Friendship on Fire (16 page)

Yes I had a temper, one that embarrassed me at the best of times. However, I wasn't completely unreasonable. I still preferred harmony to conflict. I had to talk to him, and soon. The longer things were left, the more likely they would fester. Especially if Skye found him first.

I didn't want to think about the kind of lies she could spin to him after our run-in this morning. What did she think was going on between Roman and me anyway? The way she kept baiting us, one would think she was waiting for us to come out and say, ‘Surprise. We've been together all along.'

I tried to find Roman everywhere after I'd finished eating. Showing my desperation, I asked James to check the boys' toilets for any sign of him. He had frowned at me, but did it anyway.

I asked Rach to help me after that and we called out for him in the common room. He wasn't there. No one had seen him since class. Where was he? He wasn't sick this morning, so there's no reason to go home. I was fast losing the nerve to fix things.

Shoulders hunched, I went for a walk on the oval by myself to get some air. It was a massive oval. One where you could take at least fifteen minutes to walk around.

As I was shuffling under the trees in the shade, avoiding the flying soccer balls from the juniors, I saw a figure. It was gazing up at the clear sky, leaning against a large Morton Bay fig tree. From the outline, the person seemed familiar. Tall, lean, arms folded. I knew that stance.

He appeared so peaceful I didn't want to risk his irritation again. And yet I kept walking, drawn to the unlikely image of a melancholy Roman choosing to be alone rather than with his friends, as was usual.

‘Hey,' I called out. He turned his head slightly to eyeball me without surprise and returned to brooding at the sky.

I stopped beside him and watched him cautiously, but he didn't acknowledge me.

‘Whatcha doing?' I tried to keep it light.

‘Nothing,' he replied listlessly.

‘It doesn't look like nothing.'

‘Staring, then.'

‘Can I join you doing nothing and staring?'

I cocked my head to the side. A small crease shifted in his cheek. He smiled faintly.

‘Sure.'

I leant against the tree and followed his eyes to the sky. It was a beautiful summer's day, not a cloud in the bright blue-ness. Only a few birds blackened sections of it, but nothing could shake its natural brilliance.

‘It's nice out here,' I breathed.

‘Yeah.'

‘Roman?'

‘Yeah.'

‘You OK?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Question.'

‘Yeah.'

‘Wanna get some chips and milkshakes later?'

‘Why?' his tone altered.

‘It's been a while.'

‘True.'

‘So?' I asked hopefully.

Roman scratched his head absently. ‘Don't have any money on me.'

‘That's nothing different,' I grinned. ‘I'll shout.'

‘Sweet.'

And so we stood against the tree, probably suspicious to pairs of eyes who didn't know why we were out here, until the bell went for period five. English.

Swearing, I broke into a desperate run. My essay wasn't nearly done; I'd forgotten to finish it in the library. Mr Andrews was going to kill me. Or worse, he'd turn into a beached whale again.

‘How funny was Andrews when you gave him half an essay?' Roman cracked up laughing on our way to the chip shop at Sailor's Wharf. My downfall had lightened his mood.

We were being perfect role models; wagging sixth period. Technically we had a free, but weren't allowed to leave campus. We thought it was worth it to gamble with our lives on the odd chance Mr Head would actually be in touch with his students.

The incident with Mr Andrews wasn't that funny. But maybe that's because it happened to me. I would rather put it into a deleted section of my memory where only bad experiences go, never to be reclaimed. Roman wouldn't let it go.

‘It wasn't that good. Not on an
epic
scale, anyway,' I said defensively, attempting to shut the topic down.

‘You are being humble, Daisy. It will go down in history as being one of the defining moments in year twelve,' he said with unnecessary magnificence.

‘For you, maybe,' I grumbled.

Roman started laughing again. I punched him in the arm.

Mr Andrews had decided to make an example of me. I was the only one in his class who hadn't properly finished their essay. Everyone else clearly didn't have a social life on the weekend. I couldn't tell him that. He made me read my essay out to the whole class, in a dramatic tone of voice, while he asked the opinion of the class regarding my structure, writing style and advice on an overall mark. Not only that, he got out a packet of playing cards and set himself up a game of solitaire, shouting with glee when he finished it in record time.

I was humiliated. It was no consolation that he claimed he was only joking afterwards and I should relax.

‘Next time get me to proofread the essay or help you with it, OK?' Roman offered. ‘So you don't have to be so red in the hair … I mean … face.'

‘Remind me again why we're friends?' I asked, irritated.

‘Because you love me,' he said quickly.

‘Not right now, I don't,' I snapped back. ‘You've made my day pretty crappy, you know that?'

He pursed his lips. ‘Yeah, I get it.'

We reached a bench near the water and sat down. I leant over and rested my elbows on my knees, staring out at the choppy waves. I felt miserable and I didn't know why.

‘Dais, about this morning …' Roman started.

‘Yeah it's been on my mind. Sorry I was a cow. You pushed some buttons…'

‘We both did.'

‘Yeah. Skye started on me again this morning. She told me you have a thing with Tiffany and that it's a big secret you didn't want to tell me.'

‘Let's order some chips and I'll tell you what happened. I've got nothing to hide and you know me better than she does.'

We walked to the chip shop at the end of the wharf. Roman put in our order and I handed him the money. I tugged his sleeve as we walked to the waiting area. ‘Roman I know I shouldn't take any notice of her games. But why me?

Why us? Doesn't she have anyone else to bug?' It exasperated me.

‘Of course she does. However, you are her favourite because you bite back. Then I get dragged into it because she thinks there must be something going on. And she's clearly,
insanely
jealous of you.'

I raised my eyebrows. ‘What does she have to be jealous of? I've got fake red hair, I'm completely gullible and I'm a bitch to my best friend,' I said, oozing self-pity.

‘That's right, you're shocking, and I don't know why I waste my time on you,' he mocked, and slung his arm around my shoulders. ‘How many times do I have to tell you? You're awesome just the way you are.' His eyes softened when I checked them for sincerity.

We got the call that the chips were ready so Roman squirted sauce all over them, just for me, and I carried our milkshakes back to our bench.

‘For the record, nothing happened between Tiffany and me. Yeah she was entertaining for the night, with her hare-brained stories and her attention towards me, but come on Dais, give me some credit. I did the gentlemanly thing and took them all home after the party.'

‘Good. I didn't think you would get with her … but …' I didn't know how to say it.

‘You thought I'd be up for getting some action? No way. I'm not desperate. She did have a crack at me, but I turned her down. She was too much for me to handle,' he said with a chuckle.

I wasn't sure I wanted to know what sort of moves she tried to pull on him, so I got another chip covered in sauce and munched on it quietly. The knowledge of Roman not liking Tiffany or ever intending to get with her filled me with a reassurance that was probably wrong to feel. Still, it felt good, and I was claiming it. Roman was still mine and I didn't have to share his time with any other girl.

Out of the blue, Roman asked me, ‘Do you think it's possible to know if someone is ‘the one'?'

‘Wow. What a way to let loose a question that could be discussed for centuries,' I answered sarcastically.

‘Come on. Give it to me,' he challenged.

‘I don't know. Maybe.' I minimalised my answer. The truth is, I'd thought about it more than I was sure was healthy.

‘What's your theory then?' he persisted.

I swallowed a mouthful of my strawberry milkshake.

‘I reckon you can have a few different partner choices, depending on what age you are and era of life you are in. For example, what if you love your independence, and ignore the people who fall in love with you for the first thirty years of your life? Then, when you're like, thirty-five, you want to get married, and find someone who suits you, and you marry them and live happily ever after? Were they always ‘the one' for you?'

Roman chewed on my theory thoughtfully. ‘That's a good point,' he conceded.

‘What do you think?' I asked, taking the chips off him. He eyed my portions like a lion sharing its kill. ‘Don't stress, I won't eat them all.'

He watched me anyway. ‘I think there's only one person out there for us who truly complements our soul. Someone who absolutely gets us and we know it from the moment we meet. Call me idealistic, but I reckon I could be on to something,' he grinned at me.

‘Dr Roman, hey. Philosopher and love expert,' I mocked.

It surprised me that he had a theory in the first place. I thought all boys thought about was sex, girls, more sex; and not deep matters, like relationships.

We arrived back at school in time for the home bell. We ran to roll-marking and cleared out our lockers.

‘Thanks for today. Glad everything is back to normal between us,' he said, sounding genuinely relieved.

‘Me too.' I gave him a quick hug and ran out the front to jump in Terry's Ford Festiva.

‘How are you, Daisy?' he asked, always so serious.

‘Good,' I nearly shouted at him. I'd left school on a high and it was hard to tone it down.

‘Have you been practising your driving since our last lesson?' His eyes narrowed into mine for honesty.

‘I sure have, Terry. I drove an M3 on the weekend,' I beamed.

‘Liar,' he accused, quick as a flash.

I frowned indignantly. ‘I did.'

‘How?'

‘It was …a friend's.'

‘Uhhuh. Did you crash it?' He still thought I was joking.

‘No.'

He stared at me.

‘Well … I scratched it … a little. But it's fine.'

‘Take it back,' he screeched.

‘Take what back?' His tone had startled me.

He kept screeching. ‘How could you?'

‘How could I what?'

‘
Scratch the M3.' His face was going bright red.

‘Oh, that.' I bit my lip. ‘You can't tell … it's more under the car.'

‘Have I taught you nothing, Daisy?'

‘Uh …'

‘Does my checklist mean
nothing
to you?'

I tried to backtrack. ‘Actually, I was trying to remember the checklist when I…'

‘Scratched the M3.'

‘Honestly Terry, you don't have to keep reminding me. I know I did. I've already been told off.'

‘Good. You don't deserve to drive a car like that. I forbid you.'

‘I'm pretty sure you can't do that …' I started.

He clenched his fists. ‘Can and will. Being your driving instructor should count for something. If it doesn't, I'm making it.'

‘Sure. Can we get going now?' I started the engine.

He had a wicked, punishing gleam in his eye. ‘To ‘The Hill', Daisy.'

I moaned.