‘Or we could go another day, if you want?’ he starts behind me, but I shake my head.
For the rest of the trip home, I don’t say anything.
How did my life get so messed up? The best movie of the decade is on, and I have no-one to see it with. It would be too weird to go with George and his friends. And who else would see it with me? It’s not as if I’m about to ask Briana and Phoebe.
The house is dead quiet when I come home. Mum’s out the back digging up the compost.
I drop my bag, pull off my jumper and check my mobile in case Briana tried to call while I was on the bus. No messages. No hint that she has anything to tell me.
I check the tiny red globe on the landline, but it’s not blinking.
Briana’s not online either. I find myself gazing past the flickering screen, thinking back through all the times I’ve logged on and Briana hasn’t been there. Was she hanging out with Phoebe instead, or talking to her on the phone? Phoebe knew all about the wrapper in Lucy’s room, and it sure wasn’t me who told her. When have they been speaking about this stuff? It’s not as if they get much time alone at school. They must have been speaking after school and on the weekend. Without me.
Now that I think about it, Briana hasn’t called me much lately. I’m the one who’s been calling her. But I didn’t realise it meant anything. I didn’t realise I’d been replaced as her best friend.
A long sigh escapes. For all I know she’s talking to Phoebe right now. How long has this been going on? It’s as if my best friend’s been cheating on me. Saying stuff to Phoebe behind my back. My stomach gets all twisted and tight.
I grab my phone and select Lucy’s name. When Phoebe started hanging out with us at school, I told Lucy all about it. She knew exactly what to say.
The phone rings for ages, then goes through to her voicemail. I hang up, then dial again.
Voicemail. When it beeps I take a breath and say, ‘Hi. It’s me. Erin. Call me back?’
I keep my phone with me all evening in case Lucy calls.
On Saturday morning, I wake up early and check my mobile. Nothing.
I lie in bed for a while, listening to Saturday morning pings and bangs in the kitchen. Still in my pyjamas, I check the landline in case someone left a message.
Nothing again.
Of course not. Lucy’s started her brand-new life. She’s too busy to call me.
I spin away from the hall table. Why would I want to talk to Lucy anyway? And who cares what’s happened to Briana? It’s none of my business. Let them do what they want. I don’t need them.
I’m still grumbling to myself when I pad into the kitchen. Mum looks up, spoon hovering. It’s just the weekend, and already her hair is perfectly blow-dried. Not one eyelash out of place. She looks like she’s ready for the Oscars, not just bumming around at home.
Her face relaxes into a smile. ‘Morning, sweetheart.’
‘Morning.’ I breathe in the warm smells of bacon and toast.
Dad drains the last mouthful of coffee and reaches over to kiss my forehead. ‘How’s my gorgeous girl?’
‘Daaad,’ I groan.
‘I know, I know!’ He lifts both hands. ‘Not allowed to say that anymore.’ He turns to Mum and winks. ‘Even if you are …’
My eyes go up to the ceiling. Someone save me?
Dad stands up from the bench and turns to me. ‘Do you know what George is up to today? My laptop’s been so slow lately.’
I shrug. ‘He’s going to the movies.’
‘Right, well … if you see him, ask him to pop round, okay?’
‘Sure.’ A bag of fruit loaf is sitting on the bench. I pull out a couple of pieces and slide them into the toaster.
‘Superb coffee, hon.’ Dad squeezes Mum’s shoulders and kisses her on the lips. ‘I’m off to tennis.’
‘Bye, Andy.’ Mum watches him leave with that dopey look in her eyes that she always gets when Dad’s around.
The toast pops so I pick it up, grab the butter and settle onto a stool.
The only sound is a knife scraping against toast, but I sense Mum watching me. Bed-hair and pyjamas. Messing up the place.
‘So, Erin, what’s on the agenda today?’ she asks.
No idea. I shrug. All I want to do is escape into Hero Quest and forget about everything.
‘I’m heading to the supermarket, if you want to come?’
My nose scrunches. ‘That’s hardly fair.’
‘Why?’
‘Dad gets to play tennis while you get stuck with the shopping?’
‘Oh, Erin …’ Mum breathes out through her nose. ‘Your father works incredibly hard all week. He deserves a bit of downtime.’
‘So do you,’ I insist, though I’m wasting my energy. If she doesn’t want to fight for her rights, there’s nothing I can do to save her.
After a while, Mum puts down her mug. ‘So how are you doing?’
How am I? Completely crap. The whole world’s gone insane and I’m stuck in the middle. My mouth is full of toast so I just make vague noises.
She’s still watching me closely, her head to one side. ‘Everything’s so different now that Lucy’s moved out, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah.’ She can say that again. An image flashes in my mind of Lucy in her flat, having a coffee and chatting happily with her flatmate Pia.
‘Are you missing her?’ Mum asks.
Heaps. But that makes it even worse, because I can tell Lucy doesn’t feel the same. When she called the other day she spoke to Mum way longer than she spoke to me.
I put down my toast, and sigh. ‘Are you?’
‘Of course. I miss seeing her every day. I miss our talks, you know?’
I have to look away when she says that, a lump forming in my throat as I imagine them sitting down together, having a heart-to-heart without me. Lucy telling Mum everything about her and Josh.
And, suddenly, I can’t hold it in anymore, because nothing’s the way I thought it was. Everything’s changing. Everyone’s changing around me.
‘You and Lucy talk about everything. I mean … she must have told you all her private stuff.’ I say it casually, as if this is all normal talk, but I can’t help a peek up at Mum.
She’s holding the mug in front of her mouth.
Carefully, I push at a half-piece of toast on my plate. ‘I know about Lucy and Josh.’ My eyes stay on a blob of melting butter. ‘I found something in her room the other day.’ I bite my lip. ‘A wrapper.’
The mug makes a dull clunk as it’s placed on the table. ‘Wrapper?’
‘You know, for a …’ I raise my eyebrows meaningfully.
‘A …’ She clears her throat. ‘A condom wrapper?’
I stare at my toast. I can’t tell if Mum knows already or not, but I set my mouth in a straight line and hold it there because Lucy never told me anything about what was going on. She completely locked me out, and then just moved away as if I didn’t matter.
When I raise my eyes, Mum has her mouth open. She closes it and swallows. ‘And what do you think about that?’
Me? I shrug. ‘What do you think?’
Her forehead wobbles slightly. ‘Well, I’m …’ She clears her throat. ‘I’m glad they’re using protection.’
And that’s all? No yelling? No emergency call to Dad?
‘Do you have any … questions?’ asks Mum. ‘About sex?’
‘No!’ I say quickly. ‘They already told us all about it at school, remember?’
‘Yeah.’ Mum places her mug on the bench. ‘But when I was your age I still had a whole lot of questions.’ Her voice is hopeful.
I pull a sultana out of the toast and nibble. The thing is, I do have a question. Through all the sex ed talk at school, Miss Mills only explained what’s meant to happen. But never once did she say anything about how it feels.
I pick up my toast and take a bite, hoping Mum will just start talking. But instead she nods encouragingly.
I sigh. How to put this into words? ‘T
he thing is, I guess … I don’t really get why anyone would want to do that in the first place. I mean … Lucy and Josh don’t want a baby …’ Saying it out loud like that makes me feel a long way away from all this stuff. It makes me feel like a kid.
Mum dips her chin and smiles. ‘That’s because you’re only thirteen, sweetheart.’
Nearly thirteen and a half.
‘You’re not meant to be ready for any of that.’ Mum pauses, and when I look over at her, she says carefully, ‘In years from now, you’ll meet someone special and you’ll feel differently.’
I let the words echo in my mind. Someone special. A crush. I think about George. ‘But how do you know when you’ve found someone special?’
‘Oh, sweetheart.’ Mum reaches across the bench and rests her hand on mine. ‘I promise you, you’ll know. When the time comes.’
My toast is pretty cold by now. I lick my finger and dab at a crumb.
‘Okay?’ says Mum.
I nod. ‘Yeah, okay.’
And for a while, I do feel better.
For about thirty seconds, that is. That’s how long until I start thinking about Briana and Phoebe again. They’ve both kissed a boy and I’m not sure I want to be with anyone. I’m still not sure whether I’m falling for George, which probably means that he’s just a friend.
Somehow, that makes me feel worse than ever.
When Lucy and Josh come round on Saturday night, Lucy doesn’t use her key. Instead she rings the doorbell, which is a bad start. Already I’m annoyed. I mean, she’s still part of the family, isn’t she? Then Dad answers the door and makes this big deal of pretending he doesn’t recognise her, which annoys me even more.
I stay in the hallway just behind Dad, thinking about escaping to my room. I’m not sure I want to hear about how amazing everything is for Lucy now.
‘Hi, Erin,’ says Lucy when Dad finally lets her in.
‘Hi, Luce,’ I say and push a toe into the carpet. Then I wait for her to say something else. Maybe like, Sorry I never called you back. Or even, Do you have a minute? I have so much to tell you.
‘Better get this on so there’s time to dry,’ Lucy says, and hauls a bag of clothes into the laundry.
Two seconds later Mum follows her in, and I hear Lucy telling Mum that she can do it herself.
‘So … how’s tricks?’ asks Josh, and rubs his hands together.
‘Yeah, okay.’ I look towards the laundry, straining to hear what’s going on. All I can pick up is the sound of water hissing in the washing machine.
When I turn back to Josh, an image comes to me of him in the nude, sucking face with Lucy.
‘Want to play Bionic Racer?’ I blurt. Have to do something before I get more images of them having sex.
Josh looks towards the laundry, and then back at me. ‘Sure.’
It takes a while to set up. I keep an ear out for the others. What are they doing?
Once we start racing, though, the rest of the world falls away and all that matters is leaning round the corners and speeding up on the straight. Josh really gets into it too, tilting to the side and leaning forward just like I am, laughing and cheering whenever one of us crashes. ‘Man, I love this game,’ he keeps saying.
By dinnertime I still haven’t spoken to Lucy, but I’ve won nine races to Josh’s seven.
Mum calls us in and we sit around the good table, as if it’s someone’s birthday. I make sure I’m sitting next to Lucy. I can’t believe that she hasn’t missed me, even a little.
We’ve only just started eating when Lucy asks Dad about her electricity something-or-other, and I end up with nothing to say. Again. More talk about stuff that has nothing to do with me.
By the time we’re clearing the dishes, Lucy asks Josh what time he wants to leave. Mum and Dad disappear into the kitchen to check on the apple pie. I can hear them asking each other who ate all the ice-cream.
I lean closer to Lucy. ‘So, when can I see your flat?’
‘Don’t know,’ she says, rubbing a spot of gravy on the tablecloth and not looking at me.
‘Next weekend?’
Lucy’s head snaps to me. ‘I said I don’t know.’
‘What’s your problem?’
‘Nothing.’
Josh stands up and gestures towards the kitchen. ‘I’ll just see if they need any help.’
But it’s as if he didn’t say a thing. Lucy and I sit glaring at each other. Let’s have it out. Right here, right now.
‘Nothing’s wrong?’ I use my know-it-all voice that Lucy hates. ‘Then why are you suddenly acting like a snob?’
‘All right,’ says Lucy. ‘You want to know? I’ll tell you what’s wrong. You went snooping around in my room as soon as I moved out —’
‘What? I wasn’t snooping —’
‘— and then you dobbed about what you found!’
‘It’s not even your room anymore,’ I snap back at her. ‘You moved out, remember?’
‘It’s still my room!’
‘No, it’s not.’
‘And anyway,’ says Lucy. ‘Even if I can’t stop you going in there, what gives you the right to tell Mum?’
‘Who says she didn’t find it?’ I yell, and my stomach turns over. ‘You’re the one who left all your rubbish lying around.’
‘That stuff is private, Erin.’ Lucy’s voice is softer now, but even angrier. ‘Don’t you think you could have spoken to me?’
‘But I tried to. I called you ages ago …’
‘You called me yesterday!’
‘And you never called me back!’ For some reason, that makes me feel like a kid all over again.
‘I’ve been busy, all right?’ says Lucy.
‘Too busy to make one phone call?’ It’s the only thing left to hold on to, so I grip with all I have. ‘Now that you’ve moved out, you’re too busy for anyone else …’
Lucy scowls at me.
‘You think that makes you special? You’re still the same person, you know. You’re no better —’
‘Why don’t you just grow up?’ says Lucy, cutting me off.
For a moment I glare at her. Then I stand up and shout at her perfect, pointy nose, ‘GROW UP, YOURSELF!’
In the kitchen, it goes really quiet. I run to my room, slamming the bedroom door behind me. My room feels too small. I could burst out of it.
My phone is on the edge of the desk. I grab it and select Briana’s name. Don’t even know what time it is. I’ll leave a message if she doesn’t answer. Who cares if she’s on her deathbed?
Briana picks up. ‘Hey, Erin. How’s things?’ Her voice is so light that for a moment, I hesitate. She seems so relaxed.
‘Where were you yesterday?’ I pounce.
‘Um, sick,’ she says, but I can hear doubt in her voice.
‘Did you go to the doctor?’ My voice is loud, but I don’t care.
‘What do you mean?’
My jaw clenches. Even now she’s acting as if everything’s fine between us. Glaring at myself in the mirror, I launch in. ‘You should get yourself checked out. For all you know you might have glandular fever.’
‘What?’
‘You know … the kissing disease?’
‘What are …’ There’s a pause. ‘Phoebe told you?’
‘Yes, she did.’
‘I can’t believe it —’
‘It’s not Phoebe’s fault,’ I snap. ‘She thought you’d told me already. You know, since we’re meant to be best friends.’
Neither of us speaks after that. In my mind I picture the look on Briana’s face, her mouth squashed to one side and her forehead wrinkled.
‘Are you okay?’ Briana asks after a while.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I don’t know.’ But the tone of her voice sounds as if she knows exactly. ‘Are you saying you actually care all of a sudden?’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Whenever I talk about Hamish you just vague out …’
&nb
sp; ‘No, I don’t.’
‘Yes, you do! You get this bored look on your face. As if you wish we’d talk about something else.’
My mouth opens to protest but nothing comes out. I sink to the bed and a wave washes over me. She’s right. I hate it when they talk about Hamish.
‘And … all right, I know you don’t think much of him,’ continues Briana, ‘but the way you’ve been acting, it’s as if you don’t care about me. If you care about someone, you should care about what they have to say. You said so yourself, when I asked you about Lucy.’
‘Of course I care! It’s just … you talk about him all the time.’
‘Not all the time!’
Pretty much, but I don’t say it. Talking doesn’t seem to be fixing this. It’s as if there’s something standing between us.
Phoebe.
‘So when did it happen?’ I ask after a while.
‘Last weekend. After we went to watch him play hockey.’
‘Are you going out with him?’
‘Well, that’s the thing,’ says Briana. ‘We didn’t even talk about it. But we’re going to have a coffee after school on Friday, and Phoebe thinks he might ask me then.’
‘Wow,’ I say, and I mean it. ‘That’s …’ I try to think of more but all that comes out is another, ‘Wow.’
‘Yeah, well, he hasn’t asked me out yet.’
‘I’m sure he will.’ But there’s no excitement in my voice.
‘You’re still angry, aren’t you?’ says Briana. It’s more an accusation than a question.
‘Wouldn’t you be? I mean … jeez, I had to find out from Phoebe.’
‘I’m sorry, okay?’ she says quickly. ‘But … what do you expect? You won’t even tell us who you like. It’s not as if you share anything with us!’
BECAUSE THERE’S NOTHING TO SHARE! That’s what I want to yell, but I don’t. ‘I told you about the wrapper in Lucy’s room, didn’t I?’
‘But that’s about Lucy.’
‘So of course Phoebe has to hear all about it.’
Briana’s voice fades. ‘What does it matter if I told Phoebe?’
‘I don’t know. It should be my choice to tell her, shouldn’t it?’
Silence on the other end of the phone. ‘Okay, okay. I’m sorry.’
It's Not Me, It's You Page 3
