‘Well it’s totally right,’ I said and made a proud face. ‘See? Smart Girls ...’
‘... always stick together,’ said Buzz and Jessie in unison.
‘And that’s the other thing,’ I said, all excited now. ‘My epiphany, if you like, was exactly about that. We three, we Smart Girls, always sticking together.’
I crossed my legs, put one hand on each knee and looked them both deep in the eyes. ‘We’re best friends, right?’
‘Totally,’ nodded Jessie.
‘Mmm hmm,’ said Buzz.
‘Well, let’s promise to always be best friends. Always stick together. No matter what.’
‘Yeah. Why not? I mean, okay.’ Jessie’s face was nervous-happy. Unsure, but wanting to please.
‘Really?’ I said. ‘That’s awesome. Buzz, what do you think?’
Buzz was looking at the rock to one side of her, brushing dirt away. I couldn’t see her face.
‘Buzz,’ said Jessie. Her voice was all excited now. ‘What do you think about Abby’s idea?’
Buzz looked up to the creek, back down at her hand and then to Jessie and me. She shrugged and then grinned. ‘Yeah, whatever. Why not?’
‘Yay!’ I yelled so loud that Buzz put her hands over her ears, but she did it with a smile on her face and a look like, you’re so crazy, Abby. Half a second later, I heard Ziggy start barking back at the house.
‘Ha ha,’ I said. ‘I bet even Sam could hear that.’
‘Do you think he did?’ said Jessie, with wide-open eyes. ‘Really?’
‘Stop. No boy talk. That has to be one of the rules. We never talk about boys. Way too boring.’
‘Rules?’ said Buzz. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘The last bit of my idea, of course,’ I said, jumping up and down. ‘Now that we’re officially best friends forever, we should have a club. With a name and a place to meet and everything.’
‘And rules,’ said Buzz. Her voice sounded sceptical.
‘Yeah, but only so it’s a really good club,’ said Jessie. ‘It’s a fantastic idea, Abby. I totally think we should do it.’
I stood straight, wiping wet dirt off my shorts.
‘Don’t you see? Year Six is going to be the most awesome year of our lives so far. When Year Seven comes and everyone goes off to different high schools on the buses, well, I’ve heard of so many best friends who haven’t stayed friends. But we don’t have to be like them. We can decide to stay friends. A club will be the best way to do that.’
Jessie’s eyes were shining, Buzz had a half-smile on her face.
‘Smart Girls—and that’s us—have to stick together,’ I said. ‘So let’s do it. Let’s actually do it.’
I held out my hands to them and they stood up as well, Jessie jumping up and Buzz getting slowly to her feet.
‘I will if you will,’ I said.
‘I will,’ said Jessie, and she took my hand.
‘Yeah, okay,’ said Buzz. She took the other and grabbed Jessie’s hand too.
‘To our epiphany, to our friendship and to our club,’ I said and swung all of our hands up high.
‘To our epiphany, to our friendship and to our club,’ they repeated. Buzz dropped my hand.
‘So have you thought of a name for this club?’ she said.
‘Of course.’ I said. ‘I’ve thought of everything. Ever since I arrived in the Valley and we all became friends, we’ve been the Smart Girls.’ I took a breath. ‘What else would we be?’
Chapter 4
By the time Jessie was picked up by her dad—grimy and check-shirted in a ute that smelt of cows—and Buzz had carefully placed herself into the leather upholstery of the brand new, sun-roofed 4WD, our club was planned. We had an official motto—‘Smart Girls Stick Together’—and a club scrapbook. Buzz had a printout photo of us her Mum had taken last night at the Show. We’d all decided it should be the first thing we put into our scrapbook.
‘Can I have an extra copy?’ I’d asked her.
‘What for?’
‘To put on my desk. Maybe even in a frame,’ I said.
Buzz shrugged. ‘Okay.’
We also had a club symbol.
‘They call it a logo,’ said Buzz.
‘Who does?’ I said.
‘People who know.’
‘Well we’re calling it a symbol,’ I said. ‘We know things too.’
We even had a plan for club sleepovers every two weeks.
‘At least every two weeks,’ I said. ‘Every week would be better, but we have to be realistic, you know, with parents and stuff. Mine get annoyed if they can’t go to the Land Care meetings or those political things. We don’t want to have to go with them and hang out with all the grown-ups.’
‘What about at school?’ asked Jessie. ‘We’ll have to get a hideout, or at least a specific place to meet.’
‘You’re right,’ I said. ‘That’s a really good idea, Jess.’ I smiled at her.
‘What about just the Year Six seats?’ suggested Buzz. ‘I mean, we’re the only girls in the year, anyway.’
‘Boys,’ I said. Decisively. ‘We can’t have them around listening. It’ll have to be somewhere else. What about the big tree at the back?’
‘Yeah, the tree. And we need a secret handshake,’ said Jessie, excitedly, ‘or like a code word.’
‘Okay,’ I said, considering it. ‘Another good idea. I’ll think about it and make something up.’
‘You can email it if you like,’ said Buzz. ‘I’m checking mine all the time. I can get it on my iPod. My mum’s probably going to get me a phone sometime, but until she does, I have to use this thing.’
I made a face. ‘Email? You crazy? I don’t want to waste my time on the computer. I’ll phone you. Or just tell you on Wednesday.’
‘First day of school,’ said Buzz and she gave the biggest, most excited smile I’d seen all day.
‘I know, right?’ I said. ‘Year Six. I so can’t wait.’
‘School leaders,’ said Jessie. ‘Just imagine. The biggest people in the school. And we get to help the kindy kids out.’
Buzz had made a face. ‘I don’t care about that. I just want to sit on the Year Six seats and get to ring the bell. Awesome. I wish we had senior uniforms. Wouldn’t that be amazing? Like they do at high school.’
‘Those miniskirts?’ I said. ‘Nuh-uh. I’m never going to wear those, even when I get to high school. You can’t do anything in them without showing the whole world your undies. I way prefer our shorts.’
‘Did you get new shoes for school?’ asked Jessie, a bit anxious. ‘My feet haven’t grown so Dad said to wait until they do.’
‘My feet grow all the time,’ I said. I looked down at my sandals. If there was one thing I really didn’t like about my looks, it was my big feet, which only seemed to be getting bigger every month. The rest—face, hair, legs, whatever—I honestly didn’t care about. They all worked just fine. How it looked didn’t seem that relevant. But my feet were different. They were annoying.
‘Look at them.’ I pointed down to my toes. ‘They’re even bigger than Mum’s now. I can’t fit into her shoes anymore. She said she wasn’t buying any new school shoes until the day before school, just in case I grow out of them.’
Jessie made a sympathetic face. ‘They’ll stop soon. At least it’s not your head that’s growing. That would be weird.’
I imagined my head growing suddenly, bursting out of my neck and exploding.
‘Ha ha,’ I laughed. ‘I’d have to have new hats all the time.’
‘Have you got the same hat as last year?’ said Buzz, turning to me, almost urgently.
‘Um, yeah.’ I looked at her oddly.
‘You’ve got to wash it,’ she said. ‘Last year it smelled like Ziggy.’
‘I did wash it,�
� I said. ‘That is, Mum did. And it didn’t. Smell, I mean.’
Buzz just pursed up her lips and looked at me. ‘Whatever.’
‘Whatever,’ I said back. ‘Anyway, Ziggy is not a stinky dog.’
Jessie looked worried. ‘Guys. Be nice. Remember. We stick together.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ said Buzz. ‘I’m just saying it to help out. That’s what best friends do. As well as make clubs.’ She shook her head at me, like a lecturing mother. ‘It’s for your own good, Abby. You know it, deep down.’
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Yeah.’
Maybe it was for my own good. But it hadn’t felt like it and when I waved goodbye to Buzz from the driveway, I felt a little bit less bubbly than when I started out in the morning. As her car pulled out and I put my hand down from waving goodbye, my stomach felt weird. I needed to move, get back to normal. I twisted my face up and bounced up and down on my tiptoes a little bit. It seemed to help. In the background I could hear Miles singing something at the top of his voice, the phone ringing and Ziggy barking. On my face I could feel sunshine and fresh air.
There it is, I thought. That’s normal.
I pushed away the small, weird feeling leftover from Buzz and smiled to the trees. Two more days of holidays left. And I wasn’t going to miss a minute.
Three hours later—after splashing in the deep part of the creek and launching out from the rope swing with Sam—the light had faded and Mum was calling me.
‘Abigail Joy Smart. Home time. Now.’
Dripping and dirty, with leaf litter and mud spattered up my legs, I snuck in through the sliding screen doors to the bathroom.
‘Dinner’s in less than three minutes!’ I heard Mum yell.
I looked down at the water still trickling down my legs onto the brown tiles. ‘Are there any towels?’ I called out.
‘What? Aren’t there any in the laundry?’
I scanned the bathroom. A great stack of toilet rolls sat in the corner, pushed up next to a pile of stuff that included Miles’ old bike from when he was four. In another corner sat a bucket full of cleaning products and another filled with empty shampoo bottles. But no towels.
‘Nope.’
Mum made an impatient noise with her mouth and came stomping in.
‘There were some there yesterday. What do you kids do with all the towels?’
I shrugged my shoulders. ‘Wasn’t me,’ I said under my breath, and followed her to the laundry.
‘Oh, that’s right,’ she said. Her shoulders dropped. ‘I forgot. I did a whole load yesterday, but I got too busy to hang them out.’ She shrugged. ‘I’ll do it tomorrow.’
‘But ...’ I stuck my leg out at her and five drops of muddy water splashed onto her foot. She let out a sigh. ‘Can’t you find a dirty one somewhere? What about in Miles’ room?’ She turned to walk back to the kitchen. ‘Ooohhh boy. How many days is it until school?’
There was a used towel in my room. Actually two of them, and another half-hidden under my bed, probably brought in by Ziggy, who had an amusing habit of creating his own beds out of the clothes and stuff he found around the house. But I didn’t tell Mum. For some reason she seemed to find school holidays tiresome. I think she’d prefer to work, writing her articles and doing her research, but I didn’t see why she couldn’t come down to the creek sometimes.
By the time I’d washed off my legs, dried myself and picked two ticks off my back, I was late to dinner and Mum was bashing pots and plates around the kitchen bench.
‘Can you move that pile? There’s never any space. Where’s Miles? Is he still outside? I thought I already called him in,’ she said, all in one breath.
‘I’ll get him,’ I said. I walked to his room, opened the door, picked my way through the Lego and tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Dinner.’
He wheeled around. ‘What, now?’
‘Yeah. What do you think?’
‘I didn’t hear, that’s all. I was making this spaceship.’ He pushed it into my face but I swiped it away.
‘It doesn’t matter. Just come now.’
‘Don’t you want to see?’ he said, pouting his lip out.
‘No.’
‘Meanie,’ he said. But I wasn’t listening. My stomach was talking to me. It wanted to eat before the soy-n-veg sausages got cold.
At the kitchen bench, Mum and Dad had already started to eat. I pushed Miles into his chair, then sat down and picked up my fork.
‘This looks nice,’ I said. ‘Miles, don’t use your fingers.’
‘Abby,’ said Mum. ‘You’re not in charge.’
I ignored her. ‘The creek was good. And Buzz and Jessie and I made a club today.’
Miles’ ears pricked up. ‘A club? Why? Can I join?’
‘It’s a best friends’ club,’ I said. ‘You’re not our best friend, so you’re not in it.’
‘Who’s in charge?’ said Miles. ‘I’ll ask them.’
‘I’m in charge.’ I made a face at him. ‘You can’t join.’
‘Did you say you’re in charge?’ asked Mum.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I’m president. Except it’s not really president. That’s just a fancy title.’
‘But you’re the one who tells everyone what to do?’
‘Um, probably,’ I said. ‘I mean, I’m the one with all the ideas, and I thought of it and everything.’
Mum gave Dad a look and Dad put down his fork, making a noise on his plate.
‘You’ve got to be careful, Abby,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing wrong with having good ideas. It’s just, well, sometimes ...’
‘Sometimes you’re bossy,’ chirped Miles. ‘Actually, all of the time you’re bossy.’
‘Miles,’ growled Dad. He frowned at him. ‘It’s more that, well, you can be a bit full-on sometimes. That’s all.’
‘By “full-on”, he means bossy,’ Miles said.
‘Miles,’ growled Mum.
‘Well? It’s true, isn’t it? I’ve heard you say so and everything.’ Miles looked around, surprised.
‘Miles,’ I growled. ‘Stop it.’
‘Yes, Miles. Stop it. Saying bossy sounds a bit harsh,’ said Mum. She looked at me, concerned. ‘We’re just saying that you need to be mindful about how you come across. Sometimes you like to control everything. And there are plenty of things you can control. Just not your friends.’
My stomach lurched—and it wasn’t from the sausages.
‘I don’t control everything,’ I said, making my voice light. Free and easy. ‘And I am careful. It’s different from what you think. Buzz and Jessie always want to do the same things as I do.’
Mum took a breath in. ‘Well, it’s worth really making sure that’s actually the case.’
‘Yeah,’ said Miles. ‘Don’t be boss—’
‘Miles,’ we all growled together.
I got up from my seat.
‘I’m getting a drink of water,’ I said, in my super-polite, don’t-get-in-my-way voice. ‘Excuse me.’
I lifted my nose a little and walked around to the sink, but as I filled my glass from the tap, there was silence behind me. It was so quiet that I could hear Ziggy snoring in my bedroom. I had the distinct feeling that Mum’s eyes were drilling into Miles, which made me pleased. I could imagine Dad and Mum exchanging more looks and maybe even mouthing words to each other. It didn’t make me feel that good. In fact, I felt an itchy spot start in my eye which kind of then began to well up, just like the water filling up my glass. I rubbed it. My finger was wet.
A tear? Seriously?
I hadn’t cried since I was eight.
It wasn’t because I’d been holding it in, or trying not to cry like people did in books. It’s just pretty simple. I hadn’t actually been sad. There was that one time I cried a little bit after I sprained an ankle on the rocks down at the creek, but
Sam had laughed at me so I’d gritted my teeth and hobbled home. Once I’d put ice on it, it was fine. Apart from that, I’d always been a non-crier. ‘Abby Smart doesn’t cry.’ That’s what they said at school. I’m not like Jessie, who becomes a sobbing mess every time she sees a little kid fall over.
‘Why are you crying?’ I had asked her once when tiny, little Georgia pinched her hand in the door at school.
‘I can feel her heart hurting,’ she’d answered.
I had no idea what to say, so I just looked at her and kind of patted her on the back until she sniffled and stopped.
But now there was a tear in my eye. At least, I thought there was. And I had no idea why it was there.
Behind me, the conversation had started again. Mum had something to tell me.
‘Abby, you’ll never guess what happened. I forgot to tell you as you were out with Sam this afternoon. It was such a funny phone call though. I think you’ll laugh.’
I turned around, sipping my water and blinking. ‘What was it?’
‘I got a call today from someone you probably don’t know. I don’t really know her, either. I may have met her once or twice, maybe at the pub fireworks at New Year’s Eve … I can’t really remember, but anyway, it was only sort of in passing ...’
‘Who?’ I say. ‘Who was it?’
‘A woman called Francesca. Francesca something or other. Bodoni, I think. But she wanted to talk to you.’
‘To me? What for?’
‘Well, I couldn’t work it out, either. But then it turned out that she’d heard you singing at the Show. You know, that Annie song you did. And she used to be a singing teacher.’
‘But why would she call?’ I asked.
‘Well, she wanted to offer you singing lessons,’ Mum said, shaking her head a little. ‘I know. Crazy, right? She said, um ... let me think ... oh, that’s right, she said she thought you had great potential and you should probably get some training.’
Underneath me, the floor fell away from my feet and I felt like I was suspended in mid-air. When I opened my mouth, only air came out. No words.
‘How funny, don’t you think?’ laughed Mum.
Smart Girls Don't Wear Mascara Page 3
