Paradise City (6 page)

Chapter Ten

I expected him to say something smart, to maybe snatch the food out of my hands, so when he instead asked, ‘What’s your name?’ I wasn’t exactly prepared for that.

I blinked. Twice.

Having known of Luke Ballantine even before I had sighted him, I kind of just assumed that he may have known my name. But how could he have? I hadn’t been called to the principal’s office, or elected as some momentous house captain. Still, I had hoped that maybe Amanda might have explained who the sleeping girl she had stepped on to get out the window was, or might have mentioned my name in passing. But then I thought of the long list of names she probably did refer to me as, and I blushed. Yeah, he probably only knew me as tragic, or scrubber, or the cousin who had ruined her life.

‘Lexie,’ I said, sounding nowhere near as confident as I had felt earlier.

‘Well, Lexie,’ he said, ripping open the top of his iced coffee Big M. The straw I had given him rested next to the chips on the bench seat beside him. He had given me a strange look when I’d handed it to him and then I realised, of course, these were the surfing delinquents, the bad boys. And bad boys don’t drink through straws. That really should be on a t-shirt, I mused to myself.

Laura elbowed me, shifting my focus back to Ballantine, who was sitting, looking up at me with interest.

Oh crap, had he said something?

‘Um, sorry?’

He held out his hand, an empty hand, and my brows lowered in confusion, my blank stare telling him as much until a small crooked smile tilted the corner of his mouth and I was blinded by that dimple. I felt my chest tighten. It was the first time I had been so close to that smile. It really should’ve come with a warning label, like when your parents told you never to look directly at the sun; well, it was too late for that.

I blinked. ‘Yes?’

Does he want me to hold his hand?

‘My change?’

Lexie, you are an idiot!

‘Oh God, sorry!’ I delved into my pockets so quickly, reaching and pulling so frantically I spilled coins all over the asphalt, much like Boon had done, except there was nothing graceful or cool about the way I did it. These boys could open milk cartons and chip packets and make it look cool; hell, they just had to exist to be known. If Gilmore were the brainiacs, Chisholm were the misfits, then Kirkland were most certainly the cool kids; let’s put all the rotten eggs into the one basket. No doubt a genius ploy from our industrious leader¸ Mr Fitzgibbons.

I ducked and weaved for the coins, pushing past the boys, excusing myself as I retrieved them from all corners. I could hear Laura openly sigh as she watched on. The rest of the boys cast me weary looks or stared at me like I was some creature from outer space – a look I was most certainly getting used to. But above all that there was one thing that struck me, one clear defined sound that cut through all of the chaos as I picked up the last of the rolling coins. I pushed the wisps of hair that had fallen into my eyes from my ponytail as my eyes came to rest on Ballantine, who was laughing at my money chasing. Oh, yeah, so funny, I thought. I walked back to him and held my hand out, motioning for him to take his bloody change.

Ballantine reached out, scooping up the coins, his fingers ghosting across my palm, sending a tingling sensation right up my arm. My eyes flicked up in surprise, wondering if the same feeling had hit him, or if I was just being sensitive. It was hard to tell, the one thing that was certain was that the laughter had disappeared, and was instead replaced by a sobering look of interest. No smile, no dimple, just a curt head nod right as the recess bell sounded, snapping us into action and moving us away from each other.

•

For the rest of the day, I was very much in the right class after double then triple checking the timetable. At lunchtime I wasn’t coerced into any canteen-line antics. In fact, Ballantine, Boon and co. were noticeably absent and, for me at least, it kind of left a huge hole in the schoolyard.

‘Where have the boys from Kirkland gone?’ I asked Laura, innocently enough.

‘Seniors are allowed to leave the school grounds if they have permission from their parents; you’ll probably find them getting a gutful of hot chips down the arcade,’ she said, as if bored by the subject.

‘So, what, no surfing?’

‘Oh, they’ll be surfing all right: morning, noon and night. Note the perpetual damp collars they have.’

It hadn’t gone unnoticed; the boys did have that wet, dishevelled look about them.

We walked across the long stretch of concreted schoolyard, making sure to dodge a basketball that sailed passed us.

‘Hey, Laura, can I ask you something?’

‘Shoot!’

‘Is my cousin Amanda the resident mean girl or does she just hate . . . me?’ I winced. Laura was proving to be a rather helpful source of information, and although she hadn’t provided me with the same essence of cool school domination I had hoped to possess walking around with Amanda, she was still one degree of separation from Ballantine and that intrigued me more than I cared to admit.

Laura took a deep draw of her Prima box, thoughtful. ‘She’s always nice to me,’ she said. ‘Mind you, I am Boon’s sister, so of course she would be.’

I stopped, looking down at Laura, who was five foot nothing next to me. ‘Why should that matter?’ I asked, with an air of excitement in my voice. My mind flashed back to Boon and Ballantine helping her escape from my bedroom window.

‘Because she is completely in love with Boon,’ she said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

Bingo!

The cogs quickly started turning in my head. I didn’t know why just yet, but somehow this was very useful information to have.

‘So are they like together or . . .’

‘Oh, ew! I have no idea and I don’t want to know about my brother’s love life.’ Laura’s face screwed up in horror and she kind of had a point there. We neared one of the bench seats under the shade of a tree overlooking the Year Tens playing cricket in the nets.

‘What’s with the questions anyway? I thought for sure you’d be grilling me about Ballantine.’ She smiled, fluttering her eyelids dramatically.

I straightened a crease out of my skirt, feeling uneasy about the insinuation. Had I been so obvious? ‘Why would I ask about him?’ I scoffed.

‘Because you’re a girl, and you have a pulse,’ she said, laughing. ‘Ballantine is certainly not lacking in female admirers, that’s for sure.’

I shrugged. ‘Hadn’t noticed.’

‘You have to admit, he’s fine.’ Laura jolted her head side to side like a diva; it was so ridiculous I had to laugh.

‘I suppose he’s all right,’ I lied.

‘Lord of the Beach Bums, he is,’ joked Laura.

It got me thinking; he didn’t remind me of a stereotypical surfer. When I was packing for Paradise City, I had all these grand visions of bronzed surfers with long blond hair matted with saltwater and bleached by the sun. They would say things like dude or bro and drive around in Kombi vans, covered in name brands like Rip Curl and Quiksilver. In reality there wasn’t any one of them who really fit that image.

Ballantine had a deeply bronzed tan that highlighted the stark white flash of his teeth every time he smiled. He was tall and lean with toned rips of muscle in all the right places. I could tell this by the way he coolly yet casually had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up his forearms – the fabric tight across his square shoulders. He was definitely athletic, but his thick dark hair wasn’t the surfer platinum I’d imagined. It had a beautiful tinge of brown to it and when he moved his head a certain way, the sun highlighted the blonder strands. I wondered what it looked like fresh out of the water. What had been a curiosity before had now turned into a burning desire to find out.

Chapter Eleven

The bus dropped me at the top of our street. I smiled to myself triumphantly as I stepped off, hooking my thumbs into the straps of my backpack. I had survived my first day. Ha! I didn’t need Amanda to help me find my way around, I thought, lifting my chin to the sky.

Nope. Lexie Atkinson: Lone Wolf.

I could have almost pulled off the confidence that soared within me if, in that very moment, the edge of my shoe hadn’t clipped a jagged piece of footpath, causing me to stumble. I quickly straightened, spinning to make sure the school bus was far enough away so that no-one would have seen my clumsy moves. How mortifying.

With the bus safely out of view I bolted along the last stretch of the street, the zips on my school bag clinking as I ran until the manicured ball trees came into sight. Aunty Karen’s Volvo was in the drive, and I was unexpectedly excited to tell her about my day. Even in my haste I took care to dodge around the box hedges of the terracotta-tiled path towards the front door. Pulling up short, I almost toppled over in my squeaky new school shoes.

Amanda sat on the front steps. The deep blue of her eyes was accentuated by the heavy eyeliner framing them. Her hair was dark and straightened to within an inch of its life; this I knew for certain seeing as she took over an hour to get ready in the morning and what had awaited me was a trashed bathroom, strands of her hair all over the basin. If she was going to ask me about my day I was seriously going to throw a shoe at her.

‘If Mum asks, you had a great day,’ said Amanda, not an ounce of emotion in her voice.

Her words slowly registered.

‘But I did have a good day,’ I said.

Her brows lifted in surprise, her eyes ticking over my face as if assessing whether I was telling the truth. ‘Really?’ Her question was laced with intrigue, as if me actually enjoying my day was impossible.

And when I thought about the walk of shame in assembly, the showdown with Ballantine, the wrong class saga, and the awkward coin-collecting moment in front of the Kirkland boys, for a minute I actually had to think about what had made my day a good one.

Laura, sure, the fact I was in the smart house, yeah, the fact that Luke Ballantine now knew my name . . . hmmm.

‘Why? Are you disappointed?’ I said, moving past her and onto the steps.

‘I just don’t need to hear it from my parents right now,’ she said, causing me to pause at the front door.

‘What do you mean?’

Amanda moved to stand, giving me her famous head tilt; I’ve never met anyone who could convey so much with mere body language.

This was saying.
What do you mean, what do I mean?

‘The last thing I need is my parents giving me the third degree because I didn’t hold your hand all day.’

It took me back somewhat. Amanda seemed uncharacteristically tense; gone was her aloof, whatever attitude and instead it was replaced by a creature who waited on the steps to cut me off and try to plant some kind of warning.

I crossed my arms. ‘So do you want me to paint a picture of what an amazing help you were today?’

Amanda’s eyes flicked up, a new emotion lining her face; was that a flash of hope I saw? Wow, was she really needing brownie points from her parents so badly?

‘What’s in it for me?’ I asked, curving a sceptical brow.

Amanda sighed, as if what she was about to say was going to cause her immense pain. ‘You can hang with me tomorrow,’ she said, with no enthusiasm whatsoever.

I laughed. ‘Thanks, but I have my own friends.’ Well, friend.

Amanda crossed her arms to mirror me. ‘Who?’ she asked with a cocky little smirk.

I smiled.

‘Laura Boon.’ I said the words loud and clear. Her eyes lightened in surprise.

That’s right, your crush’s sister.

For the first time I actually felt like I was in control, that I had the upper hand for once. But seeing Amanda in this way, the stunned surprise that soon morphed into a childlike worry, didn’t satisfy me for too long. Damn, I could never be a mean girl.

‘So, as you see, that doesn’t make it worth my while.’

The inner workings of Amanda’s mind were ticking over frantically. I could almost hear the cogs turning in her head.

Before her eyes glassed over, her expression shut down in contempt. ‘What do you want?’ she asked.

For a moment I felt uneasy. Amanda was asking me a million-dollar question, putting me on the spot and presenting me with an opportunity. If I painted her as a saint to her mum and dad then she would do something in return for me. My heart was racing; I had to think of something before she took the offer off the table and I lost the chance to use it. Just as she was about to walk inside it came to me.

My eyes snapped up to meet hers. ‘There is something you can do.’

•

‘Oh, Aunty Karen, it was so amazing! Amanda showed me where my locker was and then we went to assembly and even though we’re not in the same house Amanda pointed me in the right direction.’

Lies, lies, lies.

Aunty Karen positively glowed with pride.

Hook, line and sinker.

Uncle Peter, on the other hand, looked rather sceptical, piling a spoonful of couscous onto his plate.

Yes, tonight’s menu was grilled barramundi and couscous; what was with these people and their couscous? I was going to waste away living here.

I tried not to look Uncle Peter’s way as I was retelling the glorious events of my first day.

‘Oh, honey, I’m so thrilled you had such a great day, and to think the first day is always the hardest. Onwards and upwards from here, hey, Peter?’

‘Hmm,’ he managed, taking a sip of his wine.

‘Well, if this is what happened on the first day, I can’t wait to hear what happens by the end of the week. How about we celebrate with ice cream after dinner?’ Aunty Karen said.

I felt a little kick to my shin from across the table. My eyes locked with Amanda’s, thinking maybe I had been a bit over the top with my enthusiastic version of the events of my day, but when Amanda smirked I knew I’d done my job. I shoved down all the remorseful feelings that clawed at my soul, namely the fact that I was lying to the very people who fed and housed me, who were allowing me a chance to coexist in their little piece of Paradise.

I pushed my guilt down, way down, and instead shovelled a forkful of couscous into my mouth, smiling as I chewed on the bland, gravel-like texture before grabbing for my water and washing down what I couldn’t quite swallow. Even through the lies, the paranoia and the couscous there was one thing that did spur me on, and that was the thought of Amanda’s end of the bargain.