Things I Don't Know

by Meredith Badger

  We go down to the kitchen. The bench is scattered with newspapers, coffee cups and croissant crumbs. ‘I’m so glad you were free this arvo,’ says Jo, pouring me a juice. ‘You saved me from that.’ She gestures towards the glass doors at the back of the kitchen which lead through to the garden. Through them I can see Sandy and Tina, crouching in front of some pots of dirt, their hands full of seedlings, their heads almost touching. Sandy looks up, sees me and waves. I wave back.

  We take our juices and a couple of apples up to Jo’s room. Jo has already set up Sandy’s laptop on her desk.

  We work solidly for about an hour and the flyer is looking pretty good. Then Jo says in this casual way, ‘So … how’s the kissing competition going? Anyone won yet?’

  I don’t know what to say. So I say nothing.

  Straight away Jo is onto me. ‘What?’ she says. ‘Some-thing’s happened, hasn’t it? Tell me!’

  This feeling of tiredness comes over me. Like I could sleep for a hundred years. The rug on Jo’s floor suddenly looks so soft and comfy that I lie down on it and groan deeply. It’s so nice to be in here, shutting the door on all the annoying things going on in my life right now.

  Jo comes and sits cross-legged on the rug next to me. ‘Hey, what’s wrong?’ she asks softly. I haven’t known Jo for very long, but it feels kind of natural to talk to her about this stuff. And I have to tell someone.

  I shut my eyes. Somehow it’s easier to talk with my eyes closed. ‘Adam kissed me.’

  I don’t know what I’m expecting — maybe a gasp of shock or laughter — but there’s nothing.

  I open my eyes and Jo is looking at me, puzzled.

  ‘Is that so bad?’ she says. ‘He seems nice. I think you’d be perfect together. Like, the running king and queen.’

  I sigh. Someone should start an Adam Wilcox fan club at school. It seems like there would be a lot of members. ‘Jo,’ I say. ‘Anya likes him.’

  ‘Oh,’ says Jo. ‘Yeah, I forgot.’ She lies down on the rug beside me and falls silent. ‘So what was it like?’ she asks after a while. ‘The kiss, I mean. Did your noses bash?’

  I smile and shake my head. ‘There were no nose problems,’ I say. ‘And the kiss was … well, it was pretty good,’ I admit.

  But, I explain to Jo, there was something about it didn’t feel right somehow. Something that made me pull away. Maybe it was because I’ve only ever thought of Adam as my running buddy. Or maybe it was because I was feeling guilty about Anya. It’s pretty bad to kiss someone your friend likes — even if they have only just decided that.

  ‘You know,’ says Jo, propping herself up on one elbow, ‘there might be another reason why you don’t want to kiss Adam. Maybe you like girls?’

  ‘You mean to kiss?’ I say. It’s something I’ve never thought about before. I mean, until recently I hadn’t really thought about kissing anyone — boy or girl. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘How do you know if you’ve never tried?’ asks Jo, and I can see she has a point. Jo shrugs. ‘You can try on me, if you want. Just as an experiment.’

  If I’d given myself a chance to think about it, I probably wouldn’t have done it. But I don’t think at all. Don’t think about how I’ve already kissed one friend today and am feeling weird about it. Don’t stop to consider that kissing Jo might make things even worse. Nope. I don’t think at all. I just lean towards Jo until my mouth is touching hers.

  Kissing Adam was different to kissing a mirror, and kissing Jo is different again. She smells like honeysuckle bodyspray — and her mouth is softer. I also get the feeling she’s had more practice at this than Adam. There’s another difference too — a really big one. This time I don’t want the kiss to end. I want to stay exactly where I am, forever. I start to get lost in that kiss with Jo.

  It’s Jo who pulls away. She sits up cross-legged and looks at me, one eyebrow raised. ‘Uh … Leni?’ she says. ‘Was that an experiment kiss, or a real kiss?’

  She doesn’t look mad or anything, but instantly all the nice, warm feelings disappear from my body and all I know is that I have to act normal, like nothing has happened.

  ‘An experiment!’ I say quickly. ‘I mean, it was nice and all, but yeah — definitely an experiment.’

  ‘Well, of course it was nice,’ smiles Jo. ‘I told you I was an expert, didn’t I?’

  I laugh too, hoping she can’t tell that I’m feeling more confused than ever.

  ‘So, what do you think — boys or girls?’ asks Jo matter-of-factly.

  ‘Oh, um …’ I stall. ‘Actually, I think the mirror wins hands-down.’ I grin at Jo. But I don’t know if I’m pulling this off. The room feels super hot, like someone’s suddenly cranked up the heating. I pull out my phone and check the time. ‘Oh, god. I’ve got to go.’

  ‘Really?’ Jo looks surprised. ‘But we’ve still got heaps to do on this.’

  ‘I know! I’m really sorry,’ I say as I scramble to my feet. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow at school, okay?’

  A crinkle forms on Jo’s forehead. ‘We’re okay, aren’t we, Leni?’

  ‘Yeah, of course!’ I say brightly. ‘It’s just — you know. Nana stuff.’ I roll my eyes dramatically.

  ‘Sure,’ says Jo. She doesn’t say anything else but I know she must be wondering what’s going on with me. To be honest, I’m wondering the same thing myself.

  Once I’m finally outside I jump on my bike and cycle home at a speed that must break all previously held land-speed records. When I’m safely in my bedroom I turn off my phone and lie on my bed. And that’s where I stay for the rest of the day. Mum tries to coax me out but I tell her I don’t feel well, which is basically true. I don’t think I’ve ever felt sicker. I’m not even tempted to come out when the house fills with the smell of roast chicken at dinner time. Mum leaves a plate outside my door — but I can’t eat it.

  My stomach might be empty but my head is full to bursting. Kissing Adam was confusing enough — but kissing Jo has thrown me into a spin. Because the thing is, I can’t stop thinking about it — about how nice it was. And I’m not sure how that makes me feel.

  I seriously consider pulling a sickie the next morning. The idea of avoiding everyone — Jo, Adam, Anya — and hanging out at home with Mum sounds good. Sometimes when I’m sick Mum takes the day off and we spend the day on the couch together, reading or watching soppy movies.

  But of course Nana’s here, so Mum would probably leave me in her care rather than taking the day off herself. That gets me up pretty quickly. Besides, I’m getting pretty bored with staying in my room.

  On the ride to school I try to convince myself that it might not be so bad. Jo and Adam aren’t in my class, which makes them easier to avoid. And maybe everything will be okay with Anya too. Maybe I can make something up about Adam — pretend that I found out he’s got a girlfriend so there’s no point asking him if he likes Anya or not. Yeah, it’s lying. But isn’t that better than having her go nuts when she hears what really happened?

  Anya is waiting for me by the front gate, her arms crossed, her expression dark.

  ‘Oh, so you’re alive then?’ she says. ‘I figured you must be dead — or at least in hospital. I mean, why else would you not be answering your phone?’

  I start telling her that I’ve been sick and I had my phone off — but she’s not really listening. Instead, she’s looking at me with her eyebrows raised. My heart spins and flips. Does she know something? About Adam? About Jo? Then I see something on her blazer. A badge — small and round and with a pair of puckering lips on it.

  ‘You kissed someone?’ I say.

  ‘Yep!’ says Anya, and her face is transformed as a radiant smile bursts out. ‘I sure did.’

  ‘Not … Adam?’ I mean, it seems pretty unlikely, but a lot of other unlikely things happened yesterday. Anya flaps one hand dismissively. ‘Nah,’ she says. ‘I’ve gone off him. I mean, I still think he’s good-looking. But he’s kind of annoyingly good-looking, don’t you think? And anyway, som
ething happened to change my mind.’ I think I can figure out what this is.

  ‘You kissed someone else?’ I say.

  ‘Exactly!’ says Anya, the smile growing broader still. ‘That’s why I was calling you yesterday — to tell you not to bother asking him whether he likes me or not.’ She looks at me intently. ‘You didn’t ask him, did you?’

  ‘No!’ I say, kind of loudly. ‘Lucky, huh?’ I never thought lying would feel so great. ‘So who did you kiss then?’

  ‘I’m not telling yet,’ says Anya, mysteriously. ‘Wait until Soph’s here. I’ll tell you both at the same time.’ By the time Soph’s bus arrives ten minutes later I’m actually genuinely curious, especially as Anya seems so excited. She refuses to give me even a tiny hint, though, so as soon as we see Soph we drag her off to a quiet spot. Anya positions herself in front of us, eyes shining.

  ‘Come on, Anya,’ I say. ‘Who was it?’

  Anya shakes her head. ‘You have to guess.’

  So Soph and I list every guy we can think of in the entire school but Anya ‘nopes’ them all.

  ‘It was Ethan!’ she announces triumphantly when we run out of guesses.

  ‘Ethan Dale?’ Soph and I speak together, just like we did last time.

  Soph narrows her eyes suspiciously. ‘Not another ambush kiss?’ she says.

  ‘No!’ says Anya. ‘This time it was all Ethan’s idea.’ It doesn’t take much prodding to get her to tell us all the details. He was at her house again with his mum on Sunday morning. Anya had decided to stay out of his way and so she was really surprised when he came into her room. ‘He said that he’d been thinking about me all week,’ she tells us, ‘and that he wanted to try kissing again.’ She looks at us and grins. ‘He is a really good kisser.’

  This is pretty hard to believe, but I’m not going to say anything. To my relief Soph doesn’t either.

  Then Anya looks at us both, her head to one side. ‘So, does that count?’ she asks. ‘Have I won the competition?’

  Soph and I look at each other. ‘What do you think?’ says Soph.

  Of course, I’m not about to let on that by Sunday evening I’d technically earned myself two kissing badges, so I’d probably scored much higher on the kiss-o-meter. Instead I nod at Soph. ‘Yep,’ I say.

  Soph turns back to Anya. ‘Congratulations,’ she says. ‘You’ve just won the stupidest competition ever.’

  But Anya doesn’t seem to hear anything beyond ‘congratulations’ and she leaps to her feet, punching the air and screaming, ‘I won! I won!’

  A group of senior students walking nearby turn to stare at us. It’s embarrassing, but I can cope. It’s good that Anya’s happy. Good that she won — or thinks she did at least. It’s especially good that I no longer need to figure out how to tell her about the Adam situation.

  Of course, this hasn’t fixed everything. There’s still the stuff with Adam and Jo. But I go home that afternoon feeling pretty good. I’m thinking that because the Anya stuff worked itself out maybe everything else will too.

  I’m wrong about this. Totally wrong.

  On Tuesday afternoon it’s aths training and of course Adam is there. I take as long as possible to change into my running stuff — so long that Miss Kearns is already talking to the group when I arrive on the oval. She frowns at me, but keeps going with her talk. I can feel Adam looking at me but I keep my eyes glued to Miss Kearns. And when Miss Kearns sets us off doing warm-up laps I attach myself to one of the other girls in the group. She looks at me in surprise — and pretty suspiciously too. I never usually hang out with her.

  I’ve done one lap when a hand wraps around my wrist. I stumble and stop. It’s Adam. ‘Why are you avoiding me, Leni?’ he says. He sounds pissed off.

  I glance around, hoping Miss Kearns will notice that we’ve stopped and yell at us to stop wasting time. But she’s busy setting up hurdles on the other side of the track and doesn’t notice.

  ‘Can we talk about this later?’ I mutter. ‘We’re supposed to be warming up. Anyway, I thought you were waiting for me to call you.’

  Adam shakes his head. ‘I’ve changed my mind. I want an answer now. Do you want to go out with me or not?’

  Some other students jog past us. I don’t look at them, but I’m sure they’re staring at us. My hands start to feel sweaty. And suddenly I’m cross too. Cross about being put on the spot like this in the middle of training. Cross about being hassled.

  ‘You want an answer?’ I fire at him. ‘Well, then no, Adam. No, I don’t want to go out with you. I want everything to go back to normal. Primary-school normal. I want us to be running friends and only running friends. And I want you to quit calling me Leni and start calling me Beest again.’

  For a moment, Adam just stands there, looking totally shocked. Frankly, I’m a little shocked too. Then Adam lets go of my wrist and his shoulders start to deflate, like a football that’s been kicked around too much.

  ‘Oh,’ he says. ‘Right.’

  I feel bad then, because I know I sounded really mean and cranky just then. I’ve never snapped at Adam like that — not even after that whole sand-in-the-shoe incident. And I want to explain that I’m so totally mixed up about everything right now. But of course it’s now that Miss Kearns finally spots us. ‘Why have you two stopped?’ She’s way across the other side of the oval but when she yells, it’s like she’s right there.

  ‘It’s less than a week before the carnival,’ she adds as she jogs over. ‘You should be training as hard as you can, not slacking off.’ She stops beside me, her steel-blue eyes glinting. ‘What’s the story, Leni?’ she says. ‘You seem very unfocused today.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I mutter, poking at the track with my foot.

  ‘Well, prove it,’ says Miss Kearns. ‘I want an extra warm-up lap from both of you. NOW!’

  I spring forward to prove to Miss Kearns that I am focused, but I lose my balance and fall over. There’s a puddle on the track — a muddy one — and, of course, this is what I end up sitting in. I can hear the others laughing at me.

  Once, not that long ago, Adam would’ve laughed too. But he also would’ve stuck out a hand and hauled me up. This time he just turns and silently jogs off, leaving me sitting there with a wet behind.

  I get myself up. And then, instead of continuing to do my warm-up lap, I turn and walk off towards the change rooms. Miss Kearns yells her head off at me to come back, but I don’t. I go and get changed and then ride home.

  When I get inside I dump my bag in my room and go into the kitchen. Mum’s there.

  ‘Training was cancelled,’ I say before Mum can ask why I’m home so early. I know it’s bad to lie to my mum, but then, she lied to Nana the other day about me having to go to Anya’s place. Mum looks at me in a puzzled kind of way, but doesn’t question it.

  ‘Well, can you set the table then, please?’ she says. ‘Dinner won’t be long.’

  Dad is late home that evening. ‘It’s so inconsiderate!’ Nana keeps saying. ‘When we’re all waiting for him so we can eat our tea.’ Personally, I’m not really hungry, and Nana hardly ever eats anything anyway so I can’t see what the problem is. But Nana keeps going on about it until finally, Mum says, ‘Well, maybe we should start without him. I’m sure he won’t mind.’

  We’ve all just sat down when Dad bursts in, even more floury than usual. In one hand he’s carrying a pie. There is still heat rising off it. ‘Sorry, everyone,’ he says. ‘I thought up a new flavour combination and I had to try it. Cherry and chocolate chip!’ He puts it down on the table.

  The smell of warm chocolate makes me feel a little queasy. There’s something else in his hand too — a slightly scrunched-up piece of paper. Dad smooths it out and places it on the table next to the pie. ‘Look what someone put up in the shop today!’ he says, handing it to me.

  It’s the flyer for the inter-school athletics carnival.

  But it looks different to the last time I saw it. Better. Now there are little running figures ar
ound the edge of the page and the whole thing has been rearranged so it’s much easier to read. Jo must’ve been working on it without me. At the bottom, in small type, is written: Flyer designed by Leni Collins and Jo Larson.

  I feel kind of bad then — because of the way I ran off the other day. And I realise I’m really missing Jo, even though it’s only been two days since I last saw her.

  Marcus grabs it out of my hand. ‘Not bad,’ he says, sounding kind of surprised. For him this is pretty big praise. He passes it on to Mum.

  ‘It looks great, honey!’ says Mum, leaning over the table and squeezing my shoulder. ‘I can’t wait to see you run again too!’ Then she places the flyer on Nana’s plate.

  Nana stares down at it, her forehead creasing. ‘What’s it all about?’ she asks.

  ‘There’s a big athletics carnival at the school this weekend,’ Mum explains. ‘Leni helped make the flyer for it, and she’s going to be competing too. We’re all going to see her. Leni’s a great runner. Her teacher actually called me just before, telling me how much potential she has.’

  My heart bumps then and I look guiltily at Mum. If Miss Kearns really called then Mum will know I lied to her about training being cancelled. Mum’s expression doesn’t give anything away. ‘She said that Leni could make a career out of running, if she stays focused.’

  Nana purses her lips. ‘How ridiculous,’ she says. ‘That teacher has no right to get Leni’s hopes up like that. Girls shouldn’t take themselves seriously with sport. And besides, what kind of a career is that? Leni needs to do something that uses her brain.’

  ‘Just wait till you see her, Angela,’ says Dad, trying, as always, to smooth things over. ‘She’s a real star.’

  Nana serves herself some salad. ‘I don’t think I’ll come, thanks all the same,’ she says firmly.

  Something strange happens to me then. It’s like my vision goes a bit fuzzy or something, and my heart starts beating fast — painfully fast. My hands curl up into fists. I stand up and there’s a thunk as my chair topples over behind me. When my voice comes out of my mouth it doesn’t even sound like mine. It’s all high and squeaky and ridiculous.