by SR Silcox
“I didn’t think you’d come,” Brittany says. She takes a long drink of her drink, finishes it and puts the bottle under the chair.
“How many have you had, Brit?” I ask.
“How many have you had,” she says, pointing at me and leaning in closer. I recoil. She wriggles down to the end of the chair, and lays her head in my lap. I look around to see if anyone’s watching. “Are you sure you want to do that?” I ask.
“I’m tired,” she says.
“It’s only early. Don’t you want to go play strip poker upstairs?”
“Pfft, that’s something Melly and Shel would do,” she says and then giggles. “I mean Shelly and Mel.” She puts her hands under her head and closes her eyes.
“You looked so cute in that suit today,” she says.
“You think so?”
I feel her head move on my lap and I guess she’s nodding. “You won’t have any trouble getting a date,” she says tiredly.
I think about what Luke said today, and I think about Bridget. She gets to go with Josh, regardless of whether she’s still actually dating him or not, and I get to go with Luke. My best friend. And while I’m happy to go with him to the formal, I feel like the Valentine’s Dance is a missed opportunity for Bridget and me. Maybe I should take a date. I mean, it’s not like I’d be asking Brit to be my girlfriend or anything. I take a deep breath.
“Hey, Brit?”
There’s no answer. I look down and realise she’s fallen asleep on my lap. There goes that idea.
I feel awkward sitting there with Brittany laying in my lap. Exposed. We’re not even really friends at school and here she is laying in my lap like we’re best friends, or worse, my girlfriend. I try to lift Brittany’s head up, but she throws her arm over my legs and now I can’t move.
“Hey, Quinn. Fancy seeing you here.”
I look up to see Bridget standing there, her arms crossed, obviously not happy. “Hey,” I reply. “I could say the same to you.”
She ignores my barb. “You look comfortable.”
“She just fell asleep,” I reply.
“On your lap?”
I shrug. “She took me by surprise.”
“Really?” She turns to leave.
“Bridget, wait.” I prise Brittany’s arm from off my legs and gently lift her head. I place it down on a cushion and although she murmurs something incomprehensible, thankfully she stays asleep. I walk over to Bridget, grab her by the arm and lead her away.
“What is wrong with you?” Bridget whispers angrily.
“Me? Nothing.”
“You asked her to the Valentine’s Dance?”
“What? No!”
“Don’t lie to me, Quinn. I know she’s going to the dance with you.”
“She’s going with me and Luke.”
Bridget shakes her head. “I can’t believe you’d do that to me.”
“You’re going with Josh,” I reply.
“That’s different,” Bridget shoots back.
“How?” I ask. “How is you going with Josh any different to me going with Brittany?”
“Because,” Bridget says. “You know what Josh and I have is fake. Brittany’s been after you for months.”
“No she hasn’t.”
“Oh don’t pretend like you didn’t notice,” Bridget scoffs. “She’s been eyeing you off since last year.”
I’m speechless. Maybe I am clueless, just like Luke said. “I didn’t realise,” I say. And then it hits me. “You’re jealous of Brittany.”
“Well, you’re jealous of Josh,” Bridget replies. She turns away from me and I know I’m right. I can’t believe she’s jealous of Brittany. In a funny way, it actually makes me feel better. At least I know Bridget really does like me.
“Bridget!”
Speak of the devil. Bridget groans. Josh comes striding across the entertaining area. Brittany’s friends appear at the back door. I wonder how long they’ve been watching.
Josh stops in front of us. Bridget doesn’t move.
“I came out to check on you,” he says.
“I’m not a baby, Josh.”
“No, but you’re my girlfriend—”
“Was, Josh. I was your girlfriend. You dumped me, remember?”
“When did that happen?” I ask Bridget, but she doesn’t answer.
“You were going to dump me,” Josh fires back.
“We had an agreement,” Bridget says. “If I remember correctly, this was pretty close to it. It was supposed to happen at the formal. Isn’t that right?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Josh says. “You’re the one who wanted to stay together, not me. ‘It’ll just be easier for everyone’ you said. Remember?” More heads have appeared around the place and people are starting to appear at windows.
Wait a minute. I turn to Bridget. “You wanted to stay with him?”
Bridget glances at me and says, “It’s not what you think.”
“It’s none of your business, Quinn,” Josh says. He goes to grab Bridget’s arm but she pulls away.
I shove him away. “Don’t touch her.”
“Shut up, Quinn,” Josh says. “You shouldn’t even be here.”
“Hey, leave her alone.” Brittany appears beside me. The commotion must have woken her up. Her hair is flat on one side and her makeup’s smeared but there’s no doubt she’s angry.
“Stay out of it, Brit,” Bridget says.
“Hey,” Brittany says. “Keep your shirt on.”
“I never invited you,” Josh says to me. “I only let you come because of Luke. I have no idea what he sees in a dyke like you.” He spits out the word ‘dyke’ like it’s a bad taste in his mouth. Bridget steps in between Josh and I.
“What are you friends now?” Josh asks. “Be careful, she’ll turn you into a dyke too.”
“Hey!” Luke comes running across the yard.
“Piss off, Luke.”
“No Josh. You piss off,” Luke says. He grabs Josh’s shoulder and spins him around. Josh throws a punch, but Luke ducks. Josh stumbles forward and then rights himself. Luke just stands there.
“You need to watch your mouth,” Luke says.
“You need to watch who you’re hanging around,” Josh says.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Luke asks.
“Everyone knows you’re gay, Luke. You have to be to hang around a dyke,” Josh says. Luke just shakes his head. Then, like a bolt out of the blue, Luke punches Josh right on his nose. Josh stumbles backwards, loses his footing and falls into the pool.
Brittany starts laughing hysterically. Bridget races to the side of the pool. “Josh!”
I go over to Luke. “Are you okay?” I ask him. He grabs at his hand. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he says. “I’ve been wanting to do that for ages. Are you okay?”
“I have to go home,” I reply. I need some time to process what Josh said about Bridget being the one who wanted to stay in the relationship with him.
Brittany touches my arm. “Quinn, I—”
I pull away from her. “I need to go,” I say again.
“I’ll take you,” Luke offers.
“You’ve been drinking,” I reply. “I’ll be okay. I’ll call Mum.”
As I head back past the pool and through the crowd that’s gathered around, Bridget calls, “Quinn, wait.” I ignore her and run into the house. I hate parties. I don’t know why I let Luke talk me into coming.
FIVE
Fatso’s is buzzing at lunch on Sunday. Mike called me in to cover for Janine who’s babysitter pulled out last minute this morning. Usually I’d be ticked about getting called in on my day off but today I’m hoping the work will keep my mind off Bridget and Brittany and the party last night.
I park my bike in the side alley and head into the shop. Mike’s got his hands wrist-deep in batter when I arrive, Cal’s working the fryers and Toby’s washing dishes in the sink. I snag my apron and cap from the hook near the cold room door and head over to
the bench. “Where do you need me?” I ask.
Without looking up, Mike nods to the doorway to the front of the shop. “Out front. Macca’s getting slammed out there. Clean off some tables and then see if she needs a hand serving.”
I mock-salute and head out the front.
Macca’s manning the till and straight away I can see empty tables full of dishes. I grab a cloth and tub and head over and start dumping dishes in. As quick as I clean them, people are sitting at them asking for menus. As soon as I finish the tables I can see, I duck back over to the counter and grab some menus and drop them off to the customers who asked for them on my way out to the courtyard. I clean up some tables out there, and finally carry the tub full of dishes to the back and put it beside the sink, ready for them to be rinsed and put into the washer.
I wipe my hands on my apron. “Where’s Toby?”
“Hungover,” Cal replies. “He’s out the side throwing up.”
I shake my head. He’s always hungover on a Sunday. I head back out the front where Macca’s haggling with a customer over the merits of local fish or imported. There’s a line starting to form so I take a notebook and pen and walk around to the other side. I start taking orders on paper so they don’t have to wait. There’s always one customer who has to be a pain in the backside when we’re busy.
“Sorry we’re so busy,” I say to the first guy. “I’ll grab your order and put it through so you don’t have to wait. You can pay when you pick it up, yeah?”
He shrugs and gives me his order. Once I’ve got everyone else in the line sorted, I jump in beside Macca, who’s still arguing with the same customer, and put the orders through the till, making sure I write ‘unpaid’ in the comments.
I head back out to the kitchen and pick up the empty dish tub and pat Toby on the back. “Big night?” I ask. He looks up at me and groans in reply. I try not to laugh. He’s looking a bit green around the gills so I leave him to get back to the dishes.
After two solid hours, the lunch rush disappears and I get a chance to slow down. I’m just finishing up cleaning down the outside tables when Bridget appears in front of me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask as I head back inside.
Bridget follows me. “I went looking for you at home. Your mum told me you were here.”
I don’t answer. She follows me out to the kitchen.
“I just wanted to talk to you, about last night,” she says.
I haul the tub onto the bench and start dumping the dishes into the sink. “Nothing to talk about.”
“I wanted to explain about Josh—”
I turn and look at her. “What you and Josh do is nothing to do with me.” I turn back to the tub and finish emptying the dishes. “Not anymore, anyway.”
“Can you go somewhere else,” Toby whines. “You’re making my head hurt.”
As I walk past Bridget to get back out the front, she grabs my arm. “Please, Quinn, just let me explain.”
I look down at her hand and sigh. “Fine. Out back.”
Bridget follows me out the back of the shop and around the corner. I sit down on one of the old cafe chairs and Bridget sits across from me.
I cross my arms and look at her. She looks away. “Be quick. I need to get back inside.” I know I sound harsh but the more time I spend with Bridget, the more chance there is of me forgiving her, and that’s something I don’t want to do right now.
“Josh and I had an agreement,” she begins. “But you already knew that.” She looks down at her hands.
“So how did I fit in to this agreement?” I ask.
“You didn’t,” Bridget replies.
I huff and shake my head.
“Not at first,” Bridget says. “I mean, the agreement with Josh was just to keep up appearances, you know? We weren’t meant to start seeing other people.”
“So I was a mistake? Is that what you’re saying?”
“No!” Bridget says. And then, quietly, “No. You weren’t a mistake. Far from it.”
“Why did you stick with the agreement then? Why wouldn’t you just break up and be with me?”
Bridget lets out a breath. “I just…” she trails off. “It was just easier, okay?”
I snort. “Easier for who? You?”
Bridget snaps her head up. “Yes, easier for me.” She’s angry. “You don’t understand.”
“What’s to understand, Bridget? You pretended to still be dating Josh while seeing me on the side because you were so worried about your precious reputation.”
She shakes her head. “That’s not—”
I jump up off the chair and pace up the alley and back again. “You wanted to stay with him, Bridget. You lied to me. How do you think that makes me feel?”
“I’m sorry,” Bridget says. “You just, don’t understand what it’s like. My parents have got my whole life planned out for me.”
“Poor you,” I say unsympathetically.
“And Dad, if he found out I was dating a girl, he’d go ballistic,” she continues.
“At least you have a dad,” I shoot back.
Bridget’s shoulders slump. “Look, Quinn, I’m really sorry I hurt you. I didn’t mean to.”
“Well you did.”
“Is there anything I can do to maybe get you to forgive me?” she asks.
“I don’t know, Bridge. I really don’t.” I suck in a breath. I really do like her. A lot, actually. Is her lie about Josh really that big a deal in the grand scheme of things? I mean, we were living a lie ourselves, really. “Just, give me some time.”
“Okay,” Bridget says and she smiles a sad, hopeful smile. “I can do that.”
Toby bolts around the corner and throws up in a garbage bin. When he’s done, he trudges back past us. “Sorry,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Raw fish gets me every time.” He gets to the corner and then turns back. “Oh, I almost forgot. Macca said there’s someone asking for you out front. Brittany I think her name is?”
Oh, God. That’s all I need. “Thanks. I’ll be in in a sec.” I look up at Bridget who’s expression I can’t quite read.
“Are you doing this to punish me?” she asks.
“Doing what?”
“Seeing Brittany Taylor.”
“It’s none of your business what I do,” I hit back.
“Well, so much for needing time.” She turns and storms off down the alley before I can say anything.
I have no idea why Brittany’s come into the shop today, of all days, and I really don’t want to find out. I have another two hours of my shift left though, so I have no choice but to go in and see her.
SIX
The week leading up to the Valentine’s Dance is the most painful I’ve ever experienced. The last thing I want is to be bombarded with soppy declarations of love but that’s what hits me for the whole freaking week. Principal McKeown allows the formal committee to play love songs over the school radio during the lunch breaks, and there are cardboard hearts and cupids everywhere. The posters with famous couples on the walls and bulletin boards with quotes about love on them make me want to puke.
On Monday, Brittany buys me one of the chocolate roses the formal committee are selling with ‘Be Mine’ on a note attached to the fake stem. She gives it to me in front of my whole English class, including Bridget, while reciting one of Shakespeare’s sonnets.
On Tuesday, she dedicates a song to me on the school radio. Unfortunately for me, I’m in line at the tuckshop buying my lunch, so I have nowhere to hide. I want the ground to open up and swallow me whole. And as if things can’t get any worse, after the wolf whistles and cat calls die down, when I finally make it out of the line and head off to find Luke, I spot Bridget, staring at me from across the quadrangle. I can’t tell whether she’s mad or not, but she just slowly turns and walks away.
On Wednesday, Brittany presents me with a rainbow unicorn fluffy toy she’s made herself at the Build-a-Bear shop, and has filled a little pocket inside it with he
art-shaped lollies. I’m a sucker for the little ‘be mine’ lollies and even though it’s all so sickly sweet, I can’t help but be impressed with the effort she’s gone to. I’m still not giving her much in return but she just keeps putting herself out there in front of everyone.
By the time Thursday comes around, I’m so Valentined out, I almost decide to skip school. It’s also the anniversary of Dad’s death, but even that wouldn’t convince Mum to call in sick for me. It turns out to be a blessing in disguise. I know that sounds terrible but it gets me out of a potential date with Brittany. She presents me with a bunch of heart-shaped balloons and hands me a note with a coupon for a ‘First Date Tonight, Your Choice’ on it. When I tell her the significance of the day, she’s so genuinely upset that I almost feel bad for saying no to the date, and almost, almost agree to a rain check.
She is kind of growing on me on account of being around so much. Plus, she gives me attention in public, which is more than I’ve been getting from Bridget. I do agree to stay back to help her with some history homework after school, though I don’t know whether it’s a ploy to spend more time with me. Spending the afternoon with her is not as bad as I imagined, so I actually let myself believe that going to the dance might be fun after all.
As much as Brittany’s over the top devotion annoys me, it keeps my mind off of Bridget. Mostly, anyway. We’ve managed to avoid each other, except for the couple of classes we’ve had together, and even then, we deliberately sat on opposite sides of the class room. That’s why I’m surprised to see her sitting on my front step when I get home that afternoon. She stands up when she sees me and says, “Hey.”
“Hey,” I reply as I open the front door. I dump my bag in the hallway and turn back around to face her. Normally I’d ask her in but I don’t want her to stay. And I don’t want Mum to hear our conversation. It would be too awkward to explain to her what’s going on.
“Your mum said you’d be late today.”
“I was helping Brittany with her history assignment.”
