That's Why I Wrote This Song

by Susanne Gervay

  Suddenly music blares into the stadium. There’s yelling, arms are pumping. They’re here. They’re here. I scream. I see him. Billy. I can’t believe that I’ve touched Billy. A tremour rushes through me. Karen is screaming next to me, ‘Billy, Billy, Billy.’ Everyone is screaming, ‘Billy, Billy, Billy.’

  ‘How’re you all going?’ Billy raises his guitar to the crowd. ‘Good to be here tonight.’ The drums go wild. It’s on. The band is running right up to the front of the stage, pounding their guitars. I stretch out my hands. Billy sings:

  I don’t care what you do, I’m me, I’m me

  The audience sings with Billy.

  I’m me, I’m me

  You can’t change me into you, you can’t

  Flashes zigzag across the stage and the band jumps into the electric lights. Fire flashes, sparking from all directions.

  You can’t, you can’t

  We’re pumping, jumping jack hammers. Bodies move in one direction then another. I can’t breathe. The heat is incredible, as bodies press together. I pant air back into my lungs. The music plays. Karen is shouting. Eddie’s shouting in my ear. I’m shouting. Billy strips his shirt off. The crowd goes insane. I scream and scream and the songs pound through the stadium. The music. The music.

  It’s the best day of my life. I love them. I love them. I love them.

  Chapter Ten

  Rockfest rocks. The phone runs hot. Insomniac Road plays in my bedroom the whole of Sunday. I dream of Billy.

  We’re singing as we get into our Music Home Room. Our practice session for Not Perfect is edgy, excited. Karen throws a cushion at me. ‘Ready?’ Irina is sitting at the drums, tapping the cymbals, pushing the pedal on the bass drum, feeling it out. Angie is fiddling with her bass guitar. I try a few chords on my guitar. Irina hits the drums, giving the sign to start. Karen slides into the beat. Angie and I slip in and out of it. The sound is together, then falls apart, then we’re in and then out, jamming with key signatures, inverting chords, playing around, searching for our own sound. Karen strums a basic chord progression, C-D-F-G. I hum. Irina picks up on the chords, going into a drum session.

  Angie plays some soft pop that sets Karen off. Karen’s guitar becomes biting as she adapts a pop hit into a spoof. She sings with a sarcastic edge:

  I do love him

  I don’t love him

  He’s broken my heart

  The world is love, love, love

  Her blonde hair flips out as she spins around. ‘Weren’t you there at Rockfest?’

  Angie stops playing. ‘Why do you always pay me out, Karen?’

  I grab Karen’s arm. ‘Don’t say anything. Don’t.’ When Karen’s edgy, Angie’s the target. Lately she can’t forgive Angie for having a happy family, a great life, a great dad. Her looks, her sweetness, even her love life. It’s too easy for Angie.

  I press Karen’s arm harder. A guilty flush spreads across her cheeks. ‘Come on, Angie. Hey, you know me. Not Perfect.’

  I let her arm go.

  Angie waits for a while. ‘Okay.’ She forgives her. That’s Angie.

  I call out. ‘We’re the Kindergarten Kids again. The triplets.’ I look at Irina. ‘No, the quads. Not Perfect. Let’s play for Insomniac Road. For us.’

  Irina hits the drums and the music is loud and we’re there.

  The vodka teddy is the latest news. Bad news. Oliver’s camp has been in meltdown. Teddy was captured, tortured, gutted. The Gestapo, alias the teachers at the school headquarters, heard the sloshing of fluid. When they opened the package and saw Teddy, they suspected he was a front. Everyone got back from camp yesterday and there’ve been twenty-four hours of serious forensic investigations. Maybe it wasn’t such a brilliant idea to send a crinkly brown teddy to Oliver.

  Oliver has been a total disappointment. He told his teachers that the parcel was ‘unsolicited’. He didn’t know why I sent it down. Oliver said that he hardly knew me. Angie gives me a ‘Told you so’ look. ‘It’s like Dad and the shark attack.’

  What? Her father and the shark? ‘This is nothing like that.’

  ‘Yes, it is. Oliver lied. So did my dad.’

  ‘This is totally different, Angie. Your father protects you. He cares about you. The shark was a joke gone wrong.’ I can’t believe Angie. I can’t believe Oliver has put all the blame on me.

  ‘I don’t think it’s a joke.’ Angie flashes a hurt look at me.

  ‘Shut up, Angie.’ Karen glares at her. ‘Have you got nothing inside your head?’

  Angie glares back at her. ‘You’re the one who told Pip to do it. I didn’t.’

  ‘Please don’t fight. Don’t.’ I stare from Angie to Karen. ‘How could Oliver? I could get suspended.’ I stammer. ‘Even expelled.’

  ‘You won’t.’ Karen puts her arm through mine. ‘And even if you get a suspension, it’ll just mean a few days at the beach instead of school.’

  ‘A few days at the beach?’ I take my arm away. ‘My father will kill me if I get suspended.’ I rub my fingers hard, making them go red.

  ‘No he won’t, Pip.’

  ‘He will, Karen.’ She knows about fathers. Hers. Mine. I feel sick when she pretends.

  Karen looks away, but the old kindergarten Angie doesn’t. ‘Sorry, Pip. Sorry. What can I do?’ Worry flickers in Angie’s green eyes. We stare at each other.

  ‘Nothing,’ I whisper. I’m in deep trouble.

  At home I hide in my bedroom, lie on my bed holding Rabbit, with loud music blaring.

  Mum has to bang on my door before I hear her. I unlock the door. ‘Can we talk?’ She turns down the music. Her voice has a quiet serious tone. Mum knows. I can see it in her eyes.

  She turns down the music. ‘Pip.’ She shakes her head. ‘In a teddy bear?’

  ‘Yes,’ I whisper.

  ‘The school called me.’ Mum sits on the edge of my bed. ‘What they said about you. It hurt.’ Her words cut through the room.

  ‘Are you? Are you angry at me?’

  ‘Disappointed, Pip.’ Mum’s silent. I wish she’d shout at me or tell me I’ve been bad, but she just sits there watching me.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ I press my fingers against my lips. I don’t want to cry. ‘Really sorry, Mum.’

  ‘Are you?’

  I feel my face get hot and my heart thump. ‘Yes, Mum.’

  ‘What happened, Pip?’

  Stammering, I slowly explain about the vodka teddy bear package, about Oliver, about the pressure.

  ‘Pip, I understand about pressures. Drinking, boys, friends.’ I slip a look at her. ‘But I expected more of you.’ Guilt squeezes my throat making it hard to breathe. ‘Vodka in a teddy bear? That was just stupid.’ She pauses. ‘And wrong.’

  ‘It was Oliver.’ Mum just looks at me. ‘He wanted me to send it. Karen got me the vodka.’ I stumble like a coward, blaming everyone. Then I stop. I don’t want Mum to think I am a coward. ‘But it was me who sent it.’ I whisper. ‘I’m sorry, Mum.’

  I sit on my bed squeezing Rabbit even more tightly. I can’t believe I cut up the teddy for him, or anyone. We just stay on the bed, letting time pass. I glance out of the window. There’s a little brown bird in a tree outside, hopping from branch to branch. I wish I was that bird. Then there’d be no vodka, no school, no fathers, no boys. Mum follows my glance. Does she want to be a brown bird too?

  I stammer. ‘How could Oliver do it?’

  ‘He’s like a lot of people.’ Mum squeezes her eyes shut for a moment. ‘Scared.’

  I feel scared. I whisper, ‘He’s my first boyfriend.’

  ‘He’s a boy, Pip. That’s all.’

  ‘Mum, I thought I’d choose better than this.’

  ‘You’ll be smarter with the next boyfriend.’

  ‘That’s not going to happen. I’m never having another boyfriend.’

  ‘You will, Pip.’

  Will I? I don’t trust anything any more except my music. Boyfriends. Fathers. Music is different. It’s always there for me.

/>   ‘So no more vodka, Pip?’

  ‘No,’ I whisper.

  Quietly Mum and I talk, trying to bury the teddy bear. Then I stop. ‘Mum. You won’t tell Dad, will you?’

  Mum says nothing.

  ‘Please, Mum.’

  ‘Your father’s trying to change.’ She hesitates. ‘But if you get suspended…’ Mum hesitates again. ‘Then he’ll…’ Mum stops mid-sentence.

  ‘Please, Mum.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  My eyes plead.

  ‘All right, all right. We’ll leave it for now.’

  I put my hand over hers. ‘Thank you, Mum.’ It’s our secret for now. Our lie. There’s so much lying in life.

  ‘So tomorrow, we’ll see the Deputy Principal, after school.’

  Panic rises in my throat.

  Mum gets up, kisses me goodnight. ‘We’ll get through this, Pip. It’ll be all right.’ Will it? Will it?

  School is a pit of gossip. Advice is coming in from all directions. Someone suggests that the vodka should have been hidden in a Bible. ‘You could have just cut out a hole in the pages, like in a spy film.’

  My head is exploding. This is serious and they’re being stupid. Using a Bible would have been worse than the teddy bear, except I’m sure God would have forgiven me. I’m not sure the school will.

  Everyone knows it could have been them. There’s support and sympathy, but no one can change the situation. The teddy bear game has backfired.

  The bell goes. My support team, Irina, Karen and Angie, line up outside the classroom. Mum walks towards me wearing her official school interview outfit, a black skirt and turquoise shirt. She says hello to the other girls, but doesn’t chat like she usually would.

  Like the condemned, I trudge behind Mum into the Deputy Principal’s office. Mum does the talking. She tables the e-mail evidence. ‘Oliver instigated the whole incident.’ Mum edges her knee against mine. ‘Pip was naïve and Oliver is blaming her to avoid punishment.’

  The Deputy Principal listens. There are discussions. I keep quiet.

  ‘The alcohol. How did Pip get it?’ he demands.

  I look nervously at Mum. ‘We have alcohol at home, in the liquor cabinet.’ Mum doesn’t betray Karen. I’m grateful. ‘Pip is sorry about taking it and about the whole incident.’

  I repeat, ‘I’m sorry.’

  The Deputy gives me a lecture on appropriate behaviour. The e-mail evidence proving my innocence will be sent to Oliver’s school. The talking goes on and on. Mum listens, fields difficult questions, defends me. My music, playing in the school band and the orchestra, is the ace card. The Deputy Principal takes it into consideration. ‘Pip’s contribution to the orchestra has been impressive.’ Thank God for all those boring orchestra practices. ‘Her leadership in music is what’s stopping me from suspending her.’

  Finally the Deputy Principal stands up. He shakes Mum’s hand and we leave with a warning. ‘Next time, Pip, you will be suspended.’

  ‘There’ll be no next time,’ Mum says. I nod.

  Only after we leave the Deputy’s office, after we walk past my classroom, after we hurry out of the school gates and get into the car, do we connect.

  ‘It’s over, Pip,’ Mum says quietly. We stare out of the windscreen, letting the tension slide through the open window and down the street.

  Dad doesn’t have to know. I’ll never do such a dumb thing again. Definitely, not for a boy.

  Oliver is suspended from school. Everyone hates him now. I don’t hate him. He’s not important enough for that. He’s barred from our parties and he’s on the ‘Don’t trust him’ list. That’ll pass in time. I’ve learnt that already.

  I’m single again. I’m feeling better. The teddy bear saga has been put to bed. I don’t want to think about it ever again. Eddie and Mum don’t mention it. No one wants it to slip out when Dad is around. It’s safer to pretend it never happened. Anyway, I feel ridiculous.

  A few girls snigger about it. Irina is glad I got off so lightly. Karen avoids talking about it. She feels guilty about encouraging me to do it. And she’s losing the battles at home, at both her homes.

  Angie breaks up with Christopher because of me. ‘I can’t tell you whether you did the right thing Angie.’ I feel guilty about the break-up.

  ‘I like him, Pip.’ She pauses. ‘Maybe more than that.’ Hers eyes are red from crying. ‘I just can’t go out with him any more. He wants me to be friends with Oliver.’

  I try to tell myself that would be okay. Why should Angie break up because I was an idiot? ‘You can if you want. I’ll be okay with it.’

  ‘I told him we can still be friends, but not date any more. He’s upset, but not upset enough. He even got angry. I’m not going to say what Oliver did is all right, just because he’s Christopher’s mate. So it’s over.’ Angie’s eyes seem greener.

  ‘Except you—’ I can’t say the word love. ‘You like him a lot.’ Angie eyes water, but she refuses to cry. ‘Angie, you can go out with him. It won’t matter to me.’ But if I’m honest, it does matter.

  ‘It will. It does.’ Angie rubs her eyes. ‘You’re more important to me than he is.’

  Quietly, we hug each other. Angie’s my true friend.

  Soon there’s new gossip and the vodka teddy bear becomes just a painful memory.

  I’m helping Mum with the shopping this afternoon. Mum takes me to my favourite juice shop and buys me a large mango—passionfruit crush. She has one too. No added sugar, just natural fruit. No fat, and delicious. My bum is finally shrinking. I keep looking in the mirror and checking. My cemetery walks with Irina are getting me fitter at last. Mum’s on a healthy living program at the moment too, which is good. There are lots of low-fat yohgurts and fruits in our shopping bags. I push the bags under the table of the juice bar. We talk about my joint birthday party with Irina. It’s soon. (I’m nervous but excited about it.) Exams are getting closer. (Not excited about that.) The Music research has been done, but now I have to do the musical arrangements. Due soon. Very soon. (Very nervous.)

  I look over at the jewellery shop opposite us. ‘Mum, can we see what’s in there? I need a present. Something special for Karen. It’s her birthday next week.’

  ‘Is Karen seventeen already? A year older than you. I can’t believe it.’

  We wander over with our parcels and bags and stare at the display window. Bracelets, necklaces, semiprecious stones, little gold crosses and stars glint into the white light. It’s hard to choose.

  Mum points at something encrusted with garnet. ‘Who’d want that doorknob?’

  I start giggling. ‘It’s not a doorknob, Mum. It’s a lamp.’

  Mum giggles too. ‘Who’d want that lamp?’

  ‘It’s boutique, you know.’ I stick my nose in the air.

  ‘Boutique. Sounds exotic.’ Smiling, Mum flicks my nose. ‘Stuck up. People will steal those boutique garnets, especially if they’re on the front door.’

  ‘What sort of people do you know?’ I make a funny face. ‘Garnet thieves?’ We start laughing. It’s one of those moods where we just can’t stop laughing. The shop assistant thinks we’re mad. We eventually stop laughing long enough to buy Karen’s present. No, we don’t buy the doorknob.

  ‘Perfect present.’ Mum pauses for the punchline. ‘For Not Perfect.’

  ‘Pathetic joke, Mum.’ I groan. ‘Do you mean Karen?’

  ‘No, I don’t mean Karen’s not perfect. Well, she is sometimes. Karen’s…’ Mum stumbles out of it. ‘I would have loved being in a band when I was your age.’

  ‘Rock Star Mum.’ She’s like no rock star I’ve ever seen. It’s funny, but I love hearing Mum talk about being in a band.

  ‘Except I wasn’t talented like you, Pip.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘You are.’ Mum slides her arm through mine. Mums have to say that. Well, mums who love you. A warmth tingles through me. It feels good having Mum to myself, outside the house, shopping and talking, with no Eddie, no Dad
, no work, no dinner to make.

  But as we walk towards the car, Mum ruins everything. She brings up Dad. ‘Things are getting better at home, don’t you think, Pip? With your father?’

  I don’t want to talk about him. I try to distract Mum with music, Karen, school, but she’s determined. She goes on and on. ‘No family is perfect.’ ‘Things will work out.’ ‘It’s good not to have your dad away so often.’

  I can see it’s going to be a long drive back home.

  ‘Since the counselling, he’s starting to accept that he has issues.’

  Counselling. How does talking to a stranger do anything? Change anything? As if I’d tell a stranger about me. ‘The counsellor doesn’t even know Dad.’

  ‘She’s learning about him. He’s acknowledged that he can’t control his temper. He didn’t realise that he’s…’

  ‘Scary.’ I finish the sentence.

  ‘I know, Pip.’ Mum opens the car door. ‘I didn’t realise before. I do now. I’ve been hiding from him. I should have stood up to him.’ She blurts out, ‘He loves us, Pip.’

  I shiver. It’s as though the word ‘love’ hits me across the face. ‘He hates my music.’

  ‘Hates?’ Mum stops. ‘I don’t know about that. At least, he’s trying. I’m asking you to do a tough thing. Can you give him a chance? And me?’

  Lamb, lying on a road all alone, bursts into my head. ‘It’s hard, Mum.’

  ‘Yes, it’s hard.’

  Home. Dad’s car isn’t parked in the driveway. He’s not here yet.

  As Mum and I carry the shopping towards the house, I notice someone stooped over on the front step. ‘Who’s that?’ Mum squints, trying to make out the figure.

  Karen turns to face us. Her face is blotchy red. Her hair is tangled.