Paradise City (25 page)

Chapter Forty-Seven

I had always wanted to go to the Imperial Shopping Centre in the heart of the central business district. A multi-level shopping mecca, a treasure trove of escalators, food courts and retail shops as far as the eye could see. It was only a fifteen-minute bus ride and just opposite the junction that led into Arcadia Lane. I was becoming quite familiar with my city surrounds. Sure, I had wanted to come here, to shop for a new bikini or get a pedicure perhaps, but I’d never imagined myself wandering into a chemist perusing the pregnancy test section. Somehow I had thought that by going to a bright, clean, classy chemist such as this one, the success rate for the test results would be more reliable. Even the assistants in the makeup section wore white coats. This was world class.

Normally I would be liberally spraying myself with a Dior perfume tester and checking out the sunglasses section, but today I was on a mission. I stalked through the aisles, declining the helpful queries from the shop girls and eventually found the section I needed. I wanted to do this fast, which meant scanning the section as fast as possible, spotting that magical wording: ‘ninety-nine per cent accuracy’, and that would do me. I grabbed a packet, holding it between my arm and my tummy. Eyes down, I walked a direct line to the back, thinking I must look like a shoplifter.

Mercifully there was no-one in my way as I hit the counter almost at a run, sliding the box towards the assistant and digging in my bag for money. ‘Just this one, thanks,’ I said.

The box slid away from me; the cash register sounded painfully loud as it rang up the total. I thumbed out a twenty and then paused, lifting my gaze with that uncertain feeling that something was wrong, very, very wrong.

‘Lexie?’

My world dropped away, spinning and tumbling as the colour drained from my face. My unblinking eyes stared ahead as there, right in front of me, standing with the pregnancy test kit in her perfectly manicured hands, stood Ballantine’s mum.

Her vibrant red lips parted in shock as her eyes flicked from me to the box and back again.

Oh. My. God.

Without a word, and without taking her horrified gaze away from me, she lowered the box to the counter.

Say something, Lexie. SAY SOMETHING. Anything! Tell her it’s not for you. Tell her.

My inner voice screamed at me.
It
was always so logical and smart thinking; it was just a shame
I
wasn’t. Instead, the girl who had been so brave, so noble to go in batting for her cousin, was about to do the most cowardly thing of all. Without a word, I slid over the twenty, grabbed the box and walked away, not looking back, not caring about the change, not caring about anything. I just wanted to die!

•

I ran. I ran so fast I thought I would be sick, or maybe that was just the feeling of my gut spasms. The look on Ballantine’s mum’s face flashed in my mind like a horror movie. Had I imagined what just happened? Seriously, of all the chemists in the entire world? It felt as though the gods were against me. First Lucy, now Mrs Ballantine. What’s with that?

I finally slowed down, leaning against a building, running my hands through my hair and clenching my scalp, wanting to scream, pull my hair out – something.

I pressed my back against the brick wall, feeling defeated. I glanced around, envious of all the carefree skateboarders rolling up the arcade without a care in the world; it was when I blinked at the ice-creamery opposite that I realised where I had run to. I turned, frowning up at the illuminated sign of the Wipe Out Bar.

God, was Ballantine working? I had to get to him first, I thought, pushing off the wall and dodging my way through the crowd.

Oh, please. Be working. Please be working.

The bar was quiet save for a few couples dotted around eating. I clasped the edge of the bar, breathless, trying to gain some composure as Sherry glanced at me with little interest.

‘Is Ballantine out the back?’

She shook her head. ‘He’s not on tonight.’

Oh no-no-no-no . . .

I tried to remain calm. ‘Do you know when he’s working next?’

Sherry shrugged.

I slammed my hand on the bar, frustrated to the very core of my being for not having asked him myself. I wanted to kick and scream and basically have a meltdown that would make Amanda look like a girl scout.

‘Well, can I at least use your phone?’

‘Sorry, business use only,’ she said, raking over me with her dull eyes.

It was enough for me to see red.

I lifted my chin. ‘Is Dean here?’

‘No.’

‘You sure about that?’

‘Check for yourself.’ Her eyes flicked up the staircase as if daring me to.

Well, maybe I just would.

I backed away from the bar, managing to give Sherry a parting filthy look as I stomped my way up to his office, a determined move I hoped would pay off. If she wouldn’t let me use the phone I would go to the very person who just might. When I got to the top of the landing, I knocked in a series of thumps.

‘Dean?’ I called out, turning the handle to find it locked. I felt my heart sink. I didn’t dare look down to where Sherry was no doubt watching me with her smug expression.

I’ll show her.

I delved into my bag, searching for something to write on. I definitely didn’t think ripping off a piece of the pregnancy test box was appropriate, so I settled for the back of a brochure that had a price list for manicures. I found a pen at the bottom of my bag, leant on the door, and started writing on a blank space on the paper. It was about time someone gave Dean a first-hand account of just how bloody unhelpful his staff could be.

Dean,

I need to speak to you ASAP.

Lexie

I printed my home number underneath, a seething rage bubbling beneath the surface – if I didn’t get to Ballantine before his mum did I was going to kill Sherry. I slid the brochure under his door before heading back down the staircase, casting Sherry a departing death stare.

Thanks for nothing.

•

There was nothing I could do; over an hour had gone by since my disastrous run-in with Ballantine’s mum, plenty of time for her to contact him, grill him about his knocked-up girlfriend, and then enrol him in military school in Alaska.

As the bus pulled away, I found myself at a crossroads: I could turn towards Ballantine’s street and see if he was home, explain to him the funny story behind the whole thing and problem solved – well, except maybe for Amanda, who was now potentially not going to get off so lightly.

I bit my lip, looking down into the depths of my tote bag. Surely another ten minutes of waiting would be okay. I’d be quick, really quick, I thought, already making my way towards Ballantine’s street at a run – the fastest run of my life. Hope pushed me forward, had me turning the corner and tearing up the concrete path with the sole intent of preventing impending disaster. But just as quickly, I came to a sliding halt. I could almost feel my heart explode inside my chest as I stared on in wide-eyed horror. There, across the street in Ballantine’s driveway, was Ballantine’s mum’s car.

It was too late! I. Was. Screwed.

Chapter Forty-Eight

I wanted Amanda to be pregnant with triplets. I wanted her to be walking down the aisle in the most scandalously arranged teenage wedding of the century. Instead, we stared down at the stick that sported a very clear minus sign.

Amanda checked the box for the hundredth time. ‘Oh my God! I’m not pregnant, Lexie! I’m not pregnant!!’ she screamed with elation, dancing around the room like she had been called down for
The Price is Right
.

She encircled me into a bone-crushing hug on the way. ‘Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you, Lexie!’

I tried to smile, but I felt like a woman on the edge.

All for nothing. It was all for nothing.

I closed my eyes, breathing deeply, and summoning the patience to put up with Amanda, who was now spinning around the room like Julie-fucking-Andrews.

•

There was no word. Nothing. I had hoped that there might have been a phone call, or maybe a tap at my window in the middle of the night demanding an explanation, but nothing. After a sleepless night, the day lay before me with an epic number of new challenges. My parents would be here by lunchtime and as much as I had missed them and couldn’t wait to see them, all I could think about was getting to Ballantine.

Amanda woke up in high spirits, chirping away and picking out her outfit for the last official day of school. She was so happy and carefree I just wanted to punch her in the face. ‘Don’t worry, Lexie, I won’t water-bomb you,’ she said, smiling at me in the reflection of her mirror as she smoothed down her hair.

‘What?’

Amanda swivelled around in her chair. ‘Today’s muck-up day for the Year Twelves,’ she said, her eyes alight with excitement. I sighed. I already had egg on my face; I really didn’t need that to be literal.

•

The schoolyard vibe was filled with an electric buzz; everyone walked around with an air of guarded amusement, half expecting to be ambushed by a Year Twelve with a bag of flour or a water bomb.

There was no sign of anything untoward, which only built the anticipation. By recess I still hadn’t seen Ballantine, but I tried not to panic because on the whole there were very few Year Twelves in sight and rumours began circulating that muck-up day had been cancelled. All this seemed semi-believable . . . until lunchtime hit.

The sound of screams and the thudding of feet along concrete paths rung out through the schoolyard. A stampede of squealing girls rounded a corner near the library. They ran, screamed and laughed as they blindly rubbed away the caked-on flour in their hair and smattered across their navy uniforms. Two Year Twelve boys dressed all in black with balaclavas to disguise their identity followed behind; they looked like ninjas and were only two of the many others who started infiltrating the school from all angles, dressed in identical outfits.

‘Shit-shit-shit! Lexie, let’s go.’ Laura grabbed my arm, dragging me into motion as the ninjas closed in. As much as Amanda said she would leave me alone, that didn’t account for anyone else, and Laura and I sprinted into action, only to run into a group shaking cans of whipped cream.

We screamed, turned on our heels and bolted towards the girls’ toilets, thinking maybe we could find some kind of shelter there; unfortunately for us I didn’t have telepathic abilities to communicate with Laura who kept running when I turned left. I skidded to a halt and watched on in horror as Laura, while looking back for me, ran into the direct path of a hooded Year Twelve, who grabbed her as another dumped a bag of flour smack-bang over her head, followed by an egg smashed on top.

‘Boon! You dickhead, piss off!’ Laura screamed and kicked her assailant who was most definitely Boon, not only completely obvious from his height, but also from his distinct muffled laughter. I couldn’t help but find myself laughing at poor Laura who was now chasing after her brother, trying to attack him with the excess egg and flour she was dripping with. My humour was short-lived when I spotted a figure coming my way, with what looked like an industrial-strength water pistol in hand.

Oh shit, oh shit.

I turned to run the other way only to blindly slam into the chest of another Year Twelve who caught me in his grip. I was a goner. I attempted to pull myself free, but it was no use; the more I struggled the stronger the hold was, and as bad as flour, egg or cream might be, I was to suffer a far worse fate. I was being dragged into the girls’ toilets.

Oh my God, I was going to get flushed!

Instead of any of the screaming, cowering girls that were hiding in the safety of the toilets coming to my aid, they scurried out like rats from a sinking ship.

Every man for themselves, I guess.

All I could do was put all my weight into the back of my heels as I continued to be dragged along.

‘Please, please don’t do this; you can do anything else, anything!’ I screamed, as I was flung around like a rag doll to stand in front of him. Before I could let out another series of incoherent pleas, the boy in black before me peeled off his balaclava, revealing a beautiful, familiar face.

Ballantine.

A devious smile tilted the corner of his mouth as he fought to catch his breath. ‘Anything?’ he asked.

I didn’t get a chance to answer as he leant down, taking my mouth in a hot, passionate kiss that ended all too soon.

‘See you tonight,’ he said, winking at me as he backed out of the toilets. He pulled the balaclava back in place, readying himself for war. I couldn’t see his mouth but I could tell he was smiling when he glanced back at me. ‘Stay here,’ he said, his voice muffled through the black knit, before leaving me alone, standing in the middle of the girls’ toilets in a flustered daze.

I lifted a shaky hand to my kiss-swollen lips.

He definitely didn’t know.

Chapter Forty-Nine

You would think that I would have been filled with relief on learning that Ballantine hadn’t been ignoring me, or by the fact that his mum had obviously not confronted him, giving me a chance to explain what had happened with the pregnancy test disaster. Yeah, not so much. Aside from Ballantine’s toe-curling kiss, I went around the rest of the day in a state of confusion, as the world around me was bombarded in eggs, flour, cream and water, turning students into walking pancakes. I couldn’t help but be burdened with a much worse problem as my thoughts plagued me.

Why hadn’t she told him?

•

Sure, I’d been lucky not to be attacked at school, but when it came to arriving home I was to face an ambush of a different kind.

Emotional parents!

Don’t get me wrong, I welcomed the familiarity of my mum’s arms wrapped around me and my dad’s hideous jokes, but regardless of how glad I was to see them, their arrival started the clock ticking.

Tick-tick-tick.

Having already had the pleasure of completing my accelerated exams with the Year Twelves, it turned out that I was free to go. For the most part, my fellow Year Elevens were seething with jealousy that I got to start my holidays early; I, however, was less than thrilled.

One night to make it count.

I would explain everything to Ballantine and lose my V-plates once and for all. It was the perfect plan; only then could I feel better about the way I would leave Paradise City.

‘School social?’ piped up Dad. ‘Surely you’re not abandoning us to go to a school social.’

‘It’s the final one of the year,’ I said, pacing in the lounge room, waiting for Laura to arrive.

‘And this is what people wear to school socials, is it?’ asked Dad, who was looking over my outfit with uncertainty.

‘What?’ I said. A suede brown mini with knee-high boots. What was wrong with that? It had taken me and Laura hours to find the perfect outfits.

‘Oh, leave her alone, Rick. You look lovely, honey, just ignore him,’ said Mum, but it was too late. The seed had been planted and I was already on edge. I was seriously contemplating getting changed when I heard the doorbell ring.

Laura, thank God!

I ran towards the front door, my boots clicking on the glossed tiles, never so relieved to be saved from my parents’ running commentary. I ran so fast I overshot the door, sliding sideways rather inelegantly, barely saving myself from toppling over by latching onto the front door handle, and then whipping it open.

‘Thank God you’re he–’ My words fell away as I stilled, my mouth agape as my eyes locked onto a dark figure on our doorstep.

Dean Saville.

Tall, dark and wicked, he flashed a wolfish grin as he flicked his Ray Bans up onto his head.

‘W– what are you doing here?’ I whispered, moving forward and closing the door behind me, before grabbing his arm like a small child and dragging him away from the window.

Dean looked down at me as if he was offended by the action. He glanced back towards the front door.

I pulled at his arm, drawing his attention back to me. ‘Hey, what the hell?’

Dean’s eyes narrowed; he went to speak but then paused and stepped back a little, taking in my outfit with interest.

‘What?’ I frowned, once again fidgeting under the scrutiny, cursing my skirt which I now realised was too short. ‘Stop looking at me like that.’

Dean’s eyes lifted. ‘Like what?’

‘Like you’re judging me like a bitchy teenage girl would.’

Dean laughed, way too loud.

‘Shhh.’ I placed my finger to my mouth to emphasise the point. ‘What’s so funny?’

‘Believe me, I was not looking at you that way,’ he said, moving past me and picking a leaf absent-mindedly off one of the bushes near the porch.

I wanted to ask what way he was looking at me, but I really had to shut this down.

‘Look, as much as I would love to chitchat . . .’

‘So what’s the occasion?’

‘What?’

‘Well, I’m guessing “come fuck me” boots aren’t exactly casual after-school wear.’

I gasped, horrified. Which only seemed to amuse him all the more.

‘Not that it’s any of your business but I’m going to a school social, and you’re making me late.’

Dean grinned. ‘Wow, a school social. Good to see Paradise High has progressed.’

‘Oh, right, and when did you graduate, Grandpa?’

‘Grandpa?’

‘That’s right, I’m assuming you are Ballantine’s
older
brother.’ I folded my arms; it was now my turn to let my eyes roam over him in assessment.

Dean smiled slowly. ‘The better brother.’

‘I seriously doubt that.’ My patience and time were running out. ‘What do you want, Dean?’ I sighed.

‘You wanted to see me,’ he said matter-of-factly.

‘What?’

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the folded brochure I had slid under his office door. Dean flicked it open; clearing his throat, he squinted at the handwriting.

‘Dear Dean, I can’t stop thinking about you and your huge –’

I snatched the paper from him. ‘It doesn’t say that,’ I snapped, crumpling it up and shoving it into the safety of my own pocket. ‘Seriously? You could have called, you didn’t have to come here.’

‘Well, you were looking for me. What gives?’ he asked, as he plunged his hands into his pockets.

‘I just wanted to use your phone.’

Dean’s expression darkened; his eyes flicked over my face for a long moment. I almost felt like stepping away but I held my ground.

‘Is that all?’ he asked.

‘What do you mean, is that all?’ I replied.

‘That’s all you wanted to see me about?’

I shrugged. ‘Yes.’

Okay, so maybe I had wanted to get Sherry into trouble, but I didn’t really have time to go through that right now.

He laughed, shaking his head and rubbing the stubble on his chin. ‘Fair enough. Tell me, how is my baby brother dealing with our love affair? Still jealous?’

I didn’t answer. Instead, my eyes bore into his. I didn’t know what the story was between the two brothers, why there was such venomous hatred, but I wasn’t buying into it anymore. Using Dean to get back at Ballantine was not an option any longer, nor was it necessary.

Dean stepped closer to me. His gaze pinned me in place, the multi-coloured hues of his expressive eyes changing in the light. Now they seemed almost clear, with yellowy-brown tinges in them. I was locked onto them in an effort to anchor myself as I remembered to breathe. He was so close. I wanted to step back but realised I was already too close to the door. He looked down at me, his eyes on my face, amused and silent.

What is he doing?

I felt like prey, like he was the lion, taunting his supper. His eyes roamed over me as if he might devour me whole.

I felt lost, completely powerless as the rest of the world fell away. He leant forward and whispered, ‘Let me know when you get tired of school boys, Lexie.’

Pulling away, flicking his shades back into place and offering a cocky grin, he said, ‘Have fun at your little disco.’ He moved away and headed across the grass towards his car, before pausing at his door and spinning around. ‘You’ll have to swing by some time, you left your bra in my office,’ he called out for the whole neighbourhood to hear.

I wanted to die, but more importantly I wanted to murder Dean, who lifted his shades again and flashed a departing wink as he slid behind the steering wheel. Not wanting to risk another unpredictable outburst I moved to head back inside when I was stopped by Amanda standing in the doorway, her eyes staring in the direction Dean had just left.

I waited for her to say something, anything, but in true Amanda fashion she simply stared at me, judging me like a bitchy teenage girl.

Perfect!