Friendship on Fire

by Danielle Weiler

  Without the screaming, perhaps.

  ‘I guess my work here is done then. Or unwanted, whichever comes first,’ she said quietly and rose to leave.

  ‘You don’t have to go, Shana. I warned you I have a temper and,’ I stopped myself, words almost stuck in my throat.

  What did I just say?

  Deja vu is cruel.

  My vision shifted from Shana’s hurt face to a time seemingly centuries ago when I was innocent and highly infatuated with one Nate Parker. Chest heaving, I remembered the feeling as though it was happening to me again right now. I had just irritated him by backing on to the rock at the beach and he said those very words to me as an excuse for his outburst.

  So I have picked up something from him after all, I thought bitterly. Baggage.

  Rubbing my eyes wearily, I prepared myself for the biggest suck up I’ve ever had to do.

  ‘Shana, I’m …’

  I’d opened my eyes to find I was talking to thin air. I quickly tried to find Shana around my house. Had she gone to the bathroom? To have some food? Was she kidnapped?

  ‘Shana,’ I called.

  Treston, making food in the kitchen, shrugged.

  I walked out the front door and on to the grass, just in time to see Shana storm into her own house down the street and realised what had happened.

  While I was stuck in my moment of realising I was similar to Nate, Shana must have thought I was ignoring her after offending her sensibilities. Either that, or she got sick of waiting for me and left. I must have hurt her a lot. Having a temper is no excuse to use it. Especially not on someone who didn’t deserve it.

  Sighing, I began to prepare for a peace package to take to her.

  ‘I don’t want to talk to you, psycho . ‘ Shana half hid behind her front door in self-protection.

  ‘OK, I deserve that. But, I have presents,’ I said sweetly. Opening my wicker basket, I revealed a bottle of Canada Muscat Patritti, homemade biscuits and lollies.

  Turning her nose up at them, she said, ‘You have ten minutes. Open the bottle.’

  I grinned.

  Pouring Shana a glass of Patritti, I explained what happened to me with Nate before she even moved to Twin Rocks. She listened intently, nodding in appropriate places.

  ‘I get that. And I know you’re not trying to use it as an excuse. I just wanted to be a friend to you and help. But now that I know you don’t need it, I’ll back off.’

  ‘No, you were right. I do want to go with someone, but I won’t ask a random. So I still need your help.’

  I watched her eyes light up a little. ‘You do?’

  ‘Yes. Come up with a solution for me to go with someone, but someone I know and like.’

  ‘Besides Roman,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Yes. I’m not asking him. My Nanna has already tried to get me to do that.’

  ‘Oh. So that contributed to your mood too,’ she said, perceptively.

  I nodded wearily.

  We sat drinking and eating biscuits, enjoying each other’s company and attempting to think up a master plan. Shana spent some time staring at the wall.

  ‘I’ve got it.’

  ‘Got what?’ I asked, daydreaming.

  ‘Got it. ‘

  ‘Eh?’

  She was beaming. ‘It, idiot. How about, I go with you and James can go with Roman. So you have a partner and so does Roman, but I can still hang with James and you can make sure Roman doesn’t take another girl.’

  I nodded slowly, trying to take in her giant sentence.

  She was on a roll. ‘We can all sit at a table together. That way, there are six other people sitting there talking to Roman so you won’t feel weird or obliged to talk to him alone.’ She rubbed her hands together.

  Yeah, except I won’t want to talk to anyone else at the table except Roman, I wanted to say back. But he will be the one I avoid. Ironic.

  What could a girl do?

  ‘How will you get Roman to go with James?’ I asked, playing devil’s advocate.

  ‘He’ll do it, don’t you worry. They are tight. Roman will think it’s a fun boy’s thing. You let me work on James,’ she said, winking at me.

  ‘Ew.’

  ‘Not like that,’ she blushed.

  ‘Whatever.’

  Shana took a long swig of Patritti and looked around the room shyly. I decided to rescue her.

  ‘Everything sounds great. Thanks, friend,’ I said, toasting my glass to hers.

  Inwardly, my heart sank.

  It was not until midnight that I realised something I should have realised a long time ago, besides the fact that it was dangerous for my brain to be up after midnight. My diary would have the answer to my dilemma. All I had to do was ask.

  October — Midnight — the bewitching and stupid hour.

  Dear Diary,

  What do I do?

  If you were me, (or real) would you go alone to the Formal?

  Or try to find a date just to have one? I can’t decide.

  And if you did decide to go to the Formal, would you ask a boy? Would you take a girl? Would you be seen with a dart like me after asking an inert book for advice?

  Let me know, soon.

  Dais xx

  Then I laughed hysterically at my folly and fell asleep, drooling on the page I’d just written.

  liers for the Formal and the exam timetables littered the common room notice board as year twelves filed in for their last two weeks at school.

  I refused to look at the timetable. I hadn’t done nearly enough study in the holidays, despite my best intentions. I needed a little more time. Things were coming to an end so quickly and I couldn’t grasp them before they slipped through my fingers.

  At least it wasn’t so cold in the mornings now. The fresh edge had lifted and I could finally stop wearing the stupid blazer every day. The scarf remained and the gloves Roman bought me featured sometimes while teachers weren’t around to confiscate them from me; like now.

  Sarah and Linda screamed as they saw me across the room and ran to tackle me on one of the many dirty couches available to the ‘privileged’ students. I probably caught nits from these couches this year.

  ‘A few weeks and it’ll be over,’ they squealed and I smiled.

  Inside, I was torn. I was still the sentimental old fool from the start of the year and no matter how much this school annoyed me at times, I loved the people in it and would miss seeing them every day.

  The teachers welcomed us back with more revision materials and Mr Head gave an ‘inspirational’ speech during our lunchtime break. Yay.

  As he was leaving the common room, he waved Roman and me over. My stomach lurched; what job would he get us to do now?

  ‘Daisy. Roman. In only a few weeks you’ll have to give your graduation speech. Better start planning for it now,’ he said and adjusted his belt buckle.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ we said, frowning at the request. I’d forgotten about the end of year speech. That piled on to the stress of exams made me want to scream. I knew full well Roman would blitz the exams, the consistent way he studied.

  In the locker bay preparing for fifth period, Skye’s blonde head appeared through the vent in my locker door and I sighed.

  ‘Oh. I thought you’d be happy to see me. After two weeks away, I’m crushed,’ she whined. I slammed the locker shut and turned away from her. ‘What are you going to do when you fail your exams, school captain?’ she called after me.

  I contemplated answering with a multitude of different, equally as insulting replies, but thought better of it. I needed to save my energy for study.

  I was leaving the school gates amidst the traffic of students, bikes and skateboards, keeping my head down so as not to bump into anyone. All the things I had to do when I got home were weighing on my mind and I was completely distracted.

  A little way down the pavement, near the children’s crossing, I realised someone’s feet were inert, facing my direction rather than walking with me. Worse sti
ll, I recognised the pair of shoes in front of me. I lifted my eyes to see Nate’s gazing into mine, but more gorgeous than those I remembered in my dreams.

  He appeared unsure of how to approach me, a stark contrast to the first time we met on these very grounds.

  My legs wouldn’t work, but I was hesitant about whether to fight or flee. Instead, my mouth hung open until Nate said something.

  ‘Daisy, hear me out. I just want to tell you one …’ he began, with his hands held up in a defensive action.

  I shook my head slightly, remembering the past few months and interrupting him mid-speech.

  ‘Uh, no. We’ve had this conversation,’ I said assertively. ‘I have nothing more to say to you.’

  ‘But I love you. Doesn’t that count for anything?’

  His eyes pleaded with me and they were genuine. But it was too late.

  ‘Love doesn’t cheat,’ I replied uncomfortably.

  ‘I won’t do it again, you have my word. I’m a changed man.’

  ‘I bet you are,’ I murmured.

  ‘I am,’ he said earnestly. ‘If you let me prove it —’

  ‘OK. You are. That still doesn’t change my mind. Goodbye,’ I said firmly, pushing past him on the busy footpath.

  Nate grabbed me by the elbow and swung me around to face him. Our faces nearly touched in his vigour, yet it wasn’t violent. I tried to pull my arm away, but he held fast. I contemplated screaming.

  ‘You were the best thing that ever happened to me. I can’t let you go,’ he whispered miserably.

  ‘You’ll have to. Let go , Nate,’ I yelled, yanking my elbow free.

  From my left, a male figure approached quickly and pushed Nate hard. As Nate regained his footing, the figure was ready, standing fast in front of his eyes.

  ‘Stay away from her. She doesn’t want you. You blew your chance already,’ Roman said to Nate in a low, angry voice.

  My heart leapt and sank at the same time. I was glad to see Roman and he was here to help me. But this was exactly like my dream, only without the strange medieval setting.

  Nate smiled gently, leaning in closer to Roman.

  ‘Roman,’ I said quietly, but Roman flicked a look over his shoulder that silenced me.

  ‘What’s this about anyway? Don’t you know it’s rude to interrupt private conversations?’ Nate spat at Roman.

  ‘I’m pretty sure anyone here except you can see she doesn’t want to talk to you. Guess that expensive education from Daddy has gone to waste.’

  Nate’s eyes became shifty, looking from me back to Roman. I said nothing. I wasn’t going to rescue him. Suddenly his eyes lit up with understanding. A theory.

  ‘Oh, I get it. You want a piece of her as well,’ Nate grinned at Roman. He glanced at me with eyes that were full of defiance.

  Once again I felt sorry for him, but hated him all the same. It was still a choice he made to behave like this.

  While my heart wrestled with itself, I watched in slow motion as Roman took his right arm and swung it across Nate’s face, sending him stumbling backwards off the path and into the grass.

  Students walking around us stopped to point and gasp, as Roman, breathing heavily, turned to me and put his hands on my shoulders. I was one of the gaspers.

  ‘Roman, what have you done?’ I asked, peering up at his hard-set face in shock.

  ‘He deserved it. I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time and he just gave me opportunity.’ He rubbed his punching fist absent-mindedly.

  I watched with dread as Nate scrambled to his feet and Roman turned from me to cover his back.

  ‘You have no reason to be here now, so I suggest you leave,’ Roman said to him.

  ‘Last chance, Daisy,’ Nate said, feeling his cheekbone gently, his hair and clothes dishevelled.

  I said nothing, only continued to gasp in horror and pray that Nate wouldn’t try to fight Roman. I couldn’t bear it.

  Nate brushed off his pants, picked up his bag and turned to walk across the road where his car was parked. So he’d been waiting for me.

  Even though I’d let Nate go already, I still felt hurt at the concept that what I dreamt for us would never be. I probably wouldn’t see him again.

  I burst into tears right then and there on the path, trying to control the sobs that overtook my chest. Instantly Roman pulled me to him, putting my head on his chest and holding me there gently while I cried my eyes out for every injustice in the world.

  ‘Oh I like this story. The virtue of the damsel in distress is protected by hot, muscly Roman,’ Sarah bubbled on the phone. ‘Keep going, this is great.’

  ‘My life isn’t a TV show, you know,’ I mumbled back.

  ‘Sure it isn’t. Then what happened? Keep talking.’

  I sighed. Why did I call Sarah first?

  ‘Fine. He walked with me, but after I finally stopped crying, we were at my house and I had big puffy eyes and ugly crying stains on my uniform.’

  ‘Yeah, I don’t particularly care, what did he do?’

  ‘Uh. He just put his hand on my cheek and gave me this blue-eyed sappy look before walking off.’

  ‘Is that it?’ she shouted.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘No kiss?’

  ‘No,’ I frowned.

  ‘No passionate thank you sex?’

  I wrinkled my nose. ‘“Thank you” sex? Is there such a thing?’

  ‘I think there should be.’

  ‘OK,’ I said, taking a deep breath. ‘No, there wasn’t any of that.’

  ‘Shame, really.’

  ‘Sarah …’

  ‘You love it.’

  She started chomping on something on the other end.

  ‘What are you eating?’

  ‘What’s it to you?’

  Rolling my eyes, I continued. ‘So, back to the real issue. Once again, I cry over Nate in front of Roman and stuff up the only chance I get to talk to him properly. He probably thinks I’m a nut-job who hops into bed with anyone. What’s wrong with me?’

  ‘Who cares?’ she said. ‘He saved you. That has to count for something.’

  She was right. He did save me. He just doesn’t talk to me.

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘I think you owe him.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Yep. Big time. I’m sure there are a few things he wouldn’t say no to. Call it a thank you. Refer to previous comment,’ she giggled.

  ‘Shocking, Sarah, as always. Can we have a normal conversation now?’

  ‘No. I’m going to finish my food. Bye.’

  And she hung up on me. I dialled Shana’s number.

  ‘Sorry babe, I think I have to agree with Sarah on this one,’ Shana said without sympathy. ‘Roman might not be talking to you at the moment, but he sure is showing you.’

  ‘What if I need both?’

  ‘You might get both one day, but for now you have to take what you can get. I’d love it if James fought for me …’ she began, threatening to turn this conversation into a soppy mess about her relationship.

  ‘Well thanks for your non-help. Bye,’ I grumbled, hanging up the phone.

  So I went to find Mum.

  The year twelves had ‘last day’ syndrome. Counting down the days of our school life with excitement, anticipation and equal dread at the impending exams occupied our time so much we didn’t notice anyone else at school but ourselves. All that mattered was year twelves and the freedom milestone that awaited us.

  We planned each of the ‘last’ things we would get to do at school, such as ‘last Monday’, ‘last maths lesson’, ‘last walk to the canteen’ and ‘last time to trash the common room’.

  Seeing as Mr Head wouldn’t let us destroy our own school for Muck-Up Day, we decided to visit Addison Grammar and destroy parts of their school instead.

  We planned for jelly crystals in their swimming pool, burning our school name into their lawn and putting honey on their door handles. And, like the prepared thieves we were, they never fou
nd out who did it.

  Roman was, like me, in the group who broke into the Grammar school wearing black and giggling like — well — schoolgirls. While I caught him laughing and smiling around me a few times, I can’t say any of it was aimed at me directly.

  I desperately wanted him to talk to me, to give me the attention he handed over in bucket loads to other people, but he still withheld it from me. Maybe I had put him off by crying over his shoulder about Nate. I guess I couldn’t blame him.

  On the last day of school we put our class year in sand on our front oval, making a perfect contrast to the impeccable green grass. We figured Mr Head couldn’t stop us from graduating because we hadn’t technically done any damage to school property.

  Standing at the front gates for the last time, I watched the stream of students leaving the school property and wondered if I would miss my time here. Besides my friends, would I actually miss anything about school?

  While I was having my moment with sentimentality, Rachael walked past me on the path. I guessed she hadn’t seen me before coming this way, otherwise I imagine she would have avoided me. She caught my eye just as I caught hers and we stared blankly at each other for a few seconds before I pulled mine away. I remembered, with a stab of pain, though not as sore as it once was, what we had, what she threw away, what she took from me.

  Like strangers we ignored each other on the once familiar path that held so many good memories for us.

  ‘Mum, life sucks,’ I complained that night when she got home from food shopping.

  ‘Does it now?’ she said, amused. She began putting food away while I sat on the bar stool brooding. ‘And why does it suck?’

  ‘Because it does,’ I said, biting my lip petulantly.

  ‘What happened on your last day of school to make life suck so badly?’ she asked gently.

  ‘It was supposed to be the best day ever. No more classes. No more Mr Head telling me what to do. No more strange teachers. No more school uniform. And yet as I left, staring at the building for the last time, Rachael nearly ran into me.’