She's with the Band, page 7
I got out of bed and opened my window, speaking to the wide, wise expanse of ocean in front of me. ‘I like Seb.’ My words disappeared into the warm night air, and suddenly, scarily, it was true.
The woman’s breasts were perky but soft –about the size of peaches and of similar texture. My eye travelled over and around the dark muddy pink of her nipple, connecting the few tiny moles that spotted the brown skin –tiny towns on a mystery road map. She reclined, comfortable with her curves, eyes blinking slowly as if in a dream . . . And then she sneezed.
We all groaned.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ The life model got back into position as the class shifted and muttered.
‘Her left arm was anywhere but there.’ Emil erased his last few pencil lines meticulously. ‘If I wasn’t staring at a naked woman in the name of art, I’d almost be annoyed.’
‘Lemme know if you want me to explain anything, Emil.’ Michael leaned forward from his easel. ‘It must be a shock to see a real woman’s body.’
‘Actually, your mum’s pretty good with explanations,’ Emil shot back, and everyone giggled.
‘That’s enough, monkeys,’ reprimanded Rocho, as the end-of-class bell broke up the banter. ‘Don’t forget that the deadline is coming up for getting me the details of your work for the end-of-term class exhibition. I need the name of the artist or art movement you’re basing your work on, and details of the work itself. You must be at the exhibition to pass this term. And no, Michael, you can’t have the number of the life model for practise at home.’
‘What are you doing for the assignment?’ Emil asked as we lined up to stack our easels at the back of the room.
‘I haven’t even thought about it,’ I admitted. ‘I have less than zero time at the moment.’
‘Sex, drugs, rock’n’roll?’
‘You said it, mister. Well, the rock’n’roll part anyway.’
‘So, are we attempting the Alien versus Alien 2 debate at lunch?’ His eyes flashed behind the black rims of his glasses. ‘Or is today the day we answer the question: What is The Matrix and why did the sequels suck so badly?’
I hoisted my easel on top of the pile. ‘I can’t. I have something on with Lex.’
‘Oh.’
He looked kinda bummed so I quickly added, ‘It’s really important girl stuff.’ (We were rehashing every conversation I’d had with Seb in the last week and analysing them for indications of his true feelings for me.) ‘Actually Emil . . . can I ask your advice about something?’
‘Sure.’
‘All right,’ I began, making sure everyone else had well and truly left the room. ‘What would you do if . . . um, no wait,’ I exhaled, confused. ‘Say you’re friends with someone, and you really like being friends with them and then, one day, you think maybe . . . maybe you wanna be more than just friends . . .’
‘Okay . . .’
‘Would you tell them?’ I shifted my weight from one foot to the next, suddenly with ants in my pants. ‘And how would you tell them? And what if they don’t feel the same way, does that ruin things? And if it does ruin things . . .’
‘Wait, stop,’ he grinned self-consciously. ‘I think I get it.’
‘So, what do I do?’
He ran his fingers through his hair, almost shyly. ‘You make a move.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes,’ he grinned again. ‘Definitely.’
‘But what if it turns out they don’t like me back?’
‘Mia, you’re . . . you’re smart, and creative and cool and . . . c’mon, you know you’re cute,’ He stopped himself and shook his head, reddening. ‘I know for a fact your friend likes you back.’
‘Really? You know Seb likes me?’ My mouth dropped open in surprise.
‘Seb?’
‘Did Lexie tell you to ask him? She did, didn’t she? I can’t believe it!’
‘No, not Lexie.’ Emil glanced at his watch, anxiously. ‘I gotta go . . . walk Libby. You know how edgy she gets if she doesn’t get a jog in over lunch. I’ll um, see you later.’
‘Oh, okay. Thanks Emil!’ I called after him as he dashed off down the hall. I leant back against the door and let a huge smile wash over me. Make a move. How hard could it be?
7
Soundtrack: ‘Are You The One?’, The Presets
Mood: Wondering just that
Ugly.
Uglier.
Ugliest!
It was 6.50 p.m., and I hated all my clothes, my attempt at hairspray and curlers had transformed me into a cross between low-lying scrub and Krusty the Clown, and the Mega-Lash Mascara had proved considerably more difficult to master than a lifetime of getting-ready movie montages had promised. In fact my montage was less girly excitement and more stress-filled angst. Tonight was the night.
‘Finally!’ Lexie had moaned, hours earlier when I made the decision. ‘You’ve been superweird around him all week and it’s driving me Martin Scorsese!’
‘It’s turning you into a movie director?’ I frowned.
‘Crazy,’ she whispered hoarsely, grasping my shoulders.
‘It’s driving me CRAZY.’
It was a fair enough call –ever since I’d decided it was Seb, not Justin, who was really the one for me, every moment together had seemed charged. When he examined the Rickenbacker for an invisible scratch, I came over all trembly and dropped the guitar on his new floral-embossed ankle boot. That was after I missed my cue for ‘He’s Gonna Change’ twice ’cause I was imagining which moves would look best from his view at the drum kit.
So as I attempted outfit change number four while simultaneously trying to tame my hair into something other than drag queen chic it was pretty much the worst possible time for Dad to emerge from his studio, blinking and covered in specks of red paint, to ‘check in’ with me.
‘Make-up?’ He picked up the mascara as though it was an alien test tube. ‘I don’t know if you’re old enough to be wearing this, honey.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Dad, girls at school have nose jobs. Get with it.’
‘Excuse me?’ Uh-oh. He obviously wasn’t in the mood to be told to get with anything –especially ‘it’.
‘I’m sorry, Daddy,’ I whimpered. ‘Seb and Lex will be here any minute, and I look like I was raised by wolves.’
‘But honey, you agreed to come out with me tonight.’
I stopped fluffing my hair in shock. ‘What? Where?’
His eyebrows bunched in confusion. ‘To the thing at the art gallery. I asked you weeks ago.’
Weeks ago. Weeks ago I hadn’t planned a highly complex series of events that would culminate in Seb and I sharing my first kiss ever and probably being totally in love for the rest of our lives. Weeks ago I had no use for Minty Fresh Breath Spray, but now I had three planted in various locations around the house.
‘Oh. Right.’ I turned to him nervously. ‘I forgot. I’ll come to the next one, I promise. I have to see my friends tonight.’
‘No, Mia.’ His tone was surprisingly firm. ‘You spend too much time with your friends as it is. And isn’t Lexie the girl who was rude to you when we first moved here?’
I waved my hand dismissively. ‘Oh, that’s just Lex . . .’
‘Well, I don’t think that’s the sort of friend you should be seeing.’
‘You don’t even know her, Dad!’ My voice rose. ‘You don’t know anything about us!’
‘Mia, I don’t want to argue with you . . .’
I was up and shouting. ‘And I’m not going to the art gallery with you tonight! I’m almost sixteen, I want to do what almost-sixteen-year-olds do, not what old people do!’
‘That’s enough, Mia.’
‘But you don’t understand . . .’
‘Enough!’
I threw myself onto my bed, refusing to look at him as he perched awkwardly on the end.
‘All right, you don’t have to come to the art gallery. But I want you home tonight and studying alone –not putting on make-up to see your friends.’
‘But Dad . . .’
‘No buts. You have plenty of time to see them at school.’ He patted my hand, attempting peace. ‘Why don’t we go downstairs and you can call them while I make some dinner.’
‘Sorry, Lex, Dad’s pulled the plug . . .’ I paced up and down the kitchen as Dad sliced tomatoes, just within earshot. ‘It’s fair enough, I really need to nail that trig assignment anyway.’
‘Your order. Can I take your order . . .’
‘Yeah, if you could call Seb that’d be great.’
‘This is Pizza Hut. I think you have the wrong number . . .’
‘Okay. Mañana babe.’
Dad beamed approvingly as I snapped my phone shut. ‘I’m proud of you, sweetheart.’
Truth be told, I was pretty proud of me too.
‘You look hot, Mia!’ Lexie exclaimed as she air-kissed me hello, eyes disco-dancing. ‘Doesn’t she look hot, Seb?’
‘Is that lasagne? I’m starved.’ Seb sniffed, wandering in the direction of the kitchen.
‘Seb!’ barked Lexie. ‘I said, doesn’t Mia look hot?’
‘What?’ Seb asked, confused, as I dragged Lexie out on the patio, sliding the heavy glass door shut.
‘Ix-nay the obvious omments-cay,’ I ordered fiercely.
‘You do look hot though,’ Lexie nodded approvingly.
‘Ya think?’ I inspected my reflection critically. ‘I’m really nervous.’
‘Babe, you’re a four-alarm fire,’ she drawled. ‘He won’t be able to resist!’
I grinned at her, my heart racing. ‘Time for Phase Two.’
‘What are the entertainment options then?’ Seb asked, as we squashed together on the couch, pasta bowls balanced in our laps. ‘I think there’s a Bloc Party special on MTV . . .’
‘Actually, I thought we could try this,’ I handed him the DVD of Reality Bites I’d procured earlier.
‘A “wildly romantic comedy”?’ Seb inspected the cover. ‘Are you cereal?’
‘Yeah, it’s awesome,’ Lexie babbled. ‘Winona Ryder plays this chick who ends up with her best friend who’s in a band and ow!’
She rubbed her ankle as I grabbed the DVD. ‘Let’s just put it on.’
Right on cue, Lexie’s phone ‘rang’. ‘Mum? I need to come home? Okay.’ Like lightning, she was up and grabbing her bag. ‘Sorry guys, I gotta jet. Ciao!’
‘Bye, Lex!’ I called gaily.
‘You’re going?’ Seb looked stunned, a deer caught in crossfire. ‘Why? How will I get home?’
‘Cab!’ yelled Lex as she slammed the door. ‘Have fun!’
I smiled at Seb as I snuggled next to him on the couch. ‘Guess it’s just the two of us.’
He smiled back, thrown. ‘Yeah, I guess so.’
‘Wow, that was so good!’ As a sweet/sad love song played over the rolling credits, I stretched, feeling warm and complete. ‘Didn’t you love it?’
‘Yeah, it was all right,’ Seb replied, checking his phone.
‘Just “all right”?’ I chided. ‘I thought it was so romantic and . . . realistic. How it ended. With them getting together.’
The credits finished and the screen went black, leaving us lit only by a fat golden moon hanging low over the ocean.
He glanced around. ‘Where’s the light switch?’
‘Let’s just sit like this for a while,’ I murmured. ‘The moonlight’s really beautiful, don’t you think?’
He turned to look at me, his face only a few inches from mine. His slightly ragged breath brushed my cheek. Our eyes locked and I held my breath. His lips were full and slightly parted as I slowly leant towards him, letting my eyelids close dreamily . . .
‘Wait.’ He pulled back.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Mia, I can’t.’ He got up anxiously.
‘Why? What’s wrong?’
Seb stumbled over the edge of a rug, backing away from me towards the kitchen. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t.’
‘Why not?’ I followed him, bewildered.
He ran his fingers through his hair, unable to look at me. ‘I . . . I like . . . someone else.’
‘What!’ I choked. ‘Who?’
‘Mia, I can’t . . .’ He found his bag and headed for the front door. ‘I just can’t . . .’
‘Seb,’ I grabbed his arm, ‘just tell me who.’
He looked back at me uneasily. ‘I can’t.’
‘Tell me!’ My voice was shattering into a thousand pieces. ‘Seb, tell me!’
His eyes rose to meet mine. ‘Lexie.’
As the door slammed behind him, the full implication of his confession sank in and I collapsed in tears.
8
Soundtrack: ‘Love for Sale’, Faker
Mood: Everything totally sucks
The next day I turned my phone off and chucked a sickie. After spending the morning compiling a list of things wrong with me from my pocket dictionary (Asexual: not involved in any sexual activity. Bizarre: odd or unusual. Coward: a person who is easily frightened and avoids difficult situations), I watched the hour hand creep round to four o’clock, imagining Lexie and Seb waiting for me at rehearsal. Lexie would get out of him what had happened, and he’d be forced to tell her the truth. She’d be A. shocked at first –angry, no doubt –but secretly flattered and B. Vaguely curious. They’d stroll in the late afternoon sun, as possibilities unfolded in their separate imaginations, glances shared and then held. The sun would be sinking into the west as, tentatively, his fingers would reach for hers, and she’d let him and suddenly everything would feel right. Their lips would meet cautiously, then passionately, over the sound of crashing waves . . .
I wiped away tears with toilet paper from a fast-diminishing roll. In retrospect, it was obvious. Lexie was the one half the guys in our year wanted –the fact she didn’t want them made them want her even more. Lexie was the one who scratched our initials into wet concrete, who snuck us into R-rated movies, for whom rules and laws were strictly optional. I tried to be happy for them. I tried to imagine not being upset when they had cute little couple fights and then cute little make-up pash sessions. I tried to tell myself that, really, I was the lucky one –being single meant I’d have all the Fire Fire groupies for myself. But it wasn’t working.
‘Mia! Mia, wait!’
I ducked and weaved frantically around a stream of lithe dance juniors, hurrying ahead of the voice that gained on me with every step.
‘Mia, stop!’ Seb grabbed my arm.
I wrenched it back. ‘I’ll be late for class.’
‘Can we talk?’ He looked distraught. ‘I need to talk to you.’
‘Thanks, but I’ve heard everything you’ve got to say, Sebastian.’ I turned on my heel and marched off.
‘This is crazy.’ He ran along beside me. ‘Mia!’
‘Mia? Seb?’ In a breathless hurricane of massive sunglasses and tiny shorts, Lexie barrelled around the corner.
‘Well, if it isn’t the golden couple!’ I spat sarcastically.
‘Mia, I need to talk to you in private,’ Seb said urgently, pulling me away from Lexie.
My hands flew to my mouth in mock-drama. ‘Oh, haven’t you told her I know?’ I asked. ‘Oh, how awkward! Well, I do!’
‘Know what?’ Lexie asked.
‘Nothing!’ insisted Seb.
‘That you and Seb are now going out!’ I screamed at her.
‘THAT IS ENOUGH!’ Mrs Kapranos bore down on us and we froze in fear. Her voice dropped to a steely whisper. ‘Unless you all want to spend the next month in detention, you will get to class without saying another word.’
We looked at each other, mouths springing open like trapdoors.
‘NOT A WORD,’ thundered Kapranos. I pushed past the others and bolted.
By hiding out and playing cards in Emil’s office (who, BTW, was not at all apologetic that his prediction about Seb was so off the mark), I made it through the day without seeing either of them again. Almost. Guess who was waiting for me by my letterbox like a regular neighbourhood stalker.
‘Mia, I know you’re mad but I really need to show you something. At my house. It’ll explain everything and take five minutes.’ Seb was onto pleading to get me across the line. ‘Please? For the band?’
His medium-sized white-washed house glowed quietly in the afternoon sun. A brilliant pink bougainvillea stretched lazily up one side, its flowers floating gently in the breeze.
Inside our two pads couldn’t have been more different. Somerset Drive was spacious and art-mag modern, yet perpetually full of unwashed dishes and unpaid bills. Seb’s house was a home: spotlessly clean, but with life exploding all through it. The walls of the cosy hallway were covered with family photos and kids’ toys were stacked tidily in one corner. The smell of rich, garlicky meat lingered in the air. We stood facing each other outside a bedroom door with a Do Not Disturb sign hanging on the doorknob.
‘I lied about Lexie –but there is someone else.’ He pushed the door open. Standing in his room holding a bottle of hairspray was a tall, striking Greek girl with long dark hair.
‘Hi,’ she smiled brightly. ‘I’m Ella. Seb’s sister.’
‘You’re going out with your sister?’ I gagged. ‘Seb, that’s gross! And I think it’s illegal . . .’
‘As if!’ he exclaimed. ‘Ella, get out of my room!’
‘Just borrowing this.’ She sailed out with the hairspray.
‘This is who I’m talking about.’ He gestured lightly to his bedroom walls. Blu-tacked above the neatly stacked book shelves and alphabetically ordered CD racks were poster after poster of the same come-hither celeb stare. As I turned around slowly, I noticed the largest poster of all, pinned above his bed. Brokeback Mountain. Seb’s room was a shrine to Jake Gyllenhaal. Reality struck like a bright pink lighting bolt.
