she meant. I remembered all the good times I’d had with him and it made me feel better. I’d realised that looking at the good in things, being positive about life, was what made me happy and I liked it. So it had become my life philosophy and I looked forward to every day I had.

  “How long until dinner?” Ebony asked Mum as she sidled into the kitchen and pulled me out of my thoughts.

  “What time’s your date coming, sweetie?” Mum turned to me.

  “Davin,” I prompted.

  Mum’s face twitched a little until it landed on a smile. “Yes. Davin. What time is he coming?”

  “Six-thirty,” I replied.

  “And Dad’s home about seven… About seven, then,” Mum said as she looked up at Ebony.

  Ebony moaned. “That’s forever away.”

  I looked at the clock on the microwave. It was four-twenty-three.

  Mum chuckled. “Find yourself something, then.”

  “But won’t that ruin my dinner?” Ebony asked sarcastically.

  Mum and I shared a look before she told my little sister, “You’re fourteen. I think you can decide for yourself if you’re going to ruin your dinner.”

  “Ebs doesn’t do ruined dinner. She can eat for days,” I said with a laugh.

  Ebony frowned at me. “Calling me fat?”

  I scoffed. “I wish I could eat as much as you. Think of all the chocolate I could fit in!”

  Mum laughed and Ebony’s frown eased up.

  “Just practise some more,” Ebs said as she went to the fridge.

  “You just want to see her throw up again,” Mum chided.

  Ebony shrugged wildly. “What? Like watching her throw up after too much birthday cake wasn’t hilarious.”

  My phone went off and I looked at it to see a text from Blair saying she forgot to tell me she was on her way and she was nearly here.

  “Blair?” both Mum and Ebs asked and I nodded.

  “She’s coming around to help me chose a date outfit.”

  “Woo,” Mum cooed. “Exciting. Your second first date!”

  I stuck my tongue out at her. “Remind me of my recent heartache why not.”

  “If you’re so heartbroken,” came Ebony’s muffled voice from behind the fridge door. She emerged with her mouth full of what looked like leftover tiramisu, “why are you going out with some guy tonight?”

  “Because I’m moving on with my life. If Miles gets to have a new girlfriend, I get to go on one date.”

  Mum added, “It’s not like she’s marrying the guy, Ebs.”

  Ebony leant on the kitchen bench and looked Mum over. “Do we not care that she’s going on a date with another guy mere days after her long-term boyfriend dumped her?”

  Mum slid her eyes to me for a moment, then smiled at Ebony. “Avery’s dating choices are her own,” she said carefully. “Besides, she’s a good girl. Your dad and I never have to worry about her because the choices she makes are always good choices.”

  I didn’t want to be making good choices. But revealing the fact that going out with Davin was for that express purpose to my mother would hinder my ability to make not good choices. So I kept it to myself. It wasn’t like I was lying… Not really.

  “Uh huh,” Ebony huffed as the doorbell rang. “So we’re just going to let her go date some random guy, then.”

  “He’s not random. I’ve gone to school with him for like four years,” I answered.

  Mum opened her mouth, closed it, and then nodded to Ebony. “There you go, hun.”

  Ebony didn’t look convinced, but I didn’t need my little sister giving me dating advice. The doorbell rang again and I jumped before running to let Blair in.

  “What took you so long?” she whined dramatically as she closed the door behind her. “Do you not want to start tank–”

  “Shh!” I hissed as we walked passed the kitchen and stuck our heads in.

  “Hey, Blair,” Mum said, looking up.

  “Hey, Heather. How are you?” Blair asked.

  “Good, hun. How about you? Year Twelve treating you okay?”

  Blair nodded. “Three weeks in, it’s okay.”

  “Good to hear. You two have fun.”

  “We will!” I called as I grabbed Blair by the elbow and dragged her up to my room.

  “So I asked Grace if she had any clothes you could borrow…” Blair started. Grace was Blair’s older sister. The one who knew all about Goth stuff.

  “And?”

  “She shut the door in my face.”

  I nodded. Grace was like that. “Oh well. We’ll have to do me!”

  “Yay!” Blair squealed. “Plus didn’t Davin say he didn’t want you changing who you were?”

  I nodded at her as I pulled open the wardrobe. “He did.”

  “You know? That’s almost romantic…” Blair said.

  “What’s almost romantic?” Ebony asked as she wandered in.

  “Avery’s date,” Blair explained.

  “And does Ave’s date have a name? Or is he just one of your little sycophants?”

  Blair went up to Ebony and put an arm around her as I started pulling things out of the wardrobe. “So morbid, little Ebs.”

  Ebony glared at the world in general as I held up a dress for their opinion. “Are you going for the giant marshmallow look?” she asked me, completely unimpressed.

  I looked at the dress in question and decided that the marshmallow look on a first date, particularly with Davin Ambrose, was not the right look.

  “We’re going to need some help,” Blair said, all business-like, and I nodded in agreement.

  Blair put the music on and we went to work while Ebony sat on my bed and disapproved of everything we suggested. Not that I paid all that much attention to her, but I liked that she was hanging out with us even if it was to be purposefully unhelpful.

  It was a parade of outfits, hairstyles, shoes and accessories as we went through my entire wardrobe. Choosing an outfit for a date with Miles had never been that difficult. Ebony objected very vocally every time we tried to dress her up in one of my fluoro tops or neon scrunchies. But she was also begrudgingly laughing.

  At about six, Ebony moved from the bed and over to window seat while Blair finished my hair and helped me perfect my liquid eyeliner.

  “That’s your date?” I heard Ebony ask eventually and Blair and I rushed to the window.

  “Ohmigod! He’s here!” Blair cried, grabbing my arm and infecting me with enthusiasm.

&nbs
p; We jumped around for a few moments, excited that we were making good progress towards Step Three in trashing my reputation. Then I stopped to actually take in that Davin Ambrose was actually at my house to take me on a date.

  He was staring up at the house like it personally offended him. But I wasn’t focussed on that. I was focussed on what he was wearing.

  I’d never seen him out of school clothes – it was said he went to school parties, but they obviously weren’t ones I went to – and I wasn’t disappointed by what I saw. He was wearing dark jeans with a dark button up shirt, with only the top couple of buttons undone. The only bit of non-black he was wearing was the splash of white on his sneakers, and even then it was a dirty white. But even I knew enough about Converses to know they were supposed to be well-loved.

  As we watched, he raked his hand through his hair slowly, shook his head, and started towards the house.

  And it suddenly occurred to me that I was about to go on a date with Davin Ambrose. Like a date. With Davin Ambrose. My heart started beating a little harder as I grabbed my clutch.

  “You right?” Ebony asked me. “You just lost a little of your…pep.”

  Oh, yeah. Fine. I just needed to convince Davin to be my boyfriend and trash my reputation. Simple. But I could do this. I was going to do this. No more Little Miss Goody-Two-Shoes.

  I nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. Fine.” I grinned widely at her.

  “Ye-huh.” Ebony was obviously not convinced.

  I pulled myself together and Blair and I raced down the stairs, followed at a more sedate pace by Ebony.

  “Oh! One more layer of lip gloss,” Blair said and I paused at the mirror in the hall to touch up my makeup.

  Mum came out of the sitting room and smiled at me.

  “Is he–?” She was interrupted by the doorbell. “Yes, he is.”

  Mum, Blair and Ebony followed me to the front door and I pulled it open.

  “Hey, Davin,” I said with a big smile. “This is Ebony. You know Blair. And this is my mum, Heather.”

  He just nodded and stared at me like he had no idea where he was.

  Four: Davin

  Okay, so she looked great.

  But when did she not?

  Avery St John must have been born looking great.

  ‘Oh, nurse, we’ll just need to clean the baby before passing her to Mrs St John.’

  ‘No need, doctor. She’s perfect just the way she is.’

  Yeah, of course she was.

  There was thankfully no sign of whatever Blair and Avery thought Goths look liked these days. But I was hopeful that this was the most colourful she got because I couldn’t handle any more than that.

  She wore a cropped singlet thing covered in flowers and colours that assaulted the eyeballs while they were busy trying to cop too long a look at the smooth skin of her stomach. Her skirt was short and floaty and pink with a bow at the front. The monstrous heels on her feet were yellow and made you instantly forget the seemingly miles of leg you’d just got to perve on as you made your way down. Add to that the purple bow in her tumbling blonde curls and the little green bag she held and I felt like I was going to be ill.

  But she’d look great while I was doing it.

  Still. One date.

  I could do this.

  I felt totally underdressed, but I could do this.

  One date and we never had to talk again.

  “Hi,” I finally said because it had just occurred to me that she’d said hi when she opened the door and I’d been standing there ogling her like a total twonk in front of her mother, her best friend, and what I assumed was a little sister rather than just some rent-a-kid play-date.

  Avery giggled and I still didn’t much care for it. “Hey.”

  “You ready to go, then?” I asked her, keen to get this over with as quickly as possible.

  “You two have fun,” her mum said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes, and I nodded to her.

  Avery stepped outside and I’ll admit I didn’t hate the fact she wasn’t quite so short as usual. As we walked towards my car, I pretended I couldn’t feel the searing hot stares of the three we’d left at the door.

  “This is your car?” she asked and I looked at it like I’d forgotten if it was my car or not.

  I tried to regain some control over myself. “Yes. That okay?”

  She nodded as I opened the passenger door for her. “Yeah. It’s nice.”

  It wasn’t that nice. I mean it was a Jag, yes. But it wasn’t all that. And I only had a Jag because my dad hadn’t had the heart to get rid of my mum’s car after she’d died. Fast forward eleven years and he’s driving her old car because I refused to get in it, leaving his car – said Jag – waiting for me to drive.

  “Thanks.” To cover the sudden weirdness I felt at the thought of my mum, I added, “Backseat’s nice and roomy, never been used, stain-free guarantee,” gave her a wink and closed the door on her laugh. Hang on. “Do not cover weirdness with jokes. You’ll just encourage her.”

  I paused before I went to the driver’s side, totally conning myself that I was able to see through this nightmare.

  “Jesus. It’s just one date. How bad could it be?” I ask you.

  Taking a deep breath, I went around and got in the car.

  “You heard about the break up, then?” she asked as I started the car.

  Eventually the rumours had got around to even me. “Who didn’t? I think it’s about the only thing getting through the Great Firewall of China this week.”

  She snorted as though she’d actually understood me. “Wow. Thanks.”

  I shrugged and, when she’d been silent for too long, I snuck a look at her as I drove along to find her staring at me. “What?”

  She smiled almost wistfully. “Don’t know. Just wondering if you’re really as prickly as you come off.”

  I looked back at the road. “Pricklier.”

  “Is this the best version of you?”

  I nodded. “Definitely.”

  “I’d hate to see the worst, then,” she laughed.

  “Let me go back to my quiet existence after this and you won’t.”

  “You don’t scare me, Davin.”

  More’s the pity. “Good. I was only aiming for unapproachable.”

  She laughed again. “Oh, well then you’ve nailed it.”

  “Yet, here you are.”

  “Here I am.”

  I felt the corners of my mouth tugging weirdly as I snuck another look at her. But she just flashed me a smile with an unusual hint of insecurity in it and turned to look out the window.

  I took us down to the beach and found a park without any more unnecessary talking.

  As I watched her get out of the car, I wondered why on earth she’d worn such ridiculous shoes on a date she knew was happening on the beach.

  “Because it means you spend at least some of the night being less stupidly tall,” she answered and I was reminded my internal monologue and external dialogue often became confused. “And they have the added benefit of coming off easily.”

  “Unlike that top, I’ll bet,” popped out of my mouth.

  She gave me a crooked smile. “You can stop thinking about taking my top off.”

  “I promise I’m not.” Because I hadn’t been. I was very close to thinking about it now, though.

  “Come on. Let’s go.”

  I followed wherever she led. Which for starters was to the sand where she pulled off her shoes and dug her toes in.

  “You’re not taking yours off?”

  “My heels? No. I thought I’d leave them at home.”

  She laughed yet again. “No. Your shoes.”

  “Yeah, no.”

  She shrugged as she pulled the strap of her bag over her head so it sat across her body. “Suit yourself.”

  “Trust me, I will,” I muttered as I followed her overly enthusiastic person down the beach.

  It was li
ke she found goodness and excitement in something as boringly mundane as the beach at sunset. Did she not realise this happened here every day? She was either skipping or waving her arms around or – God help me – holding my hand or arm while she pointed at something she wanted me to look at.

  There was even a single-handed hand stand at one point which took me completely off-guard when she said, “Oh! Oh! Okay. Watch this.”

  Shoes in one hand, she’d just thrown herself into it and I’d watched, temporarily spellbound, as gravity took hold. Her bag wasn’t the only thing that fell towards her head and I took in a decent view of her black undies. Then she was right way up and smiling at me.

  “You, uh…” I coughed. “You do know how gravity works, right?” I asked and she cocked her head at me in confusion. I pointed to her skirt. “Black panties were a nice touch.”

  Her face flared pink and she turned back and forth from me so many times I wasn’t sure if she was going to just walk away and leave me there, or if she was going to come back with some rebuttal.

  “I… Uh…” She huffed a self-conscious laugh as she smoothed her skirt like that was going to make it stay in place regardless of the Earth’s gravitational force. “So, you know that assignment we had to do for Miss Nithin?” she started more confidently as she kept walking and she didn’t stop talking.

  I don’t even know what we talked about. Avery had this uncanny ability to just talk and talk. Anytime there was a slight pause in the mostly one-sided conversation, she found something with which to fill it. As I watched her, I had to wonder if it was just her inanity showing, or if she was covering nervousness with that motor mouth.

  But whatever was behind the never-ending stream of consciousness emanating from her mouth, I found myself with answers for her. Whatever the answers were, they made her laugh too often and I was just working out how to stop doing that when she pointed to the road and I saw a shop.

  She skipped up to it and was ready to order by the time I got to her. The man behind the counter frowned as she went up to him, still with that skip in her step. But as soon as she’d said, “Hi, how are you?” and turned that blinding smile on him, he was smiling back like she’d just made his day.