‘This doesn’t look like everything’s fine,’ she said. ‘Did something happen today? With the girls, I mean.’
I sat up and opened my mouth, but instead of words pouring out, a tap turned on in my face and tears came rushing out instead.
I cried and cried until I couldn’t cry anymore, and all my breathing had turned into sniffles and gulps. Mum moved down next to me and put her arms around me.
‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘It can’t be that bad.’ At that, I started crying again.
‘Yes, id isth dat bab,’ I said. ‘I mean, it is that bad.’ I moved out of her arms so I could look at her face. ‘I’ve literally got no friends anymore. It started when Stella came. And then it got worse and worse, and today, when I thought maybe I’d get them back if I wore the horse shirt and tried harder, everything was still awful. They don’t like me at all and they said you were a hippy.’
My words blurted out all on top of each other and Mum’s face looked confused. She squinted at me like she was trying to see something clearly.
‘I think you’ve got dirt on your face, sweetheart. Around your eyes. It looks really black.’
I dropped to the floor in misery. ‘It’s mascara.’
I didn’t have to look at Mum’s face. I knew it would be equal parts shock and horror.
‘Mascara? But why? And where did you get it?’
I decided not to lie. Everything was terrible anyway. I might as well just accept my fate.
‘It’s yours. I took it from your drawer.’
‘You stole it?’
‘I borrowed it.’ I sat up, pleading. ‘I had to. They said if I wanted to be friends with them I’d have to make more of an effort’—I ducked my head—‘and wear makeup.’
Now Mum looked more confused than ever. ‘This is Buzz and Jessie you’re talking about, right?’ she said. ‘Do they wear makeup?’
‘They do now,’ I said, fiercely. ‘Ever since Stella came. And they said I couldn’t sing anymore, and I’d have to look better.’
Mum’s face was white. ‘Oh, Abby. That’s terrible. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even know.’
I looked at her eyes. Hippy, environmentalist eyes. I loved them so, so much. ‘I didn’t tell you,’ I said.
Mum shook her head. ‘I knew things were hard. I kind of guessed it when they stopped coming around a lot,’ she said. ‘But then I thought it was getting better. I mean, you guys have had lots of fights, and you’ve always patched things up.’
I gave a half-smile. ‘True. Remember when we had like a whole week of arguments with Jessie about the rules of Judge?’ I shook my head in amusement. ‘And then the time that Buzz wanted to make a pirate club and I wanted it to be treasure hunters instead.’
We sat for a moment in silence and I counted numbers in my head. It had been one day of being ‘friends’ with them again. Five weeks since the choir night. Six months since Stella arrived. If I didn’t do what Mum said and ‘patch things up’ tomorrow, I would wake up into a no-friends nightmare all over again. I’d put on my Abby-is-a-loser backpack and carry the load around with me all day.
Mum spoke. ‘They’re still the same people, though, aren’t they? And you’re still the same person too. Maybe it’s a bigger problem, but couldn’t you fix things up like before?’
‘No,’ I said, simply.
‘No?’
‘No. They’re not the same people. They’ve changed too much. They talk about stuff that I don’t even understand.’ I shook my head. ‘Since Stella came, all they’ve wanted to talk about is boys and makeup and pop music. They never want to do anything we did before, and now they say I have to be different as well. It’s like they’re not the people they used to be.’ A small tear pricked itself out of my eye and ran down my cheek. ‘And plus, they’re just mean to me.’
‘Oh, Abby,’ said Mum, and her voice sounded like she wanted to cry. She put her arms around me and brought me in for a hug. ‘I’m so sorry, sweetie.’ We sat there for a bit, just quiet together. Another tear came out. This time it went down my nose and dropped onto Ziggy’s head below me.
‘Dogs don’t change,’ I said, pulling away from the hug and giving a half-grin. ‘I wish I was a dog. It would all be much simpler. Dog friends don’t tell them they have to try harder.’
Mum gripped my hand. ‘Tell me about this “trying harder” thing. How did it make you feel when they said that?’
A sob found its way up my throat and erupted into my mouth. I swallowed hard. ‘It was awful. Like … like, I wasn’t even a person. Like I was invisible. Not important anymore.’
Mum’s hand was warm on mine. ‘That’s a horrible way to feel,’ she said.
I nodded. ‘It’s like they don’t even see the real me. They only see what they want me to be.’
‘Oh, Abby,’ said Mum again, and she hugged me once more. Another tear fell onto my cheek and dripped down a bit. I wiped it away and looked at my hand. There was a black smudge on my finger.
‘Stupid mascara,’ I said. I sat up and pulled away from Mum. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever like makeup.’
‘Maybe you will, maybe you won’t,’ she said with a smile. ‘We’re all different. Some people love it, and some people hate it.’ She picked up the mascara and twirled it in her fingers. ‘Abby, of course I’m on your side.’ Her voice sounded careful, like she was choosing her words. ‘I hate it when people are mean to my daughter. But when you say your friends have changed a lot, have you thought that maybe they’re just growing up?’
Her words echoed in my head a bit. Just growing up. I saw Jessie coming down to talk to me at school, and the thought that went through my head. You’ve grown. Maybe it was true. But it was confusing. ‘I’m growing up too and I haven’t changed.’ I looked at Mum with a question in my face.
She was quiet for a bit. ‘One of the hard things about being your age is that friends grow up at different rates. They start to like different things, sometimes things they didn’t like before. They try new stuff out, like makeup.’ She looked me in the eyes. ‘Not everyone does it at the same time. Also, not everyone ends up liking the same things. It’s a sign of maturity to be able to accept that. To be a good friend, it’s not enough to assume that everyone is the same as you.’ She patted me on the knee. ‘You’ve got to find out what other people are interested in, too. And try to be okay with that.’
I made a face.
‘Above everything else, though,’ she said, ‘it’s important just to be yourself. To be honest about who you are.’
I slumped back, my head touching the wall behind me. Ziggy put his head on my knee and I patted him. ‘I just felt weird today. Like I was someone else pretending to be me.’ Another tear rolled down my cheek. ‘I don’t know what to do. It’s all so confusing. I don’t want to lose them forever. And next year if I go to Baker, I’ll lose them for sure. But if I go with them, I know I’ll lose them anyway. And plus, I won’t get to be in the music program.’
I snuffled again and gave a cough.
‘Okay. Let’s deal with this Baker scholarship issue and get this out of the way. The rest might take more time, but at least we know we can sort one thing out today.’ She shifted on the bed. ‘I’m going to ask you a question, Abby,’ she said, more quietly than she’d spoken before. Her voice was serious. ‘And when I ask it, I want you to say the first thing that pops into your mind, okay? Don’t worry about what you think I want to hear, or what you think you should say.’
I nodded. ‘Okay.’
‘Okay.’ She nodded back at me. I tensed up, waiting to see what was coming. ‘Here’s the question: What do you really want to do?’
I was expecting a big swirl of answers to come sweeping through my head, and they did come, but they were a good second behind the first, quiet, small thought. Five simple words. I opened my mouth to let them out.
‘I real
ly want to sing.’
Mum’s face was calm. ‘Then that’s what you need to focus on.’
I nodded. Okay.
‘So you’ll go to Baker next year, in the music program.’
I nodded again. Yes.
‘And now, what about we have another hug? Then we can get up and have something to eat. A piece of cake?’
‘Definitely.’
We had some afternoon tea, and Mum went to write one of her articles after that. ‘Are you alright?’ she checked with me. I sniffed but smiled.
‘I’m okay.’
But I was still confused about growing up and friends and being yourself. It seemed so scary and weird. I hugged Ziggy, who still had black marks on his fur from the mascara. I wiped at them and pulled the black bits off. ‘Help me out, beautiful doggy,’ I whispered in his ear. ‘I don’t understand how to do this.’
I flopped onto my bed, laying on my back and looking up. Even with my brain whirling and churning like the octopus ride at the Kangaroo Valley Show—up and down, round and round—there was a niggling worry still in my head. It was a very particular worry, and it wasn’t getting any smaller.
I was worried about Jessie.
I started to replay all the times I’d seen Jessie doing what Stella had told her: dancing to her music, delivering her notes, telling me her messages. Buzz would always do exactly what Buzz wanted to do. She was tough that way. But Jessie was different. She was sweeter, gentler. She didn’t deserve to have people, who said they were her friends, boss her around like that. Would Stella even listen to her? Would she take care of Jessie like I had, back when we were friends?
The picture of Jessie coming down the path from the Big Tree to talk to me at school, came into my head. I could see it like it was projected onto the white ceiling above me. She’d looked so unhappy telling me all that stuff.
This is really hard, she’d said. And, Stella, I mean, we, agree. Yep, she was definitely being told what to do. I knew the signs. Her anxious face and slightly wobbly stance gave it away every time. When we were doing something together, that was always the point where I smiled at her and told her it wouldn’t be too bad, that she should do it anyway. Or I made her feel guilty for letting us down—
My mind gave a shudder.
Like, an actual jolt.
My hands went cold and my mouth was dry.
I knew the signs of Jessie getting bossed too much. I knew how to recognise when Jessie was being controlled by someone else.
Which meant that I must have been the one who was too bossy. I must have been the person who controlled her.
My stomach lurched and I felt almost like puking. It hit me like a slap in the face. I was Stella. Stella was me. We were exactly the same. There was no difference between us, really. Sure, she liked makeup and things I thought were stupid, and I liked singing and musicals. But the way we treated our friends was exactly the same.
We both wanted all the attention.
We both needed to have everyone do everything our way.
We both had to be in charge or else.
I don’t like singing anyway. Jessie’s words dropped into my head like a stone. The most important things in my life had been my two best friends. But now, I wondered if I’d even been a friend to them at all. Maybe not. Making Jessie sing; forcing Buzz to watch movies she didn’t want to watch; not really caring when we disagreed and forcing my opinion through anyway.
Maybe I’d just been a great big controlling boss, who only really cared about myself.
It wasn’t Stella who had stolen my friends.
It was me who had pushed them away.
Chapter 31
I stuck to myself after that. For quite a few weeks. To be honest, I kind of felt frozen. The realisation of how I’d treated Buzz and Jessie for so long sat on my shoulders like Dad’s super-heavy pack from camping. I could hardly move under it. I didn’t say anything to anyone about it. I just kind of kept it to myself, thinking about it constantly, replaying things over in my mind. Dragging Jessie and Buzz onto the stage to sing ‘Tomorrow’, insisting on my movies, and my songs, and my activities, and my way of doing things. Being in charge because I was the oldest. All of it shouted at me and pointed its finger in my face. Abby Smart, you’ve been a bad friend.
I should say sorry, I thought. But I didn’t, and it wasn’t because I didn’t want to apologise. I just didn’t know what to say, or how to say it so that they knew that I knew just how terrible I’d been.
And there was another problem. If I did say sorry, it still wouldn’t change the fact that I was weird, not-normal Abby. I knew I didn’t want to pretend to be someone else just to be accepted. I’d already tried that, with the sequinned horse shirt, mascara and terrible conversation about boys. It was never going to work. Somehow I needed to be myself, but I also needed to say sorry, and I didn’t know how the two things could work together.
For once, I didn’t feel like a Smart Girl. I felt like a baby again, or a new kid, or one of those refugees that Mum sometimes goes to help, who doesn’t know the language and doesn’t know the rules.
Stella, Buzz and Jessie sat at the Year Six seats while I stayed in the library or wandered around the oval. They ignored me, except for Jessie, who’d throw a smile my way occasionally. I smiled back in a quiet way. Before, I’d been simmering mad with them all. Now I wasn’t mad with any of them, not even Stella. Now that I realised we were basically the same on the inside, I saw what she did differently.
When she laughed, simpered and hinted for attention, I saw myself, being loud, large and bossy, telling everyone what to do.
When she rolled her eyes and turned her back on me, I saw myself, telling Sam or Miles to ‘go away’.
When she showed everyone her new iPod/lipgloss/whatever, I saw myself, insisting that Buzz and Jessie sing, dance or watch Annie for the 410th time.
She was me. I was her. We were exactly the same.
I felt a strange sort of calm watching the girls chat and giggle with each other every day, even though the old Abby would have been raging and jealous. Ollie and some of the other boys sat with them, and after a while, I realised Ollie’s hair was hanging in his eyes and around his collar. Next it was shaped into all sorts of weird and crazy ways. Buzz must have talked him into skipping his haircut and bought him a jar of that sticky hair stuff that you can make mohawks out of. I almost laughed. Old Abby would have said he looked terrible, but now I could see it looked kind of interesting.
The only person who talked to me was Sam, but it wasn’t much. He mostly came down to the river with me, and we’d sit quietly, which was weird for us, and chuck rocks into the water and share whatever food I’d brought down with me. He seemed to be avoiding Ollie and the girls, although I didn’t know why.
I just woke up every day, breathed in and out, and did my school work.
It wasn’t until a few weeks had passed that I finally got up the courage to phone Jessie.
‘Abby?’ she said, her voice all high and excited.
‘Jessie!’ My heart was happy to hear her voice, but I had to focus.
‘Um, I have something hard to say,’ I said. And then I felt nervous. I didn’t want to make her listen to my apology if she didn’t want to. I was terrified of bossing her around again. ‘That is, if you’ll let me say it.’
‘Of course I will,’ said Jessie. ‘What is it?’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘It’s an apology. I feel really bad.’ Something was happening to my throat. It was blocking up, and there were prickling tears in my eyes. I swallowed hard. ‘I’m sorry I bossed you for so long. Probably ever since I met you.’ I gave a weird kind of laugh. ‘Sorry for laughing. It’s not actually funny. I’m just thinking about how much bossing I have done to you. I’m sorry I made you do things you didn’t want to do.’ I took another deep breath. ‘And even though I love sing
ing with you, I’m really sorry I pushed and pulled you to do it even when I knew you got scared.’
There was a silence at the other end of the phone for a moment, long enough to make me terrified. Would she be mad? Would she hate me forever?
‘I was really glad when you came to eat ice cream with us at the lolly shop,’ she said. I could hear the shy smile in her voice. ‘I’m not mad at you, you know.’
‘You should be,’ I said. I did a half-laugh again. ‘You really should be. I’ve been a terrible best friend.’
There was another pause and then I heard Jessie’s voice again. ‘Abby, no one’s perfect. Okay, you’re a bit frustrating sometimes’—she gave a giggle—‘but so am I, and so is Buzz. And anyway, I know you mean well.’
My voice went tiny. ‘Not always. But I plan to do better. Will you forgive me?’
Her voice went big. ‘Of course. We’re Smart Girls.’
I picked up a pen from the box near the phone and made squiggles on a piece of scrap paper. ‘I think we should dump the Smart Girls Club. It’s caused heaps of problems. Let’s just be friends.’
‘Um, okay,’ said Jessie. ‘I guess. So does this mean you want to hang out with the group again?’
This time it was my turn to be quiet. I doodled a heart and a flower out of nervousness. I had figured she’d ask me the question, but I still didn’t really know the answer.
‘Maybe a little,’ I said suddenly, surprising myself. ‘Not all the time. I need to be myself, and it might be too hard to do that if I’m with Buzz and Stella all the time.’
‘I know what you mean.’ Jessie’s voice was quiet. ‘Maybe you and I could hang out together a bit more.’
A smile filled my chest. I felt warm. ‘But only if you want to. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do anymore.’
‘Okay, I won’t,’ said Jessie. I could hear her smiling too. ‘I promise I won’t.’
After that, the weight lifted a little. Jessie and I hung out a bit more. Not all the time, but here and there, and it was good.
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