In Ecstasy (2 page)

Dom's party seems like the place where everything began to unravel. But it wasn't. It really started long before that, before I even went out with him. It started with a lie and a big mistake. It's hard to even think about it, but maybe things wouldn't have become so awful if I'd never told that lie. It changed my friendship with Mia.

We were best friends. You hear girls say that all the time. ‘She's my best friend, blah, blah, blah,' and then next week they've got a new one. But it wasn't like that for us. We'd been friends since kindergarten. All through school, if I needed a partner for something, that would be Mia. Everyone else knew it too, even the teachers. Sometimes it felt like we were treated as one person. And I didn't mind because Mia was the person I liked the best. Our friendship just worked without any effort. She'd make me laugh if I was down, or I'd solve her problems if she was stuck. We talked about everything. There were no secrets.

Once the two of us organised a camping trip in the summer holidays before the start of year ten. We had a small tent, a stove, sleeping bags, kero lamp, supplies in an esky, a pack of cards and some magazines. We loaded everything onto a quad bike and drove it down the bush track to the bottom of my family's holiday place in Augusta. There's five acres of native bush with a clearing in the centre where the house stands, surrounded by mowed lawn and tall scraggly gums and oaks. At the start of each spring Mum carries on about snakes. ‘They're most dangerous this time of year,' she warns like she's never said it before, ‘just out of hibernation when their venom is most potent.'

We pitched our tent, unrolled our swag and set up our camping stove. Mia was cooking. She shook the pancake mixture in its plastic bottle and poured it into the pan. I sat back and watched—Mia knows exactly how to ham a situation up and put on a show. The pan kept slipping off the stove, it wasn't hot enough, or it was too hot and the pancakes starting burning. She was trying to flip them in the air and ended up picking most of them up out of the dirt. It was dusk by the time she'd finished and we chewed our way through the best parts. I told her how delicious they were, even with unidentifiable crunchy bits.

The grey of dusk deepened to darkness and we turned the kero lamp on and huddled together in the tent. In the stillness outside I listened to the rustling of the bushes. Mia shifted nervously next to me, and when an owl started hooting she almost jumped out of her skin.

There was nothing to be scared of. I had a mobile phone and Dad would've been down there in a shot.

‘Do you ever get scared of stuff?' Mia said.

I nodded.

‘I do too,' she said. She was quiet for a minute, the shadows cast by the kero light elongating her features until she didn't look like Mia at all. ‘I'm scared of almost everything.'

And she was. I'd known her most of her life. She hated change.

‘I mean it's like, what's happening next?' she said. ‘After school and stuff? What happens if you end up in some crap life?'

I thought she might have been thinking about her mum and dad.

‘Yeah, but think of all the other stuff, like travelling the world,' I said. I couldn't wait; I wasn't scared of change at all. All I was scared of were people's perceptions of me. I couldn't stand failure and I hated upsetting people, or letting them down. I liked people to think I had it together, that I knew where I was going, that I would get what I wanted.

‘But you know what else I'm scared of?' she said suddenly. ‘What if you and I weren't friends any more. What if one day we didn't speak to each other?'

I sat in the strange shadows of the tent. As a possibility it seemed so remote. What could ever stop Mia and me from being friends?

‘It'll never happen,' I said easily. ‘We'll be friends forever.'

I awoke to her high-pitched shriek. My face was pressed against the side of the tent and Mia was practically sitting on me.

‘What is it?' I asked, wide awake and hoisting her off me in my scramble for the torch.

‘Something touched my leg.' Her knees were pulled up to her chin. ‘I think it's a snake.'

I flashed the torch around the tent. The bottom of the flap was unzipped, only about fifteen centimetres or so, but enough to have let something in. I felt like laughing, it was probably a moth or something, but then I saw it. A quick flash of black, poking out from beneath Mia's crumpled sleeping bag. I swung the torch back quickly, now fearful. Maybe it was a snake. I mentally assessed our escape route; we were closer to the opening than the snake. We could unzip the flap and scramble out before it realised it was trapped. I knew from my mother's seasonal warnings that you didn't want to trap a snake—they might turn on you.

‘Unzip the doorway,' I whispered to Mia, forgetting in my panic that snakes are deaf. Her hands were shaking as she reached across and slowly pulled the zip upwards. I trained my torch back on the last sighting of the snake. There it was again, the tip of its tail, moving. It had to be a tiger snake. I grabbed the mobile with my spare hand. ‘Go,' I hissed. She didn't want to put her feet on the floor of the tent, but she didn't want to stay a second longer. In a very ungraceful movement she fell through the doorway with me close behind.

‘Shit, shit, shit,' we chorused as we scrambled to our feet.

‘What now?' she asked.

‘Dunno,' I said, zipping the flap up to keep the snake inside.

I phoned Dad and in minutes he was there.

‘Is it still in there?' he asked.

I nodded. ‘I wasn't sure what to do. I trapped it.'

‘Go over there and sit on the bike,' he ordered.

Mia and I pulled our feet up onto the seat and watched him open the tent flap and gingerly begin moving the sleeping gear.

‘Crikey,' he shouted, and Mia's nails dug into my arm. ‘Will you check out the size of that!'

‘What is it?' I tried to sound normal, but terror has a funny way of making your voice high pitched.

‘It's no tiger snake,' he said, turning his back on the snake still trapped in the tent, ‘it's not even a tiger—it's a different genus altogether.'

‘What?'

‘Here's your snake, Mia,' Dad said, reaching into the tent and pulling out our black cat, Floyd. ‘Felis catus.'

Floyd stared at us wide eyed. I laughed in relief. But Mia was uncertain. ‘Are you sure that's all? It touched my leg and it felt scaly, not furry.'

Dad smiled at her determination. ‘That's all there is Mia. One domesticated house cat. Sorry, no snake!'

She attempted a smile, but she clearly wasn't one hundred percent convinced. In her mind a snake, not a cat, had invaded the tent. And no one, even in the face of irrefutable evidence, could convince her otherwise. She was so stubborn. But back then I accepted all that about her. She was my best friend.

So, why would I lie to her?

I got home at seven the next morning. We'd danced and talked until dawn. I belonged to this group of beautiful people. It was the most amazing night of my life.

Lewis insisted on dropping me home. He gave Soph and Craig a lift too, dropping them off after me. Outside my house, he leaned across and gave me a light kiss on the lips. Beautiful, amazing Lewis Scott kissing me goodbye.

‘I'll text you about tonight,' he said as I shut the car door.

I nodded my head, too excited to speak, and watched his car take off, its rumbling engine rocking the silence of the early morning. I unlocked the front door quietly and stepped into the hallway, my shoes in my hand. I'd slipped them off the minute the E had kicked in and my feet were filthy. The smell of rose potpourri hit me as I walked in. It's a smell that pervades our house. Mum is huge on smells.

I stopped in the hallway and listened. All was quiet as I crept to my room. Jordie's bedroom door was open. He was just a softly snoring mound under his doona. I slid into the bathroom and locked the door behind me.

The image that stared back at me from the mirror was nothing like the vision I'd had of myself all night. I'd felt like a princess, golden and ethereal, but my reflection showed messy, matted hair and bloodshot eyes with dark rings under them. I looked away in disgust and turned the hot water up. Slowly the steam misted over my horrible image. I wanted to regain my inner vision, the one of beauty and confidence. I shampooed and scrubbed. I sat on the floor of the shower and shaved my legs. When I towelled myself dry I assessed my body in the mirror. My legs and bum were too big, and looking at them now I wondered what a guy like Lewis would think of me. I turned the light off and slipped into my bedroom.

I shut my eyes and tried to sleep but it was impossible. I wasn't tired at all. I ran over every tiny detail, smiling when I remembered touching Lewis and sitting with him for hours. Even Craig and I had the most awesome conversation. I'd really misjudged him. He's a nice guy who made a big mistake—and was punished for it. I couldn't believe how judgemental I'd been towards him.

I lay back against the cool pillows. My bed smelled of newly laundered sheets. Every Friday Mum strips all the beds and remakes them with clean linen. I breathed in and rubbed my legs backwards and forwards against the smooth, crisp sheet. Ecstasy. I'd always thought I might try it one day. I'd heard kids at school talking about getting wasted on the weekends. They made it sound awesome. I pictured the roughly made tablets with their tiny butterflies. An amazing experience inside a tiny pill. How could something that made you feel like that be bad for you?

I'd heard the horror stories about people dying from ecstasy, and how it was a gateway to much worse drugs, but I also knew that it was mostly government propaganda and sensationalist stories to sell newspapers. Ecstasy was like anything else. If you did it safely, you'd be fine. The people who died were the ones who took stupid risks—or way too much. And people who went on to harder drugs were always going to do that anyway. I knew heaps of guys at school who'd smoked weed for years, and they'd never touched anything else. And last night everyone had been happy and in love. No one was aggro or fighting. Last night people were glorious.

I couldn't stay in bed any longer. I felt so restless. Not in a bad way, but running over every tiny detail, trying to recapture the tranquillity and peace. I dressed and went into the kitchen. Last year Mum spent a fortune on a new kitchen, so now it looked like something out of
Home Beautiful.
She is meticulous about keeping it perfect. Everything has to be in its place.

I poured myself some orange juice. The fridge door was still open when Mum walked in. She kicked at it lightly with her foot and used the sleeve of her dressing gown to rub away my fingerprints as she flicked the kettle on.

‘How was last night?' she asked, getting out her favourite cup, which has thirty written on it even though she's really thirty-eight.

‘Good,' I said, drinking my juice and flicking through yesterday's paper.

‘When did you get in?'

‘This morning. Soph had modelling so I walked home.'

It was partly true. Soph did have modelling. But I was deliberately making Mum think I'd stayed the night at Sophie's when we'd never left the party.

Last night was the first time since Dad left that Mum let me go out without someone's parent taking me or picking me up. She's been totally over-protective. It's like she has to prove that she's this super mother. But Damon, her boyfriend, has been getting on at her about lightening up. When I asked if I could go to Dominic's party it was Damon who supported me.

‘Rae, she's fifteen,' he'd said when Mum frowned at my suggestion that Sophie and I could find our own way home. ‘Think about what you were doing when you were that age.'

That stopped her. Gran had been really strict on Mum when she was my age. Mum had told me how all she'd ever wanted was a bit of trust and freedom.

‘You take your phone and call me when you get there,' she said finally.

I was so happy I hugged both of them. ‘Thanks,' I said, ‘you're awesome.'

So I didn't want her to think I'd taken advantage of her trust. She'd freak if she thought I'd been out all night. And go completely psycho if she knew about the E. The best thing to do was let her believe I'd been at Soph's.

‘You're supposed to be at Dad's at eleven,' Mum said, getting the milk out of the fridge.

‘Do I have to go?' Last night Lewis had asked if I wanted to go to a dance party. I could only imagine what it would be like, feeling that way in a room with hundreds of people soaking up the rhythm of the universe. And to go with Lewis Scott!

‘It's your dad's weekend.'

‘I know, but I've got stuff on. I'm meeting with Soph tonight and anyway, I don't want to be around Kylie.'

‘I thought you liked her.' Mum looked at me over the top of her cup.

‘She's getting too big for herself now. Thinks she can talk to me like she's my friend, or my mother.'

Mum winced. The subject of Kylie is still painful for her. Dad and Kylie had been business partners, and he left home a month before my twelfth birthday to be with her. Even though Mum's got a new boyfriend and has moved on from the train wreck of her marriage, Kylie still touches a nerve.

‘You'll have to ring him,' she said finally. ‘I don't want him thinking I've put you up to this. You'll have to tell him that you've got your own life now.'

Fine with me. Dad was a pushover anyway.

I didn't know what to do with myself. I was in limbo, waiting for Lewis to text me but worried he might not. I studied myself in the mirror. There was a monumental pimple lurking beneath the surface of my chin. I didn't want it erupting tonight. But it wasn't ready to squeeze, and anyway that could be deadly—turning it into a mountain worthy of its own postcode. I stopped myself from touching it and plucked a few stray hairs out of my eyebrows. Then I gave myself a pedicure. My poor heel was so sore. I was sticking on a bandaid when my mobile vibrated. A message from Lewis!

party on. pick u up @ shops

Immediately I texted Sophie. My stomach was fluttering as I assessed my wardrobe. I had to wear something ultra cool. He had to think I was hot. The shoes posed the biggest problem—what could I wear without turning into a cripple? My phone beeped again.

cant mum freakd bout 2 much partyn

No way! I needed Soph there. I wasn't ready to do it on my own. Her parents are super strict. In fact her mum's a mega control freak, picking on Sophie for just about everything. Nothing is ever good enough for Mrs Spencer. First she thinks Soph spends too much time at my house—but then she says I'm a good influence because I'm sensible and don't go stupid over every guy I see. She says this in front of Soph. Can you imagine how bad that makes Soph feel? We both hate her.

say ur @ my place my mum out tonite I'll b @ yours

Her message came back.

ok meet at shops

I was smiling happily. It was going to be another great night.

I called Dad, but Kylie answered.

‘Can I speak to Dad?' I asked.

‘Sure, sure,' she said, and put the phone down. She knew I was off her after the argument we'd had last time I was there.

I'd always got on pretty well with Kylie. And Mum had always tried not to slag her off in front of us. So I guess I'd never really thought about how hard it was for Mum to let us stay with her and Dad. Anyway, the visit before, Kylie had bought me a bra. It was pink, with underwire and diamantes. I loved it. When I got home I showed it to Mum.

‘That's nice,' she said, smiling. But her face was tight and her eyes weren't smiling too. Her reaction really bothered me. I sat in my room trying to figure out why she was so hurt when I suddenly understood. She didn't want Kylie buying me things that a mother should buy. She didn't want Kylie taking me to expensive lingerie shops and having me professionally fitted instead of getting a 10A off the rack at Target. From where Mum was standing, Kylie had taken her husband and now she was trying to take her children. I felt so ashamed for betraying my mum like that, and an overwhelming rush of hatred for Kylie.

So when I saw Kylie next I dropped the bra in its plastic bag in her lap.

‘What's all this?' she asked nervously. She'd known from the minute I'd arrived that something was going on. I could barely look at her. I was so angry with myself. I felt like I'd knifed my own mother in the back.

‘Your bra,' I said. ‘I don't want it.'

‘Oh,' Kylie said, opening the bag and looking at it. ‘I thought you did. I thought it fitted you really well. You said it was so much nicer than the ones your—'

I cut her off. ‘Shut up. Don't you dare talk about my mother.'

Her face went bright red and she looked at me, shocked. ‘I just thought, after what you said—'

I jumped up and pointed my finger at her. ‘Don't,' I said. ‘I told you to shut up.'

And then I ran to the bedroom Jordie and I shared when we stayed over. I didn't want to hear the mean things she was going to say about my mum, about her awful taste in clothes, and how she tried to dress me like a little girl. I didn't want to hear her repeat the things that I'd told her when we'd laughed, like friends, about my mother.

Now Dad came on the phone.

‘Hi honey,' he said. ‘Tell your mum to bring you over in an hour or so. I'm just ducking up the shops. Choc chip or caramel?'

When I hear my dad's voice like that it makes me realise how much I miss him. I knew he was going to be disappointed, but he'd left so he could ‘have a life'—it was only fair I should have one too.

‘I can't come this weekend, Dad,' I said. ‘I've got a party to go to.'

He was silent. Don't be pissed off with me, I thought. This is your fault anyway. ‘It's a huge one, I can't miss it,' I said to break the silence.

‘But it's our weekend.' He sounded hurt.

‘I know, sorry. But Dad, this is like the event of the year. You wouldn't want your daughter to be the biggest loser of the century, would you?'

‘As if you could,' he said. ‘When will I see you?'

‘I'll come next weekend. I'm sure Mum won't mind,' I said quickly. ‘I'll get her to call you.'

When Mum got home after dropping Jordie off, I heard her rattling around in the kitchen. She was slamming cupboard doors and ferociously wiping the bench tops.

‘What's up?' I asked her as I came out of the bathroom with my hair in a towel.

‘Your bloody father wasn't even there,' she muttered, grabbing the phone. ‘He knows I don't like leaving Jordie on his own with her.'

For the first time Mum was expressing how she felt about Kylie. I guess she knew I was jumping camps, and finally she had an ally.

‘Maybe you should phone him later,' I suggested. In this mood Mum was walking straight into a massive fight.

‘I can handle your father,' she said, waving me away. And I didn't know if that was meant to be ironic.

I didn't have to eavesdrop to hear her conversation. I reckon the neighbours three doors down heard it too. She berated him for not being there and then moved onto me. ‘No Matt, you can't force her. She's nearly sixteen. She's entitled to her own social life.'

There was a pause, for a second. ‘Well, whose fault is that? If you'd cared about spending time with her four years ago you wouldn't have left her for that slut.'

She screamed the last word and slammed the phone down against the kitchen bench. It's the fourth handset we've had in as many years. I never heard Mum and Dad fight so much when they were together. It seems like a lifetime ago we were this happy family, the four of us, doing family stuff together. And then it ended. In one afternoon Dad announced he was in love with another woman and walked out the door.

From the first day they tried to hide their animosity from me and Jordie but they must think we're stupid. Every phone call, drop-off and pick-up has been tainted by their obvious hostility. She makes nasty comments that she thinks we can't hear about Kylie and about how unfair he is to expect her to raise two children on the crap money he gives her, when he earns so much. Then he dismisses her as a control freak who has no rights over him any more. He always reminds her that he pays more than the minimum required and Jordie and I sit like spectators at a tennis match, watching the hatred fly between them.

Mum was sitting in front of the smashed phone, staring off into space. It's a look she's fine tuned over the last few years. She gave me her I'm-exhausted-but- I-have-to-put- on-a-good-front -for-my-kids smile.

‘I'm thinking I might ring Damon and cancel tonight. Why don't we stay home and have a girls' night in. Pizza and movies, hey?' she suggested, reaching for my hand.