Also, Dad finally sent in all the paperwork to confirm that I was going to Baker next year. I felt good about that too. It seemed like the best way forward for high school. A fresh start.
I didn’t go back to my lessons with Francesca though. I knew I would get back into my music once I went to Baker, but there seemed to be something about being in Kangaroo Valley which was stopping me. Maybe it was the thought of Buzz and Stella’s reactions if they heard I was practising again. I was working on ‘being myself’ but I still didn’t want them to think badly of me.
No, there’d be no more singing in the Valley.
There’d also be no more Annie. For some reason—probably because I had too many bad memories—I couldn’t take the DVDs out of the box I’d packed them in, even though I wanted to. Instead, I pulled out all the Disney films I’d ever owned and had a Pocahontas/Mulan/Sleeping Beauty fest one afternoon. ‘Annie’s gone,’ I told myself, and then, like I needed to be convinced, ‘I don’t need to watch it anymore.’
When I opened my cupboard one morning and pulled a jumper off a shelf, the signed copy of my Annie program fell out on the floor. I looked at it, shuddered, and then pushed it away with my foot, under my bed.
Ziggy pounced on it immediately. ‘No, Ziggy,’ I said in annoyance. ‘Don’t pull it back out.’
I took the book from Ziggy’s mouth. He was smiling with doggy enthusiasm.
‘Leave it!’ I said. I pushed it back under the bed, but he went to get it again. Finally, I put it in the cupboard, but I slid it under a pile of shorts, and pushed it back until it hit the wall.
‘I’m going down the river,’ I said loudly to no one in particular. I marched out of my room and over to the side door. Just as I put my hand on the door handle, the phone rang.
‘Can you get the phone?’ Mum yelled. ‘I’m busy.’
I picked it up and pressed the ‘Talk’ button.
‘Hello?’ I said.
‘Hello?’ came a voice back at me.
I spoke in the way Mum had taught me when I was seven. ‘Hello. This is Abigail Smart. With whom am I speaking?’ Mum had made a big fuss about the ‘with whom’ part, and simply because of habit, I still said it very carefully. Her mother had taught her to answer the phone in the same way and at the time, Mum was still in her phase of wanting to teach us manners—or at least teach me manners. Miles hadn’t had to suffer through all the same lessons I did.
‘Abby! It is you!’ said the voice.
‘Francesca?’ I said. My heart sank. ‘I didn’t know you knew my number.’
‘But of course,’ she said, and gave a laugh. ‘How are you, my darling?’
‘I’m good,’ I said, and then words rushed out of my mouth. ‘I’m sorry about the lessons, it’s just ...’ I couldn’t continue.
‘It is no matter, darling,’ she said. ‘Something has happened. I understand. But I must ring you today and tell you some good news.’
My stomach turned over. ‘Good news?’ I said. ‘What kind of good news?’
‘The concert is back on, Abby. My friends have set a date. It will be on in early summer and they still want you to be in it.’
My hand nearly dropped the phone.
‘Are you still there?’ came Francesca’s voice, a little fainter. I pushed the handset back up to my ear.
‘Oh, yeah,’ I said. ‘I mean, yes I am. But what about the person who had to go overseas?’ My voice went quiet. ‘And what about me quitting lessons?’
‘Everything is sorted out with my friend,’ said Francesca in a happy voice. ‘And even with no lessons, you still sing beautifully. So what do you think? Will you still do it?
A smile crept up onto my face. I looked up at the ceiling, standing up and down on my toes a few times. Inside, I could feel lights turning on, fires being lit, and sparklers being twirled. There was music in my soul. And I knew I had to sing.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Yes. I’d love to.’
Of course, I had to practise, and Francesca offered to help me. One afternoon, I went down to her place and she offered to have me back for lessons. Of course I agreed, and within about five minutes of opening my mouth for a scale, I’d forgotten about Stella and Buzz’s faces. Everything was okay.
Until we had to choose the song.
‘Something from Annie would be good, yes?’ suggested Francesca.
I ducked my head. ‘I don’t know ...’
‘Something has happened to you?’ she said. I looked up; her face was all surprised suspicion. ‘These are your favourite songs, and then, this? “I don’t know?”’ She imitated my voice, but it was funny and I grinned.
‘I had a fight with my friends. It’s a long story,’ I said, flicking the side of my shorts.
Francesca narrowed her eyes.
‘Your friends tell you what song to sing?’
‘Well, no ...’ I scratched my head. It seemed to be suddenly itchy. ‘I mean, kind of.’
‘Which friends are they?’ asked Francesca.
‘Um, they used to be my friends,’ I said, by way of explanation. ‘We’re not really friends anymore. Except Jessie is now. It’s complicated.’
Francesca sat on the piano stool and tilted her head.
‘So ... people who are not your friends make you not sing your favourite song in the whole world?’
I bit my lip. ‘Sort of.’ I took a breath. ‘But it’s more like it’s me. I don’t want to sing them anymore.’
Francesca raised one eyebrow. ‘Do you still like the songs?’
My head rushed to nod before my brain caught up. Oh, yes, it indicated. Nod, nod, nod. I tried to stop it with logic, but it was pointless. I’d already answered for myself. Deep inside I knew it. I still liked the Annie songs. And I didn’t have to stop singing them.
‘Okay. I’ll do them,’ I said, smiling with an embarrassment I couldn’t stop when you know you’re being silly and a bit dumb and you’ve just been called out on it. ‘But maybe a different one. Maybe ...’ I stopped and thought for a moment. A flash of an idea filled my mind. ‘Maybe, I’ll do “Tomorrow”.’
Francesca eyed me off curiously. ‘This is the song you did with your friends at the Show.’
There was a tiny silence. I chewed my lip and thought. ‘Yes. But I think I want to do it again. By myself this time.’ Without forcing anyone else into it, I thought.
Francesca shrugged. ‘It is a nice song. A good decision. But we will work hard. When you sang this before, you made many mistakes. Now, you get it right.’
And so, we worked. I sang and re-sang; breathed and exhaled; did drills and scales and intonation and pronunciation. I did this every afternoon for two weeks, until finally, there were just five days to go.
That was when Sam spoke to me properly.
It was at school, and for once, he wasn’t playing in the lunchtime comp the Year Five and Six now-crazy-about-soccer boys had set up. I was sitting up behind the Big Tree in the sun with a book when he came and threw himself down beside me.
‘Make yourself at home,’ I said.
‘I just did,’ he answered.
I raised my eyebrows and shook my book in his face. ‘I’m reading. See?’
He shook his empty hand in my face. ‘I’m not. See?’
I rolled my eyes, but it wasn’t a real roll. It was mostly just for fun. ‘Why are you so annoying?’
He dropped his voice. ‘Why haven’t you been at the river in the afternoons? The last two weeks I’ve been there and you haven’t been.’
I put my book down, startled. ‘It’s not like you to notice,’ I said.
‘It’s not like you to not be there,’ he replied, but his eyes were pleading.
I moved my mouth in closer to his face, as if to whisper, ‘It’s a secret.’
He stayed exactly where he was and I could hear him breat
hing in and out. ‘What’s a secret?’
I sat up straight and considered. ‘If I tell you, will you promise not to tell anyone?’
He sat up. And shrugged. ‘Who would I tell?’
This time I didn’t roll my eyes but swallowed nervously. ‘You could tell anyone. Ollie, Stella, Buzz, any of the others.’
Sam made a face. He laughed, but not in a happy way. ‘Yeah. Right. As if I’d tell any of them.’ He looked straight at me. ‘I’ll keep your secret, Abby.’
I looked around to see who else was close and decided. ‘I’m singing in a concert. I’ve been practising in the afternoons.’
Sam’s face looked weird, like he didn’t think I was telling him the truth. ‘You’re singing in a concert? And that’s a secret?’
I got upset. ‘No, it is. I don’t want any of them’—and I gestured down towards the Year Six seats where Buzz and Stella were laughing together—‘to know.’
‘Why not?’
I made a face and then explained the whole thing to him.
‘... And they basically said I shouldn’t sing anymore, because it was babyish, so I guess I just wanted to keep it to myself.’ I shrugged.
‘I get it,’ said Sam, his mouth in a straight line.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You want to keep it a secret because if you tell, Stella will make you feel weird. Like small or stupid or something.’
I leaned forward, my mouth open with surprise. ‘How do you know?’ I was shocked. ‘Have you felt like that too? But you’re a boy.’ I had no idea that boys might think about those sorts of things as well. Most boys seemed happy playing soccer and making stupid noises. Who knew they had feelings?
‘What difference does being a boy make?’ He looked away. ‘After that ... well, you know, that thing I did with Stella—and actually, I didn’t even want to, it was her idea—after that, I felt small and stupid like that. And I couldn’t do anything about it. It was like she was keeping me as one of her followers.’
I looked away too, to stop him getting embarrassed. ‘You mean, like a minion?’
He laughed. ‘Ha-ha, yeah. That’s exactly what it is. Stella and her minions. And then I didn’t want to be a minion anymore. So I left their group. That’s why I’ve been on my own a lot.’
I felt guilty. If Stella had had minions, so had I.
‘Abby and her minions,’ I said, quietly.
Sam looked up. ‘What?’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Anyway, there was another reason I got out. She hated you, Abby. I mean, really hated you. And I didn’t like that.’
In my chest, my heart held onto its breath, and then a warm flood of light spread into my stomach. I looked up at Sam, who was looking at me.
‘You didn’t like that?’ I said, almost without any sound.
He shook his head. ‘I didn’t like that.’
I swallowed. ‘Because you like me. You’re my friend.’
He shrugged. ‘Because I like you. Full stop.’
I smiled at him and he smiled at me, a flash of sunshine in a scene of blue and green.
And then I felt small. Because Stella and I were exactly the same.
I kicked the ground a little. ‘I haven’t been …’ I broke off. This was difficult. ‘I don’t know. Maybe I’ve been more like Stella than I realised.’
‘You haven’t,’ he said. He shrugged. ‘You’re not like Stella at all.’
I made a face. ‘But I am. I always had to be in charge. I told you to go away heaps of times.’
He grinned at me. ‘Yeah, you’re in charge, but you’re good at it. You make stuff happen. Anyway, you’re different from her.’
I made a face. Really? ‘How?’
Sam looked at me like I was missing something totally obvious. ‘Duh. You’re just you. You don’t pretend.’
Being myself, I thought for a moment, and then I looked up and grinned back at him. I slapped him on the arm. He slapped me back, but not too hard. Just enough to say, Back to old times.
‘Back to old times,’ I agreed out loud. ‘But better.’
‘Definitely better.’
‘If you want, you can come to the concert,’ I offered.
‘I’ll ask my mum,’ he said. ‘I’ll make her take me.’
Chapter 32
The day before the concert, Mum took me shopping. And this time it was to actual shops, not just the second-hand store we always went to.
‘Do you know what you’re wearing?’ she’d asked me and I’d shaken my head.
‘There’s nothing I’ve got that’s really right for a concert.’
Mum had tilted her head then and set her mouth, determined.
‘We’ll buy you a dress.’
It felt strange to be in it, with a skirt swishing around my knees and new shoes on my feet—‘ballet flats,’ the woman in the shop had called them. ‘But I’m not doing ballet,’ I’d said, and she’d laughed. ‘You can do anything in ballet flats.’
It felt strange, but it also felt good. And when Mum brushed my hair and put one of her chains around my neck, it felt even better.
‘You’re growing up, Abby. You look pretty,’ she’d said, raising an eyebrow. I’d glanced into the mirror and been surprised. I was. Pretty, that was. And growing up.
And I liked it.
We drove up to the theatre well before the curtain went up. Mum and Dad dropped me off. ‘We’ll have dinner with Miles and then we’ll be back,’ they said. ‘Are you sure you’re not nervous?’
I made a face. ‘A bit,’ I said. ‘In here.’ I pressed my stomach which was alive with moths and insects. ‘I’ll go in now, though.’ And I opened the stage door and walked down the corridor to find Francesca.
She wasn’t in the dressing room and she wasn’t in the bathroom, so I decided to check the green room. There was only one person in there—a tall girl, with her back to me, reading a program. I tapped her on the shoulder.
‘Excuse me, I’m looking for ...’ But I didn’t finish what I was saying because the girl turned around to face me. Both of us took a step back.
‘Elizabeth?’ I said.
‘Abby?’ she replied.
I clenched my hands a few times, nervous. She coughed and scratched her ear.
‘I didn’t know ...’ I began, and she finished the sentence.
‘... You’d be here.’
And then, as if in planned unison, we both said, ‘Well, I am.’
I laughed. And then Elizabeth laughed as well.
There was a silence. You’ve got to find out what other people are interested in too, I heard Mum say in my head.
‘I didn’t know you were into in music and stuff,’ I said. It came out more accusingly than I meant it.
She gave a half-grin and looked embarrassed. ‘I guess I never talked about it with you.’
‘I guess we never really talked about much,’ I said. I made an effort to smile at her. ‘Do you like singing?’
‘Not that much,’ she said. ‘But I’m practising to be in the orchestra. Violin. And I love backstage stuff. I’m going to a good high school for that sort of stuff next year.’
‘Baker, right?’
‘How do you know?’ she said.
‘I’m going there. I’m in the music program.’
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. ‘No kidding.’
‘No kidding. We’re going to be at the same school.’ My voice was apologetic. There was another silence. I looked away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Elizabeth look in the opposite direction. I cleared my throat.
‘If you’ve got no one else to hang out with, maybe we could sit together sometimes,’ I said. ‘I don’t know anyone who’s going.’
She lifted her head a little and folded her arms over her chest. ‘What about your super-awesome friends you always
talk about? Buzz and Jessie, aren’t they? Where are they going?’
I scratched my nose and finally understood. Elizabeth had been mad at me all those years because of Buzz and Jessie. Or, more specifically, because I kept throwing them in her face. A vision of Stella boasting about her ‘amazing’ Sydney friends came to my mind. I let out a breath. Everything was so much clearer now.
I looked at Elizabeth. ‘They’re going somewhere else. And plus, we’re not friends much anymore. Just Jessie, a bit. But it’s just me on my own mostly.’ I paused. ‘I guess I shoved them into every conversation when we went camping. You must have hated it.’
Elizabeth dropped her arms to her sides and tilted her head. Her eyes seemed softer. ‘I pretty much panicked about everything. You must have hated that.’
I smiled at her.
She smiled back. ‘It would be cool if we hung out,’ she said.
I felt shy. I bit my lip, fingering the sides of my dress. She looked down at me.
‘So are you on the program tonight? Is this you—A. Smart—up first?’
I pulled myself together. ‘Yeah. And I need to find Francesca. She’s supposed to play piano for me.’
‘Is she the woman with the accent and white clothes? I think she’s out in the foyer. I’ll show you.’
I followed Elizabeth to where Francesca’s smiling face and open arms swept me into an enormous hug. ‘Abby! So exciting! Tonight is the one. You are ready?’
‘I’m nervous. But I’m ready, I think.’ I made a nervous, silly face at her and she laughed, but then stopped. She suddenly seemed worried. ‘But you are not ready. You need something on this.’ She pointed to my face. ‘The lights will make your beautiful face into a ghost.’
I felt alarmed. ‘Makeup?’ I asked. I looked around me nervously. ‘I didn’t bring any. And anyway, I don’t wear it.’
‘Of course not in daytime,’ said Francesca, setting off for the backstage door and pulling me along with her. ‘But on the stage, it is absolutely yes.’
I made a face and looked towards Elizabeth. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a whole bag of bits and pieces. I’ll do it for you. You’ll be alright.’
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