I Lost My Mobile At the Mall

by Wendy Harmer

  'Hi Bianca! Love your hair!' says Carmelita, as she gives me a secret kick in the shins.

  'Me too,' I chirp, trying not to laugh.

  'I'm just back in Oldcastle for the weekend and I thought I'd be Elly's date,' says Carmelita.

  'Well, why not?' Bianca sneers. 'Doesn't look like any of the seaweed heads you usually hang with are here tonight, Elly.'

  I just smile. I'm practising being inscrutable. I know it will drive Bianca crazy.

  And then 'Get the Party Started' by Pink thumps through the speakers inside and we push past Bianca and hit the polished wooden dance floor, determined to show the tinies from Year Eight how it's done.

  We prance on our high heels under the daggy disco lights and . . . it feels so brilliant to be dancing! Not thinking anything at all. Just dancing. Kicking up my exquisite heels with my BFF Carmelita.

  'Did you smell Bianca's breath?' Carmelita leans and yells into my ear over the music. 'I think she's been drinking alcohol.'

  No! I make an astonished face at Carmelita. I am just about to try and get more information when Tenzin rocks up.

  'I am here to dance with both of you!' he shouts. 'The two prettiest girls in Oldcastle. This is my lucky night!'

  Saturday. 9 pm.

  PM. AW. PCC.

  There's still no sign of Will and I'm sort of glad in a way, because Carmelita and I can't take our eyes off Bianca. She's standing with Jai and Bad Mickey B behind the DJ's table and during the past hour we have both spotted her drinking what's supposed to be non-alcoholic punch, but we reckon it's something she's getting from a suspicious esky stashed behind the speaker stack.

  There's a break in the music and a stampede for the supper table.

  It's like a waterhole in Africa. Sir David Attenborough would love to narrate this scene for the National Geographic Channel. He'd note how the Year Eights all herd at one end of the table to feed, the Year Nines at the other end, and how the Year Tens all stand back while they let the animals lower down the food chain have their fill before they amble over to graze.

  Carmelita and I load our paper plates with vegetarian pizza and little tomato and cheese tartlets and find ourselves a quiet corner.

  Carmelita nudges me and I look up from my plate to see the apparition of Fergie coming towards us in full flight.

  Uh-oh!

  She's marching across the dance floor towards us in the ugliest sack-like floral dress and white platforms that have ever been seen in Oldcastle – which is really saying something! Tonight she's wearing her formal scrunchie – black polyester with gold beads sewn on it.

  'Elly Pickering. Carmelita Martinez,' she says officiously. 'A quiet word.'

  I gulp. Usually Fergie's yelling at full volume. This must be seriously serious.

  'Bianca Ponsford is . . . er . . . unwell,' says Fergie in a hoarse whisper.

  'That's because she's been drinking alcohol,' says Carmelita, who's not known for being the most tactful person on earth. 'We saw her filling her glass from a bottle in an esky.'

  'Well, yes. Quite right,' says Fergie looking about and hoping no-one's overheard. 'The drink was brought into the venue by Jai McHaargh and he has already been collected by his parents.'

  Carmelita and I exchange a look. It's exactly what we suspected. And Jai's already gone home? Funny no-one seems to have missed him.

  'I would like you two girls, as Bianca's best friends, to see her outside and put her into a taxi. I've ordered the car and it should be out the front in five minutes.'

  Huh! I look at Carmelita. Why us? Why do we have to be Bianca's minders?

  'We are short-staffed tonight,' Fergie explains. 'Myself, Mr York and Mr Battenburg cannot leave the other one hundred and fifty pupils here unsupervised – one of those silly Year Eights could jump off the deck and drown in the river in an instant – so I am asking you to please, please lend a hand.'

  'Can't her mum and dad come and get her?' asks Carmelita through a mouthful of pizza. We've been dancing nonstop in heels and both need to sit down and rest our throbbing feet.

  Fergie looks utterly stressed out and I actually feel a bit sorry for her.

  'I've rung Bianca's parents and unfortunately they've been drinking as well and are unable to drive. They are expecting her home shortly. Of course, as soon as you see her off, you can come back and join the celebrations. Bianca's waiting by the front door now, so please go quickly and quietly. I am counting on your utmost discretion.'

  Looks like we've got no option. We collect our handbags and trudge towards the front door. Bloody Bianca Ponsford! What a total pain!

  At the front door of the boathouse we see Bianca leaning against a tall wooden oar, trying to keep herself upright. Her inflatable hairdo is slowly collapsing into an ugly mess.

  'Smelly! Camel!' Bianca turns and waves, dropping her mobile on the floor with a nasty clatter. The back springs off, and skids across the tiles. The battery rolls under a cupboard. Bianca falls to her knees with a bruising thud as she gropes for the bits.

  Carmelita finds everything and puts the precious device back together. Then we each take one of Bianca's upper arms, haul her to her feet and steer her out into the street.

  'Thank youse. I love youse,' she slurs.

  The three of us are standing in the freezing night air waiting for the stupid taxi when I see Will walk up with Bombie Logan! Will is so surprised to see me that he trips on the gutter.

  'HA!' shouts Bianca. 'Flipper feet!'

  Which is pretty ironic coming from Bianca, who, without me and Carmelita holding her up, would fall flat on her face and be swept down the gutter into the river.

  'Hey! Will, Bombie!' calls Carmelita.

  'Yo! Carmelita!' Bombie ambles over and surveys the scene. He looks at Bianca with disgust. Honestly, if she saw what a disgrace her make-up looks, she would never drink again. Her lipstick is smeared halfway down her chin and her smudged mascara makes her face look like a Halloween mask.

  'What's happening?' asks Bombie. I notice Will's hanging back in the shadows.

  'We've got a slight situation here,' Carmelita explains. 'We're just waiting for a taxi to take Bianca home and we'll be back inside in a couple of minutes. Save us a dance?'

  I dare to look up at Will and I can almost feel my legs give way too. It's my Will. He's as beautiful tonight as he ever has been.

  'Uh, sure,' says Will, staring down at the ground. 'See you inside in a minute, then.'

  'Cool,' says Bombie, and they both shove their hands even deeper into their pockets and shuffle past us. Will's so close to me. My old life is so near to me I could reach out and touch it. There's only one thing between me and true happiness – Bianca Pontoon Head Ponsford!

  GRRRRR! Ten minutes have gone by now and the ghost taxi still hasn't come. Forget a foil-wrapped chocolate, I'm turning into a frozen Golden Gaytime! Carmelita's stamping her red stilettos, trying to keep warm.

  'WHERE'S THAT STUPID TAXI?' she wails.

  Bianca's been trying to call someone on her mobile the whole time. She's been randomly stabbing at the keypad and I wouldn't be surprised if she's managed to ring Tenzin's family in Tibet and their house is surrounded by Chinese soldiers by now.

  Then Bianca is startled by a ping on her mobile and she reads the message.

  'NOOOOOOO!' she moans. She stumbles forward, executes a startling 360-degree turn and falls dramatically backwards into my arms. Weeping blue eyes ringed with black and purple sludge stare up at me.

  'It's Jai!' she sobs. 'JAI!'

  She thrusts her mobile in my face and I scan the screen:

  Georgie.SUL SWHT.Luv U.Jai xxxxxx

  For one moment I can't tell what it means. I've been without my mobile for so long it's like a code I can't recognise.

  'Look, look!' Bianca whimpers. '"Georgie. See you later, sweetheart. Love you. JAI!" It was for Georgie Daniels, but he sent it to me! WAAAAAAH!'

  And then Bianca tears herself from my arms, leaps down a flight of stairs with amazing
speed and runs along the path winding beside the river. I see her pause under a streetlight long enough to fling her mobile into the inky depths of the river. Carmelita and I grab at each other's hands and are squeezing tight when we hear a far-off, depressing plop.

  Saturday. 9.30 pm.

  PM. AW. PCC.

  'BIANCA! BIANCA!' Carmelita has screeched Bianca's name so many times she's almost lost her voice.

  As I stomp through the long dewy grass beside the path and poke under every bush looking for Bianca I'm thinking of Tilly's gorgeous silver sandals. They're utterly ruined and she will go absolutely mental.

  'Oh God! Where's that idiot gone?' asks Carmelita for the millionth time. 'We probably should go back and tell Fergie we can't find her. Why, oh why didn't I remember to pick up my phone on the way out?'

  We're now so far along the river that it'll take another half-hour to walk back and our feet are already blistered. Carmelita couldn't fit her phone into her tiny evening bag, so it must be on the floor underneath a chair back at the boatshed. Brilliant! If only I had mine! This is exactly what I've been trying to tell Mum and Dad – that I need it in case of an emergency. And an emergency is what we've got right now. What if Bianca's fallen in the river? Although we would have heard a splash and a screech, surely, and we haven't heard a thing. Bianca has just vanished!

  Where could she have gone?

  'We should try to find a public phone and ring your parents, Els. I wouldn't be surprised if Fergie's already been on to them, we've been gone so long. This is a nightmare! BIANCA! BIANCA!'

  We push our way through dark prickly bushes that tear at our frocks and stumble out onto the deserted road that runs through the park. We start looking for a phone.

  'What is it with Jai anyway?' Carmelita asks as she pads down the asphalt in bare feet, her red stilettos dangling from one hand. 'Why's he always chasing the Year Twelve girls? Like that sleazoid has got a chance in hell!'

  I feel really bad for Bianca. I remember how awful I felt about Will and I know she must be so upset. Could I have stopped it? I've constantly been wondering if I should have told her everything I heard about Jai. Would Carmelita have told her if the three of us were still hanging around together?

  'Well, Els, it's really hard,' sighs Carmelita. 'It's not like you had actual evidence he was going behind her back – not before tonight anyway. Besides, Jai would have denied it and then Bianca would have totally hated your guts. In the end you just have to stay out of it, I suppose.'

  I have to agree. There's no logical reason for who you fall in love with. I probably shouldn't have told Bianca that Jai was no good for her. After all, she never complained about Will to me. Maybe I'll tell her I'm sorry when we find her.

  'You mean if we find her!' Carmelita groans. 'BIANCA!'

  And then it starts to rain.

  We walk for another twenty minutes with our evening bags on our heads to try to keep the rain off, but it's useless of course. Our gorgeous dresses are ripped and soaked through and look like dishrags. It's creepy out here, under the sickly yellow streetlights that cast reflections in the puddles.

  I can't help thinking of Will back there at the dance. He'll probably think I've seen him and decided to go home.

  'I wish Henry was coming down the street on his tractor to rescue me,' whines Carmelita.

  We finally spy a phone box under a massive dripping tree and we huddle under its cover, a couple of shivering, drowned rats. We search in our soggy evening bags for a few coins and then find that the coin slot is totally clogged with green chewy!

  'There's not going to be a public phone that works in the whole of Oldcastle,' moans Carmelita and I agree through chattering teeth.

  'So, we should . . .' Carmelita tries to think of what we can possibly do next, and then we hear the sound of sirens blaring. We see blue and red lights flashing through the trees and in the next instant we are both frozen stiff in the blinding glare of full-beam headlights.

  Saturday. 11 pm.

  PM. AW. PCC.

  'You could have been abducted . . . or . . . anything,' says Mum as she pours me another hot chocolate in the Palace kitchen. 'We'll have to get her a mobile, Rick. Then she could have called straight away and . . .'

  Der! What have I been trying to tell her for the past two weeks?

  'Exactly right,' Dad nods. 'Then I wouldn't have found myself down at bloody Oldcastle Police Station with Carmelita's parents. They were frantic! I could have come and got you both straight away.'

  'What a night! First Mrs Ferguson rings and says you're both missing. Then I'm driving like a maniac all over town!'

  'Your father and I were texting each other like mad. I was terrified, waiting here for him to call or the police to call or Mrs Ferguson to call. The things I was imagining! I never want to go through anything like that again as long as I live.'

  At least tonight there'll be no lecture on the Days Before Mobile Phones Were Invented.

  'I hope there'll be some serious questions asked,' Dad continues. 'And I hope Jai is expelled for taking alcohol into a place where there are Year Eights! Those kids are thirteen, fourteen years old. When I was a kid . . .'

  I spoke too soon. Looks like I'm going to get a lecture on the Days Before Alcohol Was Invented.

  'Well at least Jayden McHaargh found Bianca and took her home,' says Mum. 'Imagine if she'd fallen in the river?'

  I did imagine. I imagined Bianca's inflatable hair buoy being run over by a ferry or nibbled by fish. She might have been swept out to sea and bobbed all the way to the Antarctic. Despite everything, I'm glad she's OK.

  'Phew! Well the main thing is you're safe. Thank God!' and Mum gives me another hug.

  Then, uh-oh! Here comes Tilly, rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

  'What's going on?' she mumbles.

  Then she sees the two mud-covered blobs lying on the kitchen floor.

  'Oh my God, Eleanor! My new sandals! I am going to absolutely KILL you!'

  And I think that maybe being abducted wouldn't have been so bad after all.

  Sunday. 9 am.

  PM. AW. PPC.

  I'm standing with Carmelita and Tenzin inside the Gummy Beach Surf Club and admiring the extraordinary sand mandala the monks have made.

  It's the most divine thing I have ever seen! A huge round circle – it's got to be two metres across – in a mosaic made of this intensely coloured sand contained in dozens of little pots. It's taken six Gyuto Buddhist monks ten days to create the mandala, pouring the sand from tiny metal funnels onto their drawn design – beautiful trees, animals, clouds, flowers, demons and deities and a thousand ancient symbols – all beautifully and perfectly made.

  I just can't find the words to describe this creation. I look over to Carmelita and Tenzin, who are also gazing at the mandala in absolute awe.

  And to think that in a moment it will all be swept away!

  When Gen Lama, the oldest and most venerable monk, claps his hands to start the meditation on the mandala, we three sit on the floor behind him. I wish I could empty my head and contemplate the infinite, but I'm told that takes ten thousand hours of practice! Instead I just hold hands with Carmelita and Tenzin and feel the warmth of their bodies flowing into mine.

  I close my eyes and listen to the chanted prayers of Gen Lama and the translator telling us what he's saying. There's one thing he says that stands out for me – that unless you love yourself unconditionally, you can't offer love to anyone else.