Give Me Four Reasons

by Lizzie Wilcock

  ‘Rochelle and Elfi are your mates.’

  ‘Used to be my mates. We broke up.’

  Jed’s eyes narrow. I know he knows the real story.

  ‘Okay, I chose my new friends over them,’I admit. ‘But if Elfi and Rochelle were really my friends, they’d be happy for me.’I sigh. ‘I miss them though. They haven’t called all weekend.’ I swipe at my nose with the back of my hand.

  ‘You’ll sort it out if you want to. You’ve been friends forever. Surely that counts for something.’

  I think of Mum and Dad. It is on the tip of my tongue to tell Jed that they have split up. But I can’t do it. ‘Sometimes it counts for nothing,’ I say instead. ‘Sometimes you just need a change.’

  Jed stares out the tiny window of the cubbyhouse and through the fence to my pool. ‘What happened to our motto, Paige? What happened to “Don’t change”?’

  ‘It was a stupid motto,’ I sniff. ‘Nothing ever stays the same, so how can we expect people to? How can we expect friendships to?’

  ‘But I thought that was the whole point. Everything’s changing around us, but let’s roll with it and remember who our friends are.’

  ‘Elfi and Rochelle don’t want to roll with it.’

  Jed shrugs. ‘I’m still your mate, Paige.’ He gives me an awkward hug, all crouched over in the child’s cubbyhouse.

  ‘Do you want to go to the beach today?’I ask. ‘Or see a movie?’

  Jed hesitates. ‘I … I can’t. I’ve got … plans. With some, er … guys you don’t know.’

  Jed is not very good at lying.

  ‘With Rochelle and Elfi?’

  ‘Yes,’ Jed says. He suddenly looks nervous. Or is it guilty? ‘Look, I’ve gotta go.’ He crawls out through the cubbyhouse door.

  I watch through the window as he climbs the fence into our yard and disappears. Then I sigh and head home as well.

  Dad is my next visitor. Before I even have a chance to say hello, Mum drags him off to the bedroom for a ‘private’chat. It’s not very private, though, because she yells so loudly that I can hear every word, especially from my vantage point outside their bedroom door.

  ‘How dare you disappoint the girls?’ Mum says. ‘Don’t make promises that you can’t keep.’

  I don’t catch what Dad mutters in response.

  ‘Don’t you start on that again,’ Mum yells next. ‘You left. You broke up this family.’

  Then I can’t hear anything until Mum starts ohming.

  Dad strides out of the room and I scamper up the hall and throw myself on the lounge.

  ‘Sorry about yesterday, girls,’ he says. ‘But I thought I could take you out for lunch today.’

  We go to the Thai place that Felicity suggests, but everything is weird. Felicity doesn’t seem to notice, though. She is happy to rave on about school and some new guy called Jamie who transferred from a country school. Dad tries asking me questions about school but it annoys me. Why does he have the right to leave and then still get to know all about my life? I just give one-word replies.

  Then I remember it is my fault Dad left in the first place, and I try to be nice to him. ‘How was work yesterday?’ I ask.

  ‘Dead boring,’ he says.

  I can’t bring myself to laugh.

  21

  It takes me ages to get ready for school on Monday. The latest edition of Cindy, which I bought at the mall, has a ‘Cool for School’ checklist and I’ve decided to follow it.

  1. Moisturise entire body with Me (see sample attached to the centre staples).

  2. Wash and dry hair and smooth Slix Chix hair serum through ends.

  3. Dust lids with Passion Peach or Cutest Coral eye shadow.

  4. Outline eyes with Chunky Charcoal pencil.

  5. Sweep lashes with Lash Wonder mascara.

  6. Dab lips with any colour from the PoshPots Naturals range.

  I don’t have the exact products Cindy suggests, but the stuff I do have makes me look similar to the girl in the photo.

  As I walk out the front door, I realise I am actually looking forward to school. At least people notice me there. Mum and Felicity barely spoke to me all weekend, and they never commented on my new clothes or make-up.

  Rochelle and Elfi, however, do more than just notice me when I glide into our quadrangle. They stare and then whisper behind their hands when they see me. I give them the slow blink that Cindy says to use in awkward situations like this, and glide off to sit under Sidney’s tree.

  Sidney applies a fresh layer of the lip gloss that I bought for her and smiles at me. Miff tells everyone how she saw me surfing on Saturday. She doesn’t mention my bitten board or the shark attack. She just grins knowingly at me.

  At first break, Elfi and Rochelle don’t go to the cockroach hole as usual. Instead they walk across the playground towards me. I smile at them at first, but then I get nervous about the warthogs at the waterhole thing.

  But I needn’t have worried. They walk past me and across the quadrangle. As they pass, they look right through me as if I’m invisible and carry on a loud conversation about the fun they’d had together the night before.

  This goes on all week. Every time I pass them in the corridor, or run into them coming out of the toilets, or see them across the playground, they ignore me and continue their conversation as though I don’t exist. It’s weird how I used to be mostly visible to Elfi and Rochelle, but invisible to everyone else. Now it’s the other way around. It’s really freaky having my two ex-best friends being so mad at me. I don’t know what to do about it, so I just pretend it isn’t happening.

  While I’m dealing with Elfi and Rochelle hating me, plus my parents hating each other, I am also busy trying to figure out how to keep my new friends liking me. My hair and make-up seem to be good enough for Sidney and Miff, but I’ve got nothing to talk about with them. After only a week, I’ve run out of things to say. Rochelle, Elfi, Jed and I never stopped talking. We were always discussing books we’d read, or old songs we’d found in our parents’ CD collections, or something.

  And even though I was the quiet one with my old friends, when I did say something, I wasn’t worried if it was cool enough to be worth saying. It’s not like that with the new girls. If I’m not careful, the word nerd or dag or dork will be spat at me the minute I open my mouth. But I’ve got to do something to keep them interested in me, or I’ll turn back into the shy, quiet person that I used to be.

  Somehow, I manage to make it through another week with the cool crowd. I am relieved and happy, even though I know that at any moment someone could discover who I really am.

  On Friday afternoon we have a meeting in the assembly hall with the entire grade and I discover that my position with the cool kids isn’t as shaky as I thought.

  We are going to Orientation Camp next week for some bonding activities. I’m not sure how archery or fencing can be a bonding activity. But there’s also canoeing, rock climbing, orienteering and a flying fox. Once upon a time, I would have dreaded all these things, but since climbing that hill every day at Bloodstone Beach, and learning to bodysurf, I’m looking forward to it.

  We are to be in all-boy or all-girl tents of six, mixed activity groups of twelve and bunk-buddy pairs. Bunk-buddies have to look out for each other at all times, so each pair is in the same tent and the same activity group.

  With our group of seven now firmly established, someone is going to miss out on being in the tent. My old self resurfaces when everyone begins to pick partners and I expect to be the odd one out. But Sidney grabs me straight away and says, ‘You’re my buddy.’

  Miff looks upset, then grabs Mandi to be her bunk-buddy. Mia and Holly quickly team up, which means that Brooke is left out in the cold. ‘Thanks a lot, guys,’ she says as she walks off across the assembly hall to join a new tent group. ‘Don’t be surprised to find bull ants in your sleeping bags.’

  Everyone has to sit down in a circle when they have formed their tent group, so the six of us wave goodbye t
o Brooke and then all sit down at once. I spot Elfi and Rochelle standing together at the far end of the hall. Not many girls are still on their feet. After a bit, Elfi and Rochelle form a group with a girl Miff calls Smelly Kelly, Laura Dingle (also known as Laura Dingbat) and two pimply boys. Mrs McKenna declares them a tent group and says they’ll use a sheet down the middle to divide the boys from the girls. Rochelle and Elfi don’t look impressed. I can tell from the way Rochelle folds her arms across her chest, and from the slump of Elfi’s shoulders.

  Our first task as a tent group is to decide on a name for ourselves.

  ‘I know,’ says Mia. ‘The Surfie Chicks.’

  ‘But we don’t all surf,’ Holly says.

  ‘Then what about the Rebels?’ Mandi suggests.

  ‘With a name like that the teachers will make sure our tent is right next to theirs,’ Miff says.

  ‘Then what about the Little Darlings?’ Holly says.

  ‘Too sweet and sickly,’ Sidney says. She looks at me. ‘What do you think, Paige? You’re good at clever names.’

  It sounds almost like we’re coming up with a motto for our group. Something to identify and unite us. I don’t want to make any suggestions—look how well my motto worked out last time.

  ‘I don’t care.’ I shrug.

  Sidney is about to turn back to the rest of the group when her eyes start to shine. ‘That’s brilliant!’

  ‘What is?’ Miff asks.

  ‘Our name. I Don’t Care,’ Sidney says.

  ‘I don’t get it,’ Mia says.

  I don’t get it either, but I keep quiet and wait to find out what Sidney means.

  ‘That’s our name: I Don’t Care,’ Sidney explains. ‘Imagine, when a teacher is reading out the roster for kitchen clean-up, they’ll say, “And on dishwashing duty tonight is … I Don’t Care.”’

  Miff’s eyes widen. ‘And when someone asks us what tent we’re in, we can all say,“I Don’t Care”. It’ll drive everyone nuts.’

  ‘And when Mrs McKenna finds one of us outside after curfew and she asks what tent we are in, we’ll answer,“I Don’t Care”,’ says Mia excitedly. ‘And then she’ll get really mad and she’ll say,“Tell me the name of your tent now or I’ll be phoning the principal,” and we’ll answer,“I Don’t Care”. She’ll go ballistic.’

  ‘And then we’ll get into huge trouble,’ Mandi says.

  ‘For what?’ Sidney says. ‘For telling the truth? We wouldn’t have done anything wrong. It’s great. Let’s have a vote. Who wants our name to be I Don’t Care?’

  All the girls raise their hands. I reluctantly raise mine.

  ‘Then it’s decided,’ Sidney declares. ‘You’re a genius, Paige. This camp is going to rock.’

  I smile as I realise I’ve accidentally bought myself another week of hanging with the in-crowd.

  22

  With a happy heart I pack my bag for the school camp. I begin with the new clothes I bought at the mall with Dad’s gift card. Aside from my school uniform, they are the only things that fit me these days. But I need more. I try on a few of my favourite t-shirts from last year. They hang like pillow cases on a washing line.

  My jeans are even worse. They are too short, and as I walk across to the mirror, they shimmy off my hips and fall to my knees.

  I run into Felicity’s room. She’s not home, so I open her wardrobe and start rummaging through the bottoms of her drawers, searching for stuff she doesn’t wear much any more. I find some old shorts, a tracksuit and a pair of jeans that fit me. I also grab some t-shirts. They are faded and a bit loose on me, but they have really cool designs on them. I tie one up at the front in a knot like I’ve seen Felicity do. It shows off my midriff, but it makes the shirt look less baggy, which is good.

  I lay out the stuff I’ve borrowed from Felicity across my bed and look at it again. Suddenly it all looks mismatched and weird. Denim and cotton. Flower patterns and polka dots. Brights and pastels. It doesn’t say trendy or cool. It says … daggy and pathetic. I sink down on my bed, clutching one of Fliss’s shirts. I don’t think I can pull it off. How can I be cool for four whole days at camp?

  But then I jump up. I know where I can get a few tips when I need them. I stuff two old copies of Cindy magazine into the bottom of my suitcase. When I need a dose of ‘cool’ I can slip off to the toilets and read. I fold all my clothes and place them over the magazines. I wish the suitcase had a secret bottom, like the ones in those spy movies, so no one can ever find out that I get all my ideas from Cindy. But this will have to do.

  Mum drops me off at school the next morning with my suitcase, pillow and sleeping bag. I am wearing my new denim miniskirt, one of my surfie t-shirts and my leather belt. I also have my new thongs on and I have freshly painted toenails. I put one foot up on the dashboard, hoping Mum will notice.

  ‘Put your foot down,’ she says.

  ‘Just drop me at the corner here,’ I instruct her. ‘You’ll never get a park out front. The buses will be there.’

  ‘But you’ll have to lug your suitcase and sleeping bag all the way along the street.’

  ‘Never mind,’ I say. I wish we had a normal car. But I can’t spoil things now. I look cool. I have cool friends. I can’t let them see me get out of a hearse.

  Mum pulls over to the kerb.

  ‘Are you going to be okay without me?’ I ask.

  ‘Isn’t that what I should be asking you?’ Mum says, laughing.

  I heave my suitcase off the back seat and onto the footpath. I reach in and get my pillow and my sleeping bag. I stick my head in through the driver’s window and kiss Mum. ‘See you on Thursday,’ I say.

  She smiles, then indicates and pulls the car back out into the traffic.

  I look down at the suitcase, wondering how I’m going to lug everything. The sleeping bag has a corded loop around the top, so I thread that over my head and slip my left arm through it. I tuck my pillow under my left arm, too. Then I grab the suitcase with my right hand. I have to lean over to my left to keep the suitcase from dragging on the ground. Somehow I manage to stagger the two hundred metres up to the front of the school. I am hot and sweaty and flustered by the time I get there, but at least I wasn’t seen climbing out of a hearse.

  Sidney and the other girls from our tent are already sitting on the grass at the front of the school. Mrs McKenna marks the roll and, soon after, Sidney and I climb onto the bus. Miff and Mandi push us from behind. Mia and Holly reach through and tug at our hair. Sidney’s right. This camp is going to rock.

  I plonk down on a vacant seat about six rows from the front.

  ‘Not here,’ Sidney says. ‘The back seat.’

  The Back Seat.

  It is like a throne.

  I walk cautiously towards the back seat. The green leather seems to glow. The chrome gleams. The window behind sparkles. The kids already sitting down move their bags out of the aisle so we don’t trip over them.

  I sit down and slide to a far corner. Sidney sits beside me, Miff beside her and then the other girls from the I Don’t Care tent slot into the opposite corner. I look at the other kids pushing and shoving their way onto the bus. I wait for someone to spot me and call out ‘fraud’. Or for someone to tell me that I need to sit behind the teacher at the front, beside the kid with his head in a sick bucket.

  But no one does.

  Our bus arrives first at Orientation Camp. Sixty jostling, giggling kids grab their bags and go to their tents. The tents aren’t little tents that we have to put up ourselves, but permanent canvas structures on concrete bases. Each tent has two windows, a door and a pitched roof. The tents are arranged around a large grassy space with a pile of firewood in the middle. A circle of logs separates the tents from the grass.

  We choose a tent and race for our preferred bunk, unrolling our sleeping bags on top. I wait for all the other girls in my tent to pick their bunks, and then I chuck my sleeping bag onto the one that’s left. Then I wait for the other girls to leave, unzip my suitcase and p
lace the Cindy magazines under my pillow. I need easy access to them. I feel better, just knowing they are there.

  Our first task is to make a sign and place it on the hook at the front of the tent. A square of cardboard has been provided for the purpose. Holly is artistic and she sets to work straight away. The beautiful, decorative lettering seems too good for our rude, silly name, but I don’t say anything. We hang up the sign and then sit outside on the logs.

  The other girls’ tents are: the Angels, the Devils, Beach Bums, Pink Possums, Banana Splits, February Foxes, Sassy Six, Six Chix (who have already scored the nickname ‘Sick Chicks’) and Star Gazers. I secretly think our name is stupid. But it’s too late to say that now.

  Elfi and Rochelle come out of the Devils’ tent, just as the two boys they are sharing with hurl their bags through the door. ‘Pick those up!’ Rochelle shouts to the boys. ‘I don’t want to trip over them in the middle of the night.’

  ‘Jeez, get a grip, giraffe girl,’ Miff murmurs, too quietly for Rochelle to hear. ‘We’re not at home now.’

  ‘Is that why you turned your bag upside down and emptied it in the corner?’ Sidney asks her.

  ‘Exactly!’ declares Miff.

  After everyone has found their tents and gathered together on the logs, Mrs McKenna reads out a metre-long list of Don’ts. It includes everything from, ‘Don’t leave your tent before six in the morning,’ to, ‘Don’t leave your tent after nine-thirty at night,’ and a lot of other things in between.

  ‘Now listen up, people,’ Mrs McKenna says. ‘I’m only going to say this once. Every time you break a rule you get a strike. Three strikes and you’re out. Your parents will be called to come and take you home. No argument.’

  ‘Harsh!’ Miff whispers.

  Mrs McKenna then teams up each of the girls’ tent groups with one of the boys’ tent groups to form our activity groups. Everyone laughs when she announces that a group called ‘the Bushbashers’ are with ‘I Don’t Care’. I’m delighted when I see that Jed is in the Bushbashers.