Heart of Glass (3 page)

Living with the daggiest
parents on the planet was not an easy task. It took a lot of skill
to keep them hidden from the general public. But Prue had my back.
She always did.

“
That would be a disaster.
You don’t want to look like some baby whose parents supervise her
all the time.”

“
Exactly. So, will you
help? You never know, his friend might be really cute
too.”

The grapevine worked
overtime during lunch and it wasn’t long before the whole school
knew about the impending ‘date’. Everyone had ideas about what I
should wear and how I should act to give the impression of
worldliness given that I had absolutely none. A date with an
eighteen year old was, after all, the jewel in the dating crown.
Everything had to be planned to perfection.

Prue was rabid with
excitement as we discussed clothing choices – not that I had any,
but her supply was limitless.

“
Should I wear my new top
and those boots I got last week?” she asked. The chance to spend an
evening with two older guys was proving to be a thrill for us both
but then, the idea of having a date at all was a thrill. “I can’t
believe he rang you, Bella, I never thought we would hear anything
when we wrote that stupid note. It didn’t even have a proper
address.”

“
Ben said it went to his
school and the footy coach passed it on. We were lucky not to get
into lots of trouble.”

Jen looked up from the
couch. “I hope that note wasn’t read by every teacher in his school
before he got it. I would die of embarrassment.”

I rolled my eyes. Jen ‘died
of embarrassment’ at least twice a day and over things that even I
considered trivial.

But Lucy, who had sat in
stony silence since the news had broken, butted in. “Oh, don’t be
so ridiculous, Jennifer. Honestly, sometimes you can be so
immature. As if a bunch of teachers on the other side of the state
would know or even care who you are.”

Everyone stared. Lucy was
such a cow sometimes.

“
Well? What are you all
looking at? Anyone’d think Ben James was the only boy in the world,
the way you’re all carrying on.”

We remained silent but, from
the looks that passed, it was obvious we shared the same thought.
An evening with Ben James meant more to Lucy than she cared to
admit.

***

So there I was, a few nights
later, in the middle of the bedroom, hands on hips, considering the
piles of clothes at my feet. My skinny body, for I had as many
curves at that age as a plank of wood, was wrapped in a fleecy
towel and my hair covered by another, shaped into a turban. I’d
spent an hour in the bathroom washing my hair, shaving my legs and
plucking my eyebrows. Then, back in my room, I cranked the stereo
to the loudest Mum would allow without some comment about the music
of today’s young people and set about making myself as gorgeous as
possible. If this was going to come to a fight between Lucy and I
wasn’t going down easily.

As I sang along with The
Carpenters, I deliberated what would be the perfect outfit for my
‘date’. Yes, I know I’d already been through my whole wardrobe
twice but my clothes were vile and unsuitable and it was hard to
concentrate with those lovebirds twittering around my head singing
‘Close to You’. Considering the choices, I settled on jeans and my
favourite cheesecloth shirt. At least I’d feel comfortable and I
knew they looked okay so I wouldn’t be obsessing all night. I
glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was almost
time.

The boys arrived at 8.30pm
sharp. I answered the door with what I hoped was a welcoming smile
but inside, I was wound so tight I couldn’t breathe.

“
Hi.”

Ben smiled back, a big
beaming smile that made him look like he was on the cover of ‘Teen
Girl’ magazine. I, of course, melted into a puddle of teenage lust
at his feet. After introductions, where Dad didn’t even raise his
face over the newspaper and Mum looked at the boys as if they had
just declared paedophilia to be their favourite pastime, we walked
through the house and into the family room. I guided the boys to a
corner and they plonked down in the beanbags. We looked at each
other and smiled that strained constipated grin people have when
they don’t know what else to do.

Silence.

What did I do now? I wasn’t
the chirpiest of conversationalists in new company.

“
Want a coke?” I got up and
walked to the bar. Playing hostess would fill in five
minutes.

“
Great. Thanks,” Ben
said.

More silence.

I pulled some glasses from
the mirrored shelf and placed them on the bar. The night was going
to be a disaster if I didn’t transform into the life of the party.
And quick. If only I knew what to do and say. If only I had my
friends around me. It was times like these I realised why I needed
Lucy in my life. That girl knew how work a room. She would have had
the boys salivating.

Bending into the door of the
fridge, I grabbed the coke bottle. The boys were watching me, which
made me feel more self-conscious than ever.

“
Prue’s coming over,” I
gabbled. “ You met her at the football. She’s the one with dark
hair. She should be here soon. She’s always late. She’s got heaps
of great albums. She’s going to bring some with her…. Oh
shit!”

Not watching where I was
going, a whole glass of coke flew from my hand and landed on the
rug at Ben’s feet, soaking into the cheesecloth of my top as it
fell. Yet another awkward silence fell over the room.

I looked at the boys. They
were doing their best to be polite but they looked as if they were
about to explode with laughter. The fabric of my top became
transparent and clung, bunched, to my skin, exposing my entire lack
of cleavage to the world, not to mention my nipples.

Then, right on cue, the
doorbell rang.

“
That’ll be Prue, I expect.
I won’t be a second,” I muttered, rushing for the safety of the
front door. With my luck, they would have changed their minds and
gone home before I got back. I was about as scintillating as an
evening alone with a cabbage.

Prue gawked at my top and
shaking her head, went ahead of me into the family room. “I’m not
even going to ask,” she said. She was so calm, so self-controlled.
“Hi, Ben. I’ve bought the new KISS album. It’s excellent; wanna
have a listen?” She flopped down onto the carpet and leant towards
the stereo to change the album.

Avoiding the wet patch, I
sat between her and Ben. “Do you like KISS, Ben?”

“
Yeah, they’re good. They
play them a lot at the pub we go to.”

“
I wish I was old enough to
go to pubs.”

“
Age doesn’t matter, you
can get fake ID.”

“
I could I s’pose, but I
look so young, I’d get caught for sure.” I picked at a loose thread
in the carpet. These boys were so grown up. There was no chance
they were going to like me once they got to know me. I didn’t even
think they’d want to get to know me.

“
Well, you can get in if
you’re accompanied by an adult, can’t you? Maybe I could supervise
you?” Ben smiled and leant over to put his hand on my arm. It felt
warm and soft. “Don’t worry Bella, one night I’ll take you to the
pub and buy you a drink. I’ll look after you.”

I looked into his eyes. His
smile was genuine and I could feel the blush spreading across my
cheeks yet again. I hoped to God he wouldn’t notice but he
continued to stare at my face, scrutinizing every part, as I fell
into his blue eyes, hypnotised. Corny as it sounds, it was as if we
were suddenly the only two people in the world. Beneath my
awkwardness, he got me. I knew he did.

After half an hour or so, my
clearly conversation boring him beyond belief, Ben got up to look
around the room. The family room was the only spot in the house
Toby and I were allowed to express ourselves so there were a lot of
band posters - mostly mine. Ben stopped in front of a Meatloaf
poster; it’s orange and brown colours dripping off the
wall.

“
Do you have the ‘Bat out
of Hell’ album?”

“
Yeah. I’m in love with
Heaven Can Wait at the moment. It’s my favourite song. The lyrics
are so good.”

“
I’ll have to have a closer
listen.”

“
Mm.”

“
Where’d you get the
poster?”

“
My Dad got it for me when
he went to Sydney on business.”

Ben looked for a minute
longer and then sat down, making himself comfortable on the sofa.
“You’ve got some cool stuff in here.”

“
Thanks.”

I stared at the wall. I
didn’t know what else to say. The record was playing and I looked
down at my hands, fiddling with my ring, twisting it round my
finger. Say something you idiot, I thought. He’s going to think
you’re a complete dick. Not knowing what else to do, I wandered
over and sat on the arm of the sofa, above him, looking down into
his eyes and wishing I was the type of girl who could throw myself
at him or at least crack a joke that he’d want to laugh at. It
would make the tension a whole lot easier to deal with. The silence
between us was deafening, my awkwardness a big black hole,
threatening to suck me in and never let me go. This was way harder
than I’d imagined a date would be. I took a deep breath.

“
Have you seen lots of live
bands?”

“
A few. Cold Chisel were
cool.”

“
I don’t mind the
‘Breakfast at Sweethearts’ album. The third track is
awesome.”

Ben looked impressed. Girls
who could talk about music must’ve been rare in the crowd he mixed
with. We chatted on for a minute but then he smiled, a most
enticing smile. I thought I was going to faint.

“
Come sit next to
me.”

Nearly tripping on the rug,
I moved to the cushions and sat down at the other end of the sofa,
trying to keep some distance between us. It was the only way I
could cope with the overwhelming rush of emotions that were surging
through me. What the hell was wrong with me? It wasn’t like Id
never been held by a boy before. I sat nervously, hands tucked
under my thighs trying to understand why he should affect me so.
Why him?

“
That’s better, huh?” Ben
said, sliding across the sofa to join me, and trapping me between
his body and the wall on the other side. He did it so fast, so
fluidly that I didn’t even notice until it was too late. I was
caught. Then his arm slipped around my shoulders and he gently
pulled my hand free; not even pretending it was an accident like
other boys did.

“
Your hands are cold….” he
whispered, as he held my trembling hand against his own, the warmth
burning into my palm, the softness of his fingertips pushing
against mine.

I couldn’t answer. My
breathing had accelerated to the perilously high levels I knew
could only be bad for my health.

Ben was so close now; I
could see soft hairs at the side of his jaw and the flecks of grey
in his blue eyes. The mere brush of his finger on my shoulder sent
shivers through my body and my heart began to beat in unison with
my breath. “You know, I really like your hair, Bella. It’s not like
other girls’.”

He moved his hand to touch
the nearest strands, lifting them away as his face moved
closer.  I moistened my lips with my tongue and tried to enjoy
it but all I could feel was the huge wad of unexplained nausea or
excitement or something in my stomach. I had no idea what it
was.

If he blows in my ear I’ll
have to call for a paper bag, I thought.

He blew.

Then he shifted slightly. Oh
God, he was going to kiss me. And I was going to suck so badly,
he’d never want to do it again.  I quivered like the lone
autumn leaf left on the tree as he ran his tongue over his lips and
prepared me for my fate. He studied my face, his eyes finally
coming to rest on my mouth. He was ravenous and I was to be the
feast.

“
How about I turn the
heater up? It’s a bit chilly in here,” I blurted, jumping from my
spot.

“
No, sit here.”

I sat still.

“
You have really cute
dimples,” he said, ignoring my shaking leg.

“
The, um, record’s
finished….”

“
I know.”

His face moved closer to
mine and his arms absorbed me in their grasp. He held me for a
minute and my trembling ceased.

“
You okay now?” he
asked.

I nodded. My breath had
calmed and my heart had stopped beating altogether but yes,
suddenly I was calm.  I wanted him to kiss me as much as he
wanted to do it.

He moved his head towards
the kiss. This was it. I had died and gone to heaven. I closed my
eyes and puckered…

“
Everything alright down
here?” Mum was standing in the doorway, clearing her throat. Her
eyes skimmed the room, taking in every detail.

Prue giggled as Ben and I
sprung apart and sat bolt upright on the sofa. “Hi Mrs Stone, we
were just playing eight ball.”

Well, some of us
were.