Love-shy (20 page)

Why did I even care? I wasn't writing the article anymore.

‘I've seen him watching me,' said Amy. ‘And at first I was creeped out, because, well, he's a bit weird. But then I looked at him properly, and I thought . . . maybe. He has beautiful eyes.'

Nick
did
have beautiful eyes. Grey and soulful, with very long lashes.

‘So do you think he likes you?'

‘Oh, I'm sure he does,' said Amy. ‘And I think maybe because he's quiet, and I'm quiet too, he wouldn't want to talk all the time the way some boys do.'

It
was
Nick! She liked Nick! Of course, Nick was quiet because he was shy, and Amy was quiet because she didn't have much to say. But still. She
liked
him.

I wasn't sure how I felt about this.

‘And he'd never cheat on me,' continued Amy, ‘because I'm so much prettier than most of the girls he'd be able to get.'

‘I don't know, Amy,' I said. ‘If he's so shy, how do you know he'd open up around you?'

‘I just know,' she said. ‘And anyway, he's not shy around his friends.'

Wait. ‘His friends?'

‘Yeah, he's fine with them. Always chatting and laughing. Unless he's looking at me. With those eyes.' She sighed happily.

‘Um,' I said. My Jenga tower of assumptions was swaying. ‘So who is this guy, Amy? With the eyes?'

Amy leaned over and whispered boozily into my ear, ‘
Youssef
. Youssef Saad. I
know
he's a dork, but at least he's a Year Ten dork, so that's better than dating a dork in my year. Do you really think I should go for it?'

‘Sure,' I said, suddenly feeling a bit strange. ‘Could you excuse me? I have to visit the bathroom.'

‘Wait,' said Amy. ‘Is it true that you're going out with Nick Rammage?'

‘
What
?'

‘Kate Pittman said she saw you guys sitting together at lunch, two days in a row. And he never sits with anyone.'

I nearly fell over. People thought Nick and I were
dating
? ‘I told her it was probably just something for the school paper,' said Amy. ‘Nick doesn't really seem your type, and doesn't he have a girlfriend at another school?'

‘You're right,' I said. ‘It was just something for the paper.'

I stumbled away. Did it make me a bad person that I was relieved Amy didn't like Nick? Was it that I didn't think Amy would make Nick happy? Or didn't I
want
him to be happy? And why was I thinking about him so much, anyway? The love-shy project was terminated.

And Youssef Saad
was
a really nice guy. He'd take care of Amy. Good for her.

Rin was chatting to a few girls over by the TV. She seemed perfectly comfortable, laughing and swaying from side to side with the music. I couldn't see Hamish anywhere.

I sighed and went back to the couch. I didn't feel like talking to anyone. Usually I tried to chat to everyone at a party, in case someone dropped some particularly interesting piece of gossip that I could use in the paper, but my heart just wasn't in it.

A daggy '80s song started playing, and someone turned up the sound. Girls squealed and dragged boys into the middle of the room to dance.

‘Hey, Penny.' Hugh Forward sat down next to me on the couch. Brave, considering how totally he had humiliated himself at last year's cast party. He was wearing a brown corduroy jacket with a tweed cap. Probably to keep his insane hair under control, but it worked, in a grandpa kind of way.

‘I suppose you're making some keen observations about the nature of adolescent interaction,' he said. ‘I'm sure I'll read about it someday in one of your books.'

He was clearly joking, yet surprisingly close to the truth. ‘Something like that,' I said.

Hugh cleared his throat.

‘
Aloof, aloof, we stand aloof, so stand

Thou too aloof, bound with the flawless band

Of inner solitude; we bind not thee;

But who from thy self-chain shall set thee free?
'

I stared at him.

‘Christina Rossetti,' he said, a little flustered. ‘I thought about what you said the other day in the library, about how we don't study much writing by women. And I realised I'd never read any poetry by women, which is weird, because I've read a lot of poetry. So I'm rectifying the situation.'

That was unexpected. And . . . impressive. ‘How are you finding it?'

‘Excellent,' he said. ‘I'm loving Christina Rosetti and Emily Dickinson and Dorothy Parker. Anne Sexton's a little full on, though.'

I nodded knowingly, although I'd actually never read anything by any of them. Perhaps I wasn't a very good feminist after all? But I really wasn't a poetry kind of person, although I didn't want to admit it.

‘I think we spend too much time praising women for how they look,' Hugh went on, ‘and not enough time praising what they say. However, as you already know I'm a big fan of the things you say, I will also add that you look very nice tonight.'

‘Thanks,' I replied, although I knew he didn't mean it. I was wearing jeans and a dark blue shirt. I didn't see the point of getting dressed up to hang out in some lounge room with a bunch of kids I saw every day at school.

‘I haven't seen you around much lately,' Hugh said. ‘You've missed a few SRC and Debating meetings.'

Great. He'd come over to guilt-trip me. ‘I've been busy.'

‘Really? Busy with what?' Hugh paused. ‘Or . . . who?'

What business was it of his? I'd only missed a couple of meetings. ‘Stuff,' I said, in what I hoped was a dismissive tone of voice. ‘The paper.'

‘Of course. How's the paper going?'

I shrugged, and idly wondered what I should write about for the lead story. Maybe I
should
write that editorial on the swimming carnival after all. Although maybe I just needed a new assignment. An investigative feature was still a good idea, even if love-shyness wasn't the right topic. Maybe I should go undercover, like Nellie Bly. Where could I go? The inner chambers of our local council? A suspiciously steroidy gymnasium? One of those super-religious schools where they don't let the students read
Harry Potter
?

I realised Hugh was staring at me. ‘What?'

‘I asked you about the paper, and then you just shrugged and stared off into the distance.'

‘Oh,' I said. ‘Right, yes. The paper's great. Just generating some new story ideas at the moment.'

‘Awesome.'

‘Yep.'

‘So are you going to the social? I'm glad we sorted out all that stuff with the decorations budget.'

‘I suppose so,' I said. ‘I'll have to cover it for the paper.'

I wondered what exactly it was that he wanted. Was it about our upcoming Debating final? Or was he just being polite because I was sitting on my own?

‘Er,' said Hugh. ‘Do you want to dance?'

‘At the social? I'll probably be too busy with
Gazette
stuff.'

‘No, here.'

‘What?'

‘Dance. With me. Now. Here.' He nodded his head towards the dance floor area.

This was unexpected. And he didn't seem drunk. ‘Um, no thanks. I don't really dance.'

‘Oh. Okay.'

We sat uncomfortably for a minute, and I wondered why I'd turned him down. Dancing might have been nice. I tried to remember what we'd been talking about when he tried to tongue me in the ear at last year's cast party, but couldn't. I did remember he'd been wearing a grey argyle vest, though. And a cream shirt. It had made him look as though he should have been playing a banjo in a sepia photograph. And I remembered laughing. I think I'd been enjoying our conversation, until he ruined it with the tongue thing. Boys.

‘So,' said Hugh. ‘I'm going to get another drink.'

He stood and left, and I stayed on the couch. He wouldn't be coming back. I should have agreed to dance with him. But I didn't want him to try to kiss me again, and it wasn't like he
liked
me. He'd probably just felt sorry for me because I was sitting here on my own.

I wondered what would have happened if I
had
been able to convince Nick to come. Would he have spoken to anyone? Would he have found out about Amy's crush on Youssef and broken down? Or would he have finally relaxed and enjoyed himself? There were plenty of other girls here who would have wanted to talk to him.

I imagined Nick in his room, surrounded by his Pez dispensers and romantic music CDs and terrariums. Perhaps he was making a new one, gently packing damp earth and moss into the delicate glass.

‘Penny?' It was Hamish, standing a little too close to me. I could smell alcohol on his breath.

‘Hey,' I said. ‘Are you having fun?'

‘Can I talk to you?' he said, swaying slightly. ‘Outside? I need your advice.'

‘Sure,' I said, and followed him outside. Fairy lights were strung across the back porch, and a few couples were ensconced behind bushes and on loveseats. Hamish led me to the edge of the porch and sat down, his legs hanging over the side. The air was warm and smelled of jasmine. It would have been quite romantic, if I was the kind of person who believed in romance, and was there with someone other than Hamish.

‘What's up?' I asked.

‘Um,' he said. ‘Thanks for inviting me to the party.'

‘You're welcome,' I said. ‘Have you been talking to Rin? She's lovely, right?'

‘Yeah,' said Hamish. ‘She's nice.'

Excellent. At least one of my plans was working. I waited for Hamish to continue. Did he want advice about Rin? How to ask her out on a proper date? Or her phone number?

‘I really appreciate what you're doing for me, Penny,' said Hamish. ‘It's very kind. Not many people are that kind.'

‘It's nothing,' I said.

Hamish swayed again, and his shoulder bumped against mine. He must have drunk quite a lot. I tried to shuffle away subtly. I didn't want
another
shy guy to throw up on me.

‘Hamish? Are you okay?'

‘I'm okay,' he said. ‘I'm good, actually. Really good. Everything feels right, don't you think? Tonight?'

‘Sure.'

‘The weather is lovely, people are lovely, these little lights are lovely.'

‘Uh-huh.'

‘You're lovely.'

Oh, crap.

And then Hamish was pressed up against me, pushing his face into mine. It was disgusting. He made a sort of moaning noise and slobbered all over my mouth.

‘Hamish,
no
.' I squirmed away and wiped my chin.

He looked dismayed. ‘But you said you'd help me.'

‘I will,' I said. ‘I am. But I'm not going to
make out
with you.'

‘Then why did you invite me here?'

‘I didn't,' I said. ‘You asked me to come out here with you.'

‘Not out here, to the
party
.'

‘Oh,' I said. ‘I was trying to
help
you be less shy.'

‘So kiss me.'

‘No.'

‘Please? Just for a little while.'

‘
No.
'

‘What if I gave you fifty dollars?'

I stared at him, outraged. ‘Then I'd feel like a hooker.'

Hamish looked as if he might cry. ‘I just want to
touch
a girl.'

‘You will,' I said. ‘But you can't just
jump
on them like that. You have to ease into it. And less tongue.
Much
less tongue. The object of kissing is not to open your mouth as wide as you can and try to swallow a girl's head.'

‘Show me. Show me how to do it properly.'

I rolled my eyes. ‘Let me make this very simple for you, Hamish. I'm not interested in you. I will never be interested in you. I brought you to this party, yes. But I brought someone else too, remember? Rin? Rin doesn't have a boyfriend. Why don't you go inside and talk to her? And perhaps try to have a conversation and hold her hand before you suffocate her with your face.'

I went inside without waiting for a response.

Hugh Forward was on the dance floor, slow-dancing with painfully skinny Olivia Fischer. I scowled at her. I'd often wondered how her tiny frame had enough energy to get to the other end of the swimming pool, and now she was expending all that energy dancing and flirting with boys. I felt sorry for Olivia, really. She looked hungry. She was like a Hungry Hungry Hippo, except with no hips and extra helpings of ho.

I shuddered. I really
was
a bad feminist. And how could I be jealous? I'd turned Hugh down. It wasn't as if I
liked
him, even with his cute vintage outfit and his sensitive quotes from female poets. I needed to stop hanging around with so many hormonal teenagers – it was starting to rub off on me.

I had a sudden, unpleasant flashback to Hamish trying to kiss me. What would I have done if Nick had tried that? Would I have pulled away and told him it would be unethical for us to become romantically involved?

I'd had enough. I went over to Rin and the girls from the Manga Club. ‘I've got a headache,' I told her. ‘I kind of want to go home.'

Rin nodded. ‘Let's go straight away. Shall we call a taxi?'

I'd expected her to stay at the party, and send me home on my own. But she didn't. We walked out the front and she speedily rang for a cab.

‘Thanks so much for bringing me, Penny,' she said. ‘Are you okay? Is your head all right?'

‘I'm fine,' I said, touched. ‘Just tired, I think. And you're welcome. I'm glad you enjoyed yourself.'

‘Oh, I
did
. Everything was
wonderful
.'

She was so starry-eyed and glowing, I felt bad I hadn't been able to orchestrate anything successful between her and Hamish. Then again, she totally deserved better than him.