Friendship on Fire (53 page)

‘Yes, Nanna,' I promised, taking a mouthful of custard.

‘I've come up with a list of guys you can take to the Formal,' Shana said, brilliance in her voice.

I shut the door in her face.

‘Daisy, you can still hear me even if you can't see me. I know you're in there,' she called through the crack.

‘Not if I climb through this window,' I replied dryly.

A muffled gasp entered through the door. ‘You wouldn't.'

‘I would. And why can't I go alone? Sarah doesn't need a guy. I'll be alone too, like her,' I shouted defiantly.

‘I know you want to go with someone. I can see it in your eyes when we talk about it.' She waited for my reaction.

Stupid traitor eyes.

‘If you could see my eyes right now they'd match my words.'

‘Open the door then so I can see,' she dared.

Without thinking, I opened the door to glare at Shana and she ducked under my arm and ran to my bed. Curling herself up under my doona, she proceeded to take out her evil pink writing pad and grin at me.

‘Cheeky cow,' I muttered under my breath. Standing at the door, I folded my arms and tried my best ‘I'm not impressed' look.

‘Your eyes still want a guy and I win. Now stop sooking and listen to my suggestions.'

I sat down at my computer desk, reaching slowly for my iPod.

‘Let's see. We have Ethan, Matt, David, Robert …' Her voice was drowned out as the music of Brooke Fraser's soothing voice filled my ears. Better.

At least a minute of peace went by and I relaxed.

‘Daisy Brooks, you're in big trouble,
‘
Shana squealed in my ear.

My plan was foiled and ended in violence as Shana ripped the earphone out of my ear and screamed in it.

Rubbing my throbbing ear, I scowled back at her.

‘They're all weird and I
won't
ask a boy to the Formal,' I yelled back. ‘That's that. You can say whatever you want Shana but it won't change anything so shut up about it.'

My temper erupted in my brain and I saw red. Arms and legs tingling, I breathed heavily and tried desperately to get a hold of myself. How hard was it for people to leave me to make my own decisions? Everyone was so intent on interfering in my life and I couldn't understand it.

Shana shrank under my reaction and slowly sat back down on the bed and threw the page of names into the bin. ‘I was only trying …'

‘I know you were. I don't need it. I have a dress and I will buy a ticket and get my hair done and that's all I need, OK?' I said, with less tone, but not much.

I was a horrible liar and now a horrible friend. I yelled at sweet Shana, although she was being infuriating. I could have handled it better.

Without the screaming, perhaps.

‘I guess my work here is done then. Or unwanted, whichever comes first,' she said quietly and rose to leave.

‘You don't have to go, Shana. I warned you I have a temper and,' I stopped myself, words almost stuck in my throat.

What did I just say?

Deja vu is cruel.

My vision shifted from Shana's hurt face to a time seemingly centuries ago when I was innocent and highly infatuated with one Nate Parker. Chest heaving, I remembered the feeling as though it was happening to me again right now. I had just irritated him by backing on to the rock at the beach and he said those very words to me as an excuse for his outburst.

So I have picked up something from him after all,
I thought bitterly.
Baggage.

Rubbing my eyes wearily, I prepared myself for the biggest suck up I've ever had to do.

‘Shana, I'm …'

I'd opened my eyes to find I was talking to thin air. I quickly tried to find Shana around my house. Had she gone to the bathroom? To have some food? Was she kidnapped?

‘Shana,' I called.

Treston, making food in the kitchen, shrugged.

I walked out the front door and on to the grass, just in time to see Shana storm into her own house down the street and realised what had happened.

While I was stuck in my moment of realising I was similar to Nate, Shana must have thought I was ignoring her after offending her sensibilities. Either that, or she got sick of waiting for me and left. I must have hurt her a lot. Having a temper is no excuse to use it. Especially not on someone who didn't deserve it.

Sighing, I began to prepare for a peace package to take to her.

‘I don't want to talk to you, psycho
.
‘ Shana half hid behind her front door in self-protection.

‘OK, I deserve that. But, I have presents,' I said sweetly. Opening my wicker basket, I revealed a bottle of Canada Muscat Patritti, homemade biscuits and lollies.

Turning her nose up at them, she said, ‘You have ten minutes. Open the bottle.'

I grinned.

Pouring Shana a glass of Patritti, I explained what happened to me with Nate before she even moved to Twin Rocks. She listened intently, nodding in appropriate places.

‘I get that. And I know you're not trying to use it as an excuse. I just wanted to be a friend to you and help. But now that I know you don't need it, I'll back off.'

‘No, you were right. I do want to go with someone, but I won't ask a random. So I still need your help.'

I watched her eyes light up a little. ‘You do?'

‘Yes. Come up with a solution for me to go with someone, but someone I know and like.'

‘Besides Roman,' she said quietly.

‘Yes. I'm not asking him. My Nanna has already tried to get me to do that.'

‘Oh. So that contributed to your mood too,' she said, perceptively.

I nodded wearily.

We sat drinking and eating biscuits, enjoying each other's company and attempting to think up a master plan. Shana spent some time staring at the wall.

‘I've got it.'

‘Got what?' I asked, daydreaming.

‘Got
it.
‘

‘Eh?'

She was beaming. ‘It, idiot. How about, I go with you and  James can go with Roman. So you have a partner and so does Roman, but I can still hang with James and you can make sure Roman doesn't take another girl.'

I nodded slowly, trying to take in her giant sentence.

She was on a roll. ‘We can all sit at a table together. That way, there are six other people sitting there talking to Roman so you won't feel weird or obliged to talk to him alone.' She rubbed her hands together.

Yeah, except I won't want to talk to anyone else at the table
except Roman,
I wanted to say back.
But he will be the one
I avoid. Ironic.

What could a girl do?

‘How will you get Roman to go with James?' I asked, playing devil's advocate.

‘He'll do it, don't you worry. They are tight. Roman will think it's a fun boy's thing. You let me work on James,' she said, winking at me.

‘Ew.'

‘Not like that,' she blushed.

‘Whatever.'

Shana took a long swig of Patritti and looked around the room shyly. I decided to rescue her.

‘Everything sounds great. Thanks, friend,' I said, toasting my glass to hers.

Inwardly, my heart sank.

It was not until midnight that I realised something I should have realised a long time ago, besides the fact that it was dangerous for my brain to be up after midnight. My diary would have the answer to my dilemma. All I had to do was ask.

October — Midnight — the bewitching and stupid hour.

Dear Diary,

What do I do?

If you were me, (or real) would you go alone to the Formal?

Or try to find a date just to have one? I can't decide.

And if you did decide to go to the Formal, would you ask a boy? Would you take a girl? Would you be seen with a dart like me after asking an inert book for advice?

Let me know, soon.

Dais xx

Then I laughed hysterically at my folly and fell asleep, drooling on the page I'd just written.

liers for the Formal and the exam timetables littered the common room notice board as year twelves filed in for their last two weeks at school.

I refused to look at the timetable. I hadn't done nearly enough study in the holidays, despite my best intentions. I needed a little more time. Things were coming to an end so quickly and I couldn't grasp them before they slipped through my fingers.

At least it wasn't so cold in the mornings now. The fresh edge had lifted and I could finally stop wearing the stupid blazer every day. The scarf remained and the gloves Roman bought me featured sometimes while teachers weren't around to confiscate them from me; like now.

Sarah and Linda screamed as they saw me across the room and ran to tackle me on one of the many dirty couches available to the ‘privileged' students. I probably caught nits from these couches this year.

‘A few weeks and it'll be over,' they squealed and I smiled.

Inside, I was torn. I was still the sentimental old fool from the start of the year and no matter how much this school annoyed me at times, I loved the people in it and would miss seeing them every day.