Faking Sweet (15 page)

The weekend was agony. Every hour crawled and conspired, contradicted and teased. ‘Jess Flynn is evil.'
‘Jess Flynn is actually pretty nice.'
‘No, Jess Flynn is a liar.' ‘
Why am I planting my money in her bag?
'

By Sunday afternoon I had picked and squeezed every pimple on my forehead. I stood in front of the bathroom mirror staring. ‘What am I doing?' I asked the reddened bloody mess smeared across my upper face. ‘What AM I doing?'

By Sunday evening I was ready to peel every nail off my body, pull out each individual hair from my head. And a hot poker in the eye wasn't a bad idea either.

‘Ring her,' the sensible part of my mind commanded. ‘Ring her and tell her you can't plant the money in Jess's bag. Tell her you're too scared. She'll understand. Remember, she's your best friend.'

 

‘Hello, Tiffany MacIntosh speaking. Is that you, Holly?'

‘Huh?'

‘Well, I heard the bips.'

‘Hey?'

‘You know, the STD bips.'

‘Oh.'

‘I s'pose you want to speak to Calypso?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Well, you can't.'

‘I'm sorry?'

‘You can't speak to her.' Tiffany hadn't yet taken a breath. She was without doubt the most annoying human ever put on this earth.

‘Er, why can't I speak to her?'

‘Because she's banned … from everything and I mean EVERYTHING!' Tiffany rattled off the list with precision: ‘Going out, the computer, that means MSN and email too. The phone. She even had her SIM card cut up into a thousand pieces.' She added in a slow whisper, ‘She has to come straight home after school. No lingering or loitering. And straight to bed after dinner.' I could tell Tiffany was loving every moment of this. ‘This weekend she's only been let out of her room to go to the toilet. Imagine that.'

‘Why?'

‘I'm not allowed to say what they, well, what Calypso did.'

‘So, so how am I going to …'

A voice started whispering in the background. I couldn't hear what it was saying, but I knew it was Calypso's mum.

‘I have to go,' Tiffany suddenly said, and hung up.

 

What could Calypso have done that was so bad? Murdered someone (hopefully Miranda!)? Held up a bank? Taken drugs? No! Wagged? Possibly. Got drunk? I couldn't imagine her getting drunk, or rather I couldn't imagine her getting caught.

The pain-of-the-earth, grovelling, snivelling little sister wasn't going to cough up any information. Talking to Tiffany made me grateful that I was an only child. Perhaps that's how Calypso felt. Maybe she'd tried to kill Tiffany and not Miranda. I must admit it was a hard choice.

There was one way I could find out what Calypso had done.

I signed onto MSN and waited for the names I usually ignored – names from Melbourne Ladies' Grammar that sent waves of nausea flushing through my body.

Chazzy … Sam's da bomb and Brooke … Chazzy and Sam besties for ever love you guys popped up on the screen. Well, I'd spoken to Chazzy only the week before. Chazzy and her besties Sam and Brooke were the three dumb blondes of the school, if not of Melbourne!

Lauren … girls just wanna have fun was on too. I'd call her a drifter. I could never quite figure out what group she was in. Erin … don't give up the fight sat next to me in Music, and only ever said two words to me: ‘Move over.' But there was a strong possibility these girls would know what happened to Calypso. At least Chazzy probably would.

My fingers ran across the keyboard, looking for the right letter to start the first word. I needed to ask Chazzy without it looking too obvious. Maybe I'd start with Calypso's party.

I began to type.

Hey Chazzy … Howz it goin …

Then the last thing I expected happened. Calypso signed in: Calypso … set your heart free.

My fingers skidded along the letters as I typed as fast as humanly possible. I maybe only had her for a couple of moments before Tiffany would squeal and dob.

I waited. Then I waited a bit more.

Finally I got an answer.

I was almost hugging the screen, almost crawling into it. Anything to drag out her words. Why was she taking so long? Had she done something really bad? Like really, really bad?

‘Oh no!' I gasped. What if she'd tried to kill Miranda? Perhaps it started as a bit of a punch-up then got out of hand. Perhaps Miranda's in hospital with two broken arms and her jaw wired.

Oh my god it's all my fault. What did Calypso do to her? I know I said I hated Miranda and I do, but I didn't mean for Calypso to go and hurt her. I'm such a bad friend and she's such a good one and …

I looked up at the screen and saw her next message.

I almost heard my jaw slam CRASH onto the desk. Perhaps the sound vibrated all the way to Melbourne 'cause Calypso … set your heart free signed off.

Before school I counted out four fifty-dollar notes, folded them carefully and slipped them into my wallet. I wasn't sure why I was doing it. I wasn't sure of anything. The ants were crawling in my head again. This time they nibbled and pinched at my scalp, and no matter how hard I rubbed or pulled at my hair they would not stop.

‘You're quiet,' Dad said on the way to school.

‘Hmm?' I stared at the red light wondering if it would be better if it stayed red forever.

‘I said, you're quiet.'

‘I heard what you said,' I mumbled.

‘What is it, Holly?'

Oh well where do I start, Dad? Let's see – I have $200 of my own money that I'm meant to plant in this girl's bag as she's evil and needs to be punished. The thing is, I think she seems quite nice but I can't tell Calypso that or she'll flip out and probably say she's not taking me to Daydream but then I can't tell Calypso anything now 'cause she's supposedly banned from all modern forms of communication meaning that a carrier pigeon or even a message in a bottle is still an option but then she did pop up on MSN last night though I can't really figure out how and just to make my life even more confusing if that's actually possible she said she'd wagged school with Miranda the skank my complete and utter arch enemy and
that
is something I do not understand. So does that help explain, Dad, why I'm quiet and just a LITTLE BIT TENSE?!

‘Holly?' Dad pulled up in front of the school gates. ‘What is it? You've been really distracted this morning.'

‘It's nothing.' I fake smiled him and pecked him on the cheek. ‘Bye, Dad.'

 

Disaster struck at the first lesson. Ms Kalina was going to be away in the arvo. So Sport and English were swapped. Now English would be the last lesson of the day. This meant that unless Jess brought her bag along to English the planting was going to be much trickier.

Throughout the day I checked my mobile ten thousand times, in case Calypso had been able to text me from someone else's phone. But there was nothing. The butterflies in my tummy were louder than my phone.

Surely Calypso owed me an explanation about the Miranda thing. I knew it didn't make sense: Miranda and Calypso wagging together. There had to be more to it. Calypso hated Miranda because of what she did to me. She told me that herself. There was no way Calypso would spend an extra second with that girl. No way. She wouldn't. No. No way. All I needed to do was speak to Calypso. She would explain, and everything would be fine.

I closed my eyes and pictured the story from
New Idea
standing up against my computer. Trust, that's what you needed in a long distance friendship such as ours. Trust: bucket loads of it.

But surely Calypso would at least try and text me to say good luck. Today was the big day. Step 5 Planting. Calypso had been waiting for this. She'd planned it so carefully. At last Jess Flynn was going to get what she deserved. Wasn't she?

No matter how many doubts swam in my head about Jess there was one thing I was sure of. Jess had stolen clothes and gotten away with it. Big deal! BUT there was something else she'd stolen, and that was much worse. She'd stolen Scott, and for that reason alone she deserved to be punished.

 

Jess Flynn almost glided into English, and slung over one shoulder was her bag! ‘Thank you, God,' I whispered.

Jess dumped her backpack on the ground outside the classroom. Carefully I placed my bag next to hers, like a marker. Jess was bent over, rummaging around for her books. Then she stood up with her arms so full that the zipper of her bag was still open and gaping.

‘Hi, Holly.' A frown cracked her perfect skin. ‘Your forehead,' she whispered, ‘you shouldn't squeeze.'

I felt my face burn. Why wouldn't she drop the obsession with my skin?

‘I've got some really good stuff. It takes the redness away, dries up the spots. I'll bring it to school tomorrow,' she smiled. ‘No, I'll buy you a bottle as a thank-you for helping me with my assignment that time.'

‘It's okay,' I mumbled through a closed mouth.

‘No, I want to,' she said, following me into the classroom and slipping into the seat next to me.

Noooooo! I wanted to scream. Don't sit next to me. Not today, not ever.

I looked around, searching the class for an empty desk, but it was too late.

‘Hi, girls.' Mrs Gideon appeared. ‘It feels weird having this class in the afternoon. No one is allowed to fall asleep on me. Okay?'

No chance of that.

‘There have been so many interruptions lately,' Gideon sighed. ‘I feel like we're all over the place with this play. I want to start with a quick summary so we're all clear about what's going on. Then we'll start Act Four.'

Gideon jumped up on the desk, and class began. ‘So in Act One we see Benedick, Don Pedro and Claudio return from battle to be guests of Leonato, the Governor of Messina,' she began. ‘And the matchmaking begins between Hero and Claudio, and Benedick and Beatrice. Don Pedro says he'll woo Hero for Claudio at the masked ball because Claudio is shy. Leonato knows about this but he's told that it's Don Pedro, not Claudio, who is in love with his daughter. This is the first example of the characters accepting what they're told and not seeking out the facts for themselves.'

Gideon crapped on and on about the dangers of believing everything you're told, blah, blah, blah. To me it was just noise. I was a million miles away.

Firstly, I had to psych myself out of the fact that my victim was sitting ten centimetres from me. Secondly, it wasn't so much that I didn't know what excuse to give so I could slip out of class, it was more that when I opened my mouth I wasn't sure if any sound would come out. I was terrified.

‘So, Act Two is the masked ball.' Gideon hadn't drawn breath. ‘Our villain Don John tries to trick Claudio into thinking Don Pedro really wants Hero for himself. Luckily Don John's plan backfires, and Claudio and Hero end up betrothed. So what does Don John do now?'

Jess shot up her hand, ‘He makes a new plan with the servant Borachio to ruin the wedding.'

‘Exactly. And what does the plan involve, Jess?'

‘Lying to Claudio that Hero is a whore and goes with other men, when really she doesn't.'

‘That's right,' Gideon replied. ‘Borachio sets up Hero and carries out Don John's revenge. And what's in it for him?'

‘A reward,' Melissa called out. ‘If Borachio pulls off the revenge plan then he's paid.'

Revenge plans: I couldn't escape them. I shuffled around in my seat, wiped the palms of my hands along the sides of the chair, and practised opening my mouth; my jaw had suddenly become very stiff.

‘And while the folk of Messina are waiting for the marriage to take place, they busy themselves with matchmaking Beatrice and Benedick.'

I crossed my legs. Recrossed them the other way. Then the other way after that.

‘So when Act Three opens with Don John's plan in action, the atmosphere changes,' Gideon went on. ‘Again a lie has been told, and again it's been accepted as the truth. Claudio doesn't question Hero's good character. She's done nothing to show that she's that type of woman. Regardless though, Claudio believes what he sees because he's been told that's what he's seen. If anything, Claudio is quick to accept it as the truth.' Gideon's voice almost hit the ceiling. ‘One can almost smell the tragedy.'

With great concentration, I pushed myself out of the chair and placed one foot in front of the other until I reached the front of the classroom.

‘I need to be excused,' I whispered to Gideon through a half-closed jaw.

‘Be quick, Holly. I want to get started on Act Four.'

Safely outside the classroom, I stood against the wall and took slow, deep breaths. From the corner of my eye I could see Jess's bag exactly as it had been before – lying on the floor next to mine, wide open and beckoning.

My fingers fumbled with the zip of my pocket. I took out my wallet, and a second later I was touching the crisp corners of four fifty-dollar notes. I squashed them into the palm of my hand, and took the three steps to Jess's bag.

Half a minute maximum; it was over. Calypso's revenge plan had been completed, and I was walking back into the classroom, my eyes focused on the floor. I had never been drunk before, but this had to be how it felt.

I slipped back into my seat, not daring a glance at Jess.

Gideon was still on her rave: ‘So poor Hero, having no idea that her whole life is about to explode, gets ready for her wedding; while at the church the watchman are telling her father they've overheard some men boasting about a scheme they've just pulled off. The watchmen have arrested these men for treason. We, the audience, know Borachio is one of them, but Leonato doesn't. He's too busy, as his daughter is about to be married.'

I kept my eyes focused straight ahead. For better or worse, Jess Flynn's life was about to explode too.

Gideon jumped off the desk and my heart missed about three beats. No sudden movements please, I wanted to request.

‘Disaster is about to take place.' Gideon started to pace the room. ‘The play is about to turn from comedy to tragedy. Claudio has believed what he's been told, not used his own judgement. Surely he should know deep down that Hero is an honourable woman? There is nothing his eyes have seen that would tell him otherwise. But why doesn't he? Why doesn't he trust his own instinct?' She stopped at my desk. Maybe she could hear my heart pounding. ‘Holly, would you like to comment on this?'

‘Er …'

‘Why do you think Claudio just believes what he's told? Why doesn't he seek the truth for himself?'

‘Um …' The strangest feeling was creeping into the back of my mouth. It felt like my throat was being stretched like an elastic band that, at any second, was going to snap. ‘Um?'

‘Well, Holly, how do you know that what you see or hear is the real thing? Do you believe everything you're told? Or do you trust the way you feel about people? Apply this to your own experience.'

Gideon walked to the next table. Jess shifted in her chair. Our elbows were almost touching. Like a bow ready to release its arrow, the elastic band in my throat was stretching tighter and tighter.

‘Ouch!' Jess cried, pulling something out of her mouth. ‘Oh no, Holly, look.' She held a piece of silver under my nose. I didn't move. ‘My new filling's fallen out.'

‘Your dad's a dentist.' Somehow the words escaped from my clenched jaw. ‘He'll fix it.'

‘What did you say?' Jess asked.

‘I said your dad's a dentist. He'll fix it.'

‘My dad's a builder.'

‘What?'

‘My dad's a builder. Who told you he's …?'

I leapt out of my seat, almost taking the desk with me.

‘Holly?' Gideon snapped. ‘What is it this time?'

‘I need to be excused!' And before she could refuse I was out the door.

This time I threw myself on top of Jess's bag. My hands wrestled with the inside zip pocket where I'd planted the money. My fingers went mental like claws as I took the four fifty-dollar notes out of Jess's bag and put them back in my pocket.

I tried to get up but my knees had locked with fear, and now my throat was stretched so tight I wanted to scream with pain. I crouched on the floor trying to get my breath. Just inside Jess's bag I could see a book with M
UCH
A
DO
A
BOUT
N
OTHING ASSIGNMENT
written on the cover. Next to it in big gold letters was the title, C
OUSINS
.

I opened the cover. Snap! The elastic band exploded in my throat. The shock was like an elevator crashing down on my head, leaving me flattened, paralysed.

There were three photos of them together: one as babies, one as school kids both with their front teeth missing, and in the most recent one Jess had her arm around him and was wearing the same pink lacy top Miranda had once worn. It had to be from the same night as the photo in Calypso's room.

The heading on the page simply said: M
E AND MY COUSIN
S
COTT
. I shut the cover, my heart and stomach plummeting to the soles of my feet.

‘Holly?' Mrs Gideon was standing at the doorway looking down at me crumpled over Jess's bag. ‘What are you doing?'

‘Nothing,' I gasped.

‘Are you all right?'

‘Um.' I looked up and met the eyes of my English teacher. Who am I? I wanted to ask. Am I the devil's helper?

‘Holly, please put your bag away and come back in,' she said, holding the door wide open for me. ‘I don't know what's wrong with you this afternoon.'

I tiptoed back into the classroom; twenty-three pairs of eyes upon me.

‘You okay?' Jess whispered.

I nodded as the stinging tears pooled in my eyes.

‘Act Four, Scene One,' Gideon said, picking up her book. She looked at Melissa and the others at the front of the room. ‘Where were we up to?' She spotted one of the girls lying on the floor. The class giggled.

‘Right, yes, of course. Hero has fainted as Claudio refuses to marry her. “
But fare thee well, most foul, most fair, farewell
.” Tragic, isn't it?'

‘They're all scum,' Jess called out. ‘Hero did nothing.'

Scum they are, I agreed. Scum like me.

I held the sides of the chair to stop myself slumping onto the desk, but the tears slipped down my cheeks. I couldn't stop them.

Jess pushed her notes across to me.
RUOK
? she'd written on them.

I shook my head.

Jess slid them back and wrote again. C
AN
I
DO SOMETHING
?

I shook my head again.

R U SURE
?

This time I nodded. The shame I felt inside was welling up in my throat. I could almost feel it pushing against the sides of my neck. Was I dying? Because I wanted to.