by R. M. Corbet
It came as a surprise, therefore, when Bianca invited me out.
‘At the mall, Saturday. Bring plastic.’
‘You want me to take plastic bags?’
‘Credit card, dummy.’
‘What about Alison? Doesn’t she hate me?’
‘Alison will behave herself. I promise.’
Shopping was not of big interest to me, as such. I didn’t have a credit card, and I had no idea how to get one. I wondered just how much the Magnets would spend, and whether buying stuff would be compulsory. I wondered what limits my parents would set, and if I might do well to just stay at home. I wasn’t really a plastic sort of girl anyway.
But then I remembered Lou and the fact that I was currently friendless.
Hey, I thought. Might as well give them a go.
‘I’m meeting some friends from school at the mall,’ I told Mum.
‘Finally!’ she said. ‘How much cash do you need?’
We met outside the main entrance and headed to the nearest boutique. We spent an hour trying on jeans and tops. We compared body parts: tummies, teeth, noses and ears. Plus mobile phones, contacts and ringtones: Buffy because Bianca was a major fan; Shakira because Alison thought she was hot; Pink because Shauna said she was awesome; Bob the Builder because I hadn’t got round to changing it yet. We made fun of mannequins in shop windows. We sneaked peeks at our own reflections. We made no cash purchases. We produced no chequebooks or credit cards.
Bianca confessed she had left hers at home. Shauna admitted that her father had cut hers up, again, and her mother had applied for a new one, again. Alison explained that she kept losing hers, but that her boyfriend (presumably not bath-boy, but somebody new) was rich enough to ‘pick up the tab’.
Keep your mouth shut, Maude McNaughton.
I was doing quite well until Alison tried on some skintight jeans.
‘They make me look fat.’
‘No, they don’t,’ said Bianca.
‘Anyway,’ I said, ‘boys like curvy girls.’
Alison glared at me. ‘You’re no supermodel yourself, Maude.’
‘I didn’t mean it like that.’
Shauna snorted. Bianca looked away.
It was too late to undo the damage.
To cool off, we headed for the food court. We found a suitable table with a view of the crowd and the ‘endless parade of young man-flesh’, as Alison called it. Like she was a butcher or something.
A boy walked past wearing big headphones.
‘What do you think, Maude? Too serious?’ said Shauna.
‘Maude likes the serious boys,’ said Bianca.
Alison pointed to another boy, eating lunch with his mum. ‘What about him, Maude? Too gay?’
‘Can we leave me out of this?’ I pleaded.
Three older boys caught us staring at them and came over to say hello. ‘Are youse models? Youse look like models.’
Alison giggled, but Shauna was clear. ‘Please go away now,’ she told them.
‘They were kind of cute,’ whispered Alison as the boys slunk off.
‘You don’t have to say yes to everyone,’ hissed Shauna.
Alison glared at Shauna, then at me. As if I was somehow to blame.
We talked more about food than we ate it. We talked about seaweed and whale meat and peanut allergies and cucumber cleansers. Shauna said her aunt was a homeopath. Alison thought that meant a serial killer. Bianca said her sister had been diagnosed with diabetes, and Alison said it was her own fault, entirely. When it came to diets, dysfunctions and diseases, Alison was very hardline.
‘We are what we eat,’ she insisted.
‘Wouldn’t that make you a vegetable?’ I grinned.
‘Hilarious.’ Alison frowned.
Pretty soon we were back on track, perving on boys, the other girls asking my opinion and giving me advice.
If I couldn’t be serious about judging boys by their appearances, at least I could be silly about it.
‘What about that boy, Maude?’
‘I can see his underpants!’
‘How about that one?’
‘Is that a Shrek T-shirt he’s wearing?’
I was doing quite well for a while there. Then it all came crashing down.
‘Maude! Check him out.’
When I looked to where Shauna was pointing, I almost choked on my doughnut. Three tables away from ours, Lou was sitting alone, drinking a coffee and scribbling in his notebook.
‘He’s cute,’ said Bianca.
‘Don’t be dumb,’ said Alison. ‘He’s too cool for Maude.’
I could easily have said that I knew him. Introducing a ‘cute’ boy was bound to impress. But to let my two worlds collide like that was unimaginable. Alison would flirt inappropriately. Shauna would go all doe-eyed. Bianca would babble. There would be implication, suspicion, innuendo. They might suspect Lou was my ‘problem boy’. Someone was bound to say something regrettable.
Most likely, it would be me.
‘Hang on!’ said Bianca. ‘He’s coming over.’
I watched in terror as Lou got up from his table and began making his way towards us. He didn’t seem to have seen me yet, though. With no time to think and nowhere to run, I pushed back my chair and ducked my head under the table.
‘Maude?’
I looked up to see him frowning at me.
‘Lou!’
‘I thought it was you. Were you hiding from me?’
Alison snorted.
Shauna said, ‘Hi.’
Bianca said, ‘Awesome!’
I wanted to die.
‘These must be your new friends from school,’ said Lou, coolly.
‘I wasn’t . . . I didn’t . . .’
‘Were you snobbing me?’ Lou looked more angry than hurt. ‘You’re being childish. You need to grow up.’
I watched him disappear into the crowd.
‘Hey, Maude!’ scoffed Alison. ‘Why so embarrassed?’
‘How do you expect us to find you a boy, Maude,’ said Shauna, ‘if you hide whenever a cute one comes along?’
‘Anyway, he wasn’t your type, Maude,’ said Alison.
‘Much too moody,’ said Bianca.
‘And too tall,’ added Shauna.
That evening I messaged the Magnets, just to say thanks for the fun time we’d had. I put a lot of work into each of my texts, to make them sound upbeat and chirpy.
I considered trying to explain about Lou, but I decided it would just make things worse. The truth was, I wasn’t sure what had gone wrong. Why had he immediately assumed the worst of me? Had the Magnets even noticed how angry he was? Had they noticed how much it upset me?
The messages I got back were suitably prompt. Too prompt, if you asked me, and also too brief. Alison was busy doing her nails. Bianca was out with her parents somewhere. The only real reply I got was from Shauna, who assured me that Lou was ‘a hottie’.
A hottie? Just what I needed to hear.
I tried to imagine how things might have gone, had I not panicked and hid under the table. What if I’d introduced Lou to the Magnets? What if he’d sat down and stayed for a chat? What if he’d charmed them with his cool, off-beat style? Would they have thought he was my boyfriend?
What if he’d told them about his new band? What if he’d asked them to come to rehearsal? Imagine the Magnets auditioning for the Funky Junk Orkestra! What would they make of his house?
What if Lou hadn’t charmed the Magnets at all? What if he’d been cold and mean to them, the same way he’d been mean to me? How dare he imply they were spoilt rich brats! How dare he say that about my new friends! What would he know about my new school?
I felt bad no matter which way I imagined it. Just the thought of Lou meeting the Magnets upset me. It felt like a collision of my past and my present, the public me and the private me. It felt schizophrenic, like two different people were talking inside my head.
Was I scared of what the Magnets would think about Lou?
Or was I more afraid of what he might think about them?
choices
I WAS LINED UP TO buy lunch at the school canteen when I saw Phoebe Wu standing opposite me. Phoebe, the school genius, lost in her thoughts. We smiled briefly, then we stood quietly while our queues moved slowly forwards. After what had gone down on the weekend with Lou and the Magnets, I wasn’t in much of a mood for conversation. She didn’t seem to mind, though. Small talk for Phoebe was clearly an optional extra.
She reached the head of her queue first and ordered a salad roll. It looked so fresh and yummy, I decided to order one, too.
‘We’re all out,’ said the canteen lady.
‘What about hers?’ I pointed at Phoebe’s roll on the counter.
‘That was the last one.’
The lady waited patiently while I gazed up at the menu, hoping to find something else tasty. I knew it was crazy to let it upset me, but I couldn’t think of anything else to order right then.
Phoebe Wu looked at me blankly.
‘Why not just order the chips?’ she suggested.
‘I don’t feel like chips.’
Was this me being childish again?
‘They look good,’ said Phoebe.
‘They look like fried chips.’
‘And they’re the same price, aren’t they?’
‘Yes, but I don’t want to eat them!’
Meanwhile, in the queue behind me, people were fast losing patience.
‘Hurry up, dear,’ said the canteen lady.
‘You’re allowed to buy chips. Why not buy them?’ said Phoebe, as if it all made perfect sense.
In some alternative Phoebe Wu universe, perhaps.
My brain had stopped working. I had no free will. Choices made my head hurt. Reluctantly, resentfully, I caved in under pressure. I paid the lady, took my bucket of chips, and slunk off to find a quiet place to eat.
I found a sad tree and sat on the grass; when I looked up, Phoebe was standing there.
‘What now?’ I said sulkily.
I guessed she had come to apologise for being so pushy. I was ready to teach her a lesson in manners when she held out her salad roll to me.
‘Swap for your chips?’
I was confused.
Phoebe’s face changed into a big, beaming smile. ‘I love chips!’ she sighed. ‘I love chips so much. But I’m not allowed to buy them.’
‘My chips for your roll, really?’
‘Problem solved!’
She sat down and we ate together in silence. I looked furtively at Phoebe, with her helmet haircut and sparkly blue glasses, savouring every crisp, golden chip. I realised I didn’t know the first thing about her, aside from the smart things she’d said in class. She didn’t know the first thing about me, either, apart from all the dumb things I’d said.
‘Your parents sound pretty strict.’
Phoebe nodded. ‘It’s possible they gave the school canteen my photo with a sign: Avoid Selling Junk Food to This Girl.’
‘That strict, eh?’
‘But what they don’t know won’t hurt them.’ She grinned. ‘It’s our secret, Maude. How’s your salad roll?’
‘It’s fine.’
‘Does it have beetroot? I don’t get beetroot. It makes the bread soggy and red!’
‘I don’t mind beetroot,’ I said.
Phoebe finished her chips. She sat there licking her fingers and staring at me, until the weirdness was too much to handle.
‘What?’ I snapped.
‘Can I ask you a personal question?’
‘Sure. I guess.’
‘Do you have many friends outside school?’
‘Some. A few. One, maybe. Why?’
‘You look like you’re missing your old school. That’s all.’
I looked away, resenting Phoebe for being so nosy.
‘I like making new friends,’ I said, unconvincingly.
We were sitting there quietly when Shauna walked past.
I said ‘Hi!’ and thankfully she stopped to talk.
‘Excellent news, Maude!’
Shauna explained that she, Bianca and Alison were going to the river on Saturday. They were meeting some boys and she hoped I could come. She had worked it all out, where and when to meet, right down to the details of what I should wear. She made sure I understood the instructions, then she made me repeat them back to her. She told me to bring my mobile, which was unnecessary, and she made me check her number, even though I’d called her before.
‘It’s going to be a totally fun time,’ she said. ‘You should bring your hottie. What’s his name? Lou?’
‘He’s not my hottie. He’s just a friend. And he’s busy. He’s got band rehearsal. He can’t make it.’
Shauna was unimpressed. ‘Okay, Maude. No need to stress.’
She glanced at Phoebe as if she’d only just noticed her. Then she flicked back her hair and swanned off.
‘Do you think she’s bossy?’ I sighed.
‘She’s just Shauna.’
‘Do I need to dress like she told me to?’
‘I’m not the right person to ask.’
I put my head in my hands. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have said yes.’
Phoebe smiled with a glint in her eye.
‘It’s going to be a totally fun time,’ she repeated in Shauna’s singsong voice. ‘You should bring your hottie.’
‘Can we not call him that?’
‘Your friend, Lou. The boy who can’t make it? Or the boy who you don’t want to be there?’
‘Something like that.’
‘Is he why you’re missing your old school?’ asked Phoebe.
‘I’m not missing anything,’ I muttered.
making a splash
THE BOATHOUSE WAS ONE OF those olden-days places, tizzed up with fresh paint and polished brass doorknobs. There was a café for Devonshire teas and families on picnic rugs spread out on the grass. Not a super-cool venue by any stretch, but it made a nice change from the mall.
The Magnets were too nervous to notice any of it. They had dressed in their finest and flimsiest, to show off their tummies and tans. Shauna had sparkles. Bianca had heels. Alison was wearing more eyeliner than Cleopatra.
‘I knew we’d be early.’
‘We’re not early. They’re late.’
‘Boys aren’t supposed to be late.’
‘I could have taken more time with my hair.’
‘Maybe they got the wrong boathouse.’
‘The wrong time, or else the wrong day.’
‘Trust me. They’ll be here. They better be.’
‘Let’s leave, then arrive again later.’
‘Let’s see if there aren’t any other boys around.’
The only other ‘boys’ were a bunch of thugs kicking a soccer ball. We set about trying to text our boys, but we couldn’t agree on the wording. (Bianca said it wasn’t subtle enough, but Alison said subtlety was lost on boys.) We were all set to go ahead and click send anyway when four boys appeared on the far bank.
‘It’s them!’
‘Ohmigod!’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Ohmigod!’
They came across the bridge with big grins on their faces. I had seen them before, at the back of the bus, wrestling and shouting the way that boys did. They weren’t acting like jerks now, though. In fact, they looked even more nervous than we did.
The introductions were brief. No one knew what to say. Hands were in pockets. Eyes on the ground. Then everyone started talking at the same time.
‘What a fabulous day!’ blurted Shauna.
‘Let’s get some boats!’ said one boy.
‘Ohmigod!’ said Alison.
‘Anyone smoke?’ asked another boy.
We hired two boats, which was easy enough. But then there was choosing the life jackets. Between us, we girls must have tried on the entire collection. Some were too loose. Some were too tight. Some were too damp. Some were too stinky. Bianca said the
y made us look cheap. Shauna said they made us look bogan. Alison said she would rather drown.
The idea was to pair off, two couples per boat: me and Shauna with our two boys in one; Alison and Bianca with their boys in the other. No one said anything directly, but Shauna had her sights on Simon, the strong, silent type – which left me with Andy, who made the bad jokes. Andy, who wouldn’t stop grinning at me. Was this Shauna’s revenge for my refusal to bring Lou?
The boys sat at the back and rowed, while we girls sat up front and squealed. We squealed when the boats almost collided. We squealed when the boys rocked them or splashed us with their oars. We squealed at a duck even though it was miles away. We squealed at each other for squealing.
Squealing was kind of fun.
Simon was happy to row away steadily, but Andy just wouldn’t shut up. He told jokes that weren’t funny but went on forever. He complained about sunburn and blisters and flies. I told him I would be happy to swap with him and row – grrl power and all that – but Shauna said she wasn’t interested.
‘I like watching Simon’s muscles,’ she said.
So Simon and I rowed, up the river, under the footbridge, and around the bend out of sight of the Boathouse. We did a good job of it, too. The main trick to rowing is being in sync, and Simon and I synced up easily. He wasn’t the most dazzling talker I’d ever met, but he seemed like a nice enough guy just the same.
Shauna, meanwhile, was doing her best to ignore Andy, pointing to plastic bags, bottles and rubbish, making strange faces and pinching her nose.
‘This river is just one big sewer,’ she complained. ‘I wouldn’t swim in it if you paid me.’
We had only rowed for fifteen minutes or so when I noticed a bad smell in the air. Sure, the river was already smelly, but this smell was different. It stunk!
Then Shauna screamed. ‘They’re alive!’
In the trees high above us, hanging like black pears from the branches, were hundreds – no, thousands – of sleeping fruit bats. Stretching upriver as far as the eye could see. An inspiring sight for a zoologist, maybe, but Shauna was totally freaked. Touching Simon’s knees with her long painted nails, she pleaded for us to turn back.
