Silver Tides (Silver Tides Series)

by Susan Fodor

  "Helicopter," Daniel shrugged.

  "Excellent," Tim encouraged, as they bumped fists.

  It was weird pulling up to school in a limousine. In fact being at school at night was just unnatural. The darkened abandoned grounds were eerily still, and the music thumping through the gymnasium walls was nauseating.

  The last school dance I'd attended was in year seven. The gymnasium had been dimly lit, the decorations were sparse, and the only refreshment was watered-down cordial that left a bitter aftertaste. I spent the whole night willing Justin Palmer to ask me to dance, but the only person I danced with was Jaimie. I had vowed to avoid school dances at all costs in exchange for a good book and a block of chocolate.

  I absently ran my hand along the concrete gymnasium wall. It had been painted midnight blue to match our school blazers. I had wondered when the gymnasium had been painted, if our uniforms would blend into the side of the building, leaving us with a floating head motif. In practice the color looked like a dusty version of our uniforms, another disappointment from Geebong High.

  I could feel the music pulsing through the walls; it was so loud. I hoped we didn't have to stay long. Tammy was swishing her “under the sea” inspired chiffon strapless dress that had waves of aqua, emerald, and white all over the fitted bodice and skirt.

  Tamara's dress was a similar design, with the fitted strapless bodice, but the skirt was longer and less full and it was the most dazzling shade of royal blue.

  Julia had opted for a white Goddess style dress, with jewel encrusted straps and neck trimming that matched Dylan's formal dress pants and crisp white shirt.

  Jaimie's shimmering silver dress cast a reflection as we walked into the gymnasium lobby. We gave Miss Reid our tickets and opened the door, with the music pounding behind it. I put my hand onto my stomach, feeling the music course through me.

  I wore a simple princess cut turquoise dress, with capped sleeves and a skirt that fell just above my knees. It was comfortable and girly and I felt like I blended into the group, which was my purpose till graduation. All I had to do was pretend to fit in and be cool, till Miranda couldn’t hurt my friends anymore. It was strange that the girls who’d ignored me for years, were my friends. They were actually really nice companions when they weren’t fighting for survival against Miranda.

  The gymnasium was just as I remembered from the last school dance, dark and populated with students inhabiting their own cliques, rather than the dance floor. It was like an unwritten rule that no one danced on the designated dance floor. Most people were scattered around the cavernous room, girls in their groups and boys in theirs, occasionally glancing at each other, but rarely mingling, let alone dancing with each other. Some of the girls danced in their groups around the room; they laughed too loud to try to capture the boy’s attention. Most of the guys were happy to hang out with other dudes, only the few that had girlfriends drifted between the gender divide.

  "Good work Jaimie," Tamara said sarcastically, "another boring school dance without actual dancing."

  "Shut up!" Jaimie snapped, uncharacteristically frustrated. "These things are terrible to plan, with an impoverished budget and it's totally unappreciated."

  I was poised to intervene when Miranda stormed up to us. "What the heck are you wearing?"

  Miranda was dressed as a mermaid, complete with sexy tail and seashells. The people standing within earshot turned to look at us. Miranda was so angry she didn’t care who was listening.

  "I could ask you the same question," Tamara replied, with an icy tone, her squabble with Jaimie forgotten in the face of a greater threat.

  "I thought we were all dressing up as mermaids and sea creatures?” she spat. “You could have been a whale, Mya."

  “Hey!” Daniel objected angrily, but I held him back. Any minute Miranda was going to find out about Julia and Dylan; I wanted to avoid a fistfight.

  "That was before." Tamara shrugged, unconcerned. "If you'd come and got ready with us, you would have known."

  Realizing that she wasn’t going to get any sympathy, her eyes fell on Dylan. A look of approval flashed across her face, assuming that Dylan couldn’t live without her.

  "Dylan." Miranda smiled coyly, changing like a cheap mood ring. "You came."

  Jaimie looked at me like she was expecting a street fight to break out. I wasn’t sure what I could do if that were the case. The whole group braced for the battle, knowing that once the relationship was public, Miranda was going to have a meltdown.

  “I’m here with Julia,” Dylan said stiffly.

  “You’re what?” Miranda screeched. A big part of the dance population looked over, hoping for anything to liven up the lameness of the dance.

  “I tried to tell you...” Julia began, stepping toward her best friend to fill the chasm that had opened between them.

  “But what? You were too busy stealing my boyfriend!” Miranda snapped, dramatically.

  Julia shied away from Miranda, stung by the accusation. Dylan put his arm around her protectively.

  “I haven’t been your boyfriend for weeks,” Dylan shot back. “It was so on and off that I don’t actually remember the last time I was your boyfriend.”

  “You loved the drama,” Miranda accused fiercely, “because we got to ‘make up’ after.”

  “I don’t ever want to ‘make up’ with you again,” Dylan said pointedly. “Let’s get a drink Julia.”

  “No,” Miranda said, grabbing Julia’s white skirt, “you don’t get to leave me; you don’t get to take my boyfriend and hang out with my group.”

  I stepped forward to try to diffuse the fight, but Julia stopped me.

  “Miranda, I have been your best friend since primary school,” Julia replied composed, the gloss of unshed tears in her eyes. “I have supported you in everything you ever did. I stood in your shadow, and I liked your friends and hated your enemies. Tonight I’m here with my new boyfriend, and if you can’t support me for a change, then I don’t want to be your friend anymore.”

  The weight of the last few weeks seemed to settle onto Miranda. Her hand began to shake as she dropped Julia’s skirt. “So that’s how it is? None of you are my friends anymore,” she accused, her eyes never leaving Julia.

  “If that’s what you want,” Julia replied thickly, swallowing the lump of emotion in her throat.

  Miranda didn’t respond; she simply staggered out of the gymnasium. It hurt to see Miranda, I imagined myself in her situation; it sucked.

  “Someone should go after her,” I observed.

  “Let her go,” Daniel replied. “She wouldn’t care if it was any of you.”

  I shook my head. “She’s hurting, and no matter how much of a cow she’s been lately, she’s still our friend.”

  “Pftt, lately,” Tamara scoffed.

  “‘Fine, no matter how much of a cow she is, period. We’ve still known her forever, and in some twisted way she belongs to us,” I implored.

  “She’s an evil maniacal mole,” Tamara stated, unmoved.

  “Yes, but she’s our evil maniacal fiend,” I reasoned, looking around the group for an ounce of sympathy or support for Miranda.

  Tamara and Tammy shook their heads. “We are always sitting outside parties with Miranda as she creates drama,” Tamara said. “The only place we’re going is to dance.”

  “Me too,” Julia agreed, slipping away with Dylan.

  “It’s me and you,” I told Jaimie, hoping she would volunteer.

  “Babe, she’s going to be a mess out there, and I don’t want to deal with that.” Jaimie sighed, clearly feeling guilty, but not guilty enough to do the dirty work of hanging out with Miranda.

  “Come on, she hates me,” I begged.

  “How bout this?” Tim suggested. “We just let her suffer in her jocks.”

  “Because girls don’t wear jocks,” I retorted, giving Jaimie my pleading eyes.

  “Rock, paper, scissors you for it,” Jaimie said.

  “Fine,” I huffed. “One
, two, three.”

  Jaimie always did scissors, so I put my fist into a rock, but Jaimie didn’t do scissors—she did paper.

  “Best two out of three,” I begged.

  “She hates you anyway,” Jaimie teased, as she and Tim headed to the dance floor. “You’ll only be out there for a few minutes.”

  “You don’t have to go out there,” Daniel said, his jaw set in an irritated line. “Tonight’s about us, and she’s just going to ruin it.”

  “Everyone’s sleeping over at your house tonight.” I smiled, trying to play down the apprehension I was feeling. “We’ve got all night and most of tomorrow.”

  “I want to dance now, though.” He pouted in a way that made me want to hold him and never let go.

  “I’ll be ten minutes,” I told him. “Then I’m all yours.”

  Realizing I was determined to make sure that Miranda was all right, Daniel let it go. “Fine, but I’ll be in the foyer, and if I here any scuffling, I may hit Miranda, despite the fact she’s supposed to be a girl.”

  “I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” I assured, but I didn’t really know.

  I could sense Daniel loitering in the foyer, waiting for me as I stepped into the cool night air. I hoped that Miranda had been so upset that she’d gone home, but she was sitting on a lunch table under the trees just outside the gym. Miranda habitually waited for her comforters, after years of having her friends follow her out of parties to make her feel better, she couldn’t just get in her car and drive away. The glow of the foyer light created a shadowy path to the table. Those few paces lessened the music’s vibration and allowed the cricket’s songs to add ambience to the night.

  “Not you,” Miranda moaned.

  I left out the retort that no one else would come; it seemed implied by my presence.

  “I just wanted to make sure you’re OK,” I said, using the best “I come in peace” tone I had.

  “Of course I’m not OK,” Miranda spun giving me a death stare, as she vented angrily. "You've stolen my life. You took my guy, you stole my friends, you have money and clothes and influence… You're like an identity thief. So no, no I'm not OK!"

  "Miranda, you can still be part of our group." I sighed, deciding against reasoning with her because she wouldn't see my side anyway.

  "It's my group!" she snapped.

  "Not anymore," I said gently, sitting on the edge of the table a safe distance from where she was perched.

  Miranda put her head in her hands and her shoulders jerked, betraying the sobs she was trying to conceal.

  My heart ached for her. She had always had everything and assumed that she always would, but her conniving and hateful treatment of her friends had left her with no-one.

  “You’re the only one who came out to comfort me,” she cried, her voice tight with emotion. “I’ve known Julia since play group...” The anguish of Julia’s betrayal painted the night darker, I could understand why the others didn’t want to talk to Miranda. Apart from their current dislike of Miranda, there was no diplomatic way to support both Julia and Miranda.

  “The others were busy with dance stuff,” I lied, trying to make it seem less like everyone in the group was over her drama-queen antics.

  “Busy having a good time without me,” she scoffed sardonically. “You can’t trust anyone... enjoy your season of popularity; it’s fleeting.”

  “It’s hard work too,” I complained playfully, glad for the subject change.

  Miranda laughed grimly, wiping at her eyes. “I made it look easy.”

  “You did it with style,” I agreed honestly, keeping my tone light. “You may have lasted longer if you’d been nicer, though.”

  “I made it over eleven years,” she defended, flicking her hair and fixing me with her amethyst eyes.

  “I know that the world feels upside down at the moment, but it doesn’t have to be like this. You don’t have to be on the outside,” I consoled and bargained persuasively. “Can we all just get along? We all started together; let’s graduate together.”

  Miranda looked genuinely contemplative before answering. “I totally hate you; that’s not going to change.”

  “That’s fine,” I gulped, but it didn’t feel fine. I liked to be liked; being hated by anyone, made me feel icky inside.

  “I’m not asking you to be my BFF,” I continued lamely. “I’m just asking you to not punch me, and limit your snide remarks to a minimum, so we can all get along.”

  “How can you be so nice?” Miranda complained, discreetly wiping her nose.

  “It’s my gift and my curse,” I joked, keeping the mood light.

  Miranda smiled begrudgingly. “Fine, let’s try on Monday. I’m just too ashamed to go in tonight.”

  “You could pop corn, you look so hot,” I complimented. “Come in and hang out with us.”

  Miranda shook her head. “I’m pretty pissed about Julia and Dylan. Seems like I can’t count on anyone in my life.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, not knowing how to respond to her melancholy statement.

  “Thanks,” Miranda said, sounding ungrateful. “I think I’ve had enough slumming it tonight; I’m going home.”

  “That’s why you’re so popular,” I said, sarcastically.

  “I’m still popular.” She shrugged with false bravado. “If my house of cards crashed after eleven years of steady building, you don’t stand a chance. I’ll be back in my seat in no time.”

  “You’re a regular silver lining on a dark cloud,” I replied playfully.

  Seeing that she couldn’t rattle me, she flicked her wrist at me dismissively, before spinning on her heel and walking away.

  The cold air stung my arms as I watched her retreat to her white convertible. It wasn't till Miranda left that I realized I'd been holding my breath in anticipation of an attack throughout our conversation.

  I rubbed my forearms to comfort myself as much as warm them. I arched my neck to stare up at the sky as black as ink, with thousands of glittering orbs dotted across its surface. In the moonlight I felt like stretching my arms out to twirl and dance. Moonlight had that effect on me, though I rarely gave in to the impulse and never with a chance of being seen. I didn’t hear Daniel’s approach.

  "Are you OK?" Daniel asked, concerned.

  "Sure." I nodded, letting him wrap his muscular arms around me.

  "How did you go?" he asked out of politeness, rather than interest.

  "I think Miranda will come around." I smiled, feeling warmed at the idea that we could all be friends.

  "You know you're the only one who wants her to, right? The rest of us would be happy for her to transfer schools," Daniel spoke into my hair, his cool breath sending shivers down my spine.

  "Whatever." I shook off the conversation, avoiding a disagreement. "Let's go dance."

  Inside the music blared through the gym. My friends were cavorting gleefully on the dance floor to a catchy top forty song.

  Daniel and I joined them rocking along to the music. By the end of the song most of the corner warming students were all dancing alongside us. The way that everyone was interacting with Daniel made me wonder if they weren’t dancing because of him.

  There was something enchanting about Daniel; it made everyone want to please him. The hairs on the back of my neck rose, as I wondered again what kind of skin disease caused a person’s parents to throw them into the sea. Daniel’s presence was hypnotizing; was that a side effect of the illness or had he always been that way? Despite all my questions, I had no idea how I would get answers, and I knew that Daniel didn’t want to talk about it.

  All I could do was spend time with him and hope that the mystery would eventually unravel. After the dance wound down, we made our way back to Daniel’s house in the limousine. I watched the moon out the window, enjoying being quiet while the others joked. In the cold moonlight I could feel there was something coming.

  sleepover

  “Are you ok?” Daniel asked, noticing my contemplative si
lence.

  I forced the mystery of the last two years of Daniel’s life from my mind again.

  “I’m fine.” I smiled reassuringly. “Just looking forward to getting out of these heels and into some fluffy moccasins.”

  Daniel kissed my forehead. “Looking forward to slipping into something a little more comfortable?” he joked suggestively.

  I laughed. “If you mean flannel pajamas and bed socks, then you’ve got me.”

  Daniel kissed my forehead again, nestling me into his chest. I tuned back into the limousine conversation.

  We got back to Daniel’s house quickly. The bustle after the dance was more fervent than the preparation had been; the euphoria of stripping off constraining clothes and shoes was liberating.

  Jaimie and I had washed our makeup off before Tamara could chastise us for having naked faces. After much cajoling, we convinced Tammy and Julia to free their faces. Tamara finally caved to the peer pressure. Her face was so much softer and feminine without the thick face she painted on, but our compliments were greeted with eye rolling.

  I reveled in my worn flannel pajamas, adorned with big yellow ducks because they made me feel sexy, in a comfortable way. Tammy flounced out in a teddy covered in a silk nightgown. I couldn't imagine feeling desirable in an outfit like that, just looking at it made me feel awkward. Maybe if I had a body like Tammy’s I would have dressed more like a lingerie model, but as it was, flannel was my muse.

  Jaimie had on Wonder Woman flannel pajamas, while Tamara and Julia were wearing cotton coordinates from some designer. The boys always seemed to get the easy options because they were clad in tracksuit pants or flannel sleepwear.

  Watching Interview With the Vampire was the most fun I'd had in a long time.

  "I can't believe how hot Tom Cruise was before he went nuts." Tammy sighed lustfully.

  "What about Brad Pitt?" Jaimie challenged. "He's like a ten on the Richter scale."

  "Agreed," Julia and Tammy replied simultaneously.

  "How little was Kirsten Dunst?" Tamara commented. "She was so cute in Bring it On."