Faking Sweet (13 page)

These were the words. The words I needed to see.

After the debate with me she said she'd never debate again.

So she only debated that once????

Yeah that was against me. Y r u asking me this?

U said she was debating champion.
My thumb pressed hard on the keys.

That's what she told me. But she was lying. I'll send u an email to explain. Don't worry. Xoxoxoxox

‘How's Captain Calypso?' asked Mum.

‘Okay,' I mumbled.

‘Don't tell me you've had a lovers' tiff?'

‘Stop saying that stuff, Mum,' I snarled.

‘Well, sorry. It's just that you don't seem to breathe without asking Calypso's permission.'

‘Mum!' She was really bugging me so I took the best line of attack and stood in front of the TV. ‘I thought you were happy I had a friend. It's not my fault the only way we can talk is by phone. I didn't ask to come to Sydney.'

For once Mum was actually looking at me and not craning her neck to see the screen, which was what she usually did when I adopted this stance. ‘I just think it would be nice if you tried to make some friends in Sydney. What happened to that girl you had detention with?' she said.

‘Mum, that girl is so not my friend. You have no idea what she's like. Anyway,' I snapped, ‘I'm only here for another fifty-seven days.' I threw my bag over my shoulder. ‘And counting!' I yelled behind me.

I stormed down the hall and slammed my bedroom door. The pictures rattled on the wall. That was the best thing about rented houses; you didn't care if the ugly prints fell and smashed on the floor. You could just go out and buy another ugly one, and no one would know the difference.

Daydream Island – yee haa! I jumped on the bed singing, ‘We're going to Daydream Island,' to the tune of Ben Lee. ‘And that's the way I like it. Just me and my best friend (plus the boring grandparents),' I sang quickly. ‘And that's the way I like it.' Higher and higher I bounced, till I could almost touch the ceiling with my fingertips.

As soon as the home-time bell rang, I was first to the locker room. Down the corridors, across the quadrangle, out the gate and down the road, I made sure I was no more than eight steps behind Jess. Five steps was a bit too close, and at ten steps I risked losing her. Which I was not about to do.

Just as Calypso predicted, the ‘it' girls went into the newsagency and read magazines. Every one of them had their bag over their shoulder, open and grinning at me.

‘Oh my God,' squealed Isabelle. ‘That bitch Chantalle from Emerton College has entered herself in the
Dolly
model search.'

It sounded like stampeding buffalo as the ‘its' ran to crowd around Isabelle. The comments came flying.

‘How up yourself can you get?'

‘She's not that pretty.'

‘Acne or what?'

‘Check the fat thighs.'

‘She is so not going to win.'

‘I actually think she's quite ugly.'

‘Yeah.'

‘Me too.'

‘Yeah.'

While the knives were out I slipped a Kit Kat, a packet of Extra and a Caramello Bear out of my pocket and into Jess's bag. It was that easy, and I wasn't breaking the law.

Shoplifting just wasn't me. Too chicken, a goodie goodie, whatever you want to think. But I'd like to think I'm a genius 'cause last night I discovered how I could get around that little problem.

I was in bed (supposedly with the light off) but Calypso kept sending me the funniest texts. Before that we'd been on MSN for ages until Mum came in and said in her irritatingly calm voice, ‘I think you've been talking to Calypso long enough.'

But in and out of our MSN convo and after each text Calypso would add, ‘lollies in the bag tomorrow'.

I was stressing big time. How was I, someone who hadn't even stolen a grape at the fruit shop, going to pull off the newsagency thing?

That's when my genius moment struck – Calypso didn't say I had to
steal
the things. She just said I had to plant them in Jess's bag.

So before school I went to the newsagency and bought a Kit Kat, a packet of Extra and a Caramello Bear. Suddenly this planting thing wasn't scary anymore. In fact it was so easy I did it every afternoon.

Wednesday, I popped in a Crunchie; Thursday, some Fruit Bursts; and Friday, I slipped in a packet of Fantails and Maltesers one second before Jess turned around.

‘Holly?' She smiled. ‘Hello.'

‘Hi,' I said, throwing my arms behind me, doing a bad job of looking innocent.

‘What are you up to?' she grinned.

‘Me? Nothing.'

She didn't say anything back. She just stood there, the stupid grin still plastered all over her face.

‘C'mon,' I heard Saskia mutter through her teeth. ‘Let's go.'

‘Well,' she shrugged. ‘Have a great weekend, Holly. See you Monday in English.'

That afternoon as I emptied my sambo crusts into the kitchen bin something rolled out of my bag and along the floor. I picked up a little glass bottle filled with pinky-brown mixture and read, ‘Shine Free. Liquid Powder Foundation.'

When I walked into English on Monday morning, Jess was waving me over to the chair next to her. I was not imagining it. I swear. She had even reserved the seat with her bag.

‘I saved a seat for you.'

‘It's, um, okay.' I squeezed out a smile. ‘I think I'll sit by the window. I've got a bit of a headache.' I fanned my face with my hands and added, ‘I need some air. After Melbourne, Sydney's so hot; it's totally stuffed my skin.'

Oh my God, did I just say that? I scurried off to another desk and made a big show of opening the window as wide as it would go.

‘Did you …' I turned around and found Jess standing there. ‘Did you get …?'

‘Sit down please, Jess.' Mrs Gideon had arrived. ‘We have a lot to get through this morning. I want to discuss new assignments for Act Two and get started on Act Three. Holly, is there any reason why you have those windows wide open?'

‘It's freezing,' Melissa called. ‘What are you, an Eskimo?'

Everyone started laughing. I closed the window, seeing my disgusting forehead in the reflection of the glass.

‘Now, it's a shorter lesson today because we have chapel,' said Mrs G.

Grunts and groans all around.

‘Assuming you all had another look at Act Two over the weekend,' Gideon said, as she handed out the new assignment sheets. ‘If you have a look there are a few options. You can get as creative as you like, especially with option B: family relationships.'

‘Excuse me, Mrs Gideon.'

‘Yes, Jess.'

‘With the “cousin relationship” assignment where it gives Beatrice and Hero as the example, does it matter if the cousin relationship is actually a boy and a girl?'

‘Not at all,' Gideon replied, ‘as long as there's enough information to make comparisons and contrasts with Hero and Beatrice. Put it on a chart. Give us photos. Girls, I want this particular assignment to be more about you and how your life fits into
Much Ado.
I'm not talking about the plot. I'm talking about all the varying relationships we come across in the play. When we've finished
Much Ado about Nothing
, I want you all to walk away knowing that studying Shakespeare is not old-fashioned and irrelevant. The language may be different, but the plots and characters are not. I think you're starting to get an idea of that.'

As Gideon selected the roles for Act Three, I noticed the girls in the desks in front of me passing a bit of paper. No doubt a note for someone. In primary it used to get me down that the little screwed-up ball of paper that passed through multitudes of sweaty palms would never be for me. So when the girl in front of me dropped a folded piece of paper onto my desk and said, ‘Holly, it's for you', I almost fainted.

Carefully, I opened the delicate corners and read: D
ID YOU GET THE PRESSIE
I
LEFT IN YOUR BAG
? I
HOPE YOU DIDN'T TAKE IT THE WRONG WAY, BUT SINCE YOU JUST MENTIONED YOUR SKIN
I
THOUGHT MAYBE THAT MEANT YOU KNEW IT WAS FROM ME
. S
HINE FREE IS THE BEST
. J
X

My fist closed around the note. Jess Flynn had put that foundation in my bag! I held onto the ball of paper, squeezing it tighter and tighter till it had almost disappeared into the hollow of my palm.

I couldn't look up. I stared at the text in front of me until the words began to blur. Was Jess being mean? Was Jess being nice? But why would someone like Jess Flynn be nice to someone like me? She was probably making fun of me. But if she wanted to do that then she would've handed me the bottle in front of everyone.

Plop. Another note landed on my desk. I pushed the ball of paper underneath my book and opened the new one.

I
WANTED TO DO SOMETHING FOR YOU COZ
I
KNOW YOU'RE THE FAIRY WHO'S PUTTING TREATS IN MY BAG
. I'
VE BEEN GIVING THE CHOCCIES TO MY COUSIN COZ HE'S A CHOCAHOLIC
. I'
VE HAD THE MOST HUMUNGOUS HOLE IN MY TOOTH AND MY DAD HAS TOTALLY BANNED ME EATING ANYTHING SWEET EVER
,
EVER
,
EVER AGAIN
. B
ORING
,
EY
? B
UT THANKS ANYWAY
. J
XX

A fairy? Me? A fairy! I don't think so.

The panic was soaring up through my toes, along my legs, into my guts and out of my mouth. ‘Ahh.' I heard a squeak escape from my tonsils.

How did Jess know it was me dropping the sweets in her bag??

I wanted to throw up; I wanted to scream, to run, to get out of this classroom and never ever return to St Clemmie's.

How? How? Had Jess seen me? Had someone else seen me? I was certain there was no way I could stuff up this time. The plan was foolproof, idiot proof. I buried my face in my hands. But that was it. I was more than a foolish idiot and even more than an idiotic fool. In fact I must've been the dumbest, stupidest, most pathetic specimen on earth.

Gideon's voice was getting closer: ‘“
The devil my master
.” That's how Borachio refers to Don John. “
The devil my master
.”' I looked up to see her at my desk. ‘Do you think Borachio's description is fair, Holly?' She stood there staring down at my book. Next to it lay Jess's note. Quickly, I swiped it under the cover. ‘We're towards the end of Act Three, Holly, page 65, please.'

‘Yes, Miss.'

‘Act Three is important, girls, as the play progresses from a comedy to a potential tragedy. I need you all to pay attention.'

Gideon leaned on the wall, one knee cocked up against my desk. I got the feeling she was going to be parked here for the rest of the class. ‘So is Borachio's description fair, Holly?'

‘Yes,' I mumbled. You didn't have to be Einstein to figure that out. Don John was the baddy and Borachio was his stupid lap dog. Like, duh!

‘I don't like Borachio,' someone called out. ‘If Don John's the devil then Borachio's the devil's helper.'

‘Fair comment,' Gideon said, collecting her knee and making her way to the front of the classroom. The air returned to my lungs. ‘I want us to finish Act Three before next class.'

Gideon glanced at her watch and groaned. She was obviously not a fan of chapel. I didn't like it but I didn't hate it either; it was good for a nap. ‘We don't have time to perform up the front, girls. Just read from your desks. Holly, could you please play Beatrice?'

But today I wanted to be invisible. I wanted to be left alone so I could sit quietly and let the panic consume me.

Jess thought I was her fairy? Her fairy! What was I going to tell Calypso?

The minute the bell rang for chapel Jess was at my desk, chattering like she'd just inhaled a lungful of helium gas. ‘You're not offended I gave the lollies away, are you? I didn't want to. I'm a total sugar addict. That's why I keep getting holes in my teeth.'

I shrugged. I could hardly look up let alone speak to her.

‘You are offended, aren't you? Oh Holly, I'm sorry. It's just that, well … if I ever have to get another filling my dad will seriously kill himself.'

Why wouldn't she get out of my face? Couldn't she see I didn't give a toss about her father, his career and the suicidal tendencies of dentists?

‘It costs so much and my dad said …'

‘It's fine, Jess.' Anything to shut her up. ‘Really, it doesn't matter.'

 

Of course I wasn't going home via the newsagency. No point now. The owners would notice my absence as they counted their takings for the day. I'd probably become their best schoolgirl customer; and for what? My planting practice had gone pear shaped. Jess thought I was a fairy and Calypso would know I was a failure. Whichever way you looked at it, it was lose–lose.

Instead I wandered through the mall. If I was going to Daydream Island then I needed a new bikini. But now that was my new worry: as if I needed another one. Would I still be invited? Maybe stuffing up the planting would be the last straw. Maybe this time Calypso really would give up on me and our friendship and Daydream Island and everything!

But I couldn't bring myself to think like that. I would do whatever it took to still go on that holiday. Anything.

According to Isabelle and Saskia, who obviously considered themselves fashion experts, Lipstix had the best bikinis in Sydney. I overheard them, well eavesdropped really, as they discussed the mix and match system the owner Pixie had created. It was worth investigating, just to check out if their tastes were up their bums like the rest of their personalities.

As my mum would say, ‘credit should be given where credit's due' Lipstix was the most beautiful shop I had ever seen. There wasn't one single skanky thing about it. The walls were papered in pink and orange stripes. Layers of beads, sorted into colours and lengths, were draped across the shelves. And from the ceiling hung gigantic cutouts of Hawaiian girls in grass skirts. Even the air held a hint of frangipani and coconut.

I stood there; my heart pattering in my chest, my jaw gently resting on my knees. The shop was almost too beautiful to enter. Honest. This place was more than a shop; this was a potentially life-changing establishment. This was the mecca of glamour.

Being careful not to touch anything, I walked towards the bikini display.

‘Hello,' a voice said.

‘Hello,' I answered.

‘How are you today?' It was the sales assistant.

‘Good thanks,' I murmured, my fingers brushing across a pair of shiny aqua-blue bottoms.

‘Are you looking for a bikini?'

‘Mmm.'

‘Would you like me to explain the Lipstix mix and match system?'

‘Yes, please.'

‘The top section has our basic separates.' Her voice was soothing. That and the scented air made me feel like I was falling into a trance. ‘You can put together whatever combination you want. The bottom rack is from Pixie's own range.'

‘Mmm.'

‘But the price is based on the most expensive piece.'

She selected a black boob tube with pink flamingos on the front. It was stunning. I'd kill to be able to wear it, but I wouldn't get away with it. Calypso would. I could see us lounging around Daydream Island with all the other girls looking jealous as the guys watched us walk to the edge of the pool.

‘This piece is $88,' she said. ‘If you selected these bottoms to go with it …' Her pink nails flicked along hangers of green and pink lycra. Suddenly out from behind a pair of silver bikini bottoms popped a big, round, white plastic security tag! The assistant's fingers dug around for the price tag, while mine landed over my mouth. Calypso said Lipstix didn't have security tags!

‘These stupid things!' the assistant huffed. ‘They're such a hassle. We've never needed them before. But thanks to those with light fingers we've had to tag every article in the shop. It's very sad.'

Sad? She didn't know just how sad. Calypso's revenge plan had yet again encountered a humungous obstacle. In fact, not simply the revenge plan but the climax. The crescendo. The ‘it ain't over till the fat lady sings' part of Jess Flynn's punishment had just bellyflopped with a pike!

Talk about the good Lord being on my side today. The fact that Lipstix now had security tags meant the entire ‘planting practice stage' had become defunct; which meant Calypso didn't have to know that Jess found out it was me putting stuff in her bag. Yeah!!!!!!!!!!!!!! In fact, I felt like going back to Lipstix and hugging the lady for putting on the security tags. Or better still, finding ‘those with the light fingers' and hugging them for making my life so simple!!!

I wasn't saying the revenge plan was off. I was just steering it in another direction. Towards Scott! It was time to pay out on that two-timing, sleazy (but rather good-looking) ratbag. Things were looking up.

 

‘Bugger. I forgot the napkins,' Mum said at dinner. ‘Why can I never just sit down and stay seated?'

‘I'll get them.' I jumped up, feeling like the perfect daughter. ‘Does anyone want a drink while I'm there?'

‘Well, you're a delight this evening,' Dad called. ‘Grab me another lager, will you?'

I handed Dad his beer, placed the napkins around the table and sat back down. I couldn't stop the smile stretching across my cheeks. It felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders.

Calypso hadn't replied to my email yet, but there was nothing else she could suggest. Nor could she be mad with me 'cause it wasn't my fault Lipstix got the security tags. Hopefully all that was left was a bit of rumour spreading, and my job was done.