Friendship on Fire (56 page)

‘I can ask him,' Shana shrugged, turning around.

I grabbed her elbow fiercely and held her still. She gasped and frowned at me, waiting for me to let go. I didn't.

‘Listen to me, lovely ladies. No one is going to step in for me. I'm going to side step around you both now and steal along the wall and into the main room, where I'll be waiting for you when you've finished your …'

‘Next, please,' the photographer called in monotone.

Like the traitors they are, Sarah and Shana pushed me simultaneously into the light of the photographer where I stood gingerly in my heels. They would have banked on the fact that I'd be too polite to try to escape after I was stuck in the situation.

‘Stand in front of the box, please,' he ordered, positioning himself to take my first photo.

Box? What box?

There was no box.

I looked around my feet wildly and all I could see was the spinning blood-red carpet and the white light and everyone waiting for the girl who was holding up important proceedings.

‘In front of the box, miss.' This time he pointed to my right and I stupidly glanced over my shoulder at the curtain. There couldn't be a box in the curtain. Could there?

In desperation I sought Sarah and Shana's guidance. They were pointing at something right next to me and giggling and through the slow haze of alcohol effects I thought I saw them pointing at the pot plant.
That's clearly not a box,
my eyes said back to them.

‘Are we going to do this sometime tonight?' cranky photographer man said dryly.

‘Where is the box?' I whispered at him, feeling sweat creep through the satin of my dress under my arms. Great. Loner pictures with sweat patches. I should have mown my friends down while I had the chance.

‘OK. Look to your right, then down, yes, that's it,' he said patronisingly as I noticed the pot plant was inside the elusive said box. He could have said that earlier. ‘Now smile.'

Without having another second to think, I clasped my hands together in front of me and smiled broadly at his lens. The evil flash stunned me and it was all I could do not to smear mascara across my face trying to rescue my eyes.

‘Friend photo?' he asked and I waved Sarah and Shana into the lights. We got pictures of us in a line of three and Sarah and I carrying a petite Shana who was lying across our arms. Then they joined the line again and I was straightening up the silk in my dress ready to join them.

‘Partner photo,' he called, readjusting settings and focus on his camera.

Smothering any disappointment that threatened to seep through, I said firmly, ‘Sorry, I don't have …'

Suddenly Roman stumbled forward from the group with a bewildered expression, having been pushed in the back much the same way I was from my friends. Before looking at me, he glared over his shoulder at his smiling friends and I knew, like me, he'd be too polite to back out now because it would humiliate me further. I had to hand it to our friends. They must have learnt some tricks from the Blonde Brigade after five years of school with them.

‘Good. Now stand next to the box again,' he pointed for my benefit and I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at him, ‘and turn your bodies to the side, facing each other.'

Roman's eyes met mine as he tried to send me an apology with his eyes. I was the one who should be apologising. My lack of a partner got us both into this mess.

‘Closer, people. It is OK to touch.'

Distinctly I felt Roman's hand slide to the small of my back and press gently to move me closer to him. He kept pressing until our waists and chests were together, and I couldn't breathe.

What was I supposed to do with my arms? Or my face? Cheek-to-cheek?

‘Put your right arm across his left and your left arm on his hip. Keep your heads closer together please. You aren't siblings I hope,' he mumbled sarcastically.

I stifled a smirk and glanced up at Roman for the first time to check his reaction. On one side of his cheek there was a small dimple threatening to expose itself. I hadn't noticed it before. Maybe it only came out when he tried to stop himself from smiling.

‘Look at me please and, smile,' he commanded, flashing us again. I swear I heard him mutter ‘finally' under his breath, but I let it slide.

‘Now, you.' He pointed to me. ‘Turn around. And you.' He pointed to Roman. ‘Put your arms around her middle. Lean into him and smile … and hurry up. You're holding up the line.'

I hid a gasp as I felt Roman's warm hands slide around my waist and join safely at my stomach.
It's nearly over,
I told myself.
Don't blow your cover.

What cover was that? I wasn't sure if I was gasping because I liked Roman's hands and didn't want them to leave my stomach, or whether I simply hadn't expected partner photos to be this … good.

‘And, we're done. Your individual photo now, sir,' he said to Roman and nodded for me to leave. Roman's hands lingered for another second before he let them slide off my waist and drop to his side.

I ran for cover inside the centre and was grateful my friends would be a while getting their photos done. Breathing heavily, I made a beeline for the cloakroom where I knew it would be quiet and peaceful. I did the whole greeting friends thing on the way and feigned excitement over their dresses, hair and make-up. I didn't feel the least bit excited anymore. I was sentimental, but not the happy kind.

Without raising my eyes, I did my usual trick of nearly running into important people when I wasn't watching.

‘Easy there, Miss Brooks, or you'll run into this wall,' Mr Head's voice boomed amidst the noise and darkness.

I jumped, glancing up at the wall, and immediately started to apologise.

‘Daisy, can we have a word please?' Mr Head said solemnly and I secretly wondered if he didn't approve of my hairdo, or if he could smell alcohol on me. I hadn't drunk that much. It'd be just my luck to be sent home in disgrace on Formal night.

‘Uh, sure,' I replied with a shrug.

‘Follow me.'

He led the way into the large cloakroom and stood near the shawls and handbags placed neatly in pigeonhole shelving. A few year eleven girls were busy taking people's belongings and giving them a card to claim them back at the end of the night. The band's music was now muffled but I felt the bass through the walls as I waited nervously for the lecture I was certain I was going to get.

Mr Head stood staring at the dark wooden floor, shifting from foot to foot. What was this about?

‘Mr Head, I'm not really sure I …'

‘Let me be direct with you here, Daisy,' Mr Head interrupted. I sighed with relief. This would be over soon, now that he was talking. ‘I didn't think for a minute you'd last the year out being captain.'

‘Yeah, you've said that once or twice before,' I mumbled, folding my arms in defence.

‘Just wait. I know I can be a stick in the mud sometimes. There are times when principals have to be in order to get the best out of their students. I might have what you consider to be an unconventional way of achieving that, but look how you turned out.' He swept his arm awkwardly in my direction and tried to look pleased.

I frowned with a slight smile on my face, waiting for my eyes to open and discover I'd only been dreaming about my narcissistic principal giving me a compliment. I waited, just as Mr Head waited with a similar frown on his face, for me to give any kind of response.

‘OK, have it your way. Since gratitude isn't one of your strong points, let me conclude with hearty thanks for the hard work you and Roman have put into your captaincy duties. Apparently this is the year we've had the most tickets sold for a Formal. Nearly two hundred students are here tonight because of your leadership and organisational skills. You proved me wrong and I like that about you. Good luck in the future, Miss Brooks, if I don't get another chance to say it,' he said, and turned to leave.

‘Wait, Mr Head,' I called, not wanting to have to physically stop him like I did to Nate all those months ago. Look how that ended up.

He slowly shuffled back around to me, eyebrows raised in his usual teacher's face.

‘I appreciate you telling me that. Roman would feel the same way. You're right, we may not see eye to eye on many things, but thanks to you I've toughened up a lot this year and I think I'm ready to face the big world now.'

‘Good,' he said, niceties disappearing as quickly as they arrived. ‘Now, have you been drinking at all tonight?'

‘No.'

‘Liar. Go have a good time. Enjoy your youth.' And with a cheeky, toothy smile, he disappeared out the door and into the dancing masses.

What a strange, moody man,
I thought.

I waited a few more minutes to gather what was left of my senses before I followed him, looking for my friends.

They were dancing in a huddled group in the centre of the dance floor, worse luck. Shana grabbed my hands and tried to make me dance, but I pointed to my head and yelled, ‘I need some water.'

She nodded. ‘We got a table in the corner over there. Our stuff is on it and you'll find your name tag at your seat,' she yelled. ‘Come back soon.'

Recognising the girls' belongings, I threw down my little handbag and searched for my nametag on the table. Sweet. I was next to Shana, who was next to James, who was next to Sarah, who was next to Roman's friend, Ethan, who was next to two other people around the table who I didn't know well. This left only one person to make up the eighth spot. That person was on my right. I picked up the tag and squinted at it. That person was Roman.

I fought the urge to scream at the girls and Roman's friends for setting this up. I was on the committee who organised this whole night and I'm pretty sure I didn't seat us together, or request it.

Wait. I wasn't in the tables and seating arrangements/ decorations group in our meetings. Roman was. Along with a few others. Surely he didn't do this?

I searched the room for him with grim eyes, half expecting to see him gazing at me from a dark corner and seeing my reaction to his ploy.

Shaking off my paranoia, I ran back on to the dance floor to muck around with my friends. They were doing the Macarena and grabbed my arms to help me join in.

The band we hired played a mixture of modern and old school songs and their live, interactive style beat a DJ by far. They consisted of two guitarists, a bass guitarist and two lead singers, a guy and a girl. For a second it seemed odd to me, to have two hundred students in suits and cocktail dresses dancing to a live band.

We were treated to a sit down, three-course meal half way through the night and the food was as impressive as the decorations and table arrangements. The musicians had a break and we were instructed to be seated and eat the entrees while our mains were coming.

Hesitantly, I sat down and looked at everyone else's faces at the table except the one to the right of mine. He did the same. He didn't seem surprised that we were seated together, but neither was he showing his cards, as usual.

‘What happened here?' I whispered to Shana when I was sure Roman couldn't hear me.

‘I know. How nice are the table cloths and chair covers,' she beamed, rubbing the material between her fingers.

‘Not that,' I spat. ‘Sitting me next to Roman. Are you trying to embarrass me all night?' I quickly swept the table with my eyes. No one was listening.

‘Oh. I didn't realise,' she said.

‘Of course you didn't. First we have to get photos together and now we're sitting together? What's next? Dance in each other's arms?'

‘Wouldn't that be fun,' Shana exclaimed, to which every face at the table turned to look at her, then me.

I rubbed my forehead. It was no use. I may as well try to enjoy myself or leave.

‘Mm, the food is good,' Sarah commented, raising her eyebrows at me. Her attempt at changing the subject still involved me at the centre of it. ‘Have you tried the other dish, Daisy?'

We were given one of two dishes and Shana and Roman had the other dish to my basil pasta. It was lasagne, my favourite, and I was dying to try some. But there was no way I was going to ask Roman for some of his. Shana had already given half of hers to James, so her plate was now empty.

I glared at Sarah. ‘No, I haven't, but I'm pretty full now anyway.'

‘I'm sure Roman would share some of his with you. Lasagne is one of your favourite dishes, isn't it?' she teased.

Roman stopped spearing his last square of lasagne and glanced up at me. This was getting more awkward by the second.

I put my hand up to him. ‘She's just kidding. You eat it, really.'

He was torn as to what to do, which seemed to symbolise the past few months of his behaviour. Our friends subtly watched us, waiting to see what would happen next in the lives of Daisy and Roman, the once best friends who now can't string a sentence together in front of each other.

‘I was saving this part for you. Well, to offer it to you in case you wanted to try it. It's nice,' he said quietly, leaning towards me.

I was torn. Do I eat it to appease the group, or not eat it because I'm stubborn?

Curiosity won.

‘Let's halve the last piece. Thanks,' I said and leaned over him to cut the piece and spear mine with my fork.

I smiled in appreciation as I chewed the delicious piece of lasagne, wishing we could share hot chips, lollies and chocolate again like we used to. And kissing.

‘No problem,' he replied, taking a drink of punch.

Dessert was more pleasant. We shared exactly half each of ours, which more than pleased my girl friends who were examining each step of our body language. I figured it was an easy way to make conversation without having to bring up anything awkward, like feelings.

As soon as all the plates were collected, our MC, a bubbly girl called Kelly, stepped up to the microphone and announced the next part of the night.