How to Boost Your Profile

by Meredith Badger

  I’m surprised to hear this after what Mum said at breakfast. But I can already guess what’s happened. Carolyn rang Dad to ask if it was okay just this once, and Dad gave in. Not that I mind. An afternoon without Carolyn sounds fine to me.

  I slip into the seat beside Dad, glad that for once I don’t have to sit on the fold-down seat in the back with all of Dad’s tools sliding around at my feet.

  ‘How about we catch a film?’ says Dad. ‘I just checked the listings – there’s a new Princess Paula movie at fourthirty. You like those Princess Paula movies, don’t you?’

  Okay, so maybe I used to like Princess Paula movies – when I was seven. But I can’t point this out to Dad because he seems genuinely excited about going. ‘Well, that sounds great,’ I say, ‘but I’ve got a whole heap of homework …’

  Dad swats my excuse away with one hand. ‘Don’t worry about that,’ he says. ‘How often do we get a chance to go to a film together, just you and me?’ I give up thinking of excuses after that.

  We round a corner and all Dad’s work stuff slides back to the other side of the van. ‘Hey, kiddo, here’s a problem for you,’ says Dad. ‘I have a big job on tomorrow – the roof is fifteen metres by eighteen metres. How many square metres of insulation do you reckon I’ll need?’

  I groan. ‘Dad! I’ve already had a maths lesson today. I don’t need another one.’

  ‘You used to think that working stuff out for me was fun,’ Dad says, and I can tell from his voice he’s a little offended. It’s true that I used to like helping Dad with his calculations. He’d pretend that he wasn’t working for Cyril the Squirrel anymore and had started his own business with me as his assistant. I loved spending the day driving around with my dad, helping him work stuff out. But that was when I was just a kid.

  ‘Sorry, Dad – I guess I just don’t find it interesting anymore,’ I say.

  At the cinema, Dad goes down into the underground parking. Mum never does that. She always parks miles away where she doesn’t have to pay for a ticket and makes us walk. And she always brings snacks from home too, instead of letting us buy things at the cinema snack bar.

  When we get to the cinema, I’m surprised by how many people are queuing up for tickets. They don’t look like the typical Princess Paula crowd either. But then I look at the board and realise that there’s another movie screening at the same time. It’s called Creature from the Black Lagoon and suddenly I remember that the one time Ethan and I went to see a movie together, he got all excited when he saw the poster for it.

  ‘That’s a classic sci-fi film!’ he said. ‘I can’t believe they’re showing it here. I’d love to see it.’ It didn’t look like my sort of thing at all, so I told Ethan there was no way I was going. He looked kind of disappointed, but didn’t mention it again. The funny thing is that just as I’m remembering this, I spot a familiar sandy-coloured head of hair in the ticket queue and sure enough, it’s Ethan. Standing beside him is Hannah Darcy.

  My heart slides down my body and down into my toes. It’s obvious that something is going on between them. It’s not that they’re kissing or even touching or anything. But they just look comfortable together. Hannah is talking and Ethan is smiling and really paying attention to everything she says. I don’t remember Ethan ever looking at me the way he’s looking at Hannah.

  ‘Dad, I have to go to the toilet,’ I mutter. Because I need to get away from this. Need a moment alone to get a grip. What I really want is to run from the cinema as fast as I can but I can’t, of course.

  ‘Are you okay, kiddo?’ Dad asks. ‘You look a bit pale.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ I mutter and then rush to the loo before Ethan sees me. Looks like I’m doing the avoiding now.

  The toilets are like a dimly lit time machine, piping in hit songs from the eighties. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in one of the mirrors. My hair has started to frizz and my make-up-free face looks completely washed-out.

  No wonder Ethan dumped me. I’d dump me too.

  I lock myself in one of the cubicles and sit on the toilet with the lid down. There’s a sign stuck to the wall with a picture of a shadowy hand reaching under a door and grabbing a bag. Thieves use the toilet too! it says. The walls of the cubicle are covered with grafitti. The usual stuff – HR + NF and I Archie de Souza. And there, just above the toilet roll, is Anya 4 Ethan. I’d forgotten I’d done that. I stare at it for a long time, remembering how good I’d felt writing it, putting my name up there with all those other names. Then I take my keys from my pocket and use them to scratch the letters off again. All that’s left when I’m done is a big horrible mess.

  Someone raps loudly on the door. ‘Is anyone even in there? There’s a big queue of people waiting out here.’

  ‘Hang on!’ I yell back. ‘I’m almost done.’ I jump up hurriedly and flush the toilet, so no-one will guess I was just sitting here scratching paint. I flick my hair behind my shoulders as I undo the lock. There’s a woman waiting on the other side, arms folded impatiently. ‘Sorry,’ I say apologetically. ‘I don’t feel very well.’ Maybe that will make her feel guilty for hassling me.

  When I get back to the cinema foyer I see that Dad is still halfway along the queue, checking his phone. I know I should go and stand with him, but Ethan could be anywhere and I’m totally not in the mood for running into him and Hannah together. Not yet.

  Then I realise I’m standing right in front of Cargo – the shop where Edi’s pretty bracelet came from.

  I find the bracelet lying on top of a display case at the back of the shop. Someone must have been trying it on and the shop assistant forgot to lock it back in the case. I look over to the desk, wondering if it’s okay if I try it on. The shop assistant is busy with a customer. There are a heap of brightly coloured scarves lying in a heap on the counter like a melted rainbow. The customer has a bright pink one wrapped around her neck, and she’s looking at herself this way and that in the mirror.

  ‘These scarves are so beautiful,’ the shop assistant is saying. ‘They’re from the Annoushka collection. Absolutely superb quality.’ She says Annoushka like it’s something magical.

  ‘I love the pink …’ the woman says. ‘But let me try the green one.’

  I figure it’s all right if I just try the bracelet on. It’s a little tricky to do up the clasp on my own but once it’s on, I can’t stop staring at my wrist. The bracelet is so beautiful. I twist my arm back and forth, watching the silver strands sparkle and gleam as they catch the light. I imagine myself showing it to Edi. ‘I had to get one too!’

  The customer has the green scarf on now. ‘Gorgeous!’ the shop assistant says. ‘Perfect for your colouring.’

  ‘I’m not so sure,’ says the customer. ‘Where’s that blue one I tried on before?’

  I lower my arm for a moment and my blazer sleeve slips down, covering the bracelet completely. You wouldn’t even know I had it on. Suddenly I’m standing very still, holding my breath. Because a thought has just popped into my head. What would happen if I walked out of the shop now? The shop assistant has barely even noticed I’m here. I’m pretty sure she didn’t see me try on the bracelet.

  I’m going to do it. Not because I want to steal the bracelet – it’s more like an experiment to see what happens. If the shop assistant stops me I’ll tell her that I forgot I had the bracelet on – just like I forgot about the mascara.

  Taking the first step is hard, but each step after that is easier. Soon I’m level with the front counter. I feel my heart jump a little. Blood pumps loudly in my ears. ‘Maybe the yellow?’ the shop assistant is saying to the scarf lady. ‘It’s such a now colour.’

  ‘It’s too hard to choose!’ sighs the customer. ‘Maybe I should buy them all!’ She and the shop assistant both laugh.

  It’s not until I step outside of the shop that I realise my hands are so tightly clenched they ache. I keep walking – fighting the urge to break into a run – and try to keep my breath as steady as I can. No-one stops me. The s
hop assistant doesn’t even say goodbye. It’s almost like I’m invisible. My legs are shaking like I’ve just run a marathon but I feel amazing. All tingly and super alive or something. I keep walking, away from the shop and towards the queue where I can see Dad waving to me like crazy from the front.

  I run over to him and give him a bear hug. I can tell he’s surprised, but also pleased. ‘Feeling better?’ he says, hugging me back.

  ‘So much better,’ I say. ‘Oh, and Dad? You’ll need 270 square metres of insulation for that job tomorrow.’

  Dad grins and pulls some money out of his pocket. ‘Go and get us some popcorn from the snack bar, kiddo,’ he says. ‘And some drinks.’

  The movie is the most boring thing I’ve seen in my life, but it doesn’t matter. I spend most of the time running my finger along the bracelet hidden under my sleeve. I can’t believe how easy it was to make it mine.

  I wake up early the next morning on the inflatable mattress in Dad’s new lounge room, which is also the dining room and kitchen. Carolyn is snoring away beside me on the couch. I lie there for a while, listening to the trucks rumbling past outside, with a funny feeling in my stomach – and I know it’s because of the bracelet. Last night, taking the bracelet had felt exciting. But overnight the feeling has changed, like when you leave milk out of the fridge for too long and it goes all thick and lumpy.

  I get up quietly and check the pocket of my school uniform. It’s where I hid the bracelet before going to bed last night. I think I’m hoping that maybe it’s vanished or something. It hasn’t, of course, but somehow it doesn’t look quite so pretty anymore. Maybe I should take it back, I think. Or give it away? Then I hear Dad moving around in his room and I quickly zip the bracelet back into my pocket. I’ll work out what to do with it later.

  Mornings at Dad’s place are always more relaxed than at Mum’s. Dad doesn’t hassle us about eating breakfast or worry about whether we’re going to be late for school. He doesn’t make us lunch either – just gives us some money for the canteen, which is fine by me.

  I get ready quickly and don’t bother about breakfast, because I want to catch the bus instead of waiting for a lift with Dad. I feel like I want to be on my own. The bus is pretty full, as usual, and even though it’s stupid, I keep thinking that whenever anyone looks at me it’s because they know what I did. That they can tell I nicked something.

  When I get to school I head to the spot where Leni, Soph and I usually hang out before school starts – even though I know they won’t be there yet.

  I’m just rounding a corner near the lockers when I run into Ethan. Literally. I’m so shocked that I just stand there for a moment, gaping at him like an idiot. He’s looking at me in the same way. Finally he says, ‘I’d better go,’ and tries to escape.

  But I’m not having that. ‘Are you going out with Hannah now?’ I ask, blocking his way.

  ‘No,’ he says. ‘We’re just friends.’

  ‘Oh yeah, right,’ I say, super sarcastic. ‘Just friends who hang out all the time and laugh and go and see weird old movies together.’

  He gives me a strange look – probably because he doesn’t realise I spotted him at the cinema last night. Then he says, ‘Hannah likes weird old movies, just like I do. It’s one of the reasons we’re friends.’

  ‘And what are the other reasons?’ I say. ‘It can’t be that she’s pretty.’ I know that’s a nasty thing to say. But I am getting mad. Ethan gets this really disgusted expression on his face and says, ‘Maybe she’s not as pretty as you, but she’s smarter.’

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing! Ethan likes Hannah better than me because she’s smarter? What kind of guy is he? ‘She is not smarter than me!’ I manage to say eventually.

  Ethan hesitates, like he’s trying to decide if he should say something or not. He must decide not to, because he suddenly steps around me and starts heading off towards the library.

  ‘You shouldn’t have dumped me with a text message!’ I yell after him. ‘That’s really rude, Ethan.’

  He stops and turns back for a moment. ‘You’re right,’ he says, in that calm way of his which is extremely annoying. ‘That was rude and I’m sorry. But you know what, Anya? Sometimes it feels like the only way to get your attention is via your phone.’ He walks away, totally taking advantage of the fact that I’m too gobsmacked to stop him.

  Without even realising I’m doing it, I take the Cargo bracelet out of my pocket and put it on. The moment it’s on, I feel better. More in control.

  By the time Leni and Soph arrive, I’m not shocked anymore. Now I’m furious. ‘Can you believe Ethan thinks Hannah is smarter than I am?’ I say, fuming. I’m expecting them both to say, That’s crazy! but they say nothing. I narrow my eyes at them. ‘You guys don’t actually think that’s true, do you?’ I say.

  ‘Well,’ says Soph slowly, ‘Hannah does always do pretty well in tests and stuff.’

  ‘Especially in maths,’ adds Leni. ‘But you don’t care, do you? You hate maths.’

  The thing is, I didn’t go to the same primary school as Leni or Soph, so they don’t know that I used to be really good at maths. And it’s not like I can suddenly say, Actually I used to be a mathlete, because how much of a loser would that make me look? There’s only one thing I can do. I have to wait for a chance to show them – and Ethan – that I’m smarter than they think.

  ‘Hey,’ says Leni, pointing at my wrist. ‘Pretty bracelet.’ I know she’s trying to change the topic, but she’s right. The bracelet is pretty. It seems to have its sparkle back now that I’m outside.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘My dad bought it for me. You know, to make me feel better about breaking up with Ethan.’

  ‘Wow,’ says Soph. ‘That’s so nice of him. It looks expensive.’

  I shrug. ‘Yeah, it probably is. But you can borrow it any time you like.’

  In maths later that morning, Mr Cartright springs a surprise test on us. Everyone groans – except me, because I realise this is my chance to show everyone that they’re wrong about me. That I am smart.

  Just before the test starts, I see Hannah give Ethan a little smile and mouth the words good luck to him. It’s totally sick-making.

  Just you wait, I think to myself. We’ll see who’s really smarter.

  The doctor’s office is open late on Thursday evenings, so Mum isn’t around for dinner. When my parents first split up, Carolyn and I used to make dinner together on Thursdays. Carolyn would do most of the cooking but I’d help a lot. It was actually pretty fun. But we haven’t cooked together for ages and the moment I walk into the flat, I can tell that we won’t be doing it this evening either. There’s the sound of laughter and talking coming from Carolyn’s room, which means that Max is over – even though he’s not meant to visit during the week.

  I check out the fridge and find some bread, a couple of soft-ish apples, some cheese and an old bunch of celery that’s so limp that when I shake it, it looks like a big green hand, waving. I know how to cook pesto pasta on my own, but there are no jars of red pesto in the cupboard, so in the end I take the less-soft apple and a hunk of cheese and make myself some Vegemite toast. Then I sit down to eat it in front of the TV.

  I can hear Max and Carolyn talking and laughing in her room. They’ve been going out for ages now. Maybe they’ll get married one day. Will Carolyn ask me to be her bridesmaid? Last year I would’ve thought so, but now I’m not so sure. I just seem to bug her at the moment.

  I don’t know if it’s because I’m sitting alone on our huge sofa, but I suddenly feel really small. Like I’m just this dot floating around in the universe, so tiny and unimportant that no-one even sees me. I curl up on the sofa and before I know it, I’m starting to drift off.

  The next thing I know Mum’s leaning over me, holding a box of what smells like Chinese takeaway. ‘Hi, honey,’ she says. ‘Are you hungry? I’ve got you some chicken and vegies.’ I sit up. The food smells good.

  As I’m reaching out to take the con
tainer, Mum spots the bracelet on my arm. ‘Where did that come from?’ she asks.

  ‘Dad gave it to me,’ I say, because it’s started to feel true.

  Mum’s face goes all tight. ‘How lovely that someone’s got money to fritter away,’ she mutters.

  The food smells bring Carolyn out of her room. Max doesn’t appear so either she’s stuffed him into a cupboard or he left while I was asleep.

  ‘How’s the homework going?’ Mum asks.

  Carolyn exhales loudly and plonks herself down on the sofa. ‘I’ve been working at it solidly since I got home,’ she says. Her eyes slide sideways, like she’s daring me to contradict her.

  Of course I wouldn’t, but I can’t resist teasing her a bit. I pull this confused look and open my mouth like I’m about to say something. Then, when I see her panicked expression, I grin and shut my mouth again. When I go to my room later, I take the bracelet off and put it in the bottom of my schoolbag. I’m hoping that if Mum doesn’t see it, she’ll forget about it.

  I’m just getting my lunch from my bag the next day when Mr Cartright comes up to me. He’s looking very serious. I mean, he’s not exactly Mr Jolly at the best of times, but today his face is even more stern than usual.

  ‘Anya,’ he says. ‘Come to my office, please.’

  What have I done? For once I don’t have any make-up on, so it can’t be that. I can see Leni and Soph looking at me wide-eyed. ‘Now?’ I say.

  ‘Yes. Now.’

  Mr Cartright shares an office with another teacher, but it’s obvious which desk is his. It’s the one with the three pens perfectly lined up beside a laptop, which is sitting open at exactly ninety degrees. Mr Cartright must have used a protractor to get the angle so straight. It’s tempting to reach out while he’s not looking and adjust the angle just the tiniest bit, to see how long it takes him to notice. But I don’t.