by Aimee Said
Larrie checked the screen. “No messages?”
“Not one.” I figured it was better if she didn’t know about Camille’s video threat.
“Well, that’s something. Thanks for taking care of it.”
And she went upstairs. Without screaming. Without telling me off. Without ordering Mum to tell me off. Even Mum was surprised.
Al Miller is in a state of shock.
39
As with so many mornings, Josh was the first thing I thought about when I woke up the next day. But for once my thoughts weren’t soft-focus images of us picnicking in a field of sunflowers or strolling hand in hand along a deserted beach. That morning, all I could think about was making Josh look as stupid as he’d made me feel.
When the bell went for recess, Simon handed me the container of energy bars. “All set?”
“Just say exactly what we rehearsed yesterday,” said Maz. “And make sure he eats at least two of them while you’re watching. At the minimum he’ll get a bad case of gas.”
I went over my speech in my mind as I walked to the canteen where Josh would, no doubt, be buying his daily ration of energy bars. True to form, he was next in line to be served when I got there.
“You don’t need to buy any bars today,” I told him, lifting the lid on the container. “I baked you some energy bars from a special family recipe. I know it’s not as romantic as a rose, but I thought of you the whole time I was making them.”
Josh flashed me a huge smile that made me feel a tiny bit guilty. “Wow, those smell delicious, Al. The guys are gonna love them!”
He reached for the container but my fingers had frozen around it.
“The guys?”
“Yep. It’s Whitlam tradition that the team captain supplies the energy bars before a big game,” he said, easing the container out of my grip.
“But, but … I made them for you. Just for you.”
“That’s so sweet of you, but this is a huge batch of bars. There’s no way I can get through this many on my own. Besides, I want to show off to the team how great my girlfriend is.”
No. NO. NOOOO! There was only one way to save myself.
Time seemed to slow down as the container flew out of Josh’s hands and hit the bitumen in slow motion. “Whoops.”
“What’d you do that for?” Josh surveyed the chunks of energy bar all around us with dismay.
“I’m so sorry. I must’ve tripped.”
“But you were standing still.”
“I, um … maybe someone pushed me?”
He glanced around. There was no one within five metres of us.
“Let me make it up to you,” I said, pulling out my wallet. “I’ll pay for Power Kick bars for the whole team.”
“You did what?” asked Maz. “Couldn’t you have gotten him to eat even one before your conscience kicked in?”
“All I could think of was what people would say about me when they found out I gave the entire A-grade soccer team the runs before the most important match of the year. I couldn’t spend the rest of my school life being known as the girl who cost Whitlam the district cup.”
“It could’ve been an ugly end to the season,” agreed Simon. “We’ll have to come up with another way to get back at him. Surely you’re up to the challenge, Maz?”
Maz sniffed. “You know I am. But that was the best revenge plan I’ve ever come up with. On the bright side, at least now we don’t have to go to the boring game after school.”
“I’m still going.”
Maz stared at me as if I’d volunteered for detention. “Are you insane? Why would you want to go and risk seeing Josh win and be hailed as the new king of Whitlam?”
“I have to write my post for Whit’s Wit. Consider it my punishment for chickening out with the energy bars.”
Besides, I’d decided I would meet Josh after the game as we’d planned.
“Suit yourself,” said Maz. “But you’re on your own. If I have to watch that guy gloating for one more second, I’ll puke.”
The sports field had lost its bright spring-is-here green and was beginning to reveal worn brown patches and bald spots from the wear and tear of the football and soccer seasons. I took a seat in the front row, the same one I’d sat in at that first game with Maz, when the prospect of Josh liking me had almost seemed too good to be true. I should’ve trusted that instinct.
When the two teams ran onto the field, the crowd went wild, cheering and whooping. Rochelle Sullivan and her gang formed a cheer squad on the sideline, leading our side of the stands in a chant of “Whip ’em, Whitlam”. The girls next to me were bubbling with excitement, making up victory cheers and wondering amongst themselves whether the players would swap shirts after the game.
“Go, Josh!” I yelled, playing the role of the devoted girlfriend. The last thing I wanted was for him to suspect that our meeting after the match was going to be anything other than a celebration of how great he was. Josh blew me a kiss. I could feel Rochelle’s seething glare from three metres away.
I’d planned to use the game time to work out exactly what I was going to say to Josh, figuring this was my one chance to force him to answer my questions, but it was hard to keep my eyes from following his every move. Even knowing what I knew, and feeling as betrayed as I did, part of me still found him irresistible.
I mentally replayed every moment we’d spent together, from the first time he came into Say Cheese to when he gave me the rose. I remembered how being near him made me forget about everything that was bugging me. And swaying in his arms to Vertigo Pony’s love song. I’d never admit it out loud, but part of me was tempted to forgive him for everything, if it meant I could have more of those moments.
At half-time, Whitlam was ahead by two goals, both of them scored by Josh. Talking to him after the game was going to be ten times harder if he was on a high from winning Whitlam’s first district cup in years. When the game started again to a chorus of “Turner, Turner, he’s our man,” I felt my hopes of getting Josh to admit his wrongdoings slip away. All I could hope now was that Maz was working on revenge plan B.
The shouts of protest from all around me alerted me to the fact that the second half had got off to a dramatic start.
“Come off it, ref – that wasn’t a trip!”
“Get your eyes tested!”
“That is so gay!”
The referee was unmoved by the complaints from Whitlam’s side of the stands, holding up a yellow card in his right hand and counting down on the fingers of his left one. You didn’t have to be a lip-reader to know that Josh was mouthing off at him about the penalty. Not far from him, a Westside player was clutching his ankle.
Josh crossed his arms and stood with his legs spread defiantly until the referee got down to one finger and swapped his yellow card for a red one. Coach Hardy raced onto the field to intervene, but he can’t have been very convincing because a minute later Josh jogged past the Whitlam team bench and off the field.
Al Miller is making her move.
40
“Josh,” I called from the doorway of the change room, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the gloom (and my nose to adjust to the stench of sweaty schoolboys and their rancid socks). “Are you in here?”
“Al?” Josh stood and peered over the partition that separated the showers from the changing area. “Geez, am I glad to see you. I thought I was going to have to amuse myself till the game finished.”
He moved to my side of the partition and patted the space next to him. A week ago I would’ve been by his side faster than you could say “IthinkIloveyou”. Now I had to force myself to sit on the same piece of furniture as him. I crossed my legs and folded my hands primly in my lap. No way was I going to succumb to his charm smarm. But my ice-maiden body language was wasted on Josh, who was ranting about the referee’s tripping call.
“I barely even touched that guy when he went down. Westside are a bunch of girly fags who can’t take the heat of competing against a real team.”
“Is
that what you said when you got carded? No wonder Coach Hardy sent you out here.”
“Nah, Hardy agreed with me, he was only angry because I said it to the ref. He told me to come in here and practise my sad face so that Westside wuss accepts my apology. Trouble is, it’s hard for me to think sad thoughts when you’re around.”
I pressed my lips together to kill an involuntary smile. Resist the smarm, my brain reminded my heart, you’ve got some serious confronting to do. I figured it’d be much easier if we were in a public place, so I suggested that, since he wasn’t going back on the field, we could head for churros early.
“Aw, I don’t feel like going all the way to Parkville today. Why don’t we go somewhere in Kingston? That cafe near the cheese shop’s pretty good.”
That was all I needed to hear to remind me of my mission.
“I suppose heading to Kingston’d be pretty convenient, wouldn’t it? That way you could visit your favourite payphone on the way home. Perhaps send a few malicious text messages to make yourself feel better about being carded. Would that make you feel like a big man, Josh? Or should I say, Camille?”
Josh’s face went from shocked to scared to angry in the space of a few seconds. In all my thinking about what I’d say to him, I had always pictured him admitting what he’d done and apologising profusely. Him getting angry with me hadn’t been an option. And now I was alone with him in a small hut and no one knew I was there. I put my hand in my pocket and held my phone, ready to use it if I needed to.
“I know it was you, Josh. I was there yesterday when you sent Larrie the message about YouTube. Simon and I saw you.”
“Since when do you care what happens to your sister? I didn’t realise you were such a hypocrite, Al.”
“So you admit it?”
“Between you, me and the walls of this change room, yes. But I bet you can’t prove anything, so this is as far as it goes.”
“I’m here for answers, Josh, not an Agatha Christie special. Why did you do it?”
“For the same reason that you thought about doing it yourself: Larrie needed someone to bring her down a notch.”
“But what did she ever do to you? Aside from telling me you were a sleaze – which, by the way, is true – she’s never even mentioned your name.”
“She called me a sleaze?” Josh’s eyes flashed with rage. “She’s the biggest tease in the whole school! She’s all flirty and sweet to get you to like her, and then when you try to make a move, she turns into the Ice Queen.”
It was all starting to make sense. “So that’s what this is about? You put the moves on Larrie and she turned you down.”
“She led me on at Mitch’s party,” he said bitterly. “She led me on and then she got me chucked out. Even called me ‘a little boy with a little package’ – in front of everyone. Bitch.”
I smirked.
“Yeah, it’s hilarious, isn’t it? Mitch and his mates thought so too,” he spat. “I was climbing the fence to get back in and show Mitch I could take him on any day when I spotted Larrie and that Beth girl.”
“And it was too good a photo opportunity to miss?”
Josh nodded. “I sent the photo to Larrie, figuring it’d be payback if she freaked and bombed out in her exams. But your big sister’s tougher than I thought. When she didn’t react, I had to take things up a notch.”
“So you invented Camille on Facebook?”
“Exactly, and once people saw the photo, they started doing my work for me. That shaving cream prank was inspired.”
“You mean you weren’t the one who attacked Beth’s car?”
Josh shook his head. “I’m not the only person at Whitlam not waving the rainbow flag, you know.”
“What about the video – you’re not really going to put it on YouTube, are you?”
Josh sniggered. “So Larrie’s stressing out about that, is she? I thought she would. I don’t even have a video, I figured the idea that one existed would be enough to make her really panic.” He was so pleased with himself that I wanted to slap him.
“And me, Josh? Were you even interested in me or were you just using me to get back at Larrie?”
“Honestly? To start with it was part of my plan to find out what Larrie’s weaknesses were and use them against her, but I liked hanging out with you, Al. If it hadn’t been for your clutzy friend interrupting us the other night, we could have had a really good time together.”
In the few seconds it took me to realise what Josh meant, any feelings I thought I may still have for him vanished.
“Thank God Simon stopped us before I did something I’d have regretted,” I said, heading for the door. “You’re a pig, Josh Turner. And Larrie was right about your little package.” I turned and tapped the side of my head to show him exactly which package I was referring to.
His shocked expression was more satisfying than the rest of our revenge plan put together. I wished Maz had been there to see me in action, she would’ve been so proud.
I managed to suppress my gotcha grin until I was a few steps outside the change rooms.
“I take it you won.” Simon was leaning against the side of the building, at the corner nearest the door.
“What are you doing here?”
“I decided to come to the game after all. When I saw you going after Josh I thought I’d wait nearby … in case you needed backup.”
Ordinarily, that would’ve been my cue to accuse Simon of stalking me, but remembering Josh’s anger when I’d confronted him, I found the thought oddly comforting.
The siren parrrrped to signal full-time, followed by an eruption of cheers.
“Come on,” said Simon. “If you’re finished with Sir Sucksalot, we’d better find out whether your blog post’s going to be about Whitlam’s gloating winners or sulking losers.”
“Knock, knock,” I said from Larrie’s open doorway. “I know you’re studying but I wanted to check whether you’ve received any messages today. You know … from Camille?”
Larrie checked her phone.
“Nope. Nothing since yesterday morning’s effort. Is it too soon to hope she’s given up?”
“I don’t think you’ll hear from Camille again.”
I told her what had been going on.
“Josh Turner?” Larrie sounded like she didn’t believe me. “That party was the only time we’d ever spoken to each other. We had a five-minute conversation while Beth was in the loo. He was completely shocked when I told him I wasn’t interested in him – he wouldn’t let up.”
“So you had him thrown out?”
“He wasn’t invited in the first place. Mitch only let him in because he brought beer. He was so agro, no one wanted him around any more. We figured he’d gone home embarrassed.”
“He couldn’t have been anywhere near as embarrassed as he was today,” I told her. “And I have a feeling that tomorrow morning you and Beth won’t be the main topic of conversation at Whitlam.”
Larrie smiled and for a second I caught a glimpse of the girl I once knew so well. “Thank you, Al. For avenging my tormentor, but mainly for making him stop. I’m sorry if I’ve taken out my stress on you.”
“And I’m sorry that I didn’t listen when you told me Josh Turner was a sleazebag.”
Larrie’s face fell. “Oh, Al, I wish I hadn’t been right about that. Do you want to talk about it?”
I shook my head, knowing that if I tried to speak about Josh, I’d be a bawling mess. It was stupid to still be upset about it after he’d made perfectly clear how he felt (or, rather, didn’t feel) about me. But it hurt to know how calculating he’d been, and I was ashamed that I’d been so flattered by the lines he’d fed me about me being smarter and more talented than Larrie.
“It’s like Ms Shields says: you can’t choose who you fall in love with, but you can choose who you let break your heart.”
I blew my nose. “Patchouli’s wise … but she makes the world’s worst chai.”
“It’s pretty foul, isn’t it
? Hey, I was about to take a study break. Want to come for a walk?”
“Thanks, but I’m on deadline for something. Another time?”
Larrie grinned and nodded.
Simon_says: Ready to go?
Al-oha: Just doing a final spellcheck.
Simon_says: Okay, let me know when you’re done.
Al-oha: You sure you’re okay with this?
Simon_says: Are YOU sure? All I’m doing is overriding a few security settings – it’s your own neck you’re putting on the block.
Al-oha: I’m sure
Al Miller will make the right choice this time.
41
I skipped breakfast and caught the early bus the next morning. I’d been too wired to sleep much. Mainly because I was so angry by the time I finished writing my blog post, but also because I knew I’d bought myself a one-way ticket to a Branding.
When I got to school, I went straight to the New Media Studies lab and logged on to Whit’s Wit. At first, the lead story appeared to be my scheduled post about the soccer final. I hoped the provocative headline under the photo of Whitlam’s disappointed soccer fans would get people reading, and that enough of them would read it to get the message before Brandy pulled it down.
Whitlam’s shame
Posted by Allison Miller, Tuesday, 9.57 pm
Whitlam High School has more than its 12–2 defeat to Westside Grammar in the district cup to be embarrassed about. For a school whose motto is Unity in Diversity, Whitlam has proved itself to be anything but accepting of difference. Recently, homophobic abuse and vandalism at our school has gone unpunished, even though most of us were aware of it.
Research shows that same-sex attracted young people face more bullying, abuse and violence than other teens, and that 80% of this takes place in schools. Eighty per cent!!! This couldn’t happen without the complicity of Whitlam’s students, and many of our teachers. Even if we don’t call people names or write about them on walls or pay them out online, if we stand by and do nothing to stop the abuse, we have to share the blame.
