by Sarah Ayoub
He sneers. ‘Yeah, as if I told her I invited my whole Facebook friend list.’
I do a double-take. ‘What?!’ I ask. ‘What do you mean you invited everyone on your Facebook list?’
‘Pfft,’ he replies. He cocks his head at me and calls out to the rest of the boys, ‘When do you think Fleming got so sissy?’
‘Round about the same time he let a girl beat him for the St Jerome Medal,’ someone answers.
‘She deserved it,’ I call back. I’d been saying it endlessly — now I just needed to believe it. ‘Seriously, Davo,’ I try again, ‘you said the other day that you were only having people from school and some friends from your soccer club. What happened?’
He shrugs. ‘I thought I’d make it a little more exciting.’
‘But what if hundreds of people show up?’ I ask.
‘You really need some booze in you, pronto,’ he says.
I roll my eyes. ‘I’m just trying to look out for you, man.’
‘Don’t,’ he tells me bluntly. ‘I’m sick of you babying me.’
‘Ouch,’ someone says behind him.
I shake my head. ‘Maybe I just won’t come tonight,’ I say, walking away.
‘That’s not what I’m saying, Flemo. I want you to come — just as the guy you used to be, and not the fun-police guy that you’ve turned into,’ he says. ‘I want this party to be off the chain and memorable. Lots of music, dancing, laughs . . . the whole package.’
‘Suit yourself,’ I tell him, knowing that I’ll inevitably be the one to help him clean up the mess afterwards.
It’s only 9 p.m., and already the mess looks like it’s going to need special tactics to clean. Maybe magic even.
People are milling about, inside and outside, and I swear I don’t even recognise half of them.
‘What do you think makes them act like that?’ I ask Charlie, who has appeared next to me to give a searing look to a bunch of girls dirty dancing with each other, while some guys look on enthusiastically.
‘Do you really want me to get into that now?’ she asks. ‘Besides, don’t pretend you don’t love it.’
I make an exasperated face. She just gives me her annoying smirk and asks me if I’ve seen Gillian.
‘I assumed you guys would be coming together,’ I reply.
‘That doesn’t answer my question,’ she says, irritated.
‘Sorry,’ I tell her, rolling my eyes. ‘I haven’t seen her. Try outside.’
I wander over to the kitchen and find Lauren, David and Amanda mixing something in that high-powered, do-it-all blender that David’s mum spent a grand on.
‘What if it tastes so bad that no one can even drink it?’ I hear Amanda ask. ‘It’ll ruin everything.’
‘Let’s hope it still gives us something worth filming,’ Lauren replies, as David pulls off the lid and inspects the orange contents. ‘Ryan!’ she exclaims. ‘I’ve been looking for you all night! Wanna dance? For old times’ sake?’
‘Sure,’ I say, as she grabs my hand.
We head to the living room where the DJ is, and I ask her if I even want to know what the hell they were making.
‘Think of it as a festive cocktail,’ she says, smiling. ‘A little something to make the night more exciting.’
‘More exciting than this?’ I ask, looking around.
‘Sometimes I wonder what happened to that guy I had the hots for,’ she says, shaking her head. ‘Relax, will you? It’s our last party before formal!’
She grinds up against me and I realise that I really must have changed. Once upon a time, I had the hots for her as well. Popular guy, popular girl — we were such a cliché. Everything she did and said was a tease, a turn-on. But after the accident, well, everything changed. And all of a sudden, I could see her for what she was: a shallow, selfish bully. Just like my best mate.
Charlie was right. Charlie. The girl who came out of nowhere and suddenly occupied my every thought. Even tonight, when I was supposed to be celebrating the end of my schooling life at a party I had excitedly planned with David for years.
A year ago, Charlie would have been the most annoying person I had ever come across. A self-righteous know-it-all who was the voice of reason for a generation that wanted everything but reason. A generation who took risks, rebelled, revelled, rioted and ran rampant. In real life and on the net.
But now, for me, the fog of high school was starting to clear. And Charlie was the reason; she was the reality I craved after living in a bubble for so long. With or without the soccer career, she was the mirror I needed to look into every single day of my future, to remind me to be more.
Which is why, when Lauren comes up close to me and plants a kiss on my lips, everything stands still. And despite the crowd swarming around me, I only see one face in the mess of tangled, sweaty, dancing bodies.
Charlie’s. Betrayed, bruised, a little broken. In that instant, I was just another let-down in her age bracket, in this school, in the small circle that was her Sydney life.
Charlie
I hear the screen door bang shut again a few seconds after I’d slammed it myself, and I know he’s coming after me.
I quicken my pace, heading further out into David’s backyard, away from the party, away from everyone, especially Ryan.
‘Charlie, wait up!’ he yells. ‘That wasn’t what it looks like.’
‘It doesn’t matter what it looks like,’ I yell back, not bothering to turn around. ‘Because I don’t care.’
‘Well I do,’ he says, catching up with me and grabbing me by the hand.
‘Don’t touch me,’ I say, firmly. He lets go and I miss his hand instantly. But I can’t put my heart on the line. Not again. ‘Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, then shame on me.’
‘Just let me explain.’
‘I’m sick of explanations!’ I shout, blowing my fringe out of my face. ‘She’s always there — I don’t want to be in the way.’
He looks at me like I am stupid. ‘You’re not in the way,’ he says.
‘That’s funny,’ I scoff. ‘I always seem to be.’
He grabs my hand again. ‘Well, you’re not. Trust me.’
He starts to say more, but I interrupt him.
‘Do you know what it’s like?’ I ask. ‘I don’t always want to be judgemental. I don’t want to be mature all the time. Sometimes I want to laugh and live and be just like everyone else my age. OK, so I don’t want to take stupid selfies and, yes, I know about the political situation in the Middle East and the economic crisis in the EU and I can’t stand Kim Kardashian, but I’m still a teenage girl, which sucks because everyone prefers Lauren Pappas over there and the smart girls like me have to wait until their thirties to rock.’
‘I think you rock now,’ he says quietly.
‘Cut the crap, Ryan,’ I tell him. ‘You also think your stupid friends in there rock.’
‘It’s hard, OK?’ he says. ‘Some of my best memories ever involved those guys. I don’t see you bugging Tammi about why she still hangs out with Lauren even though she’s suddenly chummy with Gillian too. I don’t have to question my loyalties for you.’
‘Well, don’t,’ I say. ‘And for your information, I have tried to speak to Tammi. Although I think, with her, even though she sees what they’re doing, she’s just too scared to do anything about it. But she’ll come around.’
‘But you won’t be here to see it,’ he says quietly. ‘Because we’re all a massive let-down in your life and the quicker you move, the quicker everything will get better. How can it not occur to you that you might have problems in Melbourne too? Maybe it’s not the city you’re in . . . maybe it’s just a part of getting older.’
‘Why are you so hung up on me going back?’ I ask, irritated.
‘Because I like you,’ he says, putting his arms out. ‘I want you to see all the reasons why you should stay. A new baby, your new friends . . .’
‘What friends, Ryan?’ I ask. ‘Gill isn’t even talking to me. The only reason why I c
ame to this party was to make sure she was OK. But I must be the only person in this entire city with a decent bullshit detector, because while I was trying to talk to her, Lauren comes up and spins some stupid line about having a drink together to “patch things up”, and Gill goes ahead and buys it.’
‘Well, if you’re so worried just go inside and talk to her. . .’
‘I just told you she isn’t talking to me!’ I exclaim. ‘You know my mum’s a psych, right? Well, just like Gillian likes to record everything about our meetings, my mum likes to treat our serious D and Ms like one of her sessions, so she can see how much progress I make as we work through an issue.’
‘Like one of her patients?’ he asks, confused.
‘Exactly,’ I say, sitting down on the grass. ‘Well, as you can imagine, I’ve had a lot to talk about this year, including everything Gillian was going through . . . and then Gillian comes over and snoops around Mum’s desk and thinks the notes are going into Mum’s thesis.’
‘Ahh, shit,’ he says.
‘So you can imagine why I’m over it,’ I say, picking at the grass. ‘Just go inside, leave me alone — don’t waste your time on me.’
‘Everything else is a waste of time,’ he says. He sits next to me. ‘But not you. You make time stand still and life make sense.’
I open my eyes and roll onto my stomach, then turn to face him. He lies beside me. Our eyes meet, noses touch, lips come together.
‘Seriously,’ he whispers. ‘Give me a chance.’
I pull away, but he’s looking into my eyes so intently I feel a little scared.
‘I’ve given you plenty of chances,’ I say honestly.
‘I’ll probably need plenty more,’ he replies. ‘But I’ll try. I’ll stuff up and fix it and try again.’
I turn away. I can hear him sigh and I love the fact that I’ve flustered him, because I hate the way he flusters me.
‘What’s the point?’ I ask. ‘Seriously, what’s the point?’
‘This,’ he says, turning my face to his and kissing me. It’s different to the time at the dance-a-thon. More urgent, more serious — like there’s more thought and feeling behind it. Ryan presses himself down against me. My hands reach out to the warmth under his shirt, and I wonder if he’s going to pull them away.
He doesn’t. He just continues kissing me, his lips never leaving mine. I realise I haven’t paused to take a breath; it’s like I need those lips more than I need air. And then one of his hands slides up the outside of my thigh, and I pull back.
‘I don’t want to lose my virginity on the floor of someone’s backyard,’ I tell him honestly.
‘Who said anything about losing your virginity?’ he says, smiling at me. ‘You chicks are always jumping to conclusions.’
I give him a dirty look then smile, because I can’t help it.
We sit and hold hands and just look up at the stars.
‘I’ll be good for you, you know,’ he says. ‘You’re always so tense; I can balance you out.’
I shake my head, smirking. ‘It’s not my fault the world needs some hard truths.’
‘It’s not your job to save it,’ he tells me. ‘You’ll kill yourself in the process.’
I give him a serious look. ‘My mum’s always saying the same thing,’ I say finally. ‘She kept telling me it was going to kill me, worrying about Gillian.’
‘She’s right, though; you came here looking for Gillian, and she’s fine,’ he tells me. ‘She’s here, having a good time. Maybe it was you just obsessing; you always want to correct things you have no control over. Idiots . . . and girls who want to dance in rap videos.’
I smile.
‘I like your status updates,’ he says, nudging me. ‘But if you move to Melbourne, they won’t be enough.’
‘Are you asking me to stay?’ I ask.
But he’s stopped paying attention. He furrows his brow. ‘The music’s gone off . . .’ he says, standing up.
We hear a shriek from inside the party and look back at the house.
‘That’s weird,’ he says. ‘Everyone’s just hovering at the back door.’
He looks at me apologetically. ‘Sorry, I better see if there’s anything wrong. David’s probably passed out somewhere now.’
‘It’s OK,’ I say. ‘I’ll come with you.’
He leads me inside, where I can immediately tell the atmosphere of the party has changed.
We walk into the living room together, where we can only just make out a girl with long hair convulsing on the floor, completely encircled by people.
Shit! Ryan and I push through the crowd together, and it feels like time is standing still.
‘Get away from her!’ I scream to some dickhead from year 11, who is filming her on his iPhone. He starts to say something back, but Ryan grabs him by the shirt and shoves him at the wall, and then everyone is quiet. No one dares to say anything or move.
‘Oh my God, it’s Tam,’ Ryan says, the shock draining his face of colour as we kneel beside her. ‘Do you know first aid?’
I breathe heavily. Why did I have to be such a know-it-all? I can’t run now. I look at Ryan, silently pleading with him to help me in any way he knows how.
‘Open the windows!’ I call out to no one in particular. ‘Hurry!’
‘She’s not moving as much any more,’ Ryan says, looking at me. ‘Does that mean she’s coming down?’
‘Coming down or calming down?’ I ask.
‘I don’t know, whatever,’ he says. ‘It’s not like I know what’s wrong with her.’
‘Maybe it’s just dehydration?’ I say. ‘Was anyone with her? Lauren? Anyone?’
‘I dunno,’ one girl says. ‘She kind of staggered in here; she kept saying something about being ill upstairs.’
‘Trust Tammi,’ Ryan says. ‘She’s such a policeman’s daughter that even if she was collapsing she would still want to clean up after herself.’
‘Her dad’s a cop?’ I ask. ‘God, this just keeps getting worse.’
Ryan and I both look at each other helplessly. The party, swarming with people only minutes before, has suddenly dwindled in number.
‘We need to call an ambulance,’ I say to Ryan after a moment. ‘It doesn’t look good.’
Lauren appears out of nowhere, and crouches down next to Tammi, her face ashen.
‘Oh my God!’ she exclaims. ‘I was outside having a smoke. What happened to her?’
‘We dunno,’ Ryan says. ‘Charlie says we need to call the ambos.’
‘You can’t!’ she cries, looking at me. ‘Her parents will kill her!’
‘Really, Lauren?’ I ask. ‘How are they going to kill her if she’s dead, because that’s what we seem to be dealing with right now.’
I pull Tammi’s hair from her face and start wiping away her sweat with my shirt, feeling my face reddening with the pressure of the situation.
A girl in the crowd asks if she should look up what to do on her phone, but someone tells her that we don’t even know what’s wrong with her. Or we won’t admit it, I think.
‘Ryan, call triple zero right now,’ I tell him again. ‘I know you guys might get in trouble, but she’s in danger.’
But Ryan doesn’t hear me. He’s in some sort of daze, staring at an orange splodge on Tammi’s shirt.
‘Ryan,’ I shout, just as my phone beeps. A text from Stan.
Mum’s in labour. She reckons it’s going to be a quick one, just like yours. Catch a cab to Royal Prince Alfred, she wants you there more than she wants me.
‘Fuck,’ I say out loud. Talk about the worst timing ever. ‘Someone call the ambulance!’
But no one moves. They just stand around like statues. I pull out my phone and dial triple zero, stuttering as I talk to the operator.
‘Oh, the address?’ I ask, panicking. I spot Lauren in the small crowd and shove the phone at her. ‘Here, you tell her the address, or find David.’
She doesn’t argue and gives out the details of David’s ad
dress.
When she hangs up, Ryan is looking at her sternly, hands at his temples.
‘Lauren,’ I hear him ask as the sound of sirens gets louder. ‘That cocktail that you were making: what exactly did you put in it?’
Matty
Matty, it’s Ryan. Tammi’s sick at the RPA. Have you seen Gillian? I can’t find her anywhere. Call me.
I stare at my phone for what seems like ages, then the reality of what it says hits me and I start to panic. I wrestle my way through the crowd and storm outside.
‘Leaving already, Matty?’ the bouncer asks. ‘That’s unlike you. Didn’t like this band’s sound?’
‘No, they were great,’ I say, flustered. ‘There’s just an emergency with some friends. I, ahh . . . need to make a call.’
I dial Ryan’s number and he picks up straight away.
‘Thank God,’ he says. ‘Do you know where she is? Apparently she was at the party too, she was with Tammi for most of the night, and now Tammi’s in an ambulance on the way to RPA and I don’t know what’s going on.’
‘She isn’t with me,’ I say quickly. ‘I’m at a gig. Last I heard she was heading there with Charlie.’
‘No,’ he informs me, ‘they had a fight. And Charlie left after the ambos came. She texted me saying her mum’s in labour and she had to go be with her.’
‘I’m sure everything’s OK,’ I tell him. ‘It has to be, right?’
‘I don’t know any more, Matty,’ he says. ‘I wish I did.’
‘Did you actually see Gillian tonight?’
‘No,’ he admits, and I can hear the strain in his voice.
‘OK, let’s not freak out,’ I tell him. ‘Maybe she left early. Did you check everywhere?’
‘Yeah, I think so,’ he says, puffing. ‘I just tried the yard again.’
‘OK, while you keep looking, tell me what happened with Tammi. How did you find her?’
‘I was outside, and I heard a scream,’ he explains. ‘So I went in, and she was just lying there, surrounded. Maybe she had too much to drink? I dunno . . . She’d been drinking some of Lauren’s “special cocktail” — but there was nothing bizarre in Tammi’s drink, Lauren said she made enough for a few people who all drank it. And then Tammi came into the room, said something about being ill upstairs, and just collapsed.’
