What was going on? I hadn’t organised any school activities. Mr Head was going to freak. And blame me.
Yes this was a brilliant idea. And it was fun. It was good variety for the seniors. But old people didn’t appreciate good, loud music. How could I shut this down? Where was Roman when I needed him?
I didn’t have time to make a decision; the boys struck their first chord together and Jarrell nodded to the band. They started playing the introduction to a punk song that I recognised from the radio. Couldn’t they have chosen something from Mr Head’s time? The Beatles? Bach?
I could hear the lecture playing in my head. Wicked. Worldly. Brazen. Undisciplined. Disrespectful.
I rubbed my temples.
The music was very good and the year twelves loved the surprise. Some of the juniors had snuck in but were forced to stand on chairs in the corners as there was no way the seniors were going to let them take their positions moshing up the front.
Before I could see who it was, someone grabbed me by the hand and pulled me to the back of the common room.
Roman put his hand to my ear like a cone and shouted, ‘Did you do this?’ He was smiling.
‘No. I wonder who did.’
‘Doesn’t matter. This is cool. We should do this once a week,’ he cheered.
‘Of course we like it. We have a life. What are we going to do when Head finds out? Surely he’s in his office right now plotting our expulsion,’ I shouted back into his ear.
Roman did something unexpected. He put his left hand on my hip and shouted in my ear, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him about it and sort it out. Don’t stress.’
I couldn’t help it. I stared at his hand on my hip, although it wasn’t such a big deal. What surprised me is that it burnt like an iron where he touched, sending electric pulses down my right leg.
‘Uh,’ I stuttered back to him. ‘Thanks.’
‘No worries. I know how to handle him. Enjoy yourself.’ He released me from his clutch and ran out of the common room.
The boys played two more songs and Mr Head never showed. Students booed when they started packing up their gear. Jarrell and the band bowed to the audience and promised more later.
I ran to catch up with Roman on the way to class and demanded to know what he said to make Mr Head refrain from turning the school’s power off to spite us.
He smiled smugly and said, ‘Need to know basis only.’
I was about to protest but I lost sight of him in class. It was too late to ask now. How did he do everything right?
‘Listen up, guys. First game is on Sunday. Better get your act together and your fitness up or you’ll be kept off. Three laps of the oval. Go,’ coach Corby shouted. He was tough, but fun. Best and worst of all, he liked to win. When we didn’t win, he was a sore loser. A very, sore loser.
I ran to keep up with Treston’s back. Three laps? I could do two, badly, but the third would surely kill me.
Predictably, Nate ran by himself, on a par with Treston’s speed, if not faster. He was clearly fit enough to run for two games and I knew Treston would want to keep him on for the whole of Sunday if Nate was up for it.
The whole competition was supposed to be fun, being a mixed organisation, but it didn’t stop the boys from taking their game seriously. Although Corby was technically the coach, he still had to work with Treston as the captain. It was a joint effort that often ended up in an amusing struggle for power by both competitive men. Having Nate on the team would only perpetuate the unspoken rivalry for the title of alpha male of the football pride.
I giggled. Men were so entertaining.
On the third lap Nate subtly dropped back and jogged at my speed.
‘Go,’ I puffed. ‘You need to come first to impress Corby.’
I felt embarrassed at my own unfitness. I tried to find time for running and exercise but it was hard to maintain. This was the start of the season; I didn’t want to show Nate such a weakness. It might be unattractive to him.
Nate smirked. ‘I don’t need to impress anybody. If they don’t give me a run that’s their problem,’ he claimed, barely puffed. ‘They have to decide if they want to win badly enough, I suppose,’ he added, grinning at me.
‘You are so up yourself,’ I laughed. ‘It’s funny. Is there anything you aren’t confident about?’
He thought for two seconds. ‘No.’
‘Well I hate to disappoint you but there are a lot of things I’m not confident about. It’s a pity we can’t all be as cocky as you,’ I teased.
‘What can I say? If you’re awesome, don’t hold it back.’ He sprinted the last fifty metres back to our base.
After stretching, we started drills. Not playing for a few months weakened my ankles and I felt like a weedy girl until I could kick properly. In fact, I wasn’t much better than the two other girls on our team.
For the last fifteen minutes of training, we played a scratch match using only half the field. I generally played the position of midfield, assisting the strikers in their quest for glory and ‘world domination’ (Treston’s words). Nate was a striker. So was Treston.
Nate walked me to Treston’s car and helped put our equipment in his boot. I remembered the situation with his parents and asked him how things were going.
He became uncomfortable and replied, ‘I’m not sure, to be honest. Dad was pretty quiet on Sunday and he’s been working a lot since then. I haven’t had a chance to ask him what’s going on. Guess he’ll tell me when he knows something.’
‘So you haven’t heard from your mum?’
‘Only a text message. She’s at grandma’s with Amelie. Said she loves and misses me,’ he shrugged. ‘It’s not my business.’
‘Not your business? Of course it is. It affects your life, especially when you’re trying to finish year twelve. I’d be demanding some answers, if I was you.’
‘Our family isn’t comfortable with confrontation,’ he said. ‘It’s not that simple. I’ll let you know if I find out something new.’ He saw Treston was getting his CDs ready in the car and grabbed me around the waist and gave me a long, passionate kiss goodbye.
‘To what do I owe the honour?’ I asked, breathless.
‘Being hot. And playing soccer. And being hot,’ he laughed, and jogged to his car after shouting goodbye to Treston. He didn’t have the M3 tonight, I noticed with a smile.
I touched my lips where he had kissed them, relishing the gentle tingling remains. Treston pulled a face at me but said nothing on the way home about our pash so close to his personal space.
I watched Dad shove a knife in the VCR through bored, defeated eyes. ‘Dad, do you know when Mum will be home?’
‘Call her mobile. I think she wants to do food shopping after work,’ he suggested.
What a great idea. I needed to get out of here before Dad started measuring my room and changing my furniture. Besides, it had been a while since I did some proper shopping. Maybe Mum would let me look at a few clothes shops.
I sent her a text message:
Mum. I’m so bored. Come get me before food shopping please?
She wrote back,
Home in ten. Be ready.
‘Don’t electrocute yourself,’ I murmured to Dad on my way out.
We hit up Twin Rocks Central Shopping Centre. Unfortunately, a date with Coles had to come before clothes shopping. Killing my excitement, Mum warned me that we only had about half an hour before the peas would start to melt.
She put up with me fussing and trying on clothes in a few stores, but too soon she informed me it was time to go home. I pouted. She laughed.
‘But I never get to try things on properly,’ I whinged.
‘Neither do I. Let’s go get dinner.’ She put her arm around my waist and pulled me away from my destiny.
We were on our way out when I saw a sign in the most expensive underwear shop in the centre. Red posters covered the front glass and hung around the inside of the store. Customers were banging their heads on the
posters hanging from the roof as there were so many of them. Fifty per cent off everything in store. Tonight only. Mum read my mind before I had to use my mouth.
‘Five minutes, Daisy,’ she warned, and I bolted into the store.
Mum picked up a gorgeous set of bra and knickers and eyed it admiringly. I carefully watched her reaction. If she smiled but was quiet, I was in for a chance.
She handed me the set and said, ‘Try these on.’
I scooted into the change room and put them on. It was a light pink t-shirt bra with small white love hearts on it, with matching hipster bottoms. I stuck my head around the curtain and tried to ‘psst’ Mum. She didn’t hear me. I had to call. How awkward.
‘Mum , ‘ I called, and she turned around (along with every other mother in the store) and made her way over to me.
I was clutching the curtain up to my neck, giddy with excitement.
‘Show me,’ she ordered.
‘But Mum,’ I pleaded. ‘Can’t you just see the top half?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Fine.’
I showed her the bra and looked away at the same time. It was so embarrassing.
‘Gorgeous,’ she said, smiling. ‘Take it off and hand it over. I’ll pay, you get dressed.’
Thrilled, I did as she asked and met her at the counter. It was about time I dressed more like a woman. I was going to be eighteen soon.
t still wasn’t perfect.
I did another once over of my hair with the straightener but there were a few annoying kinks that I didn’t have patience to deal with right now. I still had to check my room, make sure the boys’ rooms were presentable, and organise the food to be ready in time.
I checked the clock. My heart leapt for the thousandth time. Ten minutes.
It was such a different visit from the first time Nate came to our house. I almost didn’t know how to behave. Last time, he was Treston’s guest and I had a fight with him. This time, he’s my guest, and I couldn’t have been prouder to have him at our family dinner. Or more nervous.
I kept cleaning anxiously. Each time I caught a glimpse of myself in any reflection, I would stop and check that my skirt was sitting properly, that my necklace was around the right way, that I’d shaved my legs perfectly and no hair was sticking out of a random part of my shins.
The doorbell rang. I jumped.
‘I’ve got it,’ I called, bounding to the front door. Josh laughed at my eagerness. I put my hair behind my ear before answering with a big smile.
‘Hello dear,’ Nanna exclaimed, reaching forward to kiss my cheek. Don’t get me wrong, I was very happy to see her, but I had to stop myself from saying, ‘Oh, it’s just you.’
‘So glad to see you, Nanna.’ I put my arm around her frail back and gave her a gentle squeeze. ‘How was your week?’
‘Good. I don’t want to talk about me. Where’s this boy I hear who’s taken your fancy?’ She glanced around the doorway for a sign of Nate.
‘You’d be looking for me, then,’ a voice said from behind us. I spun around to see the face that matched the voice. Plain colours complemented his skin and hair and he looked so classy in anything he wore. Tonight was no exception. He wore light denim jeans, a little on the baggy side, with a fitted round-neck Industrie knit top in black. The smell coming from his skin made me light-headed.
‘Ahh. Hello, young man. What’s your name, again? I’ve forgotten already,’ Nanna said, murmuring something about old age.
‘Nate. Pleased to meet you. I assume you’re Daisy’s nanna?’ he smiled at her. I wondered if his smile would work on her the way it worked on me.
‘Yes, I am. I can see what she sees in you. You are a sight for sore eyes.’ Turning around, she winked at me before walking into the house and leaving Nate to chuckle with me.
‘You’ve made quite an impression on her; she rarely leaves a conversation half finished,’ I giggled. He leant forward and gave me a long kiss that showed me how happy he was to see me.
‘All I care about is the impression I make on you,’ he said, ever smoothly.
I rolled my eyes, while my stomach continued to manufacture an entire legion of butterflies. ‘It’s a good start, but you can do better,’ I whispered, elbowing him in the ribs and leading him into the kitchen area.
‘Hey,’ Josh said, and kept walking into his room. He hadn’t cleaned it.
‘Hey, Josh. Good to see you,’ Nate replied to Josh’s back.
Were boys as sensitive about manners and social etiquette as girls? If they were, Nate must think Josh was pretty rude.
Mum came to the rescue. ‘Nate. We’re so glad you could make it tonight. I hope you like pasta.’ She pointed to the dish on the kitchen bench and smiled at him. Nate’s shoulders relaxed and I secretly thanked God for all mothers who were situationally aware.
‘I sure do, Mrs Brooks. I’m part Italian so I love all of that stuff.’
‘Please, call me Jade,’ Mum ordered. ‘Here, put this cutlery out, would you?’ Mum handed it to me. ‘And tell your father dinner is ready.’
I gave Nate the cutlery and went to find Dad in his study.
‘Dad, Nate’s here. Can you please be nice?’ I begged.
Dad grinned. ‘I’m always nice.’
Oh no. What would he say to embarrass me tonight? Baby photos? Poo jokes? The list was endless.
Mum called us to sit down at the table and we had grace. For a second I thought Dad might ask Nate to say grace, just to establish who was in charge of the table. He eyed him off for a second before he asked Treston to say it. Treston groaned but said it anyway.
Dad looked at me as he asked Nate his first question of the night.
‘So, Nate, what are your intentions with my daughter?’ The boys glanced at each other knowingly and I felt my face grow warm.
Nate seemed to predict this question and deflected it quite nicely. ‘She’s a lovely girl. You should be very proud of her, Mr Brooks. I want to make her happy,’ he replied, meeting Dad’s gaze squarely.
I was impressed, so far.
‘Uhhuh. There’s no need to call me Mr Brooks, Nate,’ Dad said cunningly, and paused for effect. Then he smiled wolfishly, and said, ‘You can call me sir.’
Nate smiled a little. ‘That’s fine,’ he said.
Dad chewed off a bit of garlic bread.
‘Have you had any speeding fines?’
Mum sighed. I watched nervously. The boys continued to eat like there was no awkward conversation taking place around them.
‘Only one. There wasn’t good enough signage, so, I got caught,’ Nate said simply.
‘Dad …’ I started, but he cut me off.
‘Sure there wasn’t. How fast have you driven in a car with my daughter?’ He inclined his head, as if to warn me not to interfere.
I put my hand on Nate’s knee under the table to reassure him. He didn’t need it. ‘I haven’t driven her yet, sir,’ he replied, coolly.
‘Good answer,’ Dad said, still chewing. ‘Make sure you ask my permission when you do want to take her somewhere. I want to check if your car is roadworthy first.’
Nate and I looked at each other out of the corner of our eyes. ‘Of course. Any other questions, Mr Brooks?’ Nate inquired, taking a drink of soda.
Dad opened his mouth to speak.
‘Yes,’ Josh interrupted. ‘You’re part Italian right. And you play soccer. Do you also know how to dive in a game?’ he asked in all seriousness, while Shane and Treston smirked, mouths full.
I knew full well Josh was insinuating all Italians could fake fouls in soccer, because of the 2006 World Cup match against Australia. They still weren’t over it, a few years later.
‘Sure I do. Anyone does,’ he said calmly. ‘Doesn’t mean I need to.’
‘Good point,’ said Josh. ‘It’s nice to see an Italian who has firm decision-making. Not like the Italians in the world wars.’ It was probably all he knew about history.
Josh kept eating his dinner. I was so angry with him
. He could be a real dick when he wanted to be. Whether he was being over-protective or not wasn’t the point. He was rude and making Nate feel uncomfortable, because he could.
‘Yeah, I heard about that. Guess no one really knew what they were doing in those days, huh,’ said Nate.
At this point Nanna cut in.
‘What do you want to do with your life, once you leave school, Nate?’ she smiled at him sweetly.
‘At this stage I’m going to take over the family business,’ Nate said, like he’d said it a thousand times before but didn’t believe it himself.
‘Sounds like honourable work,’ Nanna said, looking meaningfully at Josh.
Mum offered everyone another round of servings. Dad appeared ready to try his luck with Nate again.
‘Nate, has Daisy told you anything about her as a girl yet?’ he asked, mischief oozing out of him.
‘No sir, but it’s only been a little while. I’m sure there are plenty of stories I need to hear about,’ he said and flicked his eyes at me.
With my eyes, I pleaded with Dad not to do this. He smiled at me; a wide, bold grin.
‘Once, when she was about two years old, she pulled some of Shane’s shorts out of the washing basket in the nude and put them on herself. She ran outside with them falling down her backside. We’ve got so many pictures of her trying to hold up these bright blue shorts way too big for her,’ Dad said, laughing to himself.
I was so embarrassed I tried to distract myself. I took a swig of red creaming soda to calm my nerves. Within seconds I realised what I had done wrong. The massive mouthful of soda burnt my windpipe. I thought if I held my breath I wouldn’t choke. It made it worse.
Before I knew it, I was choking and gasping as it ran down my chin and neck and on to my good white top. I watched with horror as I realised this had no chance of coming out in the wash.
Friendship on Fire Page 12
