The Yearbook Committee

by Sarah Ayoub

  ‘I get that,’ Gillian says. ‘It’s pretty. It has history. And a reputation.’

  ‘Exactly,’ I say. ‘She put it on a bloody pedestal. This school was her “out” from her ordinary life — she associated a successful, put-together, perfect life with it, and dreamed of sending her kids here so that they could escape whatever it was that she needed to escape from. Except when I finally came to this school, life didn’t come together for me. It fell apart.’

  Gillian looks at me sadly.

  ‘Let’s just change the subject,’ Charlie says, looking at her.

  We talk about homework and exams and yearbook stuff for a bit, and then they go home. But I stay until it’s dark.

  I thought that telling Mo, Charlie and Gillian would fix it, lighten the load on my mind. But I don’t feel any better.

  Across the way, I see Mike standing by a tree, chatting on his phone. Then he pulls out another one from his pocket, punches something in, and walks away. He doesn’t seem to notice me.

  ‘So suss,’ I whisper to myself, gathering up my stuff to leave.

  At home, I toss my clothes in the washing machine and get changed. I make Mum a cup of tea and bring it to her. She’s in her usual spot on the couch in the darkened living room.

  ‘You need some help,’ I tell her, dusting biscuit crumbs off her robe. Her lips are dry; it’s obvious she’s dehydrated. ‘We need a doctor.’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ she says. ‘I just need more time.’

  ‘I don’t have any more time to give you,’ I say, smoothing her hair. ‘We’re struggling.’

  She’s quiet.

  ‘Mum, how come we never talk about my dad?’

  ‘Because you don’t have one,’ she says.

  ‘Everyone has one,’ I tell her.

  ‘DNA does not a father make.’

  I shake my head. ‘Maybe you have a reason for shutting him out,’ I tell her. ‘But if he’s bad, I need to find out for myself.’

  She ignores me.

  ‘He’s not a solution,’ she says a minute later. ‘Don’t count on him.’

  ‘I have no one else to count on,’ I point out. ‘My HSC is coming up — what am I going to do when they cut the power, or the phone line? What happens when I can’t go to work because of exams? Who’s going to buy food?’

  ‘Things might be different by then.’

  ‘Yes — if we do something about them now.’

  ‘I told you, he’s not a solution,’ she says, turning away.

  I exhale in frustration. ‘Come on, Mum,’ I plead. ‘Tell me something about him — anything.’

  Silence.

  ‘Fine, I’ll find him by myself, whether you like it or not.’

  ‘He’ll break your heart.’

  ‘It’s broken anyway,’ I tell her honestly. ‘So what does it matter?’

  She scoffs. ‘You think it doesn’t, but it does. Sometimes you think other people can fix your brokenness, but usually they break you more.’

  I sigh. ‘You can’t just tell me he’s bad and leave me to deal with it.’

  ‘I never said he was bad,’ she says, closing her eyes. ‘He was just a boy in a private-school uniform who lived a life so different to my own.’

  I swallow. ‘A Holy Family uniform?’

  ‘Yes. Shiny and perfect and full of promise. I was the girl in the tattered clothes, sitting on a fence across the school, dreaming about my future.’

  ‘And now your son is dreaming,’ I say. ‘Go figure.’

  She shrugs and leans back into the cushions, holding her cup of tea close.

  ‘What if I don’t want to dream any more?’ I ask. ‘What if I just want a concrete answer?’

  ‘Our love crossed a big divide,’ she says quietly. ‘And when it finished it was like our worlds had never collided. There’s nothing left, Matty. Nothing.’

  I sigh. ‘So I definitely can’t find him?’

  ‘Or him you,’ she says, staring off into the darkness. ‘I made sure of that.’

  I scoff. There’s a coldness to her I have never seen before.

  I walk out of the room without kissing her goodnight and slam my door, feeling like I’m at a worse dead end than before.

  That night, I can’t sleep. I have so many questions. How did it get like this? How did one supermarket visit turn everything to shit? I rack my brain for answers. But I have none. Just more questions. What is his name? Do I look like him? How long were they married for? Did he leave because of me? Are there any hereditary diseases I should know about? But mostly, does he ever think about me?

  I reach out under my bed for the box, but as I do, I wonder what the point of it is. How would I even get it to him? Yet another question.

  No answers, no opportunities, no future. I have no link whatsoever to this man who might be the only family I have left.

  Tammi

  Tammi Kap This sucks.

  There are two awful things about being the only sober person at a party:

  1.Hearing everyone’s conversations at loud volume because they’re so drunk they can’t hear themselves, and

  2.Wishing that you were also drunk just so you don’t feel left out.

  It’s exactly how I feel tonight, as I’m sitting alone on the couch while David goes to get himself a drink. So far his drink-getting has taken thirty-six minutes, and already a girl from year 11 has thrown up at my feet and a guy from another school with really bad hair has asked me to dance. Twice.

  It’s a bigger party than usual. The soccer team has just finished its season and come away with a state trophy, which means they can finally set their sights on the interstate school comp for the first time ever. Not to mention one of the team-mates is turning eighteen. Needless to say, the party’s pretty wild.

  Lauren texts me from her grandma’s seventy-fifth birthday party: Anything happened yet?

  I ignore her, knowing the suspense will kill her. The soccer parties at Holy Family are the craziest ones, because boys from other teams often show up. Those who are in relationships bring their girlfriends, and those who aren’t bring their charms. Lauren loves them — so she’s probably cursing her grandma while everyone else is wishing the best for her.

  My phone beeps again and I ignore it, looking down at my watch instead. 9.45. By most standards, it’s still an early night, but I’ve already been here a lot longer than I wanted to be.

  I must look extremely miserable, because Ryan detaches himself from a group of people he’s dancing with and comes my way, stopping to get a can of Sprite from the tub by the door. He hands it to me and sits down.

  ‘If you looked any happier, the world would explode,’ he says as I move over to make room for him.

  ‘And yet David still can’t read the signals,’ I say.

  ‘Want me to go get him?’

  ‘Don’t be silly. He’ll just resent me for wanting to leave early.’

  ‘Then why’d you come?’

  ‘I still don’t know.’

  He starts to laugh, but stops suddenly when Charlie walks through the door. She spots us on the couch and comes over.

  ‘Hey,’ she says, nodding to us both. ‘Have you guys seen Matty and Gill?’

  ‘Nope, sorry,’ I tell her.

  ‘I’m surprised you’re here,’ Ryan says to her. ‘I didn’t think this would be your scene.’

  ‘Pffft, don’t be ridiculous, Fleming,’ she replies. ‘I just came for the cake.’

  As I laugh, she catches my eye, looking pleased.

  I watch Ryan watching Charlie as she wanders outside. I just want to tell him to make his move, but it’s none of my business and I can’t be bothered getting into a D and M with him — the last one was awkward enough. We sit in an uncomfortable silence until someone calls Ryan over, and he heads outside too.

  Still my boyfriend is nowhere to be found. I scratch at a scab on my shoulder and wonder what the hell I’m doing here.

  Some time later, Matty and Gill arrive. They take a seat on e
ither side of me.

  ‘How’s your night going, Tammi?’ Matty asks.

  ‘Let’s just say I’ve been here a lot longer than I planned to be.’

  ‘How long did you plan to be here?’ he asks earnestly.

  ‘Zero minutes,’ I admit. He laughs and I feel glad that I’ve at least entertained someone tonight.

  ‘Have you seen Charlie?’ Gillian asks me. ‘She told me she’d meet us here.’

  ‘I think she’s outside with Ryan,’ I tell her.

  She and Matty look at each other and smile, and I love the fact that their smiles don’t hide their thoughts at all.

  ‘Do you girls want a drink?’ Matty asks, standing up.

  I’m still drinking my Sprite so I decline, but Gillian requests a Coke with a dash of rum.

  ‘How come you’re sitting all alone?’ she asks. ‘Are you OK?’

  I go quiet for a moment. If Lauren was here, she’d question why I was even talking to Gillian. But tonight, for some reason, I don’t care.

  ‘David went to go and get a drink,’ I tell her. ‘He’s been gone for about forty-five minutes now, and I’m wondering how long I’ll have to keep being his doormat.’

  She looks sadly at me. ‘Don’t be like that,’ she says, putting her hand on my arm. ‘He likes you a lot; it’s so obvious.’

  ‘No,’ I admit. ‘If he liked me he wouldn’t leave me alone here. If he liked me he wouldn’t ask for a “conditions apply” version of me, a version that suits him.’

  ‘He’s more stupid than I thought, then,’ she says simply.

  ‘And I guess that makes me stupid for going out with him,’ I say testily.

  ‘N-n-no,’ she stutters. ‘Sometimes we just deal with stuff that doesn’t make us happy because we don’t know any different, or because we don’t want to make a crap situation worse.’

  We sit in silence for a minute.

  ‘I’m sorry about Lauren,’ I say quietly. ‘I get the backhanded compliments too.’

  She shrugs and looks away.

  ‘She’s not so bad,’ I tell her, wanting to believe it. ‘She used to be really nice. She’s always been there for me, more than anyone else.’

  ‘Yeah, but conditions apply with her too, don’t they?’

  This time, I’m the one who shrugs.

  ‘Conditions apply with everyone. I can never do what I want,’ I reveal. ‘That’s how the world works.’

  ‘I feel the same way,’ she says. ‘But I’m trying to do something about it.’

  She gets up and leaves and suddenly I feel alone again. I look around, wondering again why I’m here. No one approaches me. If Lauren were here, it would be different. Guys would be all over us — flirting, laughing, complimenting us. Well, her. And I’d just watch, knowing that everything that came out of her mouth was either a lie, or something that would come back to bite them. But, to them, five minutes in her glow would be worth it. Was it still worth it for me?

  The DJ calls out that he has a special request and I roll my eyes when Katy Perry’s ‘Unconditionally’ starts blaring through the party. Relationships in high school are all show, I want to call out. But I don’t, and a second later, Gillian and Matty are standing in front of me.

  ‘Come on!’ Gillian says, putting out her hand. ‘One day you’ll find a guy who’s going to love you unconditionally, so stop wasting yourself on that douche.’

  I take her hand.

  We dance hysterically and crazily, in a way that I would never dance if Lauren or David were around. And it’s so invigorating that I feel high enough to laugh and hug them when the song finishes, and then liberated enough to just admit that it’s time to go home. If David doesn’t give a damn about me, then why should I wait around for him?

  ‘Want a lift?’ Matty asks, nudging me out of my thoughts. ‘I have my mum’s car. I’m taking Gill too, so I can drop you off first.’

  I nod and grab my bag from underneath a cushion on the couch, and the three of us make our way to the front door.

  Outside, a bunch of guys are smoking weed and I’m not surprised to find David among them.

  ‘Hey, hey, hey,’ he calls out to me. ‘Just where do you think you’re going?’

  ‘Home,’ I say bluntly. ‘Where else?’

  ‘But the party’s just getting started,’ he tells me. ‘I was going to take you home.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ I tell him. ‘You said you weren’t gonna drink tonight. Why would I go home with you if you’ve been drinking?’

  ‘Yeah, bro, did you forget what her dad does?’ one of David’s mates chimes in.

  ‘Shut up, Sanders. Come on, stay a little longer,’ he says, turning back to me, and tugging at the waistband of my pants. ‘I’ll be inside in a few minutes. I’ll even dance with you.’

  ‘Your “few minutes” is an hour at least,’ I tell him, moving his hand away. ‘I know this because I’ve spent half my night sitting on the couch alone.’

  ‘That’s your fault,’ he hisses. ‘No one told you to be such a deadbeat. If you let loose a little, you’d have a little fun.’

  ‘If letting loose gives me a licence to treat everyone around me like shit, I’d rather remain uptight, thanks.’

  ‘What’s your problem?’ he says. ‘Why are you so moody?’

  ‘I’m not,’ I say, sighing. ‘I just want to go home.’

  ‘And you’re not going to let me drive you?’

  ‘David!’ I snap. ‘I know I let you get away with a lot. But it’s definitely not OK for you to think I’m so worthless that I don’t have a right to be driven home by someone who is at least sober.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘You don’t see my worth,’ I tell him. ‘I’m nothing to you.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ he protests. ‘I take care of you.’

  I shake my head. ‘I take better care of myself,’ I say quietly. He looks at me intently, then notices Matty and Gillian in the distance.

  ‘They’re your lift home?’ he scoffs. ‘Listen, I don’t want you to be a loser by association so how about you stay a little longer, and I’ll get my mother to pick us up.’

  ‘No,’ I say, hitching my bag over my shoulder.

  He grabs my hand, and Matty is over in an instant. Suddenly the hoodie makes him look sinister.

  ‘Is everything OK?’ he asks. ‘Ready to leave, Tammi?’

  ‘Oh right, you guys know each other from the yearbook!’ David says. ‘I was wondering when my girl started associating with losers. Especially Scummy Cummings over there.’

  ‘Watch. Your. Mouth.’ Matty says, gritting his teeth. But David is never one to shy away from a fight and comes up a little closer to him.

  ‘Or what?’ he asks.

  ‘You know what? I’d rather beat you when you’re sober. This is just too easy.’

  Gillian and I look at each other, surprised. I’ve never seen this side of Matty.

  David looks him up and down and sniffs, but, to his credit, Matty just smirks and walks away, Gillian and me trailing behind him.

  ‘Go ahead, take her off my hands,’ he calls out after us. ‘She doesn’t put out anyway.’

  Matty’s eyes widen at Gillian, who turns and gives David the bird with both hands. Don’t turn around, I tell myself, no matter how good you used to have it, how much you used to like him, how sweet he used to be. I keep walking towards Matty’s car, tears welling up in my eyes.

  On either side of me, Gillian and Matty reach out and grab a hand each, like guardian angels. And the tears give way to a smile, because I finally feel my worth for the first time in ages.

  THE YEARBOOK COMMITTEE

  Minutes for July Meeting

  Recorded by: Gillian Cummings

  Meeting Chair: Ryan Fleming

  In attendance: Everyone

  The Playlist: Two songs today! We wanted to get our minds off our upcoming trials and also remind ourselves that we’re halfway through the biggest school year, so we asked Matty for something upbeat. Matty ch
ose ‘Sing’ by Ed Sheeran and ‘Happy’ by Pharrell Williams. And instead of spending a few minutes discussing subliminal messages, we danced in our seats. And it was FUN. Tammi shook her head and said that Lauren would kick her arse if she knew what she was doing. And Charlie said that we would all help Tammi kick Lauren’s arse right back. It was the first time we had a team moment, and it was nice.

  The Snacks: Doughnuts! Tammi brought them. Charlie didn’t bake anything this time, but she did bring these two amazing cheeses. Ryan brought crackers and dried apricots and grapes, as per Charlie’s request, and she made this really nice platter on two sheets of A3 paper that she got out of the photocopier drawer. And she wonders why the librarian can’t stand her. I brought two packets of chips with me, and I gave one entire one to Matty and we shared the other bag. And Matty brought a bag of fun-size Mars Bars, and Charlie ate three, then made him hide them. He did not argue.

  Agenda:

  *Progress report by Matty. He reckons he’s doing OK inserting everything in, and that it looks really good. Go us!

  *Decide on how we are going to lay out the profiles — will each student get an individual page? Charlie says no. Ryan agrees. Tammi says less work for us if we keep them short and have a few on a page.

  Questions for Mrs H:

  *Does Mrs H want to pen a letter or note to put in the yearbook?

  *Is school photo day anytime soon? We haven’t received any letters/notices, and we want to make sure we have enough time to use the photos for profile pages.

  Action points for next meeting:

  *Everyone to brainstorm ideas of other things to include.

  Gillian

  Gillian Cummings is more than a little sick of numbers and percentages. And not just because of my upcoming Maths test.

  Tonight, we’re actually eating dinner in the dining room. There are no mobile phones in sight, Dad is participating in the conversation and the TV has been off since he came home. In our family, this could only mean one thing: he’s doing well in the polls.

  I don’t monitor the polls like I used to — Dad pays more attention to them than he does to me. And I don’t like feeling inferior to percentages. Fathers are supposed to get angry over missed curfews, seedy boys and skirts that are too short; my dad loses his cool over news reports.