Friendship on Fire (30 page)

Cryptic? Let me start from the beginning.

I still wasn't feeling the best, I didn't have a proper costume and I resented the fact that Nate couldn't come with me. On the other hand, it was a school-based function and I knew any absence would be noticed and I'd probably be reprimanded. After all, Mr Head had threatened to take my badge away if I made another mistake.

In the end, I decided I didn't care what I looked like. We would all look like tools anyway, with our wreaths of leaves and oversized ropes holding our stained white sheets in a dignified manner on our bodies. So I went, and I shouldn't have.

James' parents own a flash house about twenty minutes drive from my home. Sarah picked me up (she has her licence, lucky cow) and we arrived to see James strumming a harp with the sheet and Roman sandals thing, playing the part of Caesar perfectly.

Heaps of year tens, elevens and twelve's were there, drunk as skunks, when we weren't ‘allowed' alcohol on the premises. Come on, Mr Head, these are high school students. They will take alcohol any place they can get it to and if you're not going to bother coming to the party to check up on us, then that's your problem.

Rach had decided she didn't want to come to the party. She said she'd made other plans that she couldn't get out of, but I had to tell her all about it at school on Monday. It wasn't like her to miss a party. Not with me.

Nothing bad on James, but I was bored. Sarah and I were mucking around a bit, laughing and me trying to dance, but I wasn't feeling the spark that night. Roman was there but was kind of ignoring me. It wasn't like I hated him. I wasn't exactly seeking him out to talk to, but he stayed out of my way the whole night, which made me sad. Sarah is a sensible girl. She reckoned I should try to talk to him and work it out. I didn't know what to say that I hadn't already said. And he had made himself quite clear about how he felt. What if it made it worse?

Sarah was right. I went to find Roman and tell him I wanted to move forward and sort this out, once and for all. I saw him talking to a group of his friends and didn't want to interrupt them, so I snuck up to him, gently grabbed his elbow and when he turned to me, I whispered in his ear, ‘Can I talk to you for a sec?'

He nodded and told his friends he'd be right back. I turned to go, but Roman accidentally put his lead foot down on the bottom of my sheet and I, horrified, felt the air run down my back as my loosely fitted toga ripped from my shoulder to my calf. Keep in mind how many people were at this party, all of whom had now turned their attention to the back section of yours truly to see, in all my glory, a skin-coloured strapless bra and matching lace underwear.

I clutched my backside only to touch lace and skin and flung my head around to find out how many people had witnessed my wardrobe malfunction. Roman was staring at the area where my back used to be, and his friends were open-mouthed mimics.

Quickly, Sarah was at my side, picking up my sheet and trying to reattach it to my shoulder and the rope around my middle. My face burned hot under my curly hair. As the shock wore off the partygoers started to point and laugh at me. How embarrassing. My tummy squirms simply thinking of the horrible memory. Does Roman tell me it's all right and walk me out of the house so we can talk? No! He stares idiotically at my body.

His friends started talking and winking at me, so I turned to Sarah and, with teary eyes, begged her to drive me home. I couldn't stand being there any longer. I knew the party was going to be a disaster from the beginning. But it got worse.

On Monday morning, I got funny looks from everyone, which I expected. Rach had heard before I could tell her anything and teased me, but I didn't talk to Roman or anyone close to me. Hell, I didn't even tell Nate because I knew he'd laugh at me.

At recess I walked into the common room with my yoghurt and apple and sat down on one of the couches to veg out in the sun. Something was itching my lower back, so I stuck my hand behind me to scratch it. What was itching me was a conversational note stuffed down the back of the couch in handwriting that looked familiar. I didn't feel comfortable reading it. It wasn't my business. I was going to shove it back and forget about it when I saw my name written in pink pen. Curiosity surged within me. Who was writing about me? Looking over my shoulder to make sure I was clear, I opened the letter and started at the top. As I read, my throat went tight and my muscles clenched with anxiety. I couldn't believe someone would be saying this stuff about me. I recognised the pink handwriting as Skye's, as it was rounded and bubbly, but the other one I didn't. Maybe it was Bree? Cadence? It had to be one of the Brigade.

Stuffing it into my dress pocket, I took the letter home so it would be safe from prying eyes and I could destroy it in private. Not before reading it one last time. And this is where I am now; having just destroyed the letter, but the gist of it is as follows: they were saying that I was an attention seeking tart who had purposely not strapped my ‘sheet' on properly (because I apparently have so much experience wearing a sheet) and managed to time it falling down so perfectly that the hottest guys in the school would see my pathetic body all at once, just to keep the attention on myself. They said that it wasn't enough for me to be manipulating Nate, but I was a tease to Roman, too. In their eyes, Roman looked at me with disgust, like I was fat and not classy, and that the other boys didn't bat an eyelid because they knew other girls at the party were much hotter than me. They also had to mention that my bra and undies set made my butt look massive.

Who else had seen this nasty letter? I was scared to know. It hurt me more than words can say and I haven't told anyone about it. I don't think I'll confront Skye about it either. She would be excited that I'd read it so she could rub it in more than ever. As you can imagine, I left school as soon as I could and cancelled my driving lesson. I couldn't face the world. I can't face the world.

March — Tues night after work shift (which by the way, sucked the big one). 

Dear Diary, 

Honestly, I'm so embarrassed about a couple of things that I don't think I can tell or discuss it with anyone.

Especially the toga party and what happened the first Monday after it. I know Mondays are the day where everyone learns what happened to everyone else on the weekend. It's the gossip day, the rumours day, the ‘omg I can't believe they did that' day. Little did I realise that I would be the centre of one of those for this week.

For the next few days, or until the end of the term, I think I'll keep my head low. Then hopefully everyone will forget what happened and my true friends will come forward. Sarah and Linda have been so awesome and tell me to ignore everyone else. Rach hasn't spoken to me about it seriously and I'm sure she's heard the talk around school. Surely she'd know how upset I'd be. I miss my friendship and comradeship with her. She too has gone weird on me since I started dating Nate.

Since when is it a crime to get a boyfriend?

The biggest question in my head now is; where does the flashing incident leave me with my friendship with Roman? How do we get over this new awkward stage between us? What if the pink and orange writers were right and Roman did look at me with disgust? It seemed unlikely, considering Roman's high opinion of me as a friend, but had that gone down in the last two months due to my juggling of a boyfriend, family and friends? There are no easy answers and I don't know what to do. Sorry it's been such a miserable entry. I'll try to be more positive next time.

Dais xx (confused)

I had one week before wrinkles would creep on to my face, unwelcome and unsightly.

One week before my boobs would start to head south, already past my prime.

One week before I legally became an adult and could vote and do their boring stuff.

On the bright side, I had only one week to wait before I could legally drink. Not that I drank much in the first place.

I had one more week as a red head. Some time over the next few days I would dye my hair back to honey blonde, even if it turned blue in the process. I was tired of being a green ranga. It no longer startled me every time I looked in the mirror, but I'd done my dash. And I'd promised Mr Head I would reverse my sin and go back to ‘natural'. I could always go brown? Chocolate brown? Hmm.

I know I'm being a drama queen, but I'd honestly forgotten my birthday existed, let alone drawing closer and closer, kind of like the inevitability of death. I wasn't prepared. I didn't want a party but I wasn't prepared for one if I did decide to have one. What if everyone else forgot my birthday? I guess that could be a good and bad thing. No ‘you are now old' taunts, but also no presents. I weighed it up in my mind.