Feeling Sorry for Celia (23 page)

HEARD FROM CELIA YET?

LOVE,

YOUR MUM

Mum,

I’m running down Glenhaven Road to Dural if you feel like driving over with a fresh water-bottle for me. Yes, it’s too hot to be running and dehydration is a serious issue.

I made the lemon soufflé and it’s in the fridge ready for baking. Don’t start it because I want to monitor the baking process. If you start it and it collapses it’s your own responsibility and I will have to kill you.

See you soon,

Liz

PS No, I haven’t heard from Celia yet. How about you?

Dearest Elizabeth,

Recently, Housewives of the World United sent your file to us, and we were decidedly impressed. We have been toying with the possibility of offering you membership in our association, much as one toys with a sticky caramel in one’s mouth.

It is your conduct this evening, however, that has clinched the decision for us, much as a dusting of walnut pieces might clinch the success of a rich chocolate cake.

Elizabeth, we were gobsmacked.

Never before have we witnessed a first timesoufflé so golden, so gilded, so aureate! Never have we seen a first time soufflé so light, so airy, so feathery! Never have we endured the delirious, mouthwatering anguish of a first-time soufflé rising with the grandeur of a mountain of strawberry ice!!!

We implore you to accept our offer of membership, much as a grandmother might implore a skinny grandchild to accept her offer of a thick slice of meatloaf.

Please do say yes or we will weep salty tears into our pastry.

Yours ever,

Chefs ’R Supreme, much like the pizza

Dear Elizabeth,

Monday mornings are like hell really, aren’t they? God, when my clock radio starts shouting at me on a Monday morning I really want to kill it. You know, crush it with my fist like a hammer.

I hate mornings.

It’s unfair how quickly you get out of the habit of getting
up too. I mean, all you do is sleep in for two weekend days, and next thing it’s Monday and your body’s going, ‘uh, this is like four hours before getting up time or something; you want to turn off that noise and go back to sleep?’

Anyway, right now the only thing stopping me from falling into a coma on my desk is writing to you. Thanks. It’s a combination of the Monday-morning tiredness thing and the most-boring-man-in-the-world-congratulations-come-on-down Rattlesnake. Rattlesnake is Mr Rivers, our stupendous Science teacher, and I don’t think it’s fair that he gets to be called a cool name like Rattlesnake. It started because people thought he was so thick there was all this space in his brain with bits of gravel rattling around in there. So they called him Rattles. And men it turned into Rattlesnake, a cool-ification which I really resent.

Derek’s in this class too. He’s sitting right up the front because he was being a Distraction up the back. I think it was a mistake moving him up the front because he can be even more of a Distraction there. His smart comments are perfectly audible. In fact, Rattlesnake keeps losing his concentration, stamping one foot, and rubbing out scientific symbols from the blackboard. Everyone’s getting annoyed because they have to cross out what they just wrote down. Serves them right for copying it straight down like that.

I still can’t work out what I feel about Derek. Even right here in this class, one minute I’m ‘oh my God, that was so funny what he just said, I love him so much’, and next minute I’m ‘what a stupid, smart-arsed thing to say; he’s such a walrus’. We hardly speak to each other any more except if we practically bump into each other, and then
we’re just polite. But every now and then I catch him looking over at me with this tiny little hurt crumple in his forehead.

Every now and then I also see Katrina Ecclehurst twirling her ponytail in his face and leaning up close to him to say, ‘Whatcha doing this weekend, Derry?’

or

‘Whatcha doing for the history assignment, Dezza?’

or

‘You going to the Carlingford dance, Dekko?’

She’s going to seriously wind up with some H
₂
SO
₄
up her nose if she keeps that up.

It’s completely unlike me to be so indecisive about a guy – usually I make up my mind in about one tenth of a second and take action.

Anyway, this is boring for you. I prefer to think about you really. Guess who else is in my science class right now and sitting here beside me? You guessed it – Mr Anonymous-Note-Writer-Extraordinaire. He’s a serious wreck. I just told him I was writing to you and he went into severe panic mode. He practically climbed out the window just then to avoid you seeing him. He really has a crush on you – oh wait . . .

Sorry. I thought he was trying to see what I was saying so I had to stop. He just wanted to borrow my liquid paper. He’s doing some art work on the back of my science folder and he wanted white for the clouds. Anyway, he’s terrified that you’ll find out who he is because he’s so embarrassed about ever starting anything. He says you’re an engaging phantasm and he can’t stop writing poetry about you. He thinks you should be a film star. He says your pixie face and
elfin ears would send any movie producer into ecstasies.

I told him that you think it’s unfair for him to be anonymous and he agreed absolutely. But he says he can’t see a way around it.

Still, I’ve decided that I’m on your side more than his. So I’m going to give you three clues.

Clue No. 1. His first name begins with a ‘J’.

Clue No. 2. He’s also in my home ec class and we made chocolate muffins today.

Clue No. 3. You know how there’s a blond guy with a wacky laugh who’s on your bus? Well, that’s who it is.

HA.

That was just a joke. It’s definitely not him. He’s off the planet, that blond guy. I don’t know what he’s on but it’s something serious, and so is his anorexic girlfriend. She’s got dark circles around her eyes and her elbows are so skinny the bones are going to break through any moment.

I better go because this class is almost over and I should start writing some of this crap into my folder. It’ll just fall right out though. Papers never stay in my folder.

How was the yacht trip with your dad (and you tried to tell me you weren’t a nice private school girl) and the aquaaerobics with your mum? I wonder if you should just tell your mum that she doesn’t need to compete because you’ll always like her best. Because that’s true isn’t it – you do like her the best? Then maybe she can relax.

Still, it’s nice that she’s spending time with you, isn’t it. She might have been leaving you alone a bit too much before.

I HAVE to go.

God, I forgot about Celia. The disappearing thing must
get boring for you I guess – but I can’t believe she ran away with Saxon. Are you okay about that – do you think you’re over Saxon now? I also can’t believe that her mother’s okay with it. It hurts my mind trying to imagine how my parents would react if I did that.

GOTTA go.

You eat something delicious too,

Love,

Christina

Dear Elizabeth,

My conscience is sending me off the edge. I shouldn’t have started this. Christina says you think it’s wrong that I’m anonymous and you are so completely right. The more I make excuses the further off the edge I’ll go.

Tomorrow morning I am going to get on the bus wearing a black cap.

Best wishes,

A Stranger

Elizabeth!

Tomorrow, you will know!

Work quickly Elizabeth and see if you can beat the clock! If you guess before the Black Cap tomorrow you will have a fortunate and happy life and will probably win the half marathon. We offer you that in return for rapid detective work.

So which one is it, Elizabeth? Figure it out.

It is not Cigarette boy. (Hooray!)

It is not Blond boy. (Hooray!)

Okay, hush now with your cheering and frivolity.

Therefore, it could be Feral boy, Grunge boy, or Quiet boy.

Which one, Elizabeth?

His name begins with a ‘J’. So listen.

He made chocolate muffins today. So watch.

Good God, Feral boy is boarding the bus with a muffin in his hand.

It’s him then.

It’s Feral boy.

Okay. Fine.

Although, of course, Anonymous boy could have GIVEN Feral boy a muffin.

Ha. For example, Cigarette boy is now boarding the bus with half a chocolate muffin in his mouth. (The bus driver is speaking to him which is a mistake – yes, a mistake – he is answering and chocolate muffin is cascading to the floor.)

So. Listen.

You heard what Cigarette boy just said as he moved down the aisle with the rest of the muffin showering around him. You heard it.

‘Get a move on, Johnno.’

That’s what he said.

To whom was he speaking?

To Feral boy who was walking before him in the aisle, or to Quiet boy behind him taking time with his bus pass?