Screw Loose (11 page)

Angelo began pacing. ‘Hey, sorry about that assembly, Josh.

You must have felt like a real gayboy. Georgia is so gutsy. I like a gutsy girl.'

‘
Que sera sera
.'

Angelo moved on. ‘Like I said, it's Zeynep.'

Joshua composed himself.
Act the sympathetic, authoritative
psychiatrist. Let him do all the talking and nod a lot
. Joshua had been to a psychiatrist, Daniel, a friend of his parents, twice after he'd told his parents he was gay – so he knew something about the psychiatric approach. How appropriate would it be to ask Angelo to lie down on the bed, close his eyes and try free association – release his deepest anxieties and concerns about Zeynep in a safe, nurturing environment to a friend who only had his best interests at heart?

Probably not very. Josh sat down on his bed.

‘I know Zey is a bit insane and stuff,' Angelo said.

‘A little.'

Angelo flashed him a sour look. ‘Don't agree, man. She used to be your girlfriend too, remember.'

Josh was silent: this was the psychiatric style – even when the patient was illogical.

Staring through the window into the park, Angelo moaned, ‘But I really, really like her, Josh. More than I used to like Georgia.' He turned his worried eyes towards the mirror and they caught one another's gaze in the reflection. It was weirdly embarrassing.

‘Is it the same as when you really, really liked Georgia?'

Joshua asked.

Angelo's eyes blazed. ‘I wanted to jump up and punch Dunny out for embarrassing her like that.'

‘He embarrassed me, too,' Joshua reminded him.

‘I reckon. I wouldn't want Dunny telling the whole school I was a homo.'

‘But you're not.'

‘Thank God.'

‘Right … So what's the problem with Zey, exactly?'

‘The club wants me to get rid of her. They reckon she's crazy.

They asked if she was a lap dancer.'

‘What?' Joshua laughed and so did Angelo. ‘Zeynep? When hell freezes over. That's the last thing Zeynep would ever be.'

‘It's because she called herself Candibelle Brown to that reporter. They reckon that sounds like a lap dancer's name.

You saw the paper?'

Of course he had. He'd cut out the photo and put it in the cover of
Encyclopaedia Britannica Vol. 3
with all the others.

Joshua laughed again. ‘Yeah, I think I did. So the club wants you to give her up?' He lay back on his bed, then sat up immediately.

‘They reckon she's a loose cannon.'

‘A loose cannon? She is. But that's why you like her.'

‘She washed my damned shoelaces.' Angelo flung himself into Josh's desk chair. ‘Clean and neat is kind of attractive. But then she sticks me in her laundry cupboard.' He slapped his chest. ‘I mean, this is Angelo Tarano. I don't get put in cupboards. Don't tell anyone, okay Josh?'

‘No way.'

Joshua looked around the room. It wasn't that neat or clean, just highly scented. His eyes flashed to the wardrobe.
Don't
even think about it!

‘She could wear that hijab thing and a veil when she's with me, so the Cockies couldn't tell it was her. But I need to see the whole face because – you know. Anyway, people might think I was a Muslim, whereas I'm a Catholic – I think.'

‘You are a Catholic. But what's wrong with people thinking you're Muslim?'

Angelo was silent, then he shrugged. He was up staring at himself in the mirror again. ‘Nothing, I guess. In a way it's sexy even if it's supposed to be non-sexy, that hijab – having your girlfriend, like, wrapped up, and only you know what's underneath.' He was quiet again, staring into space. ‘I'm getting a bit kinky.'

‘Really?'

Angelo flopped down beside Josh on the bed. ‘You know she's got a great body.' Then he groaned. ‘Man, I want to see her right now.' He rolled on his stomach and banged the doona.

‘But there's other fish in the sea, isn't there? Plenty of girls.

I have to move on. Club says so.'

‘You're kidding!'

‘So what do you think I should do – tell the club to get stuffed? I can't. This is my big break.
AFL
.'

‘Ignore them. They don't own you. This is a free country. You can go out with anyone you like. You shouldn't give up your girlfriend for footy. That's crazy.'

‘Football or Zeynep.' Angelo frowned. ‘It's an impossible choice. Hey, you know what I had to do last Saturday?'

Joshua shook his head.

‘Have a Brazilian. You know what a Brazilian is?'

‘Sure.
You
had one?'

‘It bloody hurt!'

‘How come you had one?'

‘They took these pictures of me, like without my jocks, handballing. Weird.'

‘What? Why?'

‘For this calendar. That's the sort of thing I do now.' Angelo shook his head. ‘And then they reckon I'm gonna be Cinderella in this players' review crap. No way. I can't stand guys dressed up. The club is nuts, it has more rules than school, you know – but man, they pay you heaps! I can't tell you how much because it's in the contract that I don't tell anyone, but it is heaps.'

‘Can I buy the calendar yet?' Joshua asked.

Angelo shook his head.

‘Do they follow you and check up on what you do, then?'

‘The club? Nah…' But doubt flickered over Angelo's face.

‘So what if they do, anyway.' He sat up and punched the doona.

‘Would Zeynep want to have sex with me, Josh? What do you reckon? If she did I wouldn't drop her for sure.'

Joshua considered the question. He smoothed his doona and shrugged. ‘I don't think she would, Angelo,' he said sympathetically.

‘No. Bugger! She has this smile that makes me think maybe she really does.'

‘Zeynep wouldn't like to have sex before marriage. But the way girls smile is not my area of expertise.'

‘Yeah. Your area of expertise would be the way guys smile, right? In fact, your smile is a bit like a girl's, isn't it?'

Joshua was shocked. ‘What do you mean?'

Angelo got off the bed, cocked his head to one side, and smiled down at Josh, blinking rapidly. ‘Like that.'

‘Crap!'

Angelo laughed. He crashed to the carpet and started to do push-ups.

‘Do you want to have sex right now?' Josh asked.

Angelo stopped. ‘What?'

‘With Zeynep, I mean! Or, like, do you mean in a few years?'

Angelo expelled air and collapsed onto the carpet. ‘I want to have sex every twenty minutes for the rest of my life – I thought you meant do I want to have sex with
you
. I was about to get the hell out of here!'

Joshua laughed very loudly. ‘No way. You're not my type.'

‘You're definitely not mine.'

It felt like a brick on the head. ‘It's not just the way they smile,' Joshua tried to explain. ‘You have to figure it out by other stuff – what they say and what they do. Zeynep is a good Muslim girl.'

‘I want to convert her,' Angelo sighed.

‘Convert her to being a Catholic?'

‘To being a
bad
Muslim girl.'

‘She's an obsessive-compulsive virgin. It's not possible. Don't pressure her.'

‘I don't pressure her. Jeez. She shut me in her cupboard for half an hour. That just shows how much I don't pressure her.'

Angelo rolled over on the carpet and stretched out his body, flexing his leg muscles. ‘The club…' He expelled air slowly.

‘They said they'd find me a girlfriend who's more suitable.

They've posted these girls on YouTube, all asking me to go out with them. It's crazy!' He began to do stomach-crunches.

‘What? You have to be kidding.' Joshua raised his voice.

‘That's, like,
evil.
What if you can't stand these girls?'

‘They want to run your whole life. You can't argue with them.

You even have to wear the club jocks!'

‘They have club underwear? No way!'

‘True. You have to wear the friggin' underwear at all times.

It's a rule.' Angelo was puffing now from the crunches.

‘Even at school?'

‘Yep!' Angelo laughed bitterly. ‘They ring you up and ask if you're wearing the Cocky jocks. Look.' Angelo bounced to his feet and slipped his thumbs under the top of his shorts to pull them down. Joshua sat up. ‘Look, a bloody great cocky!'

Angelo was wearing a pair of silk boxers with a huge cockatoo on them. Josh fell back on his bed laughing. As he did, he caught sight of his mother standing at the door.

‘What's going on here?' she asked.

‘Mum!' He bounded off the bed. Angelo hitched up his shorts fast. ‘Angelo was just showing me his club underwear.'

She was frowning. Angelo had his hands clasped on his head and was looking embarrassed.

‘It's compulsory for him to wear it.'

‘Not in this room, apparently,' his mother said, then turned and left.

SPEED
DATING

M
ARY
MAGDALENE
L
ADIES'
C
OLLEGE
looked imposing: it had vibrant green grass, carefully spaced bare oaks and elms, and, tracing the long drive's curve, flowerbeds planted out for spring. The girls themselves were as groomed as the grounds; and one or two of them, Georgia noted, were extraordinarily attractive. Her fantasy that the school would offer hours of happy gym work and tickle-fights at lunchtimes had been quickly put to rest when she noted the crucifix above the entrance to the old grey administration building.

Marjorie Defarge, the headmistress, curtsied. ‘Your Royal Highness, welcome to Mary Magdalene.' She had honeycoloured, fairy-floss hair and bright red lipstick. They entered her large office. On her desk was a family portrait – two children and a husband. She radiated enthusiasm. ‘The girls are wild about our school, and I'm quite sure you'll feel that way, too, once you get to know us!' She was clasping her hands together and leaning forward, all her energy focused on Georgia and her parents. Georgia leant away.

The room smelt of furniture polish and was warm and silent despite the afternoon chill and the hum of happy girls in the corridors and gardens. Behind Ms Defarge was a life-size painting in an elaborate frame of a woman in a dull red cape, with an insomniac's face. A crucifixion taking place behind her suggested that this was Mary Magdalene herself. On an adjacent wall was a large carved crest and below it a finely carved ribbon with the school's motto in gold:
Odi profanum
vulgus et arceo
. Georgia didn't know Latin.

‘Please sit down,' said the headmistress. ‘So nice that you have chosen Mary Magdalene.'

‘So nice of you to accept our daughter,' said Georgia's mother, who was wearing a pink sari trimmed in gold.

Ms Defarge looked up from her file. ‘Your last school was Vistaview? What made you leave it, Georgia?'

Georgia froze. She'd left Vistaview swiftly after she'd slapped Darryl Dunn, taking the back streets to her aunt's house, where she'd sat on the back lawn all day with her phone turned off and waited for the police to knock on the door. There had been around nine hundred and fifty witnesses to what she had done.

The police didn't knock, however, and a few days later she'd simply had her parents call the school to un-enrol her.

She hadn't told them what had happened in assembly, and Ms Defarge didn't seem to know, either.

‘She is a princess,' Georgia's mother interjected. ‘This school seemed more appropriate.'

Ms Defarge beamed. ‘You're not our first titled student,' she said. ‘And what kind of course are you thinking of doing, Georgia?'

No use beating around the bush. Hit them with the truth.

‘Carpentry.'

Ms Defarge flashed a look of alarm at Georgia's parents. They registered nothing. Georgia had been the top student in Year 8 Woodwork. Her CD rack had been the best in the class, and she'd been given an A++ for it. She stretched back in the chair and put her hands behind her head. If she couldn't do carpentry, she wouldn't enrol.

Ms Defarge tapped her lips thoughtfully. ‘A non-traditional subject.' Her sparkle was fading fast. ‘We would perhaps have to arrange a school-based apprenticeship. We have a wonderful careers adviser.'

‘Georgia is her own person,' her father said.

Ms Defarge leant across her desk. ‘You wouldn't be interested in architecture?'