Smart Girls Don't Wear Mascara

by Cecily Paterson

  Argh, said my brain. Really?

  I put a fresh smile on my face. ‘You can climb this one. There’s an easy way to get up here. Anyone could do it. Even Jessie could do it. Just try. You can do it.’

  She shot me a look that said, Really? But she put her arms where I showed her and one foot where I suggested. I stood behind her and pushed her bottom so that she was launched halfway up the tree. ‘Now move your foot up a bit,’ I said. ‘It’s okay. Over onto that branch.’

  ‘Like this?’ she said, and her voice was wobbly, like she was scared or something. She had one foot on one branch and one on another, her hands grabbing the higher branches.

  ‘Yeah, just like that,’ I said. ‘I’ll climb up around this side, okay? You’ve got to get over onto that bigger branch so you can sit down.’ I walked around to where there was another place to get up, but she yelled out to me, ‘Don’t go. I’m stuck.’

  ‘I’m not going,’ I shouted back. ‘I’m just around here. I’m coming up. I’ll help you when I get up, okay? Hang on.’

  ‘I can’t hang on.’ Now her voice was even louder. And panicky, like she was freaking out.

  I put on my best calm voice, the one I used when Jessie got worried. ‘Just stay where you are. I’ll be up there soon.’

  ‘I can’t! I just can’t.’ Now she really was freaking out. I climbed up and stuck my head through the branches so I could see her. She wasn’t wobbling—she was still exactly where I’d left her.

  ‘I’m going to fall off, Abby.’ Her voice was a half-sob, half-scream and it was getting louder. It was just like the time Buzz was stuck out on the rope swing. I remembered her yelling, ‘I can’t let go!’ repeatedly. Elizabeth sobbed again. ‘I’m going to fall off.’

  I moved from my best calm-Jessie-down voice to my best take-charge-over-Buzz voice.

  ‘Elizabeth, you need to stop talking,’ I said strongly, and with authority, just like the dog trainer showed us when we took Ziggy for puppy obedience lessons. ‘Take a deep breath. You’ll be alright.’

  Normally when I did that with Buzz, she calmed down. It didn’t work for Elizabeth. Instead, she yelped even more. ‘I’m falling off, I’m falling off, I’m falling off …’

  ‘Elizabeth!’ I tried. And then I tried the nickname she hated, because sometimes you can get people to stop panicking if you shock them. ‘Lizzy!’

  Again, it didn’t work. Instead, she just started yelling at me in a kind of crazy way. ‘Stop bossing me, Abby. Get me down from here. Get me down! You made me get up here and now I’m stuck, and I can’t get down. I hate you.’

  I moved towards her, hoping I could move her foot and get her into a better position to calm down, but as soon as I got close, she yelled at me again. ‘Get away from me, Abby Smart. Don’t you dare touch me. I’m going to fall. Go away. I want to get down.’

  Now she wasn’t making any sense at all, and I’d had enough of her yelling at me.

  ‘Look, do you want me to help you or not? If you do, you have to stop panicking.’

  ‘I’m going to fall off. I’m stuck. Stop telling me what to do,’ she screamed.

  I shrugged my shoulders. ‘Okay.’

  And then I did the thing I shouldn’t have done. I slid off the tree, down to the ground, and walked away from Elizabeth, towards the beach. A wave of guilt had pricked me in the chest, but in that moment, I hadn’t cared. I’d tried my best to help. If she didn’t want it, it wasn’t my fault. And anyway, it was so easy. Why was she freaking out?

  ‘Come back,’ Elizabeth shouted. ‘I’m going to fall off.’

  I kept on walking, down on to the soft sand, over the hard sand, and then straight into the surf. Ankles, knees, hips and waist. I dunked myself down into the waves so my shoulders were wet, and that’s when the guilt hit me in one massive crash of spray. I had felt terrible, like I hadn’t felt since I accidentally pushed Miles too hard and he fell off the trampoline and cut his leg. That kind of guilty.

  Stay in the surf, said one part of me. But I knew I couldn’t. Elizabeth might be frustrating, and I might not like her that much, but I still had to help her down. I kicked my way through the water back to the sand, and then ran up the beach, into the bush and down the path to find Elizabeth. She was still in the tree. And now she was crying with small, hiccup sobs.

  ‘Are you alright?’ I said. I didn’t know what else to say. ‘I’m back. Shall I help you get down?’

  ‘You left me here,’ she said. Her face was terrified. I felt terrible, all clammy inside and angry at myself.

  ‘I-I wasn’t going to be long.’

  ‘I couldn’t get down.’ She wiped a tear away from her face.

  I swallowed. ‘Um,’ I began, but no words came out. I climbed up behind her to move her hands and feet, until she could get back to the trunk, and jump to the ground.

  ‘It’s so high,’ she said, before she jumped. ‘I can’t do it.’ But she did, stumbling a little when her feet hit the dirt. She sniffed hard, adjusted her shorts and t-shirt, and immediately began half-running, half-walking away from me, back to camp. I jumped and followed, feeling part-guilty, part-frustrated, but not knowing how to fix things.

  ‘Tye, I’m sleeping in your tent,’ Elizabeth announced in a high-pitched voice when we found him building dirt houses next to the rocks with Miles.

  I paused for a second, and then said, ‘Miles, I’m sleeping in yours.’

  Elizabeth stalked into the girls’ tent, grabbed her sleeping bag and stalked out again. I did the same, ignoring the raised eyebrow on my mum’s face. There was no point in trying to explain. It didn’t look like Elizabeth would ever forgive me, even if I did say sorry. It came down to this: she didn’t like me and I didn’t understand her. That was all there was to it.

  It had been an awkward camping trip that year, and this year wasn’t going to be much better. I half-smiled and she quarter-smiled back, but I could see she still wasn’t interested in being my friend. I’d just have to get on and enjoy myself.

  And I did. The days were full, the sky was blue and the sun was everywhere, sparkling off the water and drip-dropping through the trees. I ate, slept, ran and swam like a crazy girl. And then, at night, I sang.

  It started around the campfire in the dark. I was humming ‘Maybe’ from Annie, sitting on a rock next to Rosie, when she suddenly turned to me. ‘That sounds really nice, Abby. What song is it?’

  I looked up, surprised. None of my family ever commented on my humming—and I pretty much hummed all the time. ‘Oh. It’s a song from Annie. I’m learning it with Francesca.’

  ‘Francesca?’ Rosie looked confused.

  ‘She’s teaching me singing. She’s a lady from the Valley.’

  Rosie’s eyebrows went up. ‘Well it sounds good. Do you know the words?’

  ‘Yeah. Totally.’ I got excited. ‘Do you want me to sing it?’

  Rosie made a surprised, Why not? face. ‘Sure.’

  So I sang. The night got blacker, the trees got quieter and the stars got brighter. Even the twigs and leaves rustling in the breeze took a little break to listen. I sang to the end, as if I were two people: the singer and the listener, hearing my voice but also seeing what happened because of it.

  This was what happened: Rosie closed her eyes and swayed. Dave bent down and drew patterns in the dirt with a stick in time to the music. Mum and Dad looked at each other with faces that said, I didn’t know she was that good. Even Elizabeth and Tye looked impressed. Only Miles rolled his eyes, but I’d hardly have expected more from him.

  ‘Bravo,’ Rosie called out when I’d finished, clapping her hands. Dave joined in. ‘That was great. Wow. I didn’t realise you could sing so well.’

  ‘She’s only had a term of lessons,’ said Mum. ‘It’s just for fun. The teacher offered to take her on for nothing.’

  ‘Well she should keep going,�
�� said Rosie, getting excited. ‘She should. I think she’s really got something.’

  ‘Oh, well,’ began Dad, ‘there’s not a lot you can do with music. Especially singing. Not in the real world.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ said Rosie. ‘She should at least study it. You never know what could happen. And Baker Secondary College—you know, that high school in the Highlands—has a great music program. I think they even have an emphasis on vocal training. We’ve been looking at the school for Elizabeth. You should check it out.’

  Across the fire I saw Elizabeth’s face go red.

  ‘Baker?’ said Mum. ‘Isn’t that really expensive? We’ve never really considered private education. And we believe in state education anyway.’

  ‘You’re such a stickler for principles,’ said Dave, laughing. Mum hated it when he teased her about her beliefs. She got all offended and then pretended to be extra nice to him to make up for it. ‘But you might not have to pay. They give an academic scholarship and a music scholarship. She could do the test for both. I reckon she’d have a chance.’

  ‘What’s a scholarship?’ I asked. Dave laughed again and Mum’s face got tighter.

  ‘You do a test,’ said Dave. ‘If you pass it, they let you go to school for free. You could get into the best music program in the region for nothing and sing your way through high school.’

  My stomach dropped and I lost my breath. I looked at the fire and then at the moon, glowing in the blackness of the night. I want to do that, I said to myself. I’m going to do that.

  Because I want to sing.

  Chapter 14

  It was the day before school went back. I said a tight-lipped goodbye to Elizabeth (it was mutual tight lips) and gave Rosie an extra hug (for asking me to sing and then liking it). Mum and Dad got into the front seats of the car while Miles and I scrambled into the back, all stuffed with camping gear, rolled-up tents and eskies under our feet. As soon as the first dust started to roll out behind us, I pounced on Mum about high schools.

  ‘You’ve got to get information about all of them,’ I said. ‘As soon as we get home. But especially Baker and the scholarship. And then we can talk to Jessie and Buzz’s parents and convince them to go there too.’

  ‘Abby. Let me take a breath,’ said Mum. ‘I can’t think now. My head’s still at the beach. When we get home, we’ll talk to you about it. Promise.’

  She couldn’t think about it, but I sure could. I thought about it all the way down the highway, through every town, over the mountain into the Valley and up the driveway to home. And my idea was brilliant.

  I would get the music scholarship to Baker. And I would get Jessie and Buzz to sit the test for the other scholarships. It’d be a cinch for them to get in. I mean we didn’t call ourselves the Smart Girls for nothing. All our problems would be solved. We’d be at high school together. Three best friends.

  Even though Mum said she’d talk about schools when we got home, she wasn’t totally accurate. What she meant was she’d talk about it after the car got unloaded, all the gear was put away in the garage and about six loads of washing were put through. Even then, she wouldn’t talk—although she did let me use her computer, with its dodgy internet, to look up the school websites. It wasn’t until the next morning at breakfast, after she’d made a piece of a toast with jam and a cup of coffee in her big mug (the one that only came out on ‘stressful days’) that she actually decided to listen to what I was talking about.

  ‘I just don’t know,’ she said, after I’d related my entire brilliant idea about Baker over a bowl of porridge and sultanas. ‘It’s not the sort of school I’ve ever thought we’d send you to. I mean, what about state education? They have music programs too.’

  ‘But not like Baker’s,’ I said. ‘Not with personal tutoring and everything. Not with a total focus on singing. They even do a musical every year. I mean, they might do Annie. Imagine how great that would be?’

  Mum took a sip of her coffee. ‘I know. But the price. I mean, it’s thousands of dollars a year. We just don’t have that kind of money.’

  ‘Yeah, but the scholarship. If I can get it, you won’t have to pay anything.’ My words got a bit muffled with a bite of super-hot porridge and I had to stop and gulp down some cool milk.

  ‘Even with that, it’s just not the sort of environment we want you to be in,’ Mum went on, her forehead really furrowed.

  I took in a breath.

  ‘I really, really want to try,’ I said. My voice was little and small. And hopeful. ‘Please? Can I just go for it?’

  Mum sighed. She turned to the sink and began to swish her mug out in the dishwater. ‘If you really want to go to a private school, then what about this one?’ She picked up the piece of paper I’d printed out about St Chrystostom School. ‘Chiss, right?’

  ‘You mean Chrys,’ I corrected her. ‘You’re saying it wrong.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Mum. She took the last bite of her toast. ‘Chiss. Chrys. Whatever.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ I said.

  ‘Why not? Are Buzz and Jessie going there?’

  ‘They’ve applied for it. That doesn’t mean they’ll get in,’ I said. My body felt stiff and I could feel a lump of tension in my throat. ‘I think it would be better to go somewhere else.’

  ‘But it’s probably a good school. And it’s cheaper,’ said Mum. ‘We could at least look at it.’

  I felt snippy. ‘I just don’t want to go there.’

  Mum looked at me for a second. She opened her mouth, shut it again, narrowed her eyes and then turned to Miles who was still mucking around with his cereal spoon. ‘I’ll deal with all of this. I’ll get the information. Don’t worry about it. Miles, have you fed Ziggy yet? Can you please go get your shoes? You’re going to miss the bus again if you don’t get a move on.’

  ‘Do I have to go on the bus?’ I asked. ‘Can’t you take us today? I wanted to look over our maths from last term. Mr Smee said that on the first day of every term we’re having a quiz, just to see what we can remember. I want to study and if I go on the bus, I won’t have time.’

  Mum raised her eyebrows. ‘Really?’ She delicately balanced her breakfast bowl on the pile of other dripping dishes on the draining board. ‘Alright. But I don’t want to be late for work.’

  The test was going to be a review of all the maths we’d done in first term, and once I’d spent half an hour going through my homework workbook, I felt confident. When I got to school, Mr Smee also informed us that we’d be having what he called a ‘super-spelling test’ and a ‘mega science quiz’ in two weeks. Everyone started talking all at once, mostly complaining to each other.

  Except me. I was trying to help.

  ‘It’s called studying. All you do is look back over your books and check that you remember everything,’ I said to Sam and Ollie, across the table from me. ‘It’s really pretty simple. See? I can test you if you like.’

  ‘Um, no thanks,’ said Ollie, making a face. ‘It’s just a quiz. Do you really care that much?’

  ‘Don’t you?’ My eyebrows went up. I was slightly shocked. ‘You should try to do your best. It’s a test. It’s important.’

  Stella looked over from where she was sitting with Buzz. ‘Well, it’s not going to impact my life if I can’t spell diminish or whatever all those stupid big words are that we get.’ She tossed her hair and giggled. ‘I mean, that’s what people have spellcheck on their computers for, right? And if you can’t multiply 24 times 362, you use a calculator.’ She looked at me sideways. ‘At least, normal people do.’

  ‘Well I care,’ I said. I shrugged my shoulders. ‘It’s my business to care. It’s who I am.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Stella. Her face was curious.

  ‘It’s because of her name,’ began Jessie, helpfully. ‘She’s Abby Sm—’

  But Buzz took over. ‘It’s becau
se her last name is Smart. So she likes to be smart. Abby always gets the top marks in the class.’ And she looked at Stella with an expression on her face that I couldn’t quite figure out.

  ‘Abby, Abby, Abby. You are so the teacher’s pet!’ said Stella. Her voice sounded innocent. I narrowed my eyes.

  ‘I am not the teacher’s pet. I just work hard,’ I said, and I crossed my arms tightly.

  She shrugged. ‘Me and my friends in Sydney didn’t bother about that stuff. Who needs to work hard when you can have fun?’

  ‘I have fun too,’ I said. For some reason my voice went up, like I was trying to defend myself. I didn’t even mention that it should have been, My friends and I. ‘You can do both, you know.’

  ‘Of course you can!’ Stella looked at Jessie and Buzz smiling. She shrugged. ‘I didn’t say you couldn’t, right?’

  Normally when I did a test or a quiz, I was like Ziggy with a big bone. Happy and determined. I tore into the questions, strode through the problems and came out of it with a fire in my eyes that lasted all day.

  But this time it was different.

  This time, I felt fear.

  It wasn’t because the questions were hard. Seriously? I knew all this stuff. And if I didn’t know it, I could guess it easily. The test was easy. This was a different kind of fear. And I was not used to feeling it.

  This was a fear that said, What if they hate you for winning?

  I didn’t like it. I picked up my pen and looked around for my determined enthusiasm, but it wasn’t in its usual place waiting for me. Instead, lurking under my desk was a sneaky little black cloud that saw its chance and took the opportunity to pop itself right into my head.

  Just get a few questions wrong, it said. Don’t aim for your usual 100 percent. Nobody wants you to be the best. They’ll like you more if you aren’t.

  You mean Stella will like me more? I said back to the cloud.

  Not just Stella, it said. Everyone. Do you think they like it when you always beat them? Do you think they’re as happy as you are that you’re smart all the time? It raised its eyebrow and then winked meanly at me. Being smart isn’t everything, you know.