Being Not Good: as opposed to being bad

by Elizabeth Stevens

  “No.”

  “But a date tomorrow.”

  I nodded. “I avoided detention for it and everything,” I said with sarcastic joy.

  “Only just, I’ll bet.”

  “Exactly what are you suggesting, Avery?”

  She giggled. “The goat was a nice touch.”

  I blinked slowly. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She was having trouble taming that smile and there was something about it that I didn’t absolutely, completely, entirely hate. “I’m sure you don’t.”

  “Mr Ambrose!” came the very familiar, dulcet shriek of our vice principal, Mrs Mack. “Will you stop harassing the other students?”

  Avery sniggered as she looked to Mrs Mack, then back at me. “Yes, Davin. Will you?”

  “Not likely,” I told her before crushing her to the lockers and kissing her hard.

  Her arms wound around the back of my neck as she melted against me and I momentarily forgot every heavy thing that weighed me down. All my past, present and future issues faded into inconsequentiality as she kissed me back the way a good girl really wasn’t supposed to do.

  Once again I was left wishing I hadn’t started this at school. I wanted to be very far away from the school hallway where there were a shit tonne of eyes on us, not in the least the vice principal who already had the same amount of time for me as I had for most other people on the planet. I wanted Avery somewhere I didn’t have to think about being respectable. I wanted her somewhere I could really show her what it was like to be not good.

  But I didn’t actually think most of that at the time, I was too busy being wrapped up in everything that was Avery to the point even whatever sickly sweet perfume she wore did more to turn me on than it did turn me off just then. Until…

  “Mr Ambrose! This is a school corridor, not a red-light district back alley!”

  Avery pushed me away gently, still with a barely suppressed smirk on her face. She licked her lip self-consciously and turned to my nemesis.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs Mack,” she said in that nauseatingly sweet tone. But of course, the majority of the human population think that sort of thing’s adorable so Mrs Mack’s expression softened somewhat in the face of it. “We…We didn’t mean to…”

  Avery put her hand on my sternum softly and I looked down at it like I wasn’t sure what it was or what it was doing there.

  “Is everything all right, Miss St John?” Mrs Mack looked her over like I’d been beating her senseless rather than just kissing her.

  Avery nodded. Her face was that perfect mix of innocence and naiveté that made people think she was incapable of higher brain function. “Yes. Fine. Uh…honeymoon period, you see.”

  “Honeymoon…?” Mrs Mack looked between the two of us in shock.

  Avery nodded eagerly. “Yes. Davin and I are dating.”

  Had I actually remembered how to laugh, I might have at the look on Mrs Mack’s face. The tall, stern woman was not one to be messed with. She looked like she’d attempted to style herself after Miss Trunchbull – and if you don’t know who she is, go and rent Matilda or however you young people watch movies these days – although she was younger, prettier and had less a propensity for bullying minors. But in the face of Avery’s overwhelming virtue, she was having trouble reconciling the idea that that very same virtue and I were dating.

  “Young love, huh?” I added and Avery elbowed me surreptitiously.

  Mrs Mack’s eyes narrowed as she looked at me. “Indeed. Might I suggest you refrain from overly amorous displays in the corridors in future, Mr Ambrose?”

  “You can certainly suggest it, ma’am,” I replied.

  Mrs Mack took a deep breath, but just walked away like it was taking every ounce of her strength.

  Avery whacked me in the chest and I looked down at her. “What?”

  “I thought you were avoiding detention?”

  I shrugged. “She’s given up detaining me of a Friday afternoon for a bit of lip. You on the other hand…”

  “Me, what?” she asked.

  “You want a lesson? That right there? Stop that.”

  Avery looked legitimately confused. “Stop what?”

  “With the doe eyes and radiating…goodness.”

  “What doe eyes?”

  “She doesn’t know she’s doing it,” I tell you. Although, I’m sure you’d already figured that out. Avery looked around for a moment. “We’ll…work on it. Okay?” I told her. Because I could totally work out how to make that into a proper lesson at some point because I was quite clearly a professionally trained behaviour therapist and this sort of thing was totally normal and safe.

  She nodded, giving me a wide smile. “Okay. Sure.”

  I shrugged my laptop strap back onto my shoulder properly and cleared my throat. “I’m going to…” I pointed down the hall.

  “Just don’t get detention this week, yeah?” she teased and I gave her a condescending look.

  “I’ll let you do whatever you goddamned want and expect the same in return. Thanks.”

  She grinned and it was more of that wry and calculating again. I gave her a terse nod and started to walk away.

  “Davin?”

  I turned back with a sigh. “Avery?”

  She tapped her cheek and – “Seriously?” – I gave her a questioning look to which she just gave a single nod. I sighed heavily, decided to rebel by kissing her lips instead of the proffered cheek, and stalked away, hoping I could avoid her for the rest of the day.

  I managed in person – my phone was less lucky – and got to Gran’s a little after five – “Segue.”

  “Gran?” I called as I let myself in. Flint meowed at me as though my appearance was a heinous violation of the tenuous treaty we had employed and I nodded at him. “Flint.”

  “Davin, that you?”

  “No,” I called back as I headed for the kitchen to put the shopping away and check whatever was in the oven. I noticed Flint followed me as though he hoped I was purveyor of tuna again.

  “You know, one day someone else is going to say that and I’m just going to let them wander around my house until they murder me,” Gran said idly and I turned to see her walk into the kitchen wearing a wry smirk.

  Gran was still tall. Not as tall as me, granted, but she was still a fiercely formidable woman. She’d given up dying her hair three years earlier and made the sudden and dramatic change to a silver shot through with dark grey that she wore in a loose bun. I’d inherited her green eyes, though she kept hers behind tortoiseshell rims. She always wore trousers and a jumper and, when we were at home, her ugg boots.

  “Unlikely.” I went to her and let her give me a hug and kiss my cheek. “Flint will shred their skin to ribbons first.”

  “No, dear,” she replied. “That’s just you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Thanks.”

  She pushed me to arms’ length and looked me over. “You look good.”

  “I look no different than I did last night. Or the night before. Or the night before that.”

  “So? I can’t tell you that you look good now?”

  I huffed as I pulled two glasses down from the cupboard and went to the fridge. “You know you can do and say whatever you want.” I sounded epically pissed off, but the statement was no less true for my lack of warmth.

  “How was school today?”

  “No update?” I said with a ghost of a smirk as I poured her gin and tonic.

  “Not today. But you’d know that. Unless they just didn’t catch you?” she sniggered.

  I passed her glass over and went to pour myself a water. “I am a model pupil, Gran. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Gran snorted and I looked at her through the hair hanging in my face to see her smiling widely. “On paper, sure. So,” she pressed. “What tests did you ace?”

  “None today.”

  “Have you got any n
ews?”

  “I’m sure I have plenty of news. It highly depends upon your definition of news.”

  “At this point, I don’t care. If I don’t have to drag it out of you with the force of a two tonne truck, then I’ll be happy to hear how many times you made use of the little boy’s room today.” Gran glared at me over the rim of her glass as she took a demure sip and I sighed as I put the water jug back in the fridge.

  “Fine. I have a…girlfriend. Happy?” I asked while I wasn’t facing her.

  A very uncharacteristic noise that was close to a squeal popped out of my reserved yet loving grandmother. By the time I’d turned to look at her, she’d composed herself. “A girlfriend?” she clarified nonchalantly.

  “Don’t get excited. It’s nothing special.”

  “Davin,” she chastised firmly.

  I shrugged as I led the way into the family room. “What?”

  “You know you don’t treat a woman like that.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Good. Because I don’t care what scars lie in your past, young man, nor how deep they run. No grandson of mine was brought up to disrespect a lady.”

  I waited for her to sit before I did. “It’s not like that.”

  “Then you explain to me what it’s like before I remind you of the proper behaviour. Emphasised by my foot up your backside.” Gran was frowning hard and I sincerely wished I hadn’t brought up anything about Avery.

  “She’s–”

  “The cat’s mother?” was delivered seamlessly.

  I glared at her and huffed “–called Avery,” I finished, my tone telling her to can it if she wanted any more details. “And she’s…unique.”

  “For a boy so smart, your vocabulary has certainly deserted you tonight, hasn’t it?”

  “Avery is…a vivacious, genuinely compassionate young woman. Her outfit choices, while making me thoroughly nauseated, would lift your soul to new heights. She constantly sees the good in people and refuses to be anything but an optimist.”

  Gran nodded solemnly. “Well I suppose that explains how she ended up with you.”

  “Your encouragement, as always, prompts me to excel,” I told her wryly.

  She laughed. “Your account was intended to make me think the two of you were poorly matched. You and your firm understanding of linguistic semantics,” she teased, “ensured that. Don’t go pretending otherwise.”

  “It’s not like I…hate spending time with her.”

  “You’re attracted to her,” she said simply, no doubt having no delusions about what went through my mind when I thought about Avery.

  To quote a brother in Byronic-arms, “She’s handsome enough.”

  Gran snorted. “A glowing review by all accounts.” She put her glass down. “But she deserves better from you if you’re going to date her, Davin. If you don’t like her that way, then don’t string her along.”

  I was fairly sure that Avery wouldn’t take ‘I’m just not that into you’ as a reason for ending our social experiment. As far as she knew, I saw zero redeeming qualities in her or the time we spent together, and she seemed quite happy with the arrangement the way it was.

  “If you knew Avery, you’d know that was not a problem.”

  “So she knows you well?”

  “Better than I’d like.”

  Gran nodded. “All right then.”

  When I realised she was looking at me expectantly I sighed, “What?”

  “I suppose it’s too much to ask that your grandmother meet your girlfriend?”

  I knew it would hurt her if I said no. But neither did I want her meeting the saccharine goodness that was Avery St John and falling in love with the tornado of liveliness only for it to end. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it from the position of Avery meeting my grandmother either. I had a sinking feeling that they’d be enamoured with each other. A part of me wanted to be a part of that. But when Avery’s reputation was ruined and we went our separate ways?

  I didn’t say anything for long enough that Gran nodded. “I understand, dear.”

  “No,” I said too quickly, pained by the dejection in her voice. “It’s only new. We’ll see how it goes. All right?”

  Gran smiled warmly and the heaviness left my heart for a moment. “Wonderful.”

  Yeah, was it?

  Nine: Avery

  Davin did his best to avoid me at school unless he was kissing me in the middle of the hallway. He also made sure he radiated hostility to anyone who came near him except me. But he answered almost every message I sent him and he was waiting for me after last lesson on Friday to drive me to his house for our date.

  He spent the whole drive there in silence, his eyes focussed on the road like that gave him an excuse to not look at or talk to me. I covered his silence by waffling the long-winded story about the time the St Johns drove to Melbourne and Ebony’s car sickness set off mine. I was under no delusions that Davin was actually interested in the story, but once I’d started I couldn’t stop and he didn’t stop me at any point.

  Eventually, Davin pulled into the driveway of a nice little place with a sweeping lawn out the front and some rose bushes in neatly manicured sections of garden. I looked over it as he parked and wondered what his home life was like. The house was nicer than I’d have expected given the way he acted at school.

  “Okay.” Davin cleared his throat as he swung out of the car and I followed him. “So, my house.”

  “It’s nice,” was all I could think of to say, and it’s not like I was lying.

  “Sure.” He unlocked the door and held it open while I ducked under his arm and inside. “I’m going to change. Make yourself at home.”

  He started heading off and I looked around. “Bathroom?”

  He paused and looked back at me. “Already?”

  I clucked my tongue. “I was also going to change. If that’s okay?”

  “You can change in my room.”

  “Bathroom’s fine.”

  He nodded and pointed to the right. “Through there.”

  “Thanks.”

  We hovered for a moment where I thought he was going to say something else, then he gave a curt nod and walked off. I wandered through the kitchen and into the laundry, off which was a half-bathroom.

  I changed and headed back out to find Davin in the kitchen in a very similar outfit to the one he’d worn on our previous date, minus the shoes. He was staring almost contemplatively at the fridge and only turned when I dropped my bag on the floor at the end of the kitchen counter.

  “Taste the fucking rainbow,” he muttered as he looked me over, then sighed. “You want anything? Drink? Something to eat?”

  I shook my head. “No thanks. All good.”

  He nodded and went back to looking in the fridge. “I usually have pizza when Dad’s gone. That okay for dinner later?”

  “You have pizza every night for two weeks?”

  He closed the fridge and fixed one of his patent stares on me. “I’m not usually home when he’s not.”

  I felt my cheeks flush and looked down for a moment. “Oh.”

  “Jesus,” he huffed. “No. I’m usually at my grandmother’s. I get to sleep at home, but I still have to have dinner with her most nights.”

  So it wasn’t just a Sunday night thing, then.

  I looked up and smiled at the thought. “Really?”

  He shifted like he was uncomfortable. “Really.”

  “You’re close with her then?”

  Davin looked almost surprised by that question. “Yes. Most days we’re in the same room.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that and you know it.”

  He shrugged. “We…keep an eye on each other.”

  He didn’t say any more and I didn’t really know what to say. So we both stood in silence for a while. I tried to think of something to talk to him about. I hadn’t had this problem the weekend before. I’d been fine comi
ng up with things to talk about, even if he hadn’t really said much back. But for some reason, I was finding it more difficult just then.

  “So what’s today’s lesson?” I finally asked him and he looked at me like he’d been hoping I’d forgotten all about it.

  “Lesson?”

  “It’s a date, so doesn’t that mean a lesson?”

  “Today’s lesson is for me,” he said sourly after a pause.

  “How does that help me be not good?”

  Davin sighed, walked towards me, lifted me onto the kitchen counter behind me, and planted his hands on either side of me. “How am I supposed to know how to make you less good if I don’t know what makes you so good in the first place?” he asked me.

  “Huh.” I looked him over and tried not to get distracted by his proximity. “Good point.”

  He nodded once, apparently not at all affected by my proximity. “So?”

  “So, what?”

  “When Miles called you too good, what do you think he meant? What do you want to change? What makes you too good?”

  I thought about it. “I’ve never been drunk!” I said quickly.

  “Okay…” he said slowly, definitely surprised. “Well that one’s certainly easy enough to change. Next?”

  “People treat me like I’m stupid.”

  “Sure. But we can’t do anything about that unless we change the why,” he said slowly. “So why do people treat you like you’re stupid?”

  “Because…I’m always happy?”

  “Why would that make them think you’re stupid?”

  I didn’t know. I just assumed it played a part. I shrugged, feeling like I was letting him down.

  “Ignorance is bliss?” he offered and I frowned in confusion. “People assume happy people are too stupid to grasp reality, which is why they’re so happy all the time. No sense of understanding means no worries.”

  I nodded. “So I need to be…depressed?”

  He rolled his eyes. “We’re making you less good, not turning you into me. No. You just need to show people you do understand the things that go on around you. Provided you do understand them of course,” he added ruefully.

  “I think so,” I grumbled.

  “I think so, too. What else makes you too good?”