The Betrayal of Bindy Mackenzie (5 page)

The Dream Diary of Bindy Mackenzie
Tuesday, 5.20 am

I dreamed that I was lying on my stomach, somewhere dark and warm. My eyes would not quite open.
This is good,
I thought,
I deserve this rest.
I smiled to myself, and pressed into the warmth. Flower petals brushed against my neck. It was a tropical sauna.

But something heavy was resting on my back. What was it? Some kind of a backpack? My computer? I shifted, trying to tip the weight, but it only pressed harder and heavier.

Then a voice moved against my ears. It was not a backpack but a person on my back!

‘It's flying fingers Mackenzie,' said the voice, ‘woho, we got lucky, we got flying fingers Mackenzie, it's ok, Mackenzie, I got lucky, I got flying fingers too—'

The flower petals brushed more quickly—they were sticky, they were
sticking
to my neck. They were not flower petals, they were fingers! What's more, they were lumpy and were clinging to me!

This was not a sauna but a swamp! I was a cane toad! There was a
cane toad on my back.

It was so shocking that I had to wake at once.

A Memo from Ernst von Schmerz

 

Yo Bind,
Looked for you in the library, looked for you in the tuckshop, looked for you on the lawn. Nevertheless: whassssup? Why have we not crossed paths to date this year, my dirty ho? More than a week has passed.
Have we no single class together?
Howzat possible?
Perchance you is INVISIBLE this year?!?!
How was your summer holiday, anyho?

Me? Oh, thanks for asking. Went to a Science camp, Penrith way.
Sweet as.

To the point. Mrs Lib/dale wants to see us. She fastened her evil eye on me and said, ‘I need you and Bindy.'
Find Bindy,
she said,
and bring her to me. The mission is yours,
she implied,
should you choose to accept it.

And guess what, Bind, I accept.

So, where's YO ass, girlfriend?!!

No doubt she wants to talk to us about someone new for the debating team, given the loss of our second speaker to the vortex of international exchange. Think on ideas for recruitment, woncha, and track me down, hokay?

Just had a thoughtflash and philosophised. Here it
is,
for your infotainment:

The Philosophical Musings of Ernst von Schmerz
Where is Bindy?
Seems that I am alone this year
Like a tear that falls from a candlestick
(No, Ernst! That's wax, I fear, not a tear)
(oh fear is the tangling horsewhip)
Can this be right?
It's a gangsta night so
it can't be right:
this darkness.

The Philosophical Musings of Bindy Mackenzie
1.46
pm
At last I am at FAD! Here I am at FAD! And I shall keep
nothing
to myself!

I am the first to arrive. Here I sit in the storage room at the back of the gymnasium. I have unstacked the chairs and they speak to me:
speak the truth, Bindy! Do not fail!

Also the chairs murmur:
why has Bindy unstacked us?

The chairs are right.

I will restack them. Why should I help the Venomous Seven to their seats?

No. It is too late. Here come Emily and Astrid.
Let it begin.

Bindy Mackenzie
24 Clipping Drive, Kellyville, NSW 2155

The Director
Office of the Board of Studies, NSW

Dear Sir (or Madam),

I am a student at Ashbury High, a mediocre school in Sydney's windswept Hills District, and I wrote to you last week.

I am surprised that you have not replied. Did you receive my letter? Did you read the enclosed Report?

I suppose you may be busy. You are, after all, responsible for the education and future of this state. (I had assumed that my own education and future would therefore be relevant to you. But perhaps I have mistook.)

Now, when I sent my Report last week, I thought that it spoke for itself. I thought there was no need for me to direct you to the obvious. But perchance on this topic too my thoughts were amiss? For instance, when you read the Report did you happen to notice that:

Furthermore,
please note that the course is entitled
Friendship and Development.
Yet, our friendships have already been formed and set in stone. And
my
development is quite complete, thank you very much. I can't speak for the others on that issue, but as far as
sex
is concerned, I believe they have developed off the charts.

I am enclosing a Report of the second session, which took place today. I draw your attention to the fact that:

1. I have no time to take a kickboxing class.

And I remain:

Bindy Mackenzie

Report on ‘Friendship and Development' (FAD) prepared for the Office of the Board of Studies, NSW

by Bindy Mackenzie

Session 2
The session took place, once again, in the storage room at the back of the gymnasium.

I arrived first and sat in the circle of chairs; the others arrived in a flood, viz.:

When Finnegan touched Elizabeth's clothing in this way, he said something solemn in a low voice. Elizabeth nodded like a mystic.

Just as this group poured through the concertina wall, the tiny teacher emerged from the fire escape.

She rushed towards the others, as a stream might rush to join a river.

They blended together and chatted excitedly like rapids.

I stayed in my chair like a rock.

It turned out that the excitement was about the summer storm brewing outside. The day had turned heavy with darkness. It would
pour rain
any moment, they all agreed (in some amazement).

There would be thunder!

There might be lightning!

‘And these are things you've never experienced before?' I queried (cuttingly).

But Elizabeth was speaking: ‘There's a rainbow out there.' She was pointing through the window to a faint curve of pink amongst the grey. A charm bracelet jangled faintly on her wrist.

‘What does it mean?' Emily said, in low, panicked voice. ‘What does it mean if a rainbow comes before rain?'

‘You know what those clouds remind me of?' said Astrid, and Emily dropped her wide-eyed look at once. She took a Toblerone out of her pocket and peeled back the foil, while Astrid declared: ‘Those clouds remind me of a knee.'

Every head tilted in surprise. Emily, biting off a pyramid of chocolate, said, ‘Astrid, what the
FLAX?
'

‘Okay, remember when we went on that excursion to Hill End in Year 8? And we had to like goldpan in the creek?' Astrid began. ‘And so, Sergio was kind of like running through the water, cause he wanted to get to the best gold, like acting like he knew where it was? And the rocks were like
so
slippery. So he goes flying and lands on his knee on these rocks and there was like
blood
just like
bleeding
everywhere, and then later? His knee was so bruised. It was like
FOXGLOVE
blue and
FOXGLOVE
yellow and even
FOXGLOVE
purple.
'

‘What a great way of describing a stormy sky,' said Try, serenely. ‘Like a bruised knee.'

‘You remember that?' Sergio stared at Astrid. ‘That was three years ago.'

‘I forgot we even went to Hill End,' said Toby, and then began a nonsensical chant about goldpanning in Hill End.

‘And yet your lyrics suggest that you remember it well,' I said to him (acerbically). But Astrid and Sergio were dancing in time to Toby's chant and his focus was not on me, it was on them.

‘We were so like trashed that day?' Astrid said, nostalgically, breaking away from the dance. ‘And I always remember everything that happens when I'm trashed. It's kind of like a thing about me, like a reversal? Because I remember
FOXGLOVE
nothing from when I'm not trashed.'

I took a deep breath. ‘You would have us believe,' I began (scornfully), ‘that inebriation enhances recollection?!'

Astrid glanced at me with an expression I have seen her use in Maths when she does not comprehend what her textbook is saying, and, further, holds the textbook responsible.

Sergio had placed his foot up on the chair beside mine and was rolling up his trouser leg to reveal his knee. Everyone moved in closer. The knee was white, knobbly, and hair-sprouting.

‘Did you imagine the bruise from Hill End would still
be
there?' I laughed (bitingly).

But Sergio was pointing to a fine white line which he said was his ‘wicked-ass' scar from that very fall, on the rocks, in Hill End.

There was the slightest pause.

I think we were all thinking the same thing: if that fine line on his knee was a ‘wicked-ass' scar, what was the scar on his face? Sergio has a burn scar, you see, which begins just below his right eye, dips down towards his mouth, and
extends out to his ear. It takes the form of raised white bumps with tangled red threads between them.

‘Maybe you should have got stitches?' suggested Try, touching the small scar on Sergio's knee.

‘It's not too late,' suggested Toby. ‘Alls I needs a needle and a thread.'

And they all stepped back to talk about the storm once again.

‘Well!' said Try, in a teacherly voice and ‘
finally
' I thought to myself as we sat down in our circle.

It seemed that Try had changed. Her hair, with all its fine plaits, was twirled into a bun at the base of her neck this week. She was wearing more straightforward jeans and a shirt that covered her bellybutton ring. Instead of a handbag: a blue wicker basket. Even her
accent
seemed stronger.

She held both hands flat in the air and said, ‘Okay, before we get started, I just want to say I have a bunch of ideas for how this course should run.' She placed her basket on her lap.

‘And,' she said, ‘I want
our
group to have
more
fun, and be even
closer,
and just
way
better than all the other FAD groups, ok?'

Obligingly, the group responded by embracing the discourse of the television franchise,
Survivor.
That is, they talked about tribal names, immunity challenges, and voting people out of the storage room.

Try waited patiently and then she continued.

‘As well as these Wednesday afternoons—' she said, ‘—and I've got a surprise about
those
which I'll save for now—I want us to have nights out, camping trips, weekends away, ski trips, pyjama parties, stances, you name it!'

She was taking neat piles of paper from her basket as she talked, and was setting them out on her knees.

The papers, I could see, all began in large bold print:
Dear Parents.

Things had gone much too far.

‘Well, look,' I said. ‘Are we really going to have time for extracurricular activities this year? I mean, maybe we should just limit ourselves to these Wednesdays? And actually, we could think about meeting every
second
Wednesday? We could use the alternate weeks as study periods.' I had a flash of inspiration. ‘That way, we
would
be the best FAD group because we'd have the academic advantage. We'd get the best marks in the year!'

I noticed a strange quiver on that final word, which is why it became ‘year!' I had meant simply to say ‘year'.

After my speech, there was a moment's silence and then there was a burst of applause.

Or so it seemed, for a moment, to me.

Actually, the rain had begun outside.

‘That's just rain,' explained Astrid.

There was a chuckle from Briony, and we glanced at her in surprise. ‘How about that!' our glances seemed to say. ‘Briony's in the room!'

Briony folded her arms, so we looked away and forgot her again.

‘Well,' said Try, biting her lip and frowning down at the papers on her knees. ‘Well, I guess you might be right, Bindy, about . . .'

‘Let's see,' Emily interrupted, and almost fell off her chair as she reached towards the papers. Try gave me an apologetic shrug, and began to pass the notes around. ‘These are permission slips,' she said, ‘relating to the—extracurricular activities I'd like us to—but, anyhow, let's see what your
parents think before we take that any further! And for
today,
let's start the Buddy Plan!'

The
Buddy Plan.

‘The Buddy Plan?' I said. ‘Is this a recruitment session for McDonald's employees?'

‘No,' said Astrid. ‘I doubt it.'

‘Remember,' said Try, ‘how I said that school—that being a
teenager
—is a bit like drowning? So your FAD group is your life raft? Well, when you're out at sea, I think you need a buddy. A person whose special job it is to keep an eye on you—and it's your job to keep an eye on—'

‘I am not, ‘I announced, ‘a teenager.'

‘Excuse me?' said Try.

‘You said that being a teenager is like drowning,' I explained. ‘But I want to make it clear that
I'm
not drowning because I, personally, am not, and never have been, a teenager.'

Once again, everyone turned to me in silence.

‘How old are you?' Finnegan asked, eventually.

‘That's not the point,' I said. ‘The point is that being a teenager is just a cliché. Teenagerdom is a social construct with all these related
teen problems,
which are just not a part of my life! Problems like
sex
and
drugs
and
eating disorders
and
broken families
and
divorced parents
and
vandalism
and
glandular fever.
'

‘Sex is a problem?' Sergio looked surprised.

‘What I'm
talking
about—' I tried.

‘I thought we were talking about the Buddy Plan.' Elizabeth leaned over to retie her running shoes.

‘We were,' Emily agreed. ‘Bindy, why don't you wait until you get your buddy and then you and your buddy can really
FOXGLOVE
get
in
to the topic of your social construction site
or whatever it is you're talking about, okay? And let Try get on with being—with her renovation?'

I stared, confused, and then laughed aloud. ‘I assume you mean her innovation?' I said (witheringly).

‘She was making a connection with the construction site metaphor, 'Sergio explained. ‘Nice, Em.'

Try was talking over him: ‘Bindy, you're saying some interesting things here, and I'd love to discuss them. Please know that you—or, for that matter,
any
of you—can come and see me in my office any time you like. Why not swing by for a chat about these issues of yours, Bindy? And in the meantime, is it okay if we talk about the Buddy Plan today?'