Will (13 page)

Mum’s brain had already started to work overtime. She loved this type of stuff.

Do you remember that time in Year Eight, Will, when you got in trouble for throwing a mandarin at someone’s head?

Actually she was wrong, it was a banana and I only pegged it at somebody because they threw an apple at me first.

That was about a racial thing, wasn’t it?

It was right at the peak of the Year 8 skip versus wog thing. The school did do something about it: we had to sit down and shut up at lunchtime for two weeks in a row. Mum was all for having a round-table conference about it. Dad fortunately settled her down.

Well, Will, in the world we live in, it’s not such a bad idea to get your head around the effect of judging before you know anything about individuals, or countries for that matter. He’s right, the more you exercise your critical thinking skills the more informed you’ll be
.

I gave her one of my looks.

OK, I understand that it’s the last thing you want to be writing about. Just know you can run it by me anytime you’d like
.

It was definitely time to change the subject.

So … the veggie patch is, ahh, looking good …

She looked back at me strangely and, fair enough, it was a pretty bad attempt at changing the subject.

 … don’t you think?

Mum’s face broke into a huge grin and then she cracked up laughing so hard she had tears pouring down her face. I grabbed the rest of the vine leaves and ate three more falafel wraps. Once there was no more food on the table Mum broke out the ice cream. Both of us were so full we could barely move, so I got rid of the screen and for the first time in ages we watched telly together.

And it felt good.

Andrews was calling for the actors to get their backsides onstage immediately. We were near the end of the rehearsal and he was definitely getting pissed off. He was using the same tone of voice he did in English when one of the boys had
stepped over the mark
. The whole cast was onstage and from what I could hear he was angry that some of the chorus members had forgotten where they were meant to stand. It wasn’t normal for him to get so wound up. He was going on about how even though it was only the second week of full rehearsals we needed to block the final scenes today so that everybody had an idea of the shape of the show blah, blah, blah. It was good to know the bloke could get stressed as well as creating it for everyone else.

Mark and Elizabeth seemed to be getting tighter. I heard Andrews saying to Ms. Sefton that he was seeing them three afternoons a week to work on their scenes. That was a lot of time to be spending together. It was on the cards that they’d end up with one another for sure.

She was hanging in the background talking to him—as usual. It was hard not to stare. She looked great. She always wore jeans, the type of jeans that fit just right around the backside; actually, they fit just right everywhere. They sat on her hips like they were teasing anyone who looked that they were going to fall down lower but they
never did. She always wore different T-shirts, mainly ones with weird, funky designs. Jock would be beside himself because Elizabeth wore her hair in a ponytail to most rehearsals.

One of the best things about her was the way she laughed. Man, she could laugh and crack up the whole room. She laughed a lot. She especially laughed with Mark.

I had to find some way of talking to her. I was starting to feel like one of those guys who
like to watch
.

OK, let’s see what you’ve got. Curtain up—and action!

They ran through the song and arrived at the scene everyone was waiting for: the one where the guy who’s from the wrong side of the tracks kisses the rich girl, except in this story they’re at a costume ball, dressed in really bad clown costumes, pretending that no one knows who they are. I think it was even worse than the plot of every love story Mum hung out for at the video shop.

The hall fell suddenly silent. Silent and expectant. The chorus members had been gossiping about this since last rehearsal. The kissing scene. And let’s face it, in a school musical that was the most action you were going to get. The entire cast had pulled up seats around the band to watch. Even the geeks got the idea something important was going to happen.

OK, everybody, Mark and Elizabeth may need your support in the following scene. As you are all aware
—Andrews looked around at the body of expectant voyeurs
—this is the scene where our two lead characters, Polly and Tony, fall into each other’s arms and kiss
.

Snickers from the geeks. I suppose you’ve got to cut them some slack considering their stunted development.

I have asked Mark and Elizabeth if they want the hall cleared,
for exactly that reason … 
Andrews frowned at the geeks.
But they have both said that they need to get used to it. So are we all clear with what is expected?

Everybody nodded and a couple of
Sirs
came from the pit. So much for not making a big deal of it. I wish they had bloody cleared the hall, then I could’ve got the hell out of there. No one else in the hall was moving apart from Romeo and Juliet onstage. At that point I looked up. The silence had reached a deafening roar. I watched as their lips met, and then continued to meet. They didn’t stop meeting.

Applause broke out all around me. Whistles, cheers and clapping were the backdrop as the two of them finally separated, looking just a little embarrassed.

That kiss was not acting. That kiss was for real. It was pretty obvious it wasn’t just the sick losers watching who enjoyed it. Elizabeth and Mark were mad for each other.

A perfect note to close rehearsals
, I heard Andrews offer.
Thanks, everyone. See you next week
.

I was throwing my guitar into its case as he spoke. I’d worked up a bit of speed by the time I’d made it to the doorway.

Will?

I hesitated for a second. That kid had a radar system you could sell to the Australian army.

Hey, Freak, I’m kind of in a hurry
.

He half jumped and waved at the same time.

See you next week!

Yeah, next week
.

I raised my hand to him and as I did I caught the bloody prom king and queen arm in arm going to talk to their adoring public.

It’d been a big week for someone who’d spent the last six months not being bothered, what with Andrews and the assignment, the mother-son bonding the other night and now the kiss. I needed some serious normality. I took the bike out of the shed, hooked the guitar under my arm and rode three minutes to Chris’s place.

Weekend nights were always fix-it-yourself over there, and one more wasn’t going to matter. I walked in to see the footy on the TV and the boys in various positions around the room, cheering on their teams and telling the ref to get stuffed in alternating intervals. I said g’day and, as usual, received barely a grunt. This was exactly the type of response I needed.

When I walked into the kitchen Mrs. Holden got up from the table and came over and kissed me just like she’d been doing for the past thirteen years. I shook Mr. Holden’s hand and was moved into a huge bear hug. This was also expected. They were big about touchy-feely stuff in this family. Because they had four boys, five including me, they were really into making sure we were all in touch with our feelings and stuff. The boys were used to it. They just rolled their eyes and made really bad faces. I wondered how they’d work it with Jess. Everybody in the family, especially Chris, fell over themselves to give her kisses and hugs. She was only two but she pretty much ran the place. Pity the bloke who asked her out first. There’d be no touchy-feely bullshit from the Holden boys then, I bet.

Chris was in the bathroom, getting her ready for bed. I followed the splashing and squealing noises until I found him kneeling over the side of the bath squirting a rubber ducky at Jess.

I sat on the edge of the bath. Chris squirted water from the duck’s backside straight into my face. He and Jess thought it was hysterical.

Get f—

Now, now, Will, not in front of the child
.

I glared at him.

What’s wrong with you, mate? It’s not like you not to get revenge
.

I shrugged.
They kissed
.

Who?

You know who
.

Chris looked at me blankly. Then he got it.

You mean really kissed?

Yeah, I mean lips and mouths and stuff
.

Tongues?

Shut up, Chris!

So?

So what?

How serious was it?

I don’t know. They had to kiss for the show
.

Chris looked at me and sighed.

Kissed for the show? That’s a completely different story
.

He took the face cloth Jessie had put on her head and spoke directly to her.
Uncle Will’s such a loser!
She nodded her head in agreement.

Man, I haven’t seen you this uptight about anything forever
, Chris said, lifting Jess out of the bath and cocooning her bug-like into a big, fluffy towel.

I followed him into Jess’s room and watched as he went through the pj routine.

Will, you’re going to have to speak to the girl, otherwise you’re going to turn into a major pain in the arse.

Yeah, but I don’t know what to say
.

Well, don’t ask me. The only girl I get to spend any time with is Jessie here
.

What do you mean? All the girls love talking to you
.

Yeah, they may love talking to me but that’s it. I’m the guy they love to talk to but don’t want to date. Unlike you, my friend, I still cannot lay claim to ever having a proper girlfriend. Apart from Penelope Barry in Year Six, and that only lasted for a week after she held hands with Peter Sharkey at Tim’s party
.

I was so used to Chris having every corner covered in terms of the bloke most likely to succeed at absolutely everything, I hadn’t thought about him and girlfriends. I knew he had plenty of girl friends, but when I thought about it, he’d never had a relationship girlfriend.

Do you want a girlfriend?

Yeah, I want a girlfriend, you idiot, but I can’t exactly go out there and demand one, can I? No, mate, for the moment the closest thing I’ll get to a relationship is hearing about you and this Elizabeth, so hurry up and do something about it so you can introduce me to some of her friends
.

He bundled Jessie up in her pajamas and called out to his dad. Jessie work tended to be done in shifts: Mr. Holden was in charge of stories and bed. Chris flew her into the kitchen and rugby passed her to his dad.

Chris and I moved our way into the lounge room and sat right in front of the twins, blocking their direct line of vision. It was
something we’d done for years, which, because of size disparity, produced a guaranteed end result favoring Chris and myself. The next stage was the rumble, which we always won, and then of course the final part of the strategy—us getting the best seats. It worked every time. I settled back and relaxed. It was comforting to know not everything was going crazy.

I went through the week wondering what the next move was. Chris was all for me coming down after training to meet Mark—apparently the guy was good enough for the reps side as well as the Sunday comp. But I told him I thought we’d established it wasn’t Mark I was after.

I knew I was becoming a pain in the arse, like Chris had said. I had to stop complaining and get on with it. I went to the next rehearsal ready to rip off what I knew was going to be a really scabby Band-Aid. It would hurt. But hopefully it was going to be worth it.

I waited until the end of the day. Andrews and Mark were going over the last scene, which meant Elizabeth was finished and on her own. I stood and watched her laughing with the other girls. She talked to everybody, including the adoring Year 7 chorus girls. I figured that would have to work in my favor: if she talked to everyone, then the odds were she would talk to me.

I began to walk toward her on three occasions and chickened out each time. I was on the fourth attempt and about two meters away when her mobile rang. It was right about then I tried really hard to look casual, like I wasn’t trying to talk to her at all. I focused intently on the wall and kept walking. Idiot!

I got to the wall. I knew I needed a reason for being there, and fast. I was dead certain she’d watched me walk all the way to the other side of the hall and was retelling the whole story to whoever
she was on the phone to. I was desperate. A discarded
St. Andrew’s Angles
was lying on the floor near where I was standing. I haven’t in my whole school career found a newsletter so fascinating. Let’s face it, it was probably the first time I’d ever read one. I walked back across the hall reading every word of it. As I passed her I was determined not to look. I repeated in my head,
Don’t look up, don’t look up
. Just as I reached the point of intersection, I looked up. And, even worse, I was mouthing the words
Don’t look up
when I did. Elizabeth was looking directly at me. In fact she didn’t take her eyes off me as she continued her conversation. She could have got an instant tan I was giving off so much heat.

Then I had one of those déjà vu moments. I was positive I had done this before—stood in front of her like an openmouthed idiot. But there was no going back now. I’d made myself look like a prize dickhead so I might as well sit it out and wait till she was off the phone. My heart began to make dangerously loud drum noises and I was breaking into a sweat.