Friendship on Fire (2 page)

—Carly, 25, ADRA volunteer

“I liked how it was about friendship, romance and family all at once. It was really interesting and it kept me wanting to read more all the time! It was great how it was truly like high school. I loved it!”

—Amber, 13, student

“The book was very addictive, well written and had a great storyline and climax. Everything was built together to create something that clicked together amazingly well. The story is like a puzzle: every piece represents something and at the time you can see where it fits and what happens, though you can't know for sure until you have completed the puzzle and everything comes together as one.”

—Katie, 13, student

“The author really caught Daisy's problems head on and didn't bother sugar coating it. This is the best book on earth!”

—Makenzie, 13, student

“I thought that the characters were great. The development was excellent. It was easy to get in to who they were and what they were like. I always like to personally think I know the character so that was good. It is a great book for high school girls. It covers real experiences that they go through. The exact kind of book that I would have read when I was 15 and above. I loved how you wrote the love story between Roman and Daisy. I think he is so adorable. I loved the family dynamics with the three brothers and the relationship between them and Daisy.”

—Krista, 26, high school teacher

“This book is very creative and Weiler really captures the characters' personalities and the themes are relevant to teenage life. There is a great message to everyone who reads it.”

—Jordan, 13, student 

“This book is so unique because these days all you can find in book stores are stories about vampires and werewolves with a random love triangle.
Friendship on Fire
is original and truly Australian.”

—Chloe, 13, student

“This book was addictive and the message sprung on people and kept their attention. The afterthought of
Friendship on Fire
was truly memorable and different (in a good way) from all other romances.”

—Abby, 13, student

“This book was uniquely awesome! I loved that it was unpredictable and every character had their own personality, they weren't just cliches.”

—Michaela, 13, student

Humbly dedicated to my students, 

who were my most supportive critics. 

And to my husband, who sat with me 

and listened.

‘RANGA.'

Not for the first time today.

‘It's really not that bad,' said Rachael, my closest friend of five years. I tested her words against her smile. Genuine, but with a hint of underlying humour. It was bursting, and she was doing her best to be composed.

I sighed.

Even with Rach's support, and I loved her for it, I knew it was hard to miss the flaming red locks coming out from under my school hat. It was all right for her; she was brunette and totally natural.

This was going to be a long day.

We walked down the long hallway leading to the year twelve common room; or our haven, if you like. In it we already planned to have an endless supply of Freddo Frogs, cans of soft drink, and, God-willing, a stash of McDonald's cutlery and sauces stolen from my work. Our common room symbolised our status as school leaders, set apart from the rest of the peasants. Role models.

I tripped on a shoe as I came in the doorway. Rach burst out laughing and handed me the shoe. I threw it back across the room into the masses.

‘Daisy Brooks, to my office. Now, please
…
‘ the principal, Mr Richard Head, bellowed at me through the doorway. His toes stopped short of entering the common room.

My face turned as red as my hair as the whole common room filled with a hundred or so year twelve students went quiet and looked at me. When they saw my hair, if they hadn't already, they erupted into laughter and threw a tirade of redhead jokes at me.

‘Who let you out of the zoo, ranga?'

‘Hey carrot-top — what happened?'

‘How'd you burn your hair?'

I was the only redhead (or ‘ranga', as I had affectionately been called) in the whole graduating class of St Dominic's College. Anyone else who might have been naturally red was either bullied into dying it brown, put streaks into it, or was sick of the ranga jokes. Although we were told we had to be accepting of all people, it was obvious high school had no rules.

Some of the less articulate boys were making orangutan movements with their hands cupped under their arms. I tried to raise my chin and look dignified, at least until I left the common room. Inside, I felt anger and embarrassment as I followed Mr Head towards his office.

It wasn't my fault Dad bought me the wrong colour and type of hair dye. It was my first time and I entrusted my entire social status to my father's ability to choose brown, semi-permanent hair dye. Instead, he chose deep red, permanent colour, that mixed with my naturally honey blonde hair to make a delicious orange red that was, it's true, like an orangutan. I needed to grow it out, and fast.

Mr Head's lofty, belted pants jiggled a little too high above his heels, something that has provided me with hours of amusement in the past. Today he revealed a pair of
Mr Tall
 
Mr Men
socks. Blue, green and purple. Pulled straight and tight who knows how far up his milky calves. Classy.

I raised my eyes as we reached his office door and nearly ran into him. He caught me inspecting his fashionable socks.

‘Anything in particular you wish to share with me, Miss Brooks?' His eyes narrowed as he squinted up at me.

Think quick. Don't mention the socks. ‘Nice socks, sir.'

His pants seemed to go higher as he self-consciously pulled at a belt loop. ‘Sit down, Daisy.' He vaguely gestured to the chairs positioned in front of his desk.

While I sat, Mr Head rearranged the ornaments on his desk in his obsessive-compulsive way while no doubt thinking of manipulative ways to word his impending lecture to me.

‘I saw you, Daisy.'

He held a gold beaver ornament in his hand and gazed at it delicately in the only ray of sunlight bursting through his blinds.

When I didn't answer straight away he cocked his head slightly at me, his glasses slipping down his nose to fit their usual groove. His blackheads were atrocious.

‘Standing out like a beacon in the sunlight, like you have no pride in the school. Like you're already not taking your school captaincy position seriously, as I knew you wouldn't,' he continued. He waited for his words to affect me, watching my eyes fall. ‘We have full school assembly this morning, and I don't need a prank like this one holding up my phone lines from irate parents telling me my control over the students has gone.'

He stopped briefly to place the beaver back on his desk.

‘Have you done this on purpose? Do I need to remind you that we are a conservative school that does not engage with radical aspects of the outside world? Tomorrow I expect to see you back to some sort of normalcy. Either cut your hair short to mask your disgrace or dye it back to your God-given colour. Have I made myself clear?'

I nodded slowly, wincing. ‘Uh, yes. But sir, there is one slight problem.'

His well-practised fake smile revealed menacing teeth, poised to kill. ‘Problem? I see no problem.'

Flushed, I tried to explain. ‘Well you see, my new hair colour is … permanent … and … uhh … it can't be dyed back yet or it will fall out. Hair is brittle you know … I read it on the packet after I realised it was the wrong colour.'

Mr Head's smile widened. ‘Let me tell you right now Miss Brooks, I'm willing to take that chance if the reputation of the school is at stake. Aren't you?'

‘But sir, won't I look worse with no hair?' Surely my horrified look had some impact on his cold, dark, emotionless heart.

His eyes held their gaze. ‘Not necessarily; it will be natural. Matter closed. Now tell me, was I wrong in allowing you to become school captain? Disregarding the fact that you don't get straight As, I thought you would try to make up for that by preserving your reputation.

I could see what he was doing but I had no chance to win the argument, let alone enter it as an equal participant.

I smiled politely as I rose and pushed the chair behind me. A few ornaments on his desk clanged as I bumped into them in my haste. Anger flared within me and I forced myself to speak calmly.

‘Thank you for your concern, Mr Head. I will do my best to rectify the situation immediately.'

‘That's what I want to hear. Before you go, Daisy.' He threw me a wad of bandages pulled from a drawer. ‘For the assembly. Make yourself somewhat presentable, will you?'

The cranky office ladies were giggling spitefully as I left his office. I stared straight ahead and plotted revenge against each and every one of them. I would be late every day for a whole term. Waste their paper and resources. I would be sick in sickbay for two weeks straight and throw up all over them. Yes, I would make their lives a misery for being so horrible to students. My imagination came to an abrupt halt upon seeing a bunch of girls from the infamous Blonde Brigade crowded outside the admin building. They were whispering and pointing at something. I pushed through the group, to find Rach and ask what was going on.

Then I saw him. My boy-radar checklist came up immediately.

Different uniform — check. Different hair colour to mine — check. Tall dark and handsome — check. Different breed to boys at our school — double check. Talking to a girl too young to be his girlfriend?

Through dreamy eyes I watched him put his hand on her shoulder and smile at her. A radiant smile that introduced gorgeous brown eyes, full lips, and I couldn't help but notice in light of my circumstances, a messy-but-still-done hair-style. The girl smiled back at him and waved as he walked away.

No kiss? I mean, public displays of affection were well banned at school but who could resist a little peck on the cheek for such godliness? An arm around the waist? A kiss on the hand?

‘I know,' Rachael beamed as he left the school gates. ‘Who is he and why isn't he at our school? And who is that new girl?' We stared her down, noting everything about her.

Eventually I shrugged. ‘I can't answer any of those questions, but he sure is nice to look at.'

He would have to be put into a safe place in my brain for thinking time later. For now, I needed to practise my speech.

‘How'd it go with Head? Nice turban, by the way.'

Great, now my bandaged head was considerably more noticeable than the original sin.

‘As expected,' I tried to force a smile. ‘Manipulative. He is wearing Mr Men socks again, though. And he caught me looking.'

Rach giggled as the bell rang for our first full school assembly.

‘Wish me luck,' I said, crossing my fingers.

‘You won't need it. You're a natural and you know it. Even if you are a ranga today.'

She dodged away just in time to miss my half-hearted punch.