Friendship on Fire (55 page)

‘Mum, life sucks,' I complained that night when she got home from food shopping.

‘Does it now?' she said, amused. She began putting food away while I sat on the bar stool brooding. ‘And why does it suck?'

‘Because it does,' I said, biting my lip petulantly.

‘What happened on your last day of school to make life suck so badly?' she asked gently.

‘It was supposed to be the best day ever. No more classes. No more Mr Head telling me what to do. No more strange teachers. No more school uniform. And yet as I left, staring at the building for the last time, Rachael nearly ran into me.'

‘Oh. Did she say anything?'

‘No,' I replied in a quiet voice.

‘Then what are you worried about?' she asked, frowning at me.

‘We were best friends the whole of high school, Mum, until now. She would barely look at me. I didn't have to say anything to her; it was written all over her face.'

‘Do you miss her friendship?'

I shrugged miserably. ‘In some ways more than others. I miss our history, our understanding. I'm glad I know what she's really like now, though.'

‘Daisy I'm going to tell you something you might not like to hear. You do realise you could possibly be friends again, don't you? It might not be how you want it, or the same as before, but would you rather have her as a friend than not at all?'

I glared at her, although none of this was her fault. ‘How could I forget what she did to me?'

‘I'm not saying you should. I'm asking you so that you are clear in your head about the decision you made not to speak to her anymore. Yes, she wronged you, but it was your decision to cut your ties with her. Do you want to be her friend?'

She watched me wrestle over possible answers.

I thought about the prospect of being friends with Rachael again. It could be done, if I was willing to give up what happened in the past. I opened my mouth to speak, but paused again for a moment, chewing on my lip before coming to a permanent decision.

‘No.'

‘Then don't worry about seeing her or her ignoring you,' she said, so simply. ‘She was in your life for a season, a time when you both needed each other and you were mutually friends. Now you have Sarah and Shana as your best friends.'

‘You're right, I know you are,' I moaned. ‘So what about Roman? Was that only a season as well?'

‘I'm pretty sure you still have that decision ahead of you,' she said, winking at me.

I nearly choked on my next question. ‘What if he wants nothing to do with me?'

‘It's as I said before. You make your choice, do your best with it, then let him take responsibility for his part in it.'

‘OK,' I said, taking a deep breath. ‘Thanks Mum.'

‘That's what I'm here for.'

A weight was lifted off my shoulders as Mum pointed out to me what I found most hard to accept. I can't be responsible for everything. And everything can't be perfect, even if I thought it should be.

‘Better go study sweetheart. Exams start Monday and we've got a busy weekend with family. I'll tell you when dinner's ready,' she said, smiling warmly and kissing me on the cheek.

Barely two weeks later, I found myself standing outside the exam centre that had become disgustingly familiar to me.

‘I'm going to be sick,' I whispered to Shana as we lined up outside the history exam room, our final exam as high school students.

I'd done four exams in the fortnight and it was a gruelling time for all of us. After each exam we would go to St. Peter's Bakery and treat ourselves to a sugar high of hot chocolate and banana muffins. So I held fast to that vision as I prepared myself to be put under exam pressure once more. This was a true test of mind over body. Or spirit.

I was over it all. With a sudden sense of alarm, I realised my sentimentality from the start of the year had gone. It had shifted toward having an innate need to become more independent. I was over exams. I was over the pressure and stress of studying material I didn't care for.

I wanted to finish this exam, have my Formal and graduate.

‘You'll be fine,' Shana replied soothingly. ‘Remember this moment and think: last one. Then we're free.'

‘You're right. Three months of bliss after this.'

‘Then prepare ourselves for the next lot of people to boss us around,' she added, giggling.

I scowled at her, wishing she hadn't said that.

She rubbed my arm empathetically and scanned her history notes for the last time before dropping them on the carpet just outside the room. Then we were called in to start, where I prayed my study would pay off for my favourite subject and I wouldn't disappoint my favourite teacher.

rinks and dancing for the pre-Formal celebration started at Sarah's house, just the girls. We were dressed to the nines; hair and make-up done courtesy of each other and dresses strapped perfectly into place. I was beyond excited. I'd been dying to wear my dress and I got to show it off during the fashion parade we had during the party. Taking turns with the camera, we modelled our dresses and posed with our masks like idiots to kill time before eight, when the Formal started.

Our transport to the venue depended on how ‘able' we were to organise ourselves. We didn't want our parents to know of our pre-Formal plans, so they were definitely out of the mix of chauffeurs. My parents almost seemed disappointed they couldn't drop me off to the Formal. I was packing my ‘essentials' bag that afternoon while my parents talked to me about the evening and curfews and all that embarrassing stuff and I think they just assumed they would take me. I let them down gently, but it was hard to tell them that it wasn't the done thing to be dropped at the front door of your Formal by doting parents.

Considering our choice of transport was getting smaller, it was left up to the boys to decide if we were going with them. If they weren't able to drive us, then we girls would have to catch a taxi. We figured the whole masquerade theme would help cover the glassy texture of our eyes when we arrived at the venue so Mr Head wouldn't freak if he saw his school captain ‘happier' than usual. I wasn't a big fan of getting totally sloshed, but if my friends were planning to force me to dance all night, I'd need a little to drink.

Sarah's mum was an old-fashioned hippie, who looked like she should have been a teenager in the sixties instead of the seventies. Her light brown hair was long, straight and uncoloured, and she wore high-waist jeans and a t-shirt with a peace sign on it. She acted our age and she could have been if only for the fact that she had Sarah at eighteen and hadn't grown up one iota since. Shana, Sarah and I appreciated the fact that Mrs Williams wasn't averse to teenage drinking under her roof and, thankfully, she offered to drive us to the Formal. She was way cooler than my parents and we didn't need the boys after all.

Fluttering in my stomach distracted me as we pulled up to the busy venue. It was a modern one-storey building, lit up with lights at all angles like a hundred candles.

Red carpet was rolled out the front steps where Sarah's mum dropped us and Sarah giggled as though we were royalty while she linked arms with Shana and me. As I walked up the stairs I caught a glimpse of Skye and the Brigade, decked out in mixtures of black and white, blonde hair straight and as fake as ever. They were clearly drunk, laughing and clinging to each other desperately in their platform heels and tight dresses. Shana shook her head at them but they were too in their own world to notice any of us.

From slightly behind Skye I could see Rachael, completely changed from the girl I once knew; now looking exactly the same as the rest of the girls. I felt more sorry for her now than I once did for me.

The boys were waiting for us out the front and I stood with my back to them on the front step gazing out into the car park as they presented their girls with corsages and compliments. Rummaging in my purse, I produced my ticket and stepped forward to hand it to the greeters at the door. They informed me photos were being taken behind a wall immediately to the left of the indoor entrance. I trotted round there, careful not to step on my own feet, and every few seconds I'd hear ‘smile.' and see a giant flash go off. Couples would come out from the other side of the wall rubbing their eyes and blinking wildly.

I stopped short of joining the line. Now here was a dilemma. Was I going to have photos with Sarah or Shana?

Or by myself? I wouldn't have pictures to remember of a proper couple, you know, with a guy, and partner photos with the girls was out of the question.

My palms started to sweat.

‘What is it?' Sarah asked, joining me behind the line and prodding my stomach with her elbow.

‘I don't need any photos,' I said, taking deep breaths and nodding to myself.

‘Of course you do. You've got to remember for all time how hot you were at eighteen,' she grinned, trying to take the light-hearted road.

I shook my head wildly. ‘I have plenty of other photos from earlier to remind me of that. These will be really expensive anyway. I'll wait for you guys inside.' I started to move past her.

Sarah poked Shana and pulled her close to form an impenetrable wall shoulder-to-shoulder. I tried to push past but they stopped me. Shana looked confused, but blocked my path in good faith for the reason Sarah would give her later.

‘Let me past,' I whispered hotly, tipsy temper flaring.

‘Not until you tell us what the real problem is,' Sarah said, folding her arms in defiance. ‘She doesn't want any photos,' she added to Shana. Shana gasped.

‘I have told you,' I whined. ‘I need to pee. Let me go.'

‘Nope. Keep talking.' Both girls glared at me. I rolled my eyes.

We were only a few couples away from being photographed; the boys had joined behind us and I had to escape now or run the risk of being humiliated in front of the line of endless couples behind me.

‘Fine. I forgot about the photo part of the Formal, all right. The real meaning of Formal photos. I don't have a partner, so I'm going to be embarrassed when it's my turn and the photographer asks for the partner shot.'

My face became hot after letting out the truth. They blinked at me.

‘Does my company as a date mean nothing to you?' Shana started, big eyes filling with tears on cue.

I rolled my eyes at the old-fashioned guilt trip. ‘I don't have time for this Shana.'

‘No, I think she has a good point,' Sarah chimed in. ‘Should I feel embarrassed because I'm not here with a hot male date?'

‘Well, no, but you …'

‘But I choose to be this way?' She raised one menacing eyebrow. ‘Daisy. Of course I'd be here with a date if there was anyone half worthy to go with. But there's not at the moment. Does that mean I shouldn't go enjoy myself?'

‘No, but …'

‘You can borrow James for the photo if you want,' Shana offered, smiling brightly.

I wrinkled my nose. ‘Thanks, but I don't think he'd feel comfortable with his hands on my hips, even if it was only for a photo.'