I look up at the picture above my bed. It’s a heartshaped cloud, floating through a blue sky. Edi has the pair. Her cloud is floating in the opposite direction. We bought them at the op shop together. And it’s right that Edi has one and I have the other, because we are a pair. We’ve just drifted a little bit.
‘If you just sit and stay,’ I say to Cricket, ‘then you’re just hanging around. Stuff happens, and you just let it happen.’ Like Hazel getting closer to Edi and pushing me out, I think.
I give Cricket a scratch between the ears.
But I’m going to make sure that doesn’t happen. All I have to do is figure out how to be a little more exciting than Hazel. Then things will go back to how they should be.
Even if I don’t know how just yet.
When I get up the next morning, Mum and Dad have both gone to work. The dirty dishes from last night’s dinner are still in the sink. Messy. Like our family.
When I get to school, everyone’s trying to push to their lockers at the same time as usual. Ella Ingram’s locker is next to mine. She’s had her hair cut so it’s all short and spiky. It’s a bit of a shock. Ella Ingram was number four on the hot list. It seems pretty risky to go that short. I guess it suits her, in a way, but I so wouldn’t do something like that.
‘Ella!’ Edi saunters up to the locker area like she’s got heaps of time, but she actually doesn’t because the bell has already gone.
‘Oh my god, your hair looks amazing! Where did you get it done?’
Ella touches her spikes. ‘Fur,’ she says. ‘Do you really like it?’
‘I really do,’ Edi says, and Edi doesn’t say stuff she doesn’t mean. ‘It’s so indie. Everybody’s got long hair, and it’s sooo boring.’ She turns to me. ‘What do you think, Limps?’
Actually, Edi has a point. I can’t help touching my own hair. Maybe it’s time I got a proper haircut? Mine isn’t really in a style like Ella’s. It’s just kind of long and it’s probably exactly the type of boring that Edi’s talking about. But then again, I don’t think a short style would suit me. It would probably draw too much attention to my gappy teeth.
‘It’s really nice, Ella,’ I offer.
Ella just nods. She barely even glances at me. I can tell she’s stoked that Edi likes her haircut. Everybody wants to impress Edi. But it’s really rude that Ella directs everything to her and nothing to me. ‘I had to save up for ages to go to that salon, but – ’ ‘Edi,’ I say, ‘we’d better get going.’ It’s bad enough that I haven’t done my homework. I don’t want to be late too.
When we get to class, Edi heads down to the front of the room with the other brainiacs who are way ahead of us. I have just enough time to slide into my regular seat at the table with Hazel and Jess before Mr Cartwright arrives. He’s carrying a huge mug of steaming coffee. He does that all the time. I reckon he’s rubbing it in that he’s the teacher so he’s allowed to drink coffee during class.
He walks around the classroom, coffee in one hand and the other outstretched to collect our homework. Nick Bradbury shadows him. You’re not even allowed to talk in Mr C’s class, let alone get up and walk around. Nick gets away with a lot because of his Down syndrome. It is kind of unfair, but nobody seems to mind so I try not to as well. Besides, it is pretty funny – every time Mr C stops in front of someone and holds out his hand, Nick stops too. By the time Mr C and Nick get to my table, I’m smiling.
‘I gather you’re very happy because you’ve done a great job on your homework, Olympia?’ he says.
I gulp as Hazel and Jess hand in their worksheets.
‘Um … I … I didn’t do it,’ I say softly.
Mr C raises his big woolly eyebrows and makes me wait for his response. Nick stands behind him.
‘So, let me guess, O-lym-pia.’ He stretches out the syllables. ‘Typhoid? Cholera? The Bubonic Plague? These would be examples of valid excuses for the incompletion of a task set two weeks ago.’
He pauses again. Some people twitter and I know they think Mr C is pretty funny when he says stuff like that. But right now, I can feel the eyes of the entire class on me and it doesn’t feel funny at all.
I feel like my life is one big, gigantic stress. I wish I could swap lives with someone – preferably with Edi, who is looking at me from her advanced-maths table, with her homework completed in front of her, and her wardrobe of great clothes and parents who don’t fight at home. But I’d settle for being Hazel or even Jess.
Tears spring up from behind my eyes. I close them.
Then I hear Nick’s voice. ‘Don’t make Olympia sad, Mr C.’
It sort of shifts my feelings about Nick. It’s sweet, the way he’s sticking up for me. Nick is the only one who would even try to get away with talking to Mr C like that, and it’s pretty brave that he does it. But it does double the tears, because he’s right. I am sad and it’s so not even about my maths homework. I feel a tear dribble down my cheek, even though my eyes are still shut. When I open them, Mr Cartwright has put down his coffee. He goes to touch my shoulder, but then probably thinks better of it since teachers aren’t supposed to touch students.
‘I have stuff going on at home,’ I mumble. Even though my words come out really small, I can tell everyone’s heard them. Hazel and Jess move their chairs closer to me, like human shields. Without me even telling them, they get that something would have happened with my parents.
They’ve been through stuff like this with me before.
Mr C takes a breath. ‘Okay. Don’t worry about your homework, Olympia,’ he says. ‘You take as much time as you need.’ Then he turns and points around the classroom.
‘The rest of you,’ he says, ‘get on with it.’
I think it might be the first time in history that Mr C has publicly let someone off for not doing homework. Part of me is pleased I got away with it, now that my tears have dried up. If I ever have to hand it in, I’ll just get the answers from a friend.
After maths, the girls all want to know what’s going on at home, but we don’t have much time between periods so we can’t chat properly. I mutter something about Mum and Dad, and they stick protectively close to me as we head over to the gym.
Miss Kearns is standing at the front of the gym. She lifts her whistle and blows really hard.
‘All right, people,’ she yells. ‘Change of plans. Softball field’s being used by another class. Running races instead. Into your regular groups and on the oval. Now.’
Miss Kearns talks like she’s running. Like she’s in too much of a hurry to use full sentences, and we should be too.
I groan. Running sucks, but my running group sucks more. Since we go in order of birthdates, I’m always stuck in Leni’s group. Leni is ridiculous. She’s tall and super athletic-looking. But her legs are so muscly they make her look really boyish. She doesn’t really seem to care about that, though. She’s more into winning races than looking right and, believe me, she does that. Every time. If I was her, I’d try to cut down on the training and get rid of some of the muscles. I mean, I know my legs aren’t great either. That’s part of the reason I hate PE so much – the shorts we have to wear make my legs look even whiter and skinnier than normal.
I’m so not up for running today. But Miss Kearns is a hard-arse. She doesn’t let anyone get out of PE unless they have a doctor’s certificate or something.
When people start moving, I stay put. Hazel, Jess and Edi stay put with me. We all sit on the floorboards.
Miss Kearns starts to jog over to us, but she’s intercepted by Anya. I can’t hear what Anya is saying, but I can tell she’s trying to get out of doing the running session. She’s pointing to her feet, and I can see she’s wearing school shoes and figure she’s probably forgotten her runners accidentally-on-purpose. That’s not good enough for Miss Kearns, though. She points the way to the oval. Anya shakes her head, but she goes.
Miss Kearns jogs up to us. ‘What’s the delay, girls?’ she demands.
Edi puts her arms around me and g
ives me a squeeze. She looks at me, her big brown eyes asking for permission to talk. I nod.
‘Miss, Olympia is having problems. At home.’ Edi says it really quietly. For some reason, that makes it come out more serious.
Miss Kearns points towards the oval, but it’s not with her arm stretched right out. It’s more half-hearted than that.
I close my eyes for a moment and focus on how sad I was last night. It’s not that hard to make a few tears come again. I amp up the feeling by thinking about how Edi and the girls are really trying to take care of me.
‘Emotional problems,’ Edi adds.
Miss Kearns looks at me. I’m guessing what she sees is pretty convincing. She starts backing away. What Edi has said, combined with my expression, seems to have affected her like kryptonite affects Superman.
‘I’m very sorry about that, Olympia,’ she says. ‘You can sit this out. Just be a spectator.’ And then, amazingly, she asks, ‘Do you need a friend to stay with you?’
‘Yes, please,’ I say, my lips wobbling.
‘One friend,’ Miss Kearns calls, then she walks away.
I lean into Edi. ‘Thanks anyway, Hazel and Jess.’
‘Let’s go, girls!’ Miss Kearns yells.
Jess shrugs and gets up like it’s no big deal, but Hazel gives me a weird look. It’s kind of half-concerned and halfhurt she’s being left out. I smile a wobbly smile back.
But, to be honest, this couldn’t have worked out better.
Edi and I are the only ones sitting on the benches next to the oval as the others run, walk and limp around, depending on how keen they are. Leni’s probably broken a few world records and is making everyone else look like they’re running through quicksand. There’s just the right amount of sun for sitting here – but way too much for running in the heat.
Hazel comes last in her race by ages. When she finally reaches the finish line, she turns and gives us a wave. Then she mouths something that’s impossible to understand from here. It’s annoying that she doesn’t just let me and Edi be.
Edi waves to Hazel and does the thumbs-up sign, then Hazel does it back to her, which is a bit stupid because it’s like celebrating that Hazel came last. It’s obviously something between the two of them that I don’t know about.
‘What’s been happening at home, Limps?’ Edi asks when Hazel finally disappears. ‘Is it just the same stuff, or is it worse? You seem more upset this time.’
I bite my lip. Edi and the others know how Mum and Dad argue about stupid things and then the fights sort of spiral out of control. I’ve told them how Mum talks to me about Dad being irresponsible with money and how he drinks too much and stuff like that. I’ve told them that he gets back at Mum by leaving the house to go and stay with Aunty Kate.
I sigh. In fact, what happened last night was pretty run-of-the-mill. I’m not sure why I’m more upset this time. Maybe it’s because all their arguments have built up, one on top of another, and now it’s like there’s this giant stack of them taking up too much room in my head.
But none of that is very interesting. And if I tell her what happened last night, everything will blow over. My friends will be sympathetic, but pretty soon they’ll be thinking and talking about other things.
Edi rubs my back. She’s taking my silence as evidence that I’m too upset to talk. So I run with that.
‘I don’t really want to talk about it at school,’ I find myself saying. ‘Because it’s way worse than usual. It’s … it’s full-on terrible. I’ll probably start bawling, and I don’t want to do that at school, in front of everyone.’ I’m not quite sure where the full-on terrible came from, but Edi’s eyes are wide and I can tell she’s wondering what the fullon terrible thing might be.
‘Oh, Limps,’ she says. ‘What we need is an emergency caravan meeting, so we can focus and talk this through. I’ll get the girls together. I’m pretty sure everyone can do tomorrow afternoon. Is that okay for you?’
It’s pretty cool that Edi’s calling for an emergency meeting. Normally, our caravan meetings are on Friday afternoon. And I haven’t been the one in the spotlight at our caravan meetings for ages. It’s all been about Hazel getting her period and Edi wanting to ask Archie to go out with her.
I nod. Edi gives me a quick shoulder squeeze.
I take a breath. ‘Edi, I saw you in the local paper,’ I say softly.
Edi rolls her beautiful brown eyes, like being photographed for Sunday Style Snapshot is no big deal, like it’s kind of naff. That’s very Edi. She just takes it for granted that people think she’s pretty and cool. Well, they’re just the facts, I suppose. She’s not vain, though. More like realistic.
‘Yeah, I was just walking around with Hazel when that guy came up and asked me all those lame questions,’ she says.
That’s also very Edi. Not realising that leaving me out of the shopping trip might have hurt my feelings.
I chew on my lip. ‘So, you went shopping with Hazel?’
‘Yeah. We were on Facebook and I told her I had to go and get cardboard for a project and she said she’d come along.’
‘Oh. I didn’t see that conversation,’ I say.
‘Yeah, I just messaged Hazel because I wanted to tell her something Archie told me about Leo …’ Edi pauses and looks at me and I can tell she’s finally getting it.
‘Aw, Limps,’ she continues, ‘I only kept it between us because it wouldn’t be interesting to anyone else. It was just about how Archie’s mum cooked dinner for Leo the other night and he ate so much he almost puked. Then we just ended up talking about my project and me needing to get some cardboard.’ Edi pauses. ‘Limps, it wasn’t like this big, planned expedition or anything,’ she says.
I let out a sigh. I’m kind of sick of hearing about Archie and Leo all the time, but I’d still prefer to be included in a boring conversation than totally left out.
‘I suppose I’m just a bit sensitive at the moment,’ I say. ‘You know, cos of the stuff with my parents. It’s just that … well … I was sort of stuck at home. By myself.’
Edi tilts her head to the side. ‘Oh, Limps,’ she says. ‘I’ll make sure you’re included from now on. Okay?’
‘Okay,’ I say, and it comes out sounding a bit too bright so I try again.
‘Okay.’
I go to Digby’s Art Supplies after school. I don’t have any money, but I like looking at canvases and paints and stuff. I get my monthly pocket money on Friday, so I might even find something small I can buy. It’s so nice in the store that I go there even when I won’t have any money for ages. Being around all that arty stuff is somehow soothing.
There’s a set of paintbrushes on sale that I’m thinking about getting. They look really good. I pick one up and brush it on my wrist. The bristles are just the right texture.
Not too soft that I wouldn’t be able to get definition, and not too rough either.
Because they’re on sale, I might even be able to afford a new sketchpad too. I pick one up and run my fingers over the thick, creamy pages. Then I look towards the counter and I notice a guy buying something at the counter. My heart races a little bit. I can only see the back of him, but I know it’s him. The cute guy I’ve seen here before. He looks about my age and he has sandy hair and he’s wearing a Kilmore High blazer. You can’t just go to Kilmore High like you can go to my school. You have to be really smart to get in.
Bronwyn, who owns the store, is behind the counter. I watch as she throws her head back and laughs as she rings up the sale. It makes me wonder what he’s said to her, but I can’t hear the actual words from here. Also, even though I’m trying, I can’t see what he’s buying. I’m curious, though.
As he walks from the counter to the door, I can see his face. Well, part of his face anyway, because his hair flops down on one side. Yep, it’s definitely Cute Art-Store Boy. As he walks out the door, he opens the bag and rummages through it with his hand. I wonder if he’s excited about what’s inside. Or whether they’re just things he ha
d to get for a school project or something.
I think about asking Bronwyn what he bought, but I don’t. That would probably seem weird. A bit stalker-ish even.
When I get home, Dad’s in the kitchen. And he’s doing the dishes!
‘Hey, Olympia,’ he says casually, like last night never happened. ‘Do you know where this goes?’ He holds up a grater. I put it away in the cupboard next to the sink. As we’re tidying, Mum walks in. A smile spreads over her face when she sees us. Then, she actually starts singing.
No amount of poetry
Would mend this broken heart
But you can put the Hoover ’round
If you want to make a start.
Dad laughs. ‘I’m not vacuuming,’ he says. ‘But what about the dishes, Vanny? Does that count?’
‘Absolutely,’ Mum says.
And just like that, their latest argument is over. Go figure.
Mum and Dad are on the couch in our lounge room, and I’m on the recliner with Cricket at my feet. So far, we’ve watched the news, 7.30 and Four Corners. They’re not exactly TV programs that I’m into, but I don’t go into my room. When things are good and easy like they are tonight, I feel like I have to hang around and soak it up. In a way, it’s like lying around in the sunshine when you know the weather fore-cast is for storms. I want to bask in it and keep the feeling in my bones, for when things aren’t good and easy.
Dad lifts Mum’s feet onto his lap and gives them a massage. Cricket rolls on her back and I massage her tummy with my foot.
‘I googled obedience schools,’ Dad says, still rubbing Mum’s feet. ‘There’s a class on Thursdays at five.’
Mum pulls her feet away, but Dad pulls them back. ‘I was just thinking, Vanny, I’ve got a meeting quite close to the obedience school on Thursday. It will take a while. But maybe I could drop Olympia and Cricket there, and you can pick them up?’
Invisible Me Page 2
