Love-shy (30 page)

‘There,' she said when she was satisfied. ‘Look in the mirror.'

I felt like a little kid playing dress-ups, and I was sure I was showing too much cleavage. What if someone said something? Or a boy stared at my boobs? They were always prominent, and now they were on
display
. It was too embarrassing.

What was wrong with me? I was sounding like Nick. His anxiety and fear of embarrassment had rubbed off on me.

‘What do you think?' asked Rin, beaming.

I looked again at my reflection. The thing was . . . I felt like an idiot, but a
pretty
idiot. Not romantically pretty, the way Nick liked. Not beautiful. I didn't have long flowing hair or starry eyes, or lips like rosebuds, or alabaster skin. My figure wasn't willowy or slender. But I was still pretty, in a confident, no-nonsense kind of way. Maybe even kind of . . . sexy? I looked different, but I still looked like me. Rin had turned me into a pretty, little-bit-sexy, interesting version of myself. I smiled at her. Maybe living inside a glass globe really wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

‘We'd better go,' I said. ‘We're already late.'

Rin squealed and clapped and threw her arms around me. ‘Yay! Let's go! Let's go!'

Our SRC decorations budget had been spent well, if ‘well' means ‘on pink and black helium balloons'. The problem with school dances was . . . well, they were always lame. No amount of hired lighting and silver streamers could ever hide the fact that you were spending a Friday night at school, in the Ben Chifley Memorial Hall, surrounded by teachers.

But everyone was doing their best to pretend they were having a good time. The social had been in full swing for a couple of hours by the time we arrived, and people had got over their too-cool-to-dance-ness and were wriggling and bumping hips on the dance floor, as the Year Nine kid perched on the stage and did a pretty respectable job as DJ.

Judging from the amount of smeared mascara, stained lips and pashing going on in dark corners, the punch had definitely been spiked.

‘Oh!' said Rin. ‘I see Hamish!'

I did too. His outfit – a long-sleeved white shirt and black pants – was actually bordering on cool. Simple, but when you were as much of a dork as Hamish, simple was best. He spotted Rin and his eyes widened. She did look pretty spectacular.

Rin started towards him, then hesitated and looked back at me. ‘You go ahead,' I said. ‘It's not like I don't know anyone here. I'll be fine.'

Rin kissed me on the cheek and bounced off.

I sidled to a quietish corner of the room and tried to disappear. I'd just stand here. Observe. I'd be fine. I only had to stay for an hour or so, then I could slip out. Rin could get home without me.

‘Um.'

I turned. It was Nick. He looked amazing in a black suit with a skinny tie and Converse sneakers. He smiled at me, and if I hadn't noticed the sheen of sweat on his brow and the slight tremble of his hands, I'd have thought he was totally in control. What was he doing here? Had he really managed to come to the social? The
Year Ten Social
, the most anxiety-inducing event of the year, even for non-shy kids?

‘You came,' I said. ‘You're actually here.'

Nick nodded. ‘It was totally easy.'

‘Really?'

‘Sure.'

I narrowed my eyes. ‘How many showers did you have today?'

Nick shrugged. ‘Only four.'

‘And how long did you stand outside before actually coming into the hall?'

‘Maybe an hour.'

‘But it was
totally
easy.'

‘In a manner of speaking.'

‘Well done for making it in,' I said, and I meant it. I'd barely been able to manage it myself.

‘Thanks. I think I might be having a heart attack.'

I chuckled. ‘You'll be fine.'

We smiled and stared at the floor for a minute.

‘I read your comment,' said Nick. ‘On my blog.'

‘Oh?'

‘Thank you. For saying all that.'

‘I just wanted you to know I was sorry.
Am
sorry.'

‘I appreciate it. I shouldn't have said . . . those things. About you. I was hurt.'

I nodded, and we continued our floor-staring routine.

‘I thought about not writing the article,' I said. ‘About love-shyness. I don't want to make you any more uncomfortable, or meddle any more in your personal life.'

Nick frowned. ‘Oh,' he said. ‘I-I think you should write it.'

‘Really?'

He nodded. ‘You've gone to so much trouble,' he said. ‘We've
both
gone to so much trouble. And I think it would help . . . if people knew about love-shyness. Maybe people might understand us better, and not always see us as being trenchcoat-wearing stalkers.'

‘Okay,' I said, smiling. ‘That's good. Um. Because I wrote it the other night.'

Nick laughed, and shook his head. ‘Why am I not surprised?'

I felt myself blush. ‘I brought a copy,' I said. ‘If you want to . . . '

‘Are you kidding? I'm dying to read it.'

I grinned. ‘Wait here,' I said, and scuttled off to retrieve my bag, which I'd stashed under the drinks table. When I returned, Nick was still standing on his own, looking a little awkward and uncomfortable. But he smiled when he saw me, and I was pleased that his smile didn't make butterflies twinkle around my stomach anymore. I just felt . . . happy.

I handed him a manila envelope. ‘I hope you like it,' I said. ‘I think it's . . . good.'

‘I expect nothing less than excellent.'

I felt nervous and pleased. ‘You know, I think it
is
excellent. It's the best thing I've ever written.'

Nick peeked inside the envelope. ‘This is the school newspaper.'

I nodded. ‘I took the story to Ms Tidy and she redid the whole layout so it would fit. It got back from the printer yesterday.'

‘What happened to
The New Yorker
or
Vanity Fair
?'

I shrugged. ‘You have to start somewhere,' I said. ‘Joseph Pulitzer's first job was as a mule-hustler in Missouri.'

‘Interesting,' he said. ‘I can see how you could find some common ground with mules. And Nellie Bly?'

I grinned, unreasonably pleased that Nick remembered who my favourite journalist was. ‘She got her start by writing an angry letter to a sexist newspaper columnist.'

‘Well, that's definitely more up your alley.'

‘Definitely.'

He raised his eyebrows. ‘So the
East Glendale Secondary
College Gazette
isn't such a bad start.'

‘No,' I said. ‘Not so bad at all.'

Actually, I was pretty sure it was the best issue of the
Gazette
ever published. There were some great articles in there. Articles that weren't even written by me. Arabella Sampson's piece about the Vegan Alliance picket was really good. I saw her standing near the DJ with Max Wendt, looking as if she'd explode if he didn't ask her to dance soon, and made a mental note to congratulate her.

Nick tucked the envelope under his arm. ‘I'll read it later,' he said. ‘When I'm alone.'

I nodded.

‘I have a job interview tomorrow,' he told me. ‘At Coles. I'm terrified, naturally.'

‘You'll be fine,' I said. ‘I know it.'

‘Maybe. And look—' Nick held out a hand. ‘The four showers took care of most of it, but if you look closely . . . '

He had a thin crescent of dirt under each fingernail.

‘I planted nasturtiums and rosemary and wisteria,' he said, looking as if he might burst with pride. ‘Outside, in the backyard. I cut out a square of the astroturf. There were worms and bugs and goodness knows how many million bacteria, but I did it! And the
smell
, Penny. The smell of the earth when you turn it up and pour water on it . . . ' His eyes shone. ‘It's the most beautiful thing . . . '

‘Nick,' I said. ‘That's wonderful.'

We grinned at each other like a pair of lunatics. Around us, couples were clustering together for a slow dance. I could see Clayton Bell making out with the Year Nine boy he'd brought as his date, and Peter Lange was blissfully wrapped around his girlfriend from St Aloysius, who was wearing a very short black dress with electric pink binary code all over it. Over by the snacks, Amy Butler was smiling shyly as Youssef Saad whispered in her ear. I shook my head a little. Maybe I'd been wrong about Amy, too. Maybe she wasn't as boring as I'd assumed. Maybe she was just shy.

‘I still don't want to go out with you,' said Nick. ‘I'm sorry. I wish I did. But . . . '

‘But I'm not your type.'

‘No.'

‘That's okay,' I said. ‘I don't think you're really my type either. I'm not sure what my type is.'

‘You need someone you can have a good argument with, without them bursting into tears.'

I laughed. ‘You're probably right. I do like to argue.'

‘So,' said Nick. ‘Do you think we can be friends?'

I looked over at Rin dancing with Hamish. She gave me a little grin and wave. Hamish turned and waved at me as well. I seemed to suddenly have quite a few friends. It felt good.

‘Definitely,' I said. ‘Friends.'

‘Good,' he said. ‘Because I don't think I've ever had a friend before, and I'd like to give it a shot.'

‘Me too.'

Nick held out his hand. ‘Well, friend,' he said. ‘Would you like to dance with me?'

I took his hand. ‘Yes, friend,' I said. ‘I would.'

We moved out onto the dance floor and Nick put trembling hands on my waist. I could smell his laundry-detergent-and-soap smell. He smiled nervously at me, and I was pleased to notice that the smile didn't make me feel quite as wobbly and excited as it had before. It still made me feel a
bit
wobbly and excited, but in a slightly wistful way. I supposed this was what nostalgia felt like.

‘You're doing an excellent job,' I murmured in his ear.

Nick swallowed. Every blonde skinny girl in the entire room was staring at me with dagger-eyes of envy. I allowed myself to feel a little bit proud, and let my head rest on his shoulder.

It was fun, dancing with Nick, and I hoped I'd dance with a few other boys. Maybe Hugh Forward would ask me again, and this time I'd accept. Or maybe I'd just throw convention to the wind and ask
him
to dance. That seemed like a good idea. The night stretched out, full of conversation and friends and laughter.

‘Penny? Is that you?'

When I got home, Dad and Josh were still up, sitting on the couch watching
Iron Chef
.

‘How was it?' asked Josh.

I grinned. ‘Good,' I said. ‘Really good.'

‘Dance with any cute boys?'

I blushed. ‘Maybe.'

Hugh Forward had asked me to go to the movies with him next weekend. It might be nice to hang out with him and talk about something other than SRC and Debating.

I pulled the
East Glendale Secondary College Gazette
out of my bag and handed it to Dad. ‘It's what I've been working on,' I told him. ‘It's why I've been so stressed.'

Josh turned off the TV and leaned over to Dad so they could both see the front page. Just under the masthead were the words
The Secret Garden: Helping the Love-shy Bloom
, and, below that:
by Penny Drummond
.

As they settled down to read, I snuck into my room and closed the door. I was looking forward to hearing what they thought of my article. I was looking forward to seeing what Nick thought of it. I was looking forward to hanging out with him, as well as with Rin and maybe even Hamish as well. I was looking forward to calling Hugh and getting to know him as a person and a friend, instead of my competition. I was even looking forward to more Friday night jigsaws with Dad and Josh.

But most of all, I was looking forward to finding another story.