Friendship on Fire (52 page)

Her face turned slightly sheepish. ‘Sorry. We are friends, too. And we care about you both. It's true what we've been saying. You two aren't the same as you once were and someone has to lock you in a room together to talk until you've sorted yourselves out. I have a good mind to …'

‘Don't you dare,' I groaned defiantly. Then my shoulders hunched over in defeat. ‘The truth is Mum, he won't talk to me anyway.'

‘Why not?'

May as well come out with it. ‘I kissed him straight after I found out Nate cheated on me.'

‘Oh.'

‘Oh? Is that all you can say?'

‘It did come as a bit of a surprise,' she said, pursing her lips at me.

I folded my arms. ‘Fine. Now can you say something other than “oh”, please?'

Mum bit her lip to stop from smiling. I frowned.

‘Well it probably wasn't the best timing for you to try something like that. I always knew you two had a special bond. I was waiting for you to figure it out. Does this mean you have?'

‘Maybe …'

‘It's about time,' Mum exclaimed.

‘Maybe not …'

‘Daisy.'

‘Shush Mum.' I rubbed my forehead absent-mindedly. ‘What am I going to do?'

‘We'll think of something together. Don't worry,' she smiled.

‘It's such a mess.'

‘Maybe this is why Anya went home,' Mum offered, light bulb moment written on her face.

Shaking my head, I replied, ‘Nah, her visa ran out. That's what Roman said.'

‘He would. I'm pretty sure she was head over heels for him since the start, though, from what his Mum said.'

‘How did they meet?' I pried curiously.

‘Don't you know? On the holidays, after first term.'

Understanding blew over me like a wave. I didn't go on holidays with him so he finds another girl instead.
Not that
you wanted him,
a small voice inside me mocked. It was right, but I found it hard to admit.

Still, what was the purpose of him suddenly finding a girlfriend when he hadn't had one in ages? Was he being vengeful? Spiteful? Self-protecting? Lonely? Smart? It could be any one of these things.

Or opportunity. She was gorgeous, I admitted with a lump in my throat. More gorgeous than me. Scandinavian, mysterious, with skin like buttermilk.

Lucky bitch.

‘Earth to Daisy,' Mum said, eyes wide in front of mine.

‘Sorry, I was daydreaming. I didn't know when they got together or when they broke up. I'm so out of the loop I may as well accept the fact I'm not going to be in his life anymore. You know more than me.'

‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself. If you want his friendship back, you fight for him.'

aisy, I have a cunning plan.'

‘Oh no.'

That was Dad three days ago. His plans were generally, let's just say, shifty. Unpredictable. Expensive.

I found myself recruited into a highly secretive mission: distract Mum while he finished building the gazebo around her ears. And she wasn't supposed to notice this.

I laughed, not once, but twice, before agreeing to his terms of blackmail.

I was tasked to keep the blinds on the left side of the house drawn all hours of the day and night, take out the rubbish myself, not let her lift a finger with gardening (it wasn't likely that she'd take two steps outside to help with gardening anyway — it wasn't her forte) and, of course, take her shopping as much as I could fudge. The biggest rule Dad mandated was — deny. Lie. Deceive. Bewitch. Swindle. Trick.

All in the name of love.

Three days into the future, I'm behind a blindfolded Mum as she's led (badly, by Treston) outside to view for the first time, our master project. She won't stop asking questions. She can't handle surprises and demands to know who has done this and what clues we will give her before she's thoroughly embarrassed.

No one says a thing as Dad reaches over to pull the blindfold up over her eyes, allowing her to view her beloved birthday present.

‘What,' Mum exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. ‘What happened?'

‘Happy birthday sweetheart,' Dad said quietly, eyes proud as he watched her marvel at his handiwork.

If I could get a guy who understood me like Dad understands Mum I'd be so happy. Sure they aren't perfect, but the appreciation and love in her eyes right now was priceless.

‘It's beautiful. How did you organise this?'

Her hands were running over the polished wooden table and chairs, feet gently stepping on the floorboards, head gazing up at the umbrellas protecting us from the sun.

‘With a bit of help from everyone,' Dad beamed.

‘The shopping trips …?' Mum eyed me and I was caught smiling. ‘Devilish girl.'

‘It was Dad's fault. He threatened not to buy me clothes from the markets anymore if I didn't help,' I giggled.

‘Well no matter how he did it, I love it. Now we can sit outside in our pyjamas and no one will see us.' Mum cocked her head in the direction of Dad and he shrugged.

‘No one stops a galloping horse to look at me in my robe.'

Mum looked doubtful. ‘Seriously. I thought I was going to get a new car, wrapped up with a big bow on top, veiled as my birthday present when it would really be yours.'

‘Shame on you. I wouldn't do that,' Dad replied.

‘Again, you mean.'

Josh smirked at the memory of Dad doing that about ten years ago. I barely remember it, but Mum never let Dad forget it.

Josh and Treston had organised the table and chairs, while Shane paid for the umbrella. That left my gift. Mum opened it with gratitude, beaming at the framed photo of her and me from my birthday.

‘I'm going to cry,' she said, hugging us all tightly. ‘Come inside and we'll eat.'

Brunch was courtesy of Mum. Just because it was her birthday, it didn't mean her duties as a mother stopped. She slapped all of us for mentioning that, by the way.

It was with great distress that I took out my study books and put them on my desk on the first Monday of the holidays, where they would remain until I finished exams once and for all. That was my theory and I was sticking to it. If I didn't get the information into my head now, there was a high chance it would never go in. Everybody knew cramming only worked the night before a small test. Not major, life-changing exams.

The teachers had generously wished us a great holiday, full of enriching study. Since when is a holiday (vacation, leave, time off) redefined as study?

When handing out the revision sheet for our maths exam, Mr Berry said, ‘This is what we have covered this year. For some of you, it will be a keen reminder of what skills you can advance in. For most of you, it will be new information.' Nice. In my case, he wasn't so far off the mark.

Mrs Von Ruse had given us about thirty booklets to complete as revision, whereas Mr Andrews told us to have a break and cram quotes like crazy when we got back to school during the two weeks extra revision time in class. Miss Shaw handed us chapters out of prominent historians' books and told us to brush up on our historiography skills. Needless to say I was glad to be done with the music class.

Don't get me wrong, I did have a small inkling of a life on the holidays. Shana took me to find a Formal dress, as promised. After six hours and about twenty shops, I found the right one. It was navy blue, with long straps that could be twisted to suit whichever way I wanted the neckline. I liked the idea of twisting the straps up the neck, separating it into a halter and criss-crossing it over at the back. It sounds complicated, but it isn't at all. It's the perfect dress. This year the girls agreed to have a more cocktail style dress instead of floor-length formal, so this fitted the criteria perfectly. And, three hundred dollars later, I happily walked out of the store to move on to planning my hair-do.

Nanna invited me over to her house for afternoon tea a couple of times, too. My devious mother got her revenge on me for the whole birthday thing by telling Nanna about Roman.

She was very energetic one particular Sunday afternoon.

‘Daisy. What are you going to do about that boy, Roman?' she demanded, slamming china down on her picnic table.

I groaned inwardly and put my hands over my ears.

‘Nothing if everyone keeps asking me that,' I snapped without thinking.

‘I won't have you being a bystander in your own life. It won't happen young lady,' she warned.

For a split second I wanted to take her on with that threat. See what she'd be capable of. In her current frailty, I couldn't take her seriously.

‘I'm not a bystander. I was very active with Nate and look what happened.'

‘Yes, and your little minx friend Rachael was a disappointment,' she added. ‘But it still doesn't change our current dilemma. What is your plan?'

‘Nanna, I don't even know if Roman wants me after what I've done.'

‘What do you mean, what you've done?' With one eyebrow raised, Nanna looked menacing.

‘Well, I'm … I'm …
tarnished
now.' My face burnt as I said it, but Nanna's remained the same.

‘So?'

‘So?' It was obvious to me. ‘I'm pretty sure Roman isn't and I think he'd want his girl to be pure.'

A new grief washed over me. I'd have no chance now. I'd forgotten about Roman's standards.

Nanna shook her head. ‘It doesn't necessarily mean you aren't pure, Daisy.'

‘Fine, not pure enough then,' I said sulkily.

‘Enough of this, this hair-splitting,' she said, waving her hand in front of her, ‘I'm sure this boy has done things he's not proud of. If he turned you down just because of that then maybe my opinion of him is misguided.'

‘No he's not judgmental like that, as such. I want the best for him. How do I know I'm the best?'

I hadn't considered up until now what Roman wanted, what was best for him. I might not be that. Then I'd be in the same category as Anya and the rest of the girls and I wasn't sure I could handle that demotion.

‘I know you are, but part of that is up to him. You might need to prove it to him, a little,' her eyes twinkled mischievously.

‘How am I supposed to do that when he won't talk to me about anything?'

‘You've been shopping, haven't you? For this Formal shin-dig. Why don't you ask him to that?' she asked.

I smirked so loudly that it was impolite.

‘Sorry,' I whispered. ‘Um. Nanna. Girls don't ask boys to Formals.'

‘Why not?' she demanded. ‘Stop putting up barriers to my suggestions girl. Take a leap of faith.'
Yeah, because that didn't
hurt my arse when I hit the ground after Nate.

‘Fine, I'll think about it,' I lied. There was no way I was going to humiliate myself a second time in front of Roman. Although rejection was becoming my style, was it not?

‘Good. You independent women these days don't have to play by the old rules anymore. Embrace it. Chase your man. But be sensible,' she wagged her finger at me.