“I’m sure I’ll find something. Maybe we can look this weekend.”
“Oh, yes! I know the perfect shop, it sells these gorgeous labels …”
That was about when I zoned out and stared out the window. That was another difference between me and my so-not-identical twin. She loved shopping; I hated it.
The houses rolled past, all jammed up tight against their neighbours on their tiny little blocks. There weren’t many big trees, though everyone had neat gardens and cute little brick walls. That was the trouble with new developments—no trees. No history. Everything looked like it had just been plonked down yesterday, and could just as easily disappear tomorrow. A bit like me, really.
“Did you ask your parents?” Ashleigh’s voice was a whiny little buzz-saw, slicing into my thoughts again.
“Oh, they won’t mind,” CJ said airily. “We go to lots of parties.”
Maybe in Townsville, where we knew everyone. She hadn’t mentioned any party to Mum and Dad that I’d heard of. What were they talking about?
“Fantastic!” Ashleigh gushed. “He put it on Facebook. Everyone’s going. You should see his place—it’s a mansion! He’s got a pool and a jacuzzi and like ten bedrooms! It’s going to be awesome.”
I swung round and gave my sister a hard look. “Whose party’s this?”
“Some guy called Josh.”
Ashleigh laughed. “Some guy? Only the hottest guy in the school. Josh Johnson.” She got this gooey look on her face when she said his name, like it tasted good. “He’s the school captain, in case you haven’t noticed.”
I hadn’t, but then I wasn’t in the habit of paying much attention in school assemblies. I don’t know when else I could have discovered who the school captains were. It’s not as if they walked around with flashing signs above their heads.
At the next stop a dark-haired girl got on. She was in Year 11, like us, but I didn’t know her name. The bus was pretty full that morning, but the seat next to me was empty, so she tramped down the aisle and stood swaying next to me, a friendly smile on her face.
“Mind if I sit here?”
I shrugged. Why did people ask questions like that? She was obviously going to sit down whatever I said.
“I’m Sona. You’re new, aren’t you?”
“Yep.”
Her skin was a deep warm brown. Next to hers, my arm was so pale it practically glowed.
“What’s your name?”
She was certainly persistent. Either that or my leave me alone vibes needed work. “Vi.”
“Vi? Is that short for something?”
“Yeah, but we don’t need to go there.”
“It can’t be that bad. Did you know there’s a girl in our year called Dream? Her parents must have hated her.”
She was grinning at me, ready to share the joke. I sighed. Here we go again, making friends at a new school. Did I really want to go through this again? What was the point, when we’d probably be moving on in a year or less, whatever Mum promised? But she had such a friendly face, it seemed rude to just ignore her. “Parents are weird sometimes.”
“I know, right? Mine named me after some Indian actress.”
“Are you Indian?”
She laughed. “Me personally? No. True-blue Aussie. Mum and Dad are. They came out about twenty years ago and I was born here. My grandparents back in Delhi think it’s a scandal that I can’t speak a word of Hindi. Every time they visit they jabber away at me and then get shocked all over again when I don’t answer. Poor Dad gets into so much trouble.”
She had the biggest brown eyes I’d ever seen, and now they glinted with mischief. I kind of liked her, but who knew if we’d even be sitting the HSC at this school? And that was only a year away. I’d lost count of the number of times I’d gotten attached to people, only to have them ripped away by Mum and Dad’s stupid jobs.
I looked out the window, hoping she’d get the hint, but apparently she didn’t do hints.
“Is that your sister?” She jerked her head at CJ.
“Yep.”
“She in Year 12?”
“No, Year 11, same as me. We’re twins.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Right. And she’s the ugly twin?”
Now that sounded like my kind of person. A smile twitched at my lips. “Obviously.”
She grinned. “Sucks to be you, huh?”
I liked the way she thought. “Got it in one.”
“Eh, could be worse. My brother’s at Sydney Uni, studying to be a doctor. My parents think the sun shines out of his butt. And he speaks Hindi. All I hear is why can’t you be more like your brother, Sona?”
“Bummer.”
“Yeah. Hey, Zac!” Suddenly distracted, she poked a boy sitting on the other side of the aisle. “You coming to robotics club today?”
He turned around, an angry frown on his face, but when he saw who’d poked him he smiled and pulled his earphones out.
“What’d you say?”
He was tall and tanned, and had brown hair that flopped in his eyes. Might be time for a haircut. If he hadn’t smiled I wouldn’t have looked twice, but his smile lit up his whole face, and the cutest dimple peeped out. I took a deep breath; I was a sucker for dimples.
“Are-you-coming-to-robotics-club?” Sona repeated, as if speaking to a very small and rather stupid child.
“You don’t have to sound like a robot just because you’re talking about robotics, you know,” he said.
She pulled a face at him. “So helpful, Zac.”
He threw her a mock salute. “Always happy to be of service.”
His eyes slid sideways, checking me out. They were a warm, delicious brown that made me think of dark chocolate. Mmmm. Chocolate.
“So are you?”
“Sure. You?”
“As long as I get my maths homework finished at recess.” She turned to me. “What about you? Are you interested in robotics?”
I shrugged. “Some.”
They’d die if they saw Dad’s workshop—so many tools, so many gadgets. Some of them I’d made myself. It would be kind of fun. Dimple-boy smiled at me, and my heart skipped a beat. No, don’t be stupid, Vi. What’s the point of getting all excited about new people, even if they do share your interests? You’ll only have to leave again. But robotics … I’d never been in a robotics club before.
“When is it?” I wasn’t committing to anything. Just asking.
“Lunch time.” Sona grabbed my arm in excitement and squeezed. “Oh, my God! Another girl in the robotics club. Someone sensible to talk to! This is going to be so great!”
Well, she seemed to think I was committed. We’d see. Gently I extracted my arm as she continued to talk, flitting from subject to subject with what I was beginning to realise was her natural enthusiasm.
“Did you hear about that girl in the mountains?” she asked.
“What girl?” Guess there was no breakfast TV allowed at Zac’s house.
“The one that was found in the glass coffin. It’s like she’s a fairytale princess, just waiting for her prince to come and wake her up. So romantic.” She frowned. “Not that we approve of princesses lying around snoozing and waiting to be rescued, of course.”
“Of course,” Zac agreed.
Oh, my God, that dimple was killing me. How could a smile make such a difference to a person’s face?
“What happened when she woke up?” Zac asked.
“That’s just it. She hasn’t. They say she’s in some kind of a coma.”
“So why was she lying in a coffin?”
“Nobody knows.”
He folded his arms, and I couldn’t help noticing the muscles move beneath his tanned skin. Sometimes it seemed as though everyone in Australia had a tan except me. And Dad, of course.
“Who puts someone in a coffin when they’re in a coma? That’s just sick.”
You tell ’em, Zac. The world was full of weirdos.
“I know, but isn’t it strange, that it’s just like a fa
iry tale? Imagine if magic was real, and fairy tales did come true.”
“I don’t know if that would be so great,” he said. “Don’t most people in fairy tales get cooked in a witch’s oven, or eaten by a giant, or something? It’s not all princes and glass slippers, you know.”
She screwed up her face at him. “God, Zac. My cat has more imagination than you.”
He shrugged and slipped his earphones back in as the bus pulled up outside school. There was a thunder of feet as we piled off, and Sona waved as she walked away.
“Don’t forget robotics! Lunch time in Room D27.”
Maybe, maybe not. I waved back and headed for the library. Once I was out of CJ’s sight I pulled her black headband out of my pocket and put it on.
CHAPTER THREE
I hadn’t lost my locker in days, and I was feeling quite proud of myself. Though small by Sydney standards, this was the biggest school I’d ever been to, and I’d been to a few. There were four massive main buildings spread out among the gum trees. Each one was built in a rectangle around a central courtyard. They were all two storeys, with a balcony-style walkway running around the inside of the top storey, so each classroom opened into the fresh air. On rainy days everyone hugged the wall trying to keep dry as rain slanted in over the railings. At least on the bottom level the overhanging walkway kept you relatively dry.
Then there was the canteen building, which also housed the change rooms and an indoor basketball court, plus half a dozen portable classrooms scattered around the grounds to accommodate the school’s growth. The final building was a school hall that was only just big enough to fit all the students inside.
Lining the lower levels of all the buildings except for A block and the canteen were lockers painted in rainbow-bright colours which would have suited a preschool better than a high school, but whatever. Mine was in E block, a violent red. I was ramming my maths textbook into it at the start of lunchtime when someone opened the bright yellow one two lockers away.
“Hi again,” said a deep voice.
It was Zac.
“Oh, hi.” I hadn’t realised his locker was so close. I’d never seen him use it before. It was one of the lower ones, and he had to crouch down, his long fringe falling forward over his eyes as he extracted something from its depths with great care. He looked so cute. Why had I ever thought he needed a haircut?
The thing seemed to have gotten stuck. “You need a hand there?”
“No, I’m fine.”
He tugged, and something broke off and skittered across the concrete to finish up against my shoe. I picked it up.
“What is that?”
In his hands was some kind of machine, roughly egg-shaped, with three small wheels. He tucked it under one arm and slammed his locker shut with the other.
He grinned, and the dimple peeped out again. “This? It’s my demented chicken.”
“Really?” I handed back the little piece of metal that had fallen off. His definition of “chicken” must be fairly fluid, even allowing for the “demented” part.
“It’s an automatic vacuum cleaner I’m building in robotics. You coming?” He strode off, and my legs just started following without my brain having any input at all. What happened to not making new friends? But he had such a cute butt.
Oh, well, that was a good reason for changing your mind. Well done, Vi.
He looked back and I felt my cheeks flush with heat. Hopefully he hadn’t caught me staring.
“Slow down,” I said. “Your legs are longer than mine.”
He waited for me, then matched his stride to mine. See? He’s a nice guy. It’s not all about the looks.
“So tell me more about this vacuum cleaner. Why do you call it a demented chicken?”
“That was Sona’s idea. It sorts small objects out from dirt, but it’s still a bit wobbly. She says it looks like a chicken pecking up crumbs.”
“What sort of small objects are we talking? How big?”
He grinned, and my heart did a little flip. Oh, for God’s sake, what are you, twelve? You’ve met cute guys before.
“Lego-sized. My little brother keeps complaining that every time Mum vacuums he loses another piece of Lego, so I said I’d invent a vacuum cleaner to fix the problem.”
“Has he tried not leaving them on the floor?”
“He’s six.”
“Fair enough. I guess the demented chicken is the way to go, then.”
“Anything’s better than stepping on bits of Lego in your bare feet.”
“Ouch.” I winced in sympathy. We’d never had Lego at home, being more of a Barbie household, but I’d experienced that particular treat at other people’s places. Not exactly fond memories. “Remind me not to take my shoes off at your place.”
Oh, God, had I really just said that? I hardly knew the guy. Now he was going to think I wanted him to invite me over. We were walking past the canteen. Maybe I should suddenly remember I had to buy some lunch. The urge to run away nearly overwhelmed me. That telltale warmth flooded my cheeks again. Great. The truly wonderful thing about being so fair-skinned was that there was no hiding it when you blushed.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll make sure to deploy the chicken before you arrive.”
I could hardly look at him, but there was warmth in those dark brown eyes.
“Scout’s honour,” he added, holding up his free hand as if taking an oath.
There was something suspicious about that grin now.
“Were you ever a Boy Scout?”
“Do we really have to go into the details?”
I laughed. I liked a guy with a sense of humour. “You weren’t, were you?”
“Maybe not. But I bet I would have made a great one. All that knot-tying and cookie-selling and …”
“And?”
“And … whatever else they do. Okay, so I don’t know much about it.”
“I believe they go camping.” We left the dazzling sunshine of the playground and entered D block. A large tropical-looking garden sprawled in the centre of the courtyard, basking in the spring sunshine. There was an almost identical one in B block, which had caused some confusion in my first couple of days last week. “And hiking.”
Someone was hanging over the railing of the upper floor, overlooking the courtyard. All the buildings were like this, with open-air walkways outside the classrooms instead of enclosed hallways. That someone began to wave madly when she caught sight of us. Sona.
“Hey, you brought her!” she called to Zac. “That’s great!”
We started to climb the stairs, our footsteps echoing in the empty stairwell. “Is she always so …?”
“Enthusiastic? Well, she is the only girl in the club, and some of the guys are … how shall I put this? Great at robotics, not so great at conversation. And Sona does like to have a chat.”
“Yeah, I’d noticed that.”
“You do like robotics, don’t you? You’re not just coming because she pressured you?”
With those dark eyes full of concern, it suddenly seemed impossible to tell him that I’d only planned to come to check it out. As we reached the classroom I reassured him that I loved robotics.
“In that case, welcome to the robotics club.” He took my hand in a firm handshake, then his solemn expression dissolved into a grin. That dimple peeped out again.
Sona threw an arm around my shoulders. “Come on in and meet the gang.”
I went with her, my hand still tingling from Zac’s touch.
***
I got out the lasagne at six. Mum and Dad weren’t home but I couldn’t wait any longer. I was starving.
“Dad makes the world’s best lasagne,” CJ said.
I would have agreed, but I was too busy shovelling it into my face to talk.
“Did you leave some for Mum and Dad?” she asked.
I wiped my mouth. “If you wanted to play Mother, you could have defrosted and served it yourself, instead of lying on the lounge watching TV. It’s a bit
late to be concerned when you’ve already eaten half of it.”
She waved her hand. “Dad usually takes care of it.”
“Yeah, it must be so nice to be you, always being waited on.”
She considered me for a moment, dark head tipped to one side, then sighed. “You always get like this when we move. The minute I open my mouth you jump straight down my throat. Could you please try to remember that moving wasn’t my idea?”
“I do not always get like this.” Even to me, that sounded defensive. “And I’m not like anything.”
“Starting over sucks. I get that. You can always hang out with me and my friends if you get stuck.”
I bit back a nasty comment about her taste in friends. She was trying to be nice. “Thanks.”
“So how did it go today?”
I shrugged. “My physics teacher doesn’t know his arse from his ankle, but otherwise it was all right. I joined the robotics club at lunch.”
“Full of boys with no social skills?”
“Actually there’s one girl. Sona. She sat next to me on the bus. She seems okay.”
“The Indian girl with the beautiful hair?”
Trust CJ to notice that. My sister wasn’t at all obsessed with personal appearance.
“Yeah.”
“Her plait is so long she was actually sitting on it!” Her eyes filled with a brief longing. “Ashleigh says she’s just a brainiac, though.”
I bristled on my new friend’s behalf. “Oh, well, if Ashleigh says! Guess I’d better dump her then, if Little Miss Forked Tongue doesn’t approve.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, don’t be so prickly. I didn’t say I believed her.” She pushed her empty plate away and leaned back with a satisfied sigh. “What are you going to wear to the party tomorrow night?”
“The one the school captain’s throwing? John or James or whatever his name is?”
“Josh. Josh Johnson.”
Uh-oh. Her voice had that same sickly sweetness as Ashleigh’s had when she said his name.
“Who said I’m going? The guy’s a jerk. Why would you want to go to his party?”
“Because it’s a party? You know, somewhere you go to have fun? And you need to get out and meet people so you can stop being so bitter and twisted. I heard he’s going to have a keg.”
The Fairytale Curse (Magic's Return Book 1) Page 2
