‘It took me a while to get my outfit right,’ I say, running my hands down my baggy jeans. ‘You like it?’
They all giggle.
‘It’s gorgeous!’ Jess says.
‘Cool daisy … love the face,’ Edi adds.
‘Idiot,’ Olympia says, but she’s grinning at me.
I love making the girls laugh. That’s kind of how I ended up in the group. There was an interschool tennis match. I was a bit nervous when I found out who was on my team. Playing tennis with the coolest girls in our whole year? Great. I’m a hit, trip and giggle sort of tennis player.
But the girls thought I was really funny. Especially when I tripped over my laces, fell into the net and brought it down. It was a total accident, but I played it up after that.
Anyway, it worked. At school on Monday, Edi beckoned me over. The number one girl on the hot list called me over.
I glance around the caravan as we head inside. Even though I’ve been here quite a few times I’m still impressed. Edi has decorated the van really well. The curtains are drawn. They are a deep maroon, and so is the quilt cover on the bed in the corner. There are about a million cushions in maroon, white and pink piled up on the bed. When Edi closes the door behind us, it’s like we’re in a beautiful cocoon.
‘So. Can I start?’ Jess asks, looking at each of us with wide eyes.
‘Let’s get comfy first,’ Edi says.
She slides across the lime green bench seat at the little table. Olympia quickly slides in next to her, like she’s racing me for the next-to-Edi position. Which is pretty dumb because I wouldn’t do that anyway. It wouldn’t be worth getting Olympia mad.
I sit on the other side. Jess stands, waiting for us to settle. I think back to a few months ago, when it was Olympia’s turn to make the announcement. It wasn’t a surprise. But Jess? She’s always been like me, development wise. I guess that’s changed.
‘Okay, Jess. Spill!’ Olympia says, looking satisfied now she’s next to Edi.
‘As in, spill the relevant bits,’ Edi adds, laughing.
Jess loves to tell a story. But she goes into so much detail that the simplest story in the world turns into a very long soap opera.
‘Well,’ Jess says, taking a deep breath, ‘last night, about five-thirty, I was walking Frodo. He likes to go to the doggy park where you can let the dogs off their leashes so they can smell each other’s butts. Which is totally gross but it’s just their way of —’
‘Jess!’ we all say together.
Jess grins. ‘Okay. Right. So, anyway, I felt something weird. Like something was seeping into my undies, but I wasn’t sure. I had to wait until Frodo did his poo. But finally I got back home and I went to the loo. Hey, I rhymed! Poo and loo.’
Olympia taps the table.
‘There was something in my undies, but I still wasn’t sure because it was browny-red, not reddy-red, and it was only a little bit.’
‘That’s normal,’ Edi says. She’s been getting her period for ages. Since way before I joined the group.
‘Yeah, that’s what Mum said,’ Jess says. ‘You know, Mum predicted that I’d get it really soon. Because of my boobs getting bigger and stuff.’
Jess cups her hands under her boobs, pushing them up and together, and waggles her head. We’re all laughing.
Inside, though, I wonder what Jess means by and stuff. Her boobs are about the same size as mine. Maybe she means something else … like pubic hair? I know it’s stupid, but I wonder if maybe there’s a particular number of hairs you grow, say twenty-two, then whoosh, you get your period. But Jess doesn’t say anything about that, she just keeps talking about her mum’s reaction.
‘Honestly, even though Mum’s been predicting it, she was more emotional than me! She was all, Oh, my little Jessie! Your entrance into womanhood! Blah blah. She even teared up!’
‘That’s so cute,’ Olympia says.
‘Yeah, I can so imagine her saying that,’ Edi adds. ‘I love your mum.’
It’s a bit awkward for me, since I haven’t even met Jess’s mum. I just nod, but it makes me think about my mum. She’s been predicting that I’ll get my period for ages. You’d think she’d be worried about me. You’d think she would want to take me to the doctor’s to get checked out. She said she’d make an appointment, but she hasn’t.
Probably because she’s too busy being all lovey-dovey with the Feral.
‘Mum was cute,’ Jess agrees. ‘I already had some pads that she bought for me. You just peel the sticky bit off the back and they sort of tape into your undies,’ she explains, turning to me.
It’s like she’s suddenly the expert, as if she’s reminding everyone that I’m the only one who doesn’t have her period yet. Maybe I’m being sensitive, but it’s annoying.
‘Then Mum took me out for pizza,’ continues Jess. ‘Just the two of us, to celebrate. Luke spat it because he wanted pizza too, but he had to have leftover spag bol, which was actually from two days before and he reckoned it probably had salmonella or something. But on the way to the pizza place it was, like, gross. I could feel the blood dripping out of me and I had my skinny jeans on and I kept wondering if anyone walking past could see there was a big lump in my undies!’
That makes me feel a bit sick. It’s more gory than juicy. But I still wish it was me telling the story. I’m officially the last one in our group to get it, and I’m older than all of them. You’d think we’d get it in order of age.
Then it hits me. We aren’t getting it in order of age, but we are getting it in order. In the order as we appear on the hot list! Edi is number one. Olympia is number eight and Jess is number ten. And I’m number seventeen. Unlucky last!
It could just be coincidence … but maybe it’s not? Maybe the two things are connected somehow?
‘You’ve got to try tampons,’ Edi says. ‘They’re so much better.’
‘Yeah,’ Olympia agrees. ‘I’ve been practising and I’m totally going to use tampons next time.’
‘It’s not hard once you get the angle right,’ Edi explains. ‘And you can’t feel tampons at all. Plus, pads can get smelly when they’re soaked.’
Now I feel really queasy and the queasiness is mixed up with frustration. Not only am I the only one who isn’t developing properly, but Edi has graduated to tampons and Olympia won’t be far behind.
Edi grabs four cans of Coke from the titchy kitchen cupboard and we crack them open.
‘To Jess,’ Edi says, holding up her can to be clinked.
‘Who is now a woman!’ Olympia adds.
Jess bows and does a quick Michael Jackson moonwalk. We all clink cans.
I take a sip, keeping a smile stuck to my face. It doesn’t seem to trick anyone.
‘You’re next, Haze. Any day now,’ Olympia says, and she says it kindly.
I’m used to her being the most tricky one in the group. She seems to go hot and cold on me all the time, and I reckon it’s mostly to do with her wanting to be the closest to Edi, but it still hurts sometimes. Now she’s being super nice and it makes me feel wobbly. Everyone’s looking at me.
‘Yeah, hopefully it’ll turn up before we finish high school,’ I say. ‘Or maybe I’ll be walking around when I’m about forty-five and I have long saggy boobs down to my ankles and I’ll be saying, any day now.’
It’s supposed to be a joke, but it doesn’t come out like that. Not really.
‘You know, it’s horrible sometimes,’ Edi says. ‘I get cramps and they really hurt.’
‘I get seriously bloated,’ Olympia adds. ‘It’s disgusting.’
‘Yeah, don’t rush it,’ Edi adds. ‘Once you get it, you’ve got it until you’re like … old. Think about it. Once every six weeks, for four days. For the rest of your life.’
‘You’re lucky,’ Olympia says. ‘I get mine every four weeks and it lasts for five days at least. It’s like, wrong!’
Edi and Olympia are joining forces to make me feel better. It’s working. I might be the last girl on e
arth to get my period, but I love these chats. I’ve never had friends who talk like this. It’s so open, and it makes me think that maybe Olympia does like me, deep down. Maybe she’s just a bit cold with everyone.
I look over at Jess. I don’t think she’s really noticed how the others are trying to make me feel better. She’s just standing there with her nose screwed up, hands on hips.
‘Every four weeks?’ she repeats, as though it’s just dawned on her that this might not be so much fun after a while. ‘No way I’m doing it that often!’
‘Not you, of course, Jess,’ I say and the giggles get me. I snort a bit of foamy Coke out of my nose. It sets everyone off and I do it again, kind of on purpose to keep the laughs going, and because I don’t want to be a downer or anything.
‘We’ve got swimming tomorrow,’ Edi suddenly says after the laughing dies down. ‘Will you tell Mr J that you’ve got it?’
‘Nup. I’m going to get a note from Mum and go to the library,’ Jess replies. ‘No way am I’m going to be like Lola!’
Jess draws up her upper lip so her teeth look big, like Lola’s. ‘Guess why I can’t go swimming today?’ She sounds just like Lola, except Lola didn’t actually say that. She just sat at the side of the pool instead of going inside and doing something else, which totally made it obvious.
‘The boys would all have known,’ Olympia says, rolling her eyes.
The conversation switches to boys. Edi has a crush on Archie, a really hot boy from the year above us. It’s a fun conversation and it’s even more fun when Edi stands in a corner with her back to us and makes it look like someone is kissing her.
‘Archie, Archie,’ she says as her hands wander over her back. Then she flops back onto the bed with a sigh, grabbing a cushion from the bed. She gives the cushion a long kiss, laughing as she does it.
I can’t see what her lips are doing because they’re stuffed into the cushion, but I know that Edi’s had real-life kissing practice. She was going with Oscar Poulson for more than a month at the beginning of the year. It was before we became friends, but I saw her hooking up with him at a blue-light disco. They used tongues and everything.
The closest I’ve come is when Tyson Banks came up to me in the playground in year five, kissed my cheek and ran away. It wasn’t a real kiss and there were definitely no tongues. I’ve imagined kissing someone, though. Then again, I’ve imagined getting my period too. It doesn’t really count, I guess.
Edi is still cushion-kissing when my phone beeps. There’s a new text from Mum.
Just got called into work. Maybe you and Romy can help Jason with dinner? Xx
I groan. Surely Mum wouldn’t leave the Feral alone in our house. Would she?
I’m coming around the corner when I see Romy up ahead, just outside our house. She sees me and waits out the front until I catch up.
‘Mum’s left the Feral alone in there,’ Romy whispers, pointing at our front door.
I nod and roll my eyes. Romy moves the Feral’s bike to the end of the porch and tucks the handlebars under the railing so you can’t see it from the street. Don’t know why. It would serve him right if it got stolen.
‘Unbelievable,’ I say.
I’m so glad that Romy is here. That at least she understands, even if Mum has gone mental.
‘I wonder if he can cook?’ she says, fishing around for her keys. ‘I hope so. I’m starving but can’t be stuffed cooking.’
Romy loves food, but she’s straying from the point.
‘It’s irresponsible,’ I say, to bring her back to it.
Romy shrugs. ‘I guess it means she trusts him,’ she says.
‘I guess that means she’s gone mad,’ I say.
Romy smiles at me over her shoulder, like I’ve made a joke. Which I haven’t. I’m about to tell her that I’m completely serious but she’s already opening the door.
He’s standing in the hallway again.
‘Hey, guys,’ he says. ‘How was netball, Romy? Did you have fun with your friends, Hazel?’
‘It was okay,’ I say.
‘We won,’ says Romy.
He’s leaning against the wall in our hallway so we have to walk under the arch of his arm. It’s really annoying. It’s even more annoying that when we get past him, he charges back in front to lead the way down the hall.
‘Dee Dee got called into work,’ he says as if we didn’t already know that about our own mother. He heads into the kitchen. I’m annoyed when my tummy rumbles. It smells good. ‘Someone was sick. It’s just for a few hours.’
Mum’s name is Diana. Romy and I get to call her Dee sometimes, because that’s how her name came out when Romy was little.
No-one calls her Dee Dee. I narrow my eyes and shoot a look at Romy. She rolls her eyes back at me, but there’s a twist at the corner of her mouth that’s confusing. It looks like a mini-smile.
I don’t think it’s funny. At all.
‘I’ve made a chicken curry,’ he says, opening the lid of a saucepan to show us. Romy practically sticks her head in the pot, breathing in the aroma.
He walks over to the bench. ‘Oh, and some raspberry and white chocolate muffins. Here, try some.’
He’s made my muffins!
He cuts a muffin in half and slathers the pieces with soft butter that he’s left in the pantry instead of in the fridge where it should be. I wouldn’t even normally have butter on this kind of muffin, but I know Romy would. She’d put butter on anything.
He hands one half of the muffin to me and one to Romy, as though we’ve agreed to try it, which we haven’t. He doesn’t even use plates. He just stands there and waits for us to take a bite.
I put my piece back on the bench, willing Romy to do the same. I’m thinking it could be like a protest. Well, it could be, except that Romy takes a bite. Then another.
‘Yum,’ she says, with her mouth full.
I can tell by the way she says it that the muffin is really good. It looks really fluffy compared to ones I’ve made before with Mum and it makes me even more hungry.
The Feral grins at her.
‘Not hungry, Hazel?’ he asks, turning to me.
I shake my head firmly, willing my tummy not to rumble. I don’t feel like eating the muffins I was supposed to make with Mum and I don’t feel like answering him. Romy’s already finished her half, and I can tell she’s not looking at me on purpose.
Our home phone rings. The phone is at the end of the kitchen bench, close to the Feral. I reach over to grab it, just in case he thinks he’s going to answer it.
It’s Mum. Dee Dee.
‘Hi, hon,’ she says. ‘Just wanted to check that you’re all home. Is Romy there too? And Jason?’
‘Romy’s here,’ I reply. ‘And Jason was here when we got home. By himself, actually.’
I say the last bit as I take the phone out of the kitchen and down the hall. I don’t think he heard me, but I don’t really care if he did.
‘Okay, okay. Good.’ Mum’s voice falters like it does when she’s feeling guilty. Which she should. It’s really awkward for Romy and me to come home and have him there.
‘So, has Jason made his chicken curry? I hope so.’ Mum says it as though she’s had it before. Probably when Romy and I were at Dad and Lisa’s, I suppose. When we were out of the way.
I don’t say anything.
‘Hazel? Are you okay? Is everything all right?’
‘Yep,’ I say, too quickly for it to be true.
Everything is not all right. I need to talk to her. I need to tell her about everyone else getting their periods and get her to make a doctor’s appointment to find out what’s wrong with me.
I can’t believe she’s let all this happen. Mum met the Feral at yoga and the next thing you know, they’re an item and he’s practically living at our house. I’ve already told her she’s rushing into it. Mum actually laughed when I said that. Then she made some sarcastic comment about how she and Dad have been divorced for six years and she hadn’t even had a d
ate since then, until she met Jason. The whole thing was leading up to her telling me that Dad didn’t waste any time getting into a relationship with Lisa.
I hate it when Mum says stuff like that. It’s not like we don’t all know that Dad got with Lisa really quickly after they split, but there’s no point talking about it all the time. Lisa is a bit uptight, but she’s basically normal. Not like the Feral. And Romy and I just go there Wednesdays and every second weekend, and sometimes less than that, because they’re always going overseas on business trips. So it’s not like Lisa is invading our actual home.
‘So,’ Mum says into the silence, ‘I’ll see you guys in about half an hour, okay?’
‘Okay,’ I say. I walk into the lounge room and hang up.
The Feral has pushed our coffee table to one side of the room and left his yoga mat just sitting there in the middle of the living room. I give the corner of it a little flick with my foot. The way he leaves his stuff all over the place makes our house feel less ours.
When I go into my room, I see the photo of me, Dad and Romy the time he took us to Luna Park.
Dad’s the opposite of the Feral, really neat and clean-shaven with short hair. Definitely no dreadlocks. I wonder for the millionth time how Mum could go from Dad to that.
I’m still in my bedroom when I hear Mum come home a bit later. The door is closed but I can hear voices coming from the kitchen. It’s Mum, Romy and the Feral.
I pick up the photo of Dad and go back to the lounge room. A short burst of laughter streams down the hallway from the kitchen. It’s really annoying to hear that one of the laughs is Romy’s.
I put the photo on the mantelpiece. There are already loads of photos up there of me and Romy and Mum, but there aren’t any of Dad. I tuck the photo in among them so it doesn’t stand out. It feels better that he’s up there.
Now Dad can keep an eye on the Feral.
‘Can you set the good table, please, Hazel,’ Mum says when she forces me to come out of my room again.
Waiting for It Page 2
