Friendship on Fire Page 9

  I had barely crossed the first large intersection when my mobile phone beeped with a text message. I slid my phone up and smiled. It was Nate.

  Thanks4everything last night. Hope ur not2tired for school tomoz. Miss u already. Such a sap. C u Tues?

  My fingers were itching to answer but it was best to make him hang on. At least an hour.

  I texted Rach instead:

  So stoked right now. Guess who will hopefully be my bf soon. Do u approve? How’d u go cleaning up, and with the cops? I can come help later if u like?

  She wrote back five minutes later:

  Yeah fine. Just got a slap on the wrist for the noise. Most of the cleaning is done; dw about coming over. Thanks anyway. Nate seems cool? C u tomorrow.

  Well that was convincing. I knew she wouldn’t be as stoked as me about Nate but she didn’t have to be indifferent about it either. Maybe she was annoyed at me for leaving her to clean up after the party — but I had to help Nate. I couldn’t leave him. Maybe she was jealous about his interest in me. I shook that idea out of my head. Rach has always been pretty good when it came to boyfriends; I doubt she would be that petty now. She was probably tired, and would be fine tomorrow for school.

  I walked on to our front lawn to find Dad sunning himself on the front veranda in his robe. Our house wasn’t nearly as flash as Nate’s parents’, but it was OK. It was only one storey, with grey/blue rendering, a standard tiled roof and fairly large front yard. Enough room for all the cars the men of the house, and now me, apparently, brought home. Dad was clasping a cup of tea in his hands. He smiled at me as I came closer.

  ‘Out for an early morning stroll, Dais? Trying to get your strength up for all your assignments due this week?’ he teased.

  ‘Something like that.’ I stood in front of him and he squinted up at me. I hoped he wouldn’t notice the glow on my face, my tousled hair and the bags under my eyes. I hadn’t planned to be up early, that’s for sure. If I did, I would have showered to make myself more presentable.

  ‘You know, I had the craziest dream last night. There was an M3 on my lawn, a gift from the PM for all my years of service to the country. The engine was made up of …’ His voice trailed off.

  ‘Good dream, Dad.’ I patted him on the head and walked inside before I burst out laughing.

  Mum was cooking breakfast and the boys were on the Wii as I walked through the door. What was everyone doing up so early? On a Sunday? They paused their game and smiled at me. They normally didn’t pause for anyone.

  ‘Shut up.’ I kept walking.

  ‘We didn’t say anything.’ They fell about laughing.

  I stalked into the kitchen to find Mum.

  ‘Idiots,’ I said to her.

  She turned from the stove and smiled at me. ‘Well, tell me everything.’

  ‘Not you, too,’ I moaned.

  ‘Oh come on, it’s me you’re talking to. You can tell me anything. Make my day for me. Give me some romance,’ she pleaded.

  ‘Whatever. You have had enough with four kids.’

  She shrugged, stepping aside to show me what she was cooking. My favourite: tomato and cheese omelettes.

  ‘That’s bribery, Mum,’ I protested.

  ‘You don’t have to have any. Although I did make this one especially for you,’ she blackmailed.

  Wily woman. I gave up and sat down on a bar stool opposite her. ‘Fine. What do you want to know?’

  She grinned. ‘Who is he and what does he do and why do you like him?’

  ‘You met him the other night at home, Mum.’

  I rested my head in my hands and watched the omelette cook. About two minutes, I calculated, and this would be over.

  ‘Yeah but that doesn’t tell me who he is, does it?’ She flipped the golden omelette and turned back to wink at me. ‘It only tells me you don’t like it when he doesn’t give you his attention.’

  I tried to sound bored. ‘Very funny. I don’t know who he is this early. He goes to Addison Grammar, but his little sister goes to our school. His dad owns heaps of shipping companies so they’re really rich and stuff. I haven’t met his parents. As far as I know, they are fighting heaps so his mum has gone away for a while. He’s going to uni next year to start a business degree to eventually take over from his dad. What I like about him?’ I smiled into my hand. ‘He’s really sweet and charming, and he makes me laugh. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell Dad for a while,’ I begged, eyeing her with caution.

  ‘Daisy. You can’t keep it from him forever. The boys will tease you about it until you give them some attention anyway. Your father will be all right. He has a hard time watching his little girl get older and make her own choices. I’ll leave it up to you to tell him, then.’

  She put the omelette on my plate and gave me a knife and fork.

  ‘Thanks, Mum. It’s just weird talking about boys with him.’

  I felt awkward thinking about it.

  ‘I know. Your grandfather was worse. When he knew a boy was picking me up for a date, he would answer the front door pretending to be sharpening his Bowie knife. He said it weeded out the good ones from the cowards. I was furious with him for ruining some of my dates but, you know what, your father was the only one who laughed at him and put his hand out to shake his.’

  She laughed at the memory and I giggled. I hadn’t heard any of these stories. It was strange to think of my parents as young and in love.

  ‘Don’t give Dad any ideas, please.’ I imagined Dad trying stunts like that on Nate, but he couldn’t possibly fake it well enough. Dad was soft.

  ‘So, did you kiss him?’

  ‘Mum!’ I acted horrified, but secretly I wanted to tell someone. She persisted; probably after my traitor eyes gave me away.

  ‘Well, did you?’

  I took a mouthful of omelette ‘Maybe,’ I smiled.

  I seriously had to get some shuteye early afternoon. After I texted Nate back.

  I AM tired. What’s on Tues then?

  Treston came into my room as I pressed ‘send’ and sat on my dressing table. It creaked under the weight of his tall stature. I groaned inwardly. My brain wasn’t working well enough to have any more conversations.

  ‘Yes?’ I asked, suspecting his intentions. He wasn’t the kind of person who made social calls for the hell of it. Shane must have spilled to the boys this morning while I was walking. I could be mad at him but I wasn’t. It was bound to happen sometime and, honestly, it saved the whole There’s something I have to tell you all; I have a boyfriend speech. It was much easier this way.

  ‘Look, don’t take this the wrong way, Dais. You are my sister and will always be important to me. Nate and I have only started to be friends and he seems like a top bloke, but I know that you getting involved with him will potentially mean hurt for both of you if it ends badly.’

  He stopped, gauging my reaction. I hadn’t expected this. I folded my arms.

  ‘Keep going.’

  ‘I want to keep his friendship. If you’re not serious about him, please don’t continue with this. I hate seeing you hurt, but don’t expect me to go bash him or something if he breaks your heart. It’s none of my business, got it?’

  ‘Wow. That was quite a speech. Um. I don’t know what to say. I’m not in the habit of jumping into relationships if I’m not serious about them, and I’d never ask you to step in if it ended badly. So you don’t have to worry. I’m not ‘stealing’ your friend from you,’ I said defensively. It stung to say his friend, as I didn’t like to claim or disclaim people from others. Dating brothers’ friends was touchy, but I figured technically I met him first, so he was becoming friends with my friend.

  ‘That’s settled then. Oh and don’t tell me any of the gory details about you two either. That’s gross. I’ll tell him the same. The thought of him touching my little sister might make me want to bash him, then this whole conversation would be vetoed,’ he said with a shudder.

  ‘No argument from me,’ I murmured.

 
; As soon as Treston left, I channelled my annoyance into homework. My elusive English essay started to sound like it was written by an uneducated twelve-year-old, and I couldn’t think of any new ideas to argue about. Besides, how unfair it is to share your new boyfriend with annoying brother? It was useless. I fell asleep with my laptop on my legs, dreaming restlessly about surfing on redskins, and Nate.

  My phone beeping woke me as the sun was setting. I grabbed it through the peachy haze and pressed ‘read’ on the SMS.

  Dais, just want to check you got home safely last night xx

  From Roman. Yawning, I checked the time and SMS’d him back.

  Yeah I’m fine. Thanks for asking. Soooo going to fail this English essay. See you tom x

  I wasn’t exactly sure why I reciprocated the ‘x’ — maybe out of courtesy, or habit. Nate had written back to my earlier SMS too. I didn’t hear it in my sleep.

  Surprise. Be watching for me.

  What did that mean? I could spend hours deliberating on that kind of message. Still, I was excited. I loved having mystery in my life again.

  Remembering I wasn’t nearly finished with the essay, I cursed Saturday night parties and boys and got back to working on it.

  February

  Dear Diary,

  Pashed hot new guy, Nate, last night at Rach’s party. How I managed to pull him I don’t know. Fate? New jeans? Or my red hair? If only that was a turn on. I’m hoping he wants to date me, but how can a girl be sure? Guys can be switched on to you one day and ignore you the next. I don’t want to get my hopes up, but he sure is fine. He makes me laugh and so far has treated me well. And the best part is, he’s the best kisser I’ve ever had. That counts for something, right?

  It’s only the first weekend of year Twelve and I’m already feeling like I’m behind. I can’t think of what to write about in this English essay. The fact of the matter is, I can’t stop thinking about Nate’s kisses. He 9 0 makes my stomach ache in a painful way, when liking someone is supposed to feel good. It’s weird. Or maybe I’m just hungry. Better go eat something. Keep you updated.

  Dais xx

  was so close to throwing my alarm out the window this morning. OK, I feel like that most mornings, but today took the cake. I turned my phone on and squinted in the white light it shone on me. First, I had to remind myself it was Monday and yes, I did have to go to school. No, it wasn’t a dream, and yes, the English essay did need to be completed by fifth period. I contemplated a sick day. Mum would never go for it. Dad would, maybe. But I had to see everyone at school. Maybe I was a tad proud of my achievement on Saturday night. Maybe I did want to rub it into Skye’s face.

  Second, I didn’t get to sleep until about 2 am thanks to my Sunday afternoon siesta, so my brain was less than available at seven when my alarm sounded. Hence my present dilemma.

  I sighed.

  Heaving myself out of bed was a challenge, as well as getting into the shower and eating enough breakfast to sustain me until ten-thirty. The boys were running late like me, and kept stealing the bread I’d put into the toaster for myself.

  I ran out the door and Dad called me back. ‘What,’ I grumbled. I was late. Embarrassingly so, for a school captain.

  Dad was holding my school bag with a smug look on his face.

  I stuck my tongue out at him and said, ‘Thanks.’

  Roman scared me to death on the path on the way to school. We hadn’t planned to walk to school together, so forgive me for not expecting a young, strong man to creep up behind me and put his hands over my eyes and say really creepily, ‘Guess who’. He got a lecture from me most of the way to school until I finally cooled off. He smiled patiently.

  Roman knew just how long to wait to start teasing me after I cooled off.

  ‘So, what happened after you dropped metro Grammar boy off at home? Did he give you a tip and send you on your way?’ he joked.

  My head pounded. ‘Very funny. Actually, we went to a deserted alleyway and had unprotected sex. Happy?’

  Roman’s eyes glared at me sidelong. I kept a straight face. He moved to stand right in front of me and folded his arms. I kept my eyes down. This was a fun game. Technically the sun did hurt my eyes so I wasn’t keeping them lowered to punish him.

  ‘Daisy Renae Brooks,’ he said steadily. He used my middle name. He never does. This was working, right as I was losing my composure.

  ‘Yes, sir?’ I asked in a serious voice. The amusement was unbearable.

  ‘Don’t tell me you … I’ll kill him,’ Roman’s eye sockets nearly exploded.

  ‘Settle down,’ I giggled. I glanced up at him, my eyes adding to my trick. ‘We had sex at the beach, not in an alley way. What do you take me for?’

  Roman’s face went a shade of purple. ‘Daisy I swear to …’ He was looking around, searching for a sign of Nate on the pathways like a wild animal. It was then that I decided to let him off the hook, in case he really did show. That’d be bad.

  ‘Relax. We only kissed. Check your pants.’ I laughed at his tantrum and he relaxed, slightly. He put his balled fists into his pockets and was quiet for some time.

  ‘You kissed him?’ He kept his eyes down at the cracked beige pavement as we walked.

  ‘Yeah. He’s pretty nice, Roman,’ I said awkwardly.

  ‘So you’re keen on him?’ He flicked his eyes at me then stared straight ahead.

  ‘Um. I guess so.’ I didn’t want to give away how much I was dying to see him again. It would be foolish to get hopeful in case he ditched me.

  I felt especially careful of giving this information to Roman. I don’t know why it was so important to hide my true feelings from him.

  ‘You don’t sound convinced. I don’t like him.’ His jaw was set in a line and his voice took on a new level of masculinity.

  I wasn’t faltering. ‘Well I guess I don’t know him that well yet, do I?’ My hands tugged on the straps of my bag anxiously.

  ‘At least be confident in how you feel. If you’re not … don’t waste your time,’ he said, appearing to be righteous and all-knowing. ‘He honestly looks shifty.’

  ‘Thank you, but I think I can handle him fine. I don’t need to justify how I feel to you or what I do in my own time,’ I snapped back and immediately regretted it.

  ‘What? I never said … look, sorry. I didn’t mean it the way it came out,’ he backpedalled, sounding sincere.

  As usual, I kept going. ‘You can’t talk anyway. The kinds of girls you were hanging out with on Saturday night weren’t exactly top of the line,’ I said, still hurt by his assumptions.

  ‘Excuse me?’ Roman stopped walking and his voice held a dangerous challenge.

  ‘That’s right, I saw you talking to Tiffany for ages like you were lovers or something. If we’re talking about class here, then you need some lessons on your partner choice.’

  ‘What makes you think she’s my partner?’ He gave me one of his irritated looks; lips slightly pursed in defiance, stubborn forehead creased, blue eyes hard.

  ‘You looked cosy,’ I said in a small voice. My argument was wearing thin.

  His was only beginning. ‘You are basing your entire argument on body language? Or were you eavesdropping on my private conversations?’

  ‘Why would I want to do that?’ My voice rose as fast as my temper did. ‘All I would have got out of it is shallow blonde jokes I bet. I don’t know how you can stand her company for longer than a second.’

  We were walking through the front gates at the height of our argument. We hadn’t had many in our six-year friendship, but this was turning out to be one of the good ones.

  ‘She showed an interest in me and made me feel important. She spent time with me as a friend, which is more than I can say about you.’ He ran his fingers through his hair.

  ‘What’s that s’posed to mean?’

  ‘I barely saw you for five minutes at the party. Now I know why.’

  My voice was reaching breaking point. ‘Sorry sir, I didn’t know I was sup
posed to make appointments with you and give you a set amount of my time.’

  ‘I never said that either. What is wrong with you this morning?’ He was getting exasperated. ‘And stop calling me sir would you? Your sarcasm is getting old, Daisy.’

  ‘Well … you’re a hypocrite, Roman. You criticise me for the people I choose to hang out with and you have no leg to stand on yourself. You’re such a dick.’

  As we rounded the admin building I went in the other direction to lose him. He didn’t follow me. He probably didn’t notice I’d left and was still abusing me like an imaginary friend. I was so mad at him I was shaking. How dare he lecture me and assume things about me that were so untrue? I had a good mind to turn back and demand to know what this was really about.

  But he was being a jerk and I self-righteously decided I wouldn’t talk to him until he apologised.

  Some people have a way of knowing the exact moment when you want to see them least, and capitalising on it. Skye was one of those people.

  I was sitting on a picnic bench at recess near the canteen, happily chatting to a few girls in year eleven about ideas for the first school social. Skye walked past and spilt some of her apple juice in my hair. The year eleven girls, Emma, Katie and Carly, gasped in horror and looked at each other. I stood straight up and felt my hair to assess the damage.

  ‘What the hell are you doing, Skye?’ I called out to her retreating figure. The juice slowly made its way down the back of my dress, making the material stick uncomfortably to my skin.

  She spun around like a ballerina and smiled. ‘I thought it might help you cool off, redhead. Or encourage you to wash your hair. It’s so oily. You’d know if you ever looked in the mirror.’