Paradise City

by C. J. Duggan

  His hands were the only thing I could risk a partial glance at, being so close. But they were beautiful hands, so tanned. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows – a trait quite common among the sporty boys, even their ties were often loose and skew-whiff, no doubt choking from the restrictions of conformity. While I had welcomed a uniform with open arms and loved how it made me feel, I’m sure the same could not be said about Ballantine.

  I wanted to write my own note to ask a million questions. What had they done? How long were they destined to be in Siberia for? Had they worn the orange vest of shame too? Were they going to the beach after school?

  Okay, no need to be a creeper, Lexie.

  Chapter Fifteen

  By the time the bell sounded I had only managed to write my name on the top right-hand corner of my English homework.

  Awesome.

  Instead of turning over a new leaf and becoming the model student, I had spent every moment of the detention pretending to read while ogling Ballantine in my peripheral vision.

  Ballantine frowning while reading.

  Ballantine chewing on the end of his pen. MY pen.

  Ballantine stretching in his chair.

  Ballantine yawning, sighing and just being generally dreamy by doing the simplest things.

  The bell had woken us all up. Jumping into action, the three of us packed up our books with enthusiasm.

  Mr Anderson pulled out the earbud and quickly folded and wedged his newspaper in between his textbooks.

  ‘You are free,’ he announced.

  Free as in ‘go to your next holding cell’.

  I grabbed my pencil case to find Ballantine holding my pen out in front of me.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said.

  Amazing how such a simple word could make my stomach flutter. ‘Aren’t you going to need it?’ I asked.

  He shrugged one shoulder. ‘Not for PE I won’t.’ He smiled. It wasn’t the teeth-exposing kind, but it didn’t matter. It was the dimple-dipping kind and that was the one I lived for. I knew my whimsical thoughts were ridiculous but there was just something about what Luke Ballantine did to me. Maybe I’d been isolated for far too long, sheltered from the reality of the world, but when I took the pen from him there was an insane stalker in me that wanted to encase the pen in a glass shrine simply because he had touched it. Mental thoughts like that made me want to run to Amanda and squeal. Yeah, well, that wasn’t going to happen. Laura? Boon’s sister: the link was too close and I didn’t really know her.

  ‘See ya round, Lex,’ Ballantine said, backing away a few cool steps before turning.

  ‘Yeah, and for Christ’s sake, behave,’ Boon said, laughing as they walked out of Siberia. It was then I realised the weight that was on me. I had no-one to talk to, no-one I could trust, no-one to confide in.

  There was just me and my lustful thoughts about this mysterious Bad Boy Ballantine.

  •

  There were many things that surprised me lately. One of them was waiting by my locker at home time.

  Amanda leant against the wall, her arms folded. I could never tell if she was actually ever in a good mood because her heavy eye makeup always made her look sullen. Maybe she was just always miserable. Who knew? All I knew was she was definitely the last person I wanted to see.

  She stood to attention when she saw me closing in, pushing off my locker and standing aside for me to put my books away.

  ‘Hey,’ she said, adjusting the weight of her backpack over her shoulder.

  ‘Hey,’ I managed, not even bothering to look her way.

  She stepped closer, tilting her head to the side, trying to get my attention. ‘What did you do?’ she asked in a low voice.

  I slammed my locker shut hard, causing her to blink in surprise as I turned my darkened gaze on her.

  ‘Really? I mean, REALLY?’ I scoffed.

  ‘You were only supposed to stick your head through the door,’ she said, almost as if she was trying to blame me.

  ‘Well, I didn’t, and you know what? It wasn’t the Year Twelve common room. In fact, there was no rainforest wallpaper in sight, but you know what was in sight? What I was faced with once I had made my way through the window? What I saw right after I face-planted into the carpet? What I saw was a table full of pissed-off teachers who wanted to chase me with sticks of fire,’ I all but yelled.

  Amanda rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t be so dramatic.’

  My mouth gaped. ‘Dramatic? I had to wear the vest of shame and spent most of my day picking up rubbish and chilling in Siberia with the Kirkland boys.’

  Amanda’s eyes flashed with interest. I stilled long enough to notice the definite change in her expression, the one thing that I could see had an effect on her. I, of course, recalled the one very interesting piece of information that I’d thought to file away for later, and now I was so mad and she was so dismissive, I couldn’t think of a more perfect opportunity for me to use it.

  I shrugged. ‘Lucky I had Boon to keep me company.’

  Amanda’s eyes widened.

  Bingo!

  ‘Boon?’

  I smiled dreamily to myself. ‘If it wasn’t for the notes he was passing me in detention, I think I would’ve died of boredom,’ I said matter-of-factly, before shouldering my bag and walking off with a knowing grin. I didn’t need eyes in the back of my head to know that what I had just said would’ve hit a nerve, and although there was a small part of me that felt kind of bad, there was also another part of me that thought very loud and clear:

  Good!

  •

  True to form, Amanda went back to her snappy, snarly self. Maybe it was as a direct result of my casual name-drop of Boon, but there was no real way of knowing. From the day I’d arrived, she had displayed all the symptoms of Mad Cow Disease. I sat in the stuffy little alcove in our bedroom after dinner, attempting to finish off the English homework I had so miserably failed to complete during detention. If it wasn’t the infuriating dancing bug that kept headbutting against the bulb of the desk lamp, it was the heavy banging and slamming of drawers, doors, basically anything Amanda could get her hands on as she pottered around the bedroom.

  I ignored her.

  I hoped by doing so the old adage of ‘if you ignore it, it will go away’ would come true. Well, not Amanda. Once she had finished loudly rearranging her CD collection, she obviously thought now was as good a time as any to put one on, turning the volume up so loud the bookshelves above my desk vibrated.

  I clenched my jaw and continued to ignore her, hoping that Aunty Karen or Uncle Peter would come and intervene, but then considering they were probably tucked away in their insulated parents’ retreat, they probably couldn’t hear a thing. Instead, with no likely rescue in sight I focused all my energy on reading my paperwork, finally getting to the last page. I gathered up the pieces of paper, only to find a yellow sheet underneath the stash. An A4 leaflet that had been tucked into my folder from English. My eyes narrowed to see the bold heading: Paradise High Newsletter. With today’s date in the corner. My head was pounding from the music I was so desperately trying to ignore, but as I lazily read down the columns of the newsletter, stifling a yawn, I froze. Right there in another bold heading: ‘School Social’.

  I read on. Was it too early to start planning my outfit? I couldn’t pinpoint the date – maybe this headache was a lot more serious than I thought. My heart sunk as I stared at the yellow leaflet; taking in the date my eyes had now found. Maybe it was some horrid mistake, but the school social – a real school social – was weeks away. I turned, hooking my arm around the back of my chair, yelling above the music.

  ‘Is there really a school social at the end of term?’

  Amanda was lying on her back, her legs pressed up against her bedhead, jigging to the beat of the music. Her eyes strained upside down to look at me. ‘Why? Can’t you dance?’

  ‘Of course I can,’ I defended a bit too quickly.

  I had visions of me doing the ‘Time Warp’ only to
be shunned by the cool kids and their disgusted, cringing stares.

  A shiver ran down my spine, the thought far more humiliating than any vest of shame. I didn’t know what was wrong with me; with each passing day came a new obstacle, a new dilemma, but of all the things I had been faced with, this was by far the most terrifying. I could now see that having been isolated from a normal teenage population for so long had done damage. Hopefully it wasn’t irreparable. I felt out of my depth in all social interactions, and didn’t understand the rules of teenage interchange. I felt angry. Angry at who, though? My parents for their choice to live in such a remote place? Amanda for being such a bitch? Myself for not realising life in Paradise City could be so complex? It was just so confusing.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I lay there, staring at the reflected glow of the streetlight that illuminated my ceiling. I closed one eye, opened it, closed it, then switched eyes in a series of blinks that turned my vision into a lightshow before growing bored and sighing into the night. Eleven minutes past eleven and I couldn’t sleep, and neither, it seemed, could my roommate, who was suddenly rustling around in the dark. I rolled over, squinting across the room at the silhouette gently opening and closing her cupboards, before walking around the bed and stubbing her toe.

  ‘Shit,’ she said, falling back onto the end of her bed.

  I leant over, clicking on my bedside lamp and flooding the room in a shadowy light, causing us both to squint at the adjustment. Amanda looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights, flinching against the unexpectedness of it. I pulled myself into a sitting position.

  ‘Going somewhere?’ I asked with a curious curve to my brow.

  ‘Shhh,’ she glowered, before standing and limping to her drawer, rummaging around and slipping some money and lip balm into the pocket of her jeans. ‘Turn the light off.’

  Without fuss I clicked it off, watching on as Amanda stepped onto my bed and, without so much as a sideways glance, worked on sliding the window open.

  ‘Take me with you,’ I said all too quickly and all too loudly.

  Amanda’s head snapped around. ‘Shut up,’ she growled, her face thunderous. ‘This doesn’t concern you.’

  ‘You owe me.’

  ‘I owe you nothing.’

  ‘Really? Because a week in Siberia tells me differently.’

  ‘I didn’t tell you to climb through a bloody window.’

  ‘No, you just asked me to lie to your parents about being daughter of the year.’

  ‘And you got your note, we’re square.’

  ‘Not even close.’

  We stared, or rather shot laser beams, at one another with our glowering death vision, unmoving, almost unbreathing we were so still. It was obvious she was not going to give an inch, not one bit, so I was forced to take the lead.

  ‘Amanda, where are you going?’ I yelled out.

  She dived on top of me, slamming her hand over my mouth. ‘All right, all right,’ she said, freezing and tilting her head to the side to gauge if my loud question had caused any movement from upstairs; there was nothing. She blew out a breath before glancing down at my wide-eyed stare and flared nostrils. Her look was chilling and I wondered if she was going to lash out at me, smother me with my own pillow.

  Instead, she pushed off me. ‘Get dressed,’ she bit out.

  And even though she could be utterly terrifying, I couldn’t have leapt out of bed quick enough.

  •

  ‘Where are we going?’ I puffed, trying desperately to keep up with Amanda’s long-legged steps. She was so furious I half expected her to start breathing fire.

  My question was met with silence; it was clear that my sole mission tonight was just to keep up and shut up. We were nearing the end of our street, leaving suburbia behind as we stepped off the bitumen road and made our way across a walking path and onto the sloping grass. My heart pounded, the wind whipping my hair into my eyes as we stepped over the pine-posted barrier and down through the darkness, our way lit by the dotted lamps leading down to the beach below.

  When I first arrived, I had wanted a taste of everything Paradise City had to offer. I wanted to blend in with the crowd and inhabit the true essence of living here. So far I had experienced cover stories of deceit, note forgery, lunchtime detentions, and now I was sneaking out on a school night. I could have squealed with delight, although Amanda probably would have killed me if I so much as made a peep. My first few weeks and I had already experienced so many firsts; my stomach flipped at the thought of experiencing so many more. For my parents it was about me assimilating into the education system in preparation for Year Twelve; for me it was so much more than that.

  As the path finally flattened out and our feet began to sink into the sand I saw a group of shady figures up ahead, some standing, some sitting. I could hear their laughter echo into the night. The sky was dotted with sparkly pinholes, the wind warm and whipping against my skin. My eyes flicked briefly from the group ahead, to momentarily marvel at the surging ocean that roared over the sand, so loud, so incredibly intimidating in the night.

  ‘Speak of the devil!’ a voice cried out.

  ‘And what’s this, the devil has an assistant?’ said another.

  ‘Piss off.’ Amanda shoved at the boy with woolly blond hair, snatching the beer out of his hand and sculling it down.

  ‘Woo, chug-a-lug, Burnsy,’ pierced Boon’s voice.

  ‘Yeah, baby.’

  The chorus of wolf whistles only urged her on to finish the can, finally coming up for air, and with a wince crushing it and chucking it back to its owner.

  I looked away, rolling my eyes, and in the process locked onto a familiar set across the group. I stilled, my heart stalling as Ballantine stood watching on, his hands in his pockets, the light of the moon bathing him in a muted white glow.

  His eyes slowly broke from my gaze before he turned towards his mates sitting in the sand. ‘Let’s go.’

  Any moment of exhilaration I felt was now replaced with bitter disappointment as I watched him walk away. Amanda was busy swearing and trying to big-note herself to those that remained and I wanted to scream at her, to kick and shout and ask why we weren’t following the others that disappeared into the night, along with any hope I had of hanging out with Ballantine. It wasn’t lost on me that the only actual interaction we’d had thus far was:

  ‘You’re in my seat.’

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Can I borrow a pen?’

  They were probably the most memorable of our deep and meaningful exchanges. It was then I wondered what had me so desperate to be around him. What was it about him, more than anyone else, that intrigued me? He was just one boy. One boy who would never be interested in someone like me.

  I knew there was no chance that Amanda would make a move to follow when Boon was left behind. I wondered where Ballantine was going: further along the beach, perhaps? Would it be weird to follow? Or was my fate to be near Amanda, watching on as she took another beer from the boys’ stash. I stood to the side, my expression thick with disapproval as I witnessed Amanda become a massive try-hard in front of the boys. If I thought the Amanda I lived with was a stranger, then this socialite Amanda was even weirder.

  Leaving the huddle of the group I stepped my way towards the frothy edge of the ocean’s line, grateful that the wind was blowing my hair back over my shoulders as I faced the expansive spread of water that seemed to go on forever. Laughter and jeers sounded behind, probably another sculling competition with a few obscenities flung around as terms of endearment. I recognised the two other Kirkland boys from school. Amanda seemed to be showing off deliberately for Boon or maybe this was just her being her obnoxious self. Whatever it was, it bothered me. Bothered me because, well, I wasn’t sure what I expected to find as I climbed out the window, but standing down at the beach drinking wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. And then I felt foolish; was I such a prude? Was I that much of a dork that I was shocked this was happening on a sc
hool night? Didn’t I want to infiltrate, to blend in? And just as I was about to psyche myself up to return to the group, to make an effort, I felt the presence of someone beside me.

  ‘Gemma told us you thought you were breaking into the common room.’

  I spun around, the wind catching my hair and snapping it into my eyes. I pulled it away to see Boon standing next to me, hands in his pockets, looking out to the great nothing.

  ‘And then I wondered, why would the new girl be so desperate to see hideous wallpaper?’ His lips pressed into a cheeky grin as he eyed me side on. It was a look that said that he actually knew a secret and was waiting for me to confess all, so I did.

  ‘I was trying to get your football back,’ I said.

  So when Boon said ‘I know’, it was my turn to offer a cheeky side-glance.

  ‘How?’

  Boon shrugged. ‘Laura keeps her diary in the worst hiding place known to man.’

  My mouth gaped. ‘You read Laura’s diary?’

  ‘You’ll be pleased to know she feels really shitty about putting the idea into your head.’

  ‘I’m not pleased, not pleased at all. Stop reading her diary.’

  ‘It’s usually filled with bat-shit boring stuff. What mundane crap goes on in home ec, what new dress she wants to wear to the social, her vomit-inducing, undying love for Ballantine,’ he said, shuddering at the last word.

  My head snapped up. ‘Undying love for Ballantine?’ I repeated, mostly to myself.

  ‘Of course, if you repeat any of this I will just deny it.’

  I blinked, troubled by information overload. And definitely not the information I had wanted to know. I took a deep breath, grateful that I’d never confessed my lustful thoughts about Ballantine; now I knew this was a definite no go.

  ‘Well, what are you doing reading it, anyway?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he said, moving to circle around me, causing my head to crane to watch his movements until he walked in front of me. ‘Thought there might have been some interesting information about the new girl.’

  Boon’s eyes locked onto mine; the seriousness of his gaze caused my heart to skip a beat, but not in the way that it did with Ballantine. This was a ‘holy shit I’m in deep trouble’ feeling.