The more we talked, the more things came into focus. The self-harming had started just after Vanessa’s parents split. She cut herself on the arms and wrists. She’d take time off from school and then return covered with bandages and plasters. Accident-prone. That’s how it was explained. She saw counsellors. Her mum became increasingly nervous, worried about her daughter. She was on the verge of a breakdown. This must have made Vanessa feel guilty. She probably felt responsible for her mother’s state, and trips to her father’s house were increasingly a way out of a disturbing environment. But she must also have felt guilty about that, seeing it as a betrayal of her mother. No one knew the self-harming had started again. Not until I brought it up. Vanessa kept it hidden. It was classic behaviour.
I arranged all the pieces in my head and saw they fitted. I cried. I cried for my father, for the pain I had caused Vanessa’s mum, for the damage I had done to the Fridge. Most of all I cried for Vanessa. She deserved so much help and support. I’d given her nothing. What had she said, that day at school? ‘It’s not all about you, Calma.’ But that was the way I had thought and behaved, even if it wasn’t conscious. And yes, at the back of my mind there was a small reserve of tears for myself. Calma bloody big shot Harrison.
Mum rocked me as I cried myself into exhaustion. She didn’t say much, just let me vent some of the self-loathing. Towards the end, before I slumped into bed, she said one thing.
‘Calma, it’s okay to be wrong. It’s okay. But it’s what happens next that’s important. You have a friend in pain. In trouble. How are you going to help her? Not by thinking you’re worthless. By being strong. She needs you. Are you going to let her down?’
I slept a deep, dreamless sleep.
The morning brought a text message on my new phone. It was from Jason, dumping me. My first text message. I couldn’t blame him. I deserved nothing less. I sat at the kitchen table and considered my options. And the more I thought the better I felt. It was so strange. The day ahead was a blank page and I could write on it whatever I wanted. I just needed to be a more reliable narrator. I planned out the immediate future, like notes for a novel.
I would make the Fridge breakfast in bed. Later, I’d go to the bank and withdraw the forty-eight dollars sitting in my savings account. It wasn’t much in the way of ‘sponsorship’, but the Leukaemia Foundation wouldn’t turn it down. Then I’d go to Crazi-Cheep, to see if Candy could roster me on for more shifts. A trip to Sydney wasn’t going to be cheap and I would have to budget for it. If I had time, I’d go over to Sanderson Senior College and pick up some enrolment forms.
I was also going to find Jason. It was time I enlightened him. First – you don’t dump someone by text messaging. Second – you don’t dump Calma Harrison. Even when she deserves it.
But between breakfast and the bank I was going round to Nessa’s house. I wasn’t going to say anything about her injuries. I might be dumb in many ways, but I’m not that dumb. We would talk. I’d make her laugh. More than anything else, I’d listen. I’d build up her trust again slowly. I would be there for her and we’d get through this together. It was time for me to be a proper friend.
As I turned the Fridge’s toast into carbon it struck me that I might have made a mess of everything, but I was going to come out of this better, stronger and wiser.
I don’t know. What do you think?
ReCRD™
Acknowledgements
Top of all my lists: Nita, wife, friend, reader, critic and greatest supporter. My children, Lauren and Brendan, read and liked the manuscript. Thanks to them for keeping me on track, particularly when I strayed from the strange, disturbing and exciting world of teenage life. My daughters, Kris and Kari, lent support from an enforced distance. Their belief was, and is, very important to me. All my family, friends, colleagues and students: I have been overwhelmed by your generosity, interest and encouragement. Finally, thanks to the ‘family’ at Allen & Unwin, in particular Jodie Webster and Erica Wagner for their enthusiasm and expertise.
‘An inspiring debut novel: simultaneously funny and wise. A+’
Tony Wilson
When Calma and Kiffo discover their teacher (aka the Pitbull) is involved in strange late-night dealings with mysterious associates, they think they can catch her out. But what you see is not always what you get and Calma and Kiffo don’t see what is coming next . . .
It's Not All About YOU, Calma! Page 19
