Millie and the Night Heron (8 page)

Tayla came over while Helen-Rachel-and-I were having lunch (Sarah was sick).

‘I hear you're going out with Rowan,' she said, standing directly in front of me, her arms crossed and her runners (new) planted firmly, as though she was ready for some kind of action.

‘I'm not,' I said.

‘She is,' Helen-and-Rachel said.

‘I suggest you back off,' Tayla said. ‘He asked me out first and just because I said no this time doesn't mean that I'll say no next time. So, if you don't want trouble, Miss Dilly Millie, I'd make
sure that it doesn't happen again.'

‘You've got no right to intimidate her,' Helen said. ‘Millie can go out with Rowan if she wants to.'

‘That's right,' Rachel said, ‘so long as he wants to, too. Who do you think you are, Tayla?'

Tayla looked at Rachel as though Rachel was a particularly unpleasant bug she'd found on her sandwich. ‘Who do I think I am? Well, for your information, Rachel, I know who I am and that's one hell of a lot skinnier and prettier than you are, so I'd pull my head in if I were you, Lard Butt.'

‘Who're you calling Lard Butt?' Rachel asked, getting up.

‘Do you really have to ask?' Tayla turned away from Rachel and back to me. ‘So did you hear what I said, Millie, or do your friends have to speak for you?'

‘I heard.' Inside me my heart was beating out of control. Had Rowan really asked Tayla to the game first? Was I just his second-best choice. I didn't even know that. I could have been his third or fourth or even fifth best choice. How would I know? I could hardly ask every girl in our grade whether or not she'd been asked first.

‘Good.' Tayla strolled away casually, her skirt flipping as she walked.

‘She's horrible,' Helen said. ‘You haven't got a
huge bum, Rachel, so don't look like that.'

‘I don't care anyway,' Rachel said. ‘It's my bum and I like it.'

‘Do you really think he asked her out first?'

Helen and Rachel looked at each other. They didn't mean to, I knew that. It was the kind of look you almost can't stop happening—the checking-up look.

‘I don't really know,' Helen said.

‘I think he might have,' Rachel said at the same time.

‘So he only wants me to go because she's said no?'

‘He really likes you, Millie, otherwise he wouldn't have thought of you at all.' Helen patted my arm.

‘Anyway,' Rachel said, ‘that's not really important. The thing is that he did ask you and you'll be at the game, not Miss Cat's Bum Mouth. You'll be there. That's what counts.'

That night I wrote in my journal:

I didn't expect the Spirit to do anything, really. Helen was right, it had too much to do anyway, what with all the starvation and war and cancer in the world. But you never knew, and if anyone deserved a huge pimple somewhere where everyone could see it, it was Tayla Cameron. Nothing was surer.

The Spirit of Justice was clearly not listening, or was not very good at its job. I got the pimple. I woke up with it on Friday. It wasn't on my nose or my forehead. It was on my chin, which was just as bad. It was huge, bright red and totally unsqueezable. I know, because I tried for ten minutes.

‘Millie, get out of the bathroom. I need to get ready to go to Canberra. What are you doing in there?'

‘Nothing.'

‘Well, stop hogging it, then. Honestly, I don't know what's got into you. I can remember when I had to beg you to have a shower. Now you're in the
bathroom all the time. I've got to get ready.'

‘I heard you. I'll be out in a minute.'

I couldn't believe the pimple. It pulsated, honest. I tried to cover it up with some of Kate's liquid foundation No.5, but that just made it go kind of scaly on top. It didn't seem to diminish the glaring red at all.

‘Millie, I'm counting to ten.'

‘Okay, okay. God, you'd think it was a crime getting ready for school. You'd think you wanted me to go to school dirty and stinking with knots in my hair.'

Mum was tapping her foot when I got out of the bathroom. She looked me up and down carefully but I had my hand over the lower part of my face.

‘What's wrong with your chin?'

‘Nothing.'

‘Well, why are you holding it like that?'

‘I'm not. It's just comfortable this way, that's all.'

‘Millie, come on, let me see.'

Reluctantly I moved my hand.

‘I don't see anything,' Mum said. ‘What's wrong?'

‘I've got a huge pimple, Mum. Look! The basketball game is tomorrow and it won't go away for that. It's my own fault. I asked that Tayla Cameron get a pimple, not me, but it backfired.'

‘What backfired? Who's Tayla Cameron? I can't see a
huge
pimple, just a pretty ordinary-sized one.'

‘Oh Mum, you're hopeless.' I stalked off to my room. For an artist Mum was remarkably unobservant, particularly when it came to her own daughter. I wished for one minute—okay, maybe for five minutes—that I had a beautician for a mother. Someone who would look at my face and really see it in all its horribleness and then suggest something practical that I could do about it. Instead I had a mother who shrugged off acne as though it was nothing, like having to have stale bread sandwiches for lunch, which I hated too, but which, I had to admit, didn't happen that often and wasn't as bad as pimples anyway. Or at least not as bad as this pimple. Rowan would take one look at it on my chin and never want to come near me again. I would die of a broken heart.

Mum came out of the bathroom. She looked kind of nervy but great. She was wearing a new dark purple skirt and a shirt that swirled around with colour and made me think of dancing. ‘Millie, you must listen to this. Here's where I'm staying in Canberra. Stick it up on the noticeboard, will you, and highlight the phone number. I'll be leaving there on Sunday night and leaving Sydney on Monday afternoon, after I've seen Patrick.'

‘You've got a mobile phone, Mum. I don't need all these numbers.'

‘You do. What happens if my mobile battery runs out?'

‘You packed your charger, didn't you?'

‘Of course I did. Accidents can happen though, or it might be stolen. These are back-up numbers, Millie. Stick them up now. There's frozen food: a curry, two lots of pasta sauce and some lasagne. I don't want Tom to have to cook for you both, so remind him, will you? And, Millie, don't hassle him, okay? Don't ask for Maccas or pizza or anything like that. Remember he's doing me a huge favour. We haven't even been going out for long. Not many men would take on minding a child.'

‘He's
The Boyfriend,
' I said to her crossly. I don't like being called a child. ‘He's just doing it so he won't be sacked.'

‘He's not,' Mum said. ‘He's doing it to help out. And it is helping, Millie, so you be good. Don't be sarcastic with him. He hasn't had much to do with kids. Please, Millie. Treat him gently, huh?'

‘Okay, I will. But you bring me back something, Mum, because I won't even get to see Patrick.'

‘Millie!'

‘Well, it's true.'

‘You know Patrick would do anything to see you. He simply has to get back to teach, Millie. I'll hardly see him. He's the keynote speaker at his
conference. We should both be really proud of him. But it doesn't mean that you automatically get something.'

‘I need a new journal,' I said, ignoring her. ‘I bet you could get something really cool like that at the Gallery. You are going to the Gallery, aren't you?'

‘Yes, of course. I'm not promising anything, Millie. You don't just get things because I have to go away, but I'll keep it in mind that a new journal would be desirable. Fair enough.'

‘Thanks, Mum. You're the best. Don't worry about Tom and me. We'll be fine. I'll look after him for you. I won't forget the food in the freezer and I won't hassle about take-aways. But you have to remind him about the basketball game.'

‘Deal.'

I went off to school knowing that when I got home Mum wouldn't be there and Tom would.

‘How was school?' he asked. ‘Do you want a tea or a coffee?'

‘I don't drink coffee,' I said, ‘but I'll have a raspberry and peach herbal tea, please.'

‘Good, good. Where are they?'

‘The tea's all up here, in this cupboard. Cups are down there. Mum keeps coffee in the freezer. Do you know how to work the coffee maker?'

‘No.' He looked a bit miserable, as though all the details were a little overwhelming.

‘I can show you,' I said. I felt as though I should pat his arm. He just gangled in the kitchen, looking out of place. ‘Mum left us dinner, too. In the freezer. We just nuke it in the nuker.'

‘Oh,' Tom said, ‘I thought we'd just have noodles tonight. Would that be all right with you?'

‘Mum said we weren't to have take-aways.'

‘Did she? She didn't say that to me.' Tom looked worried. ‘Are you allergic to things. She didn't mention anything like that.'

‘No. I never get sick. I think it might be
Boyfriend
rules.'

‘Oh, is that all it is? So we can have noodles?'

‘Tonight we could,' I told him, ‘but we'd better eat some of the meals she's frozen. After all, she went to all that trouble for you, you know.'

‘We'll make sure we eat something for lunch tomorrow. I just think I have to study this nuker of yours. I'm not up on microwaves. I don't actually have one myself. I'm afraid I'm strictly a chops and three veg kind of man—with takeaways. I do a good line in take-aways. I know all the best places.' He grinned at me.

He must have been a regular at the noodle eatery because they didn't even ask him what he wanted. Just smiled at me and asked me what I'd have.

‘This is your girlfriend's daughter?' the woman asked.

‘Yes,' he said. ‘This is Millie. Millie, this is Ying.'

‘Hello,' we both said at once.

‘Take a packet of prawn crackers,' Ying said when she handed Tom our order. You only got prawn crackers if you spent over $25 and we'd only spent $17.60. I knew because I added it up.

‘Gee, thanks Ying. We'll enjoy those, won't we, Millie?'

‘Yes, thank you.'

We ate in front of the television, straight from the noodle boxes, to save on the washing up. We both used forks, though, not the little chopsticks that came with the noodles. For dessert, Tom brought out a family-size block of chocolate, the kind that has lots of fillings, not just the one flavour.

‘I like a bit of chocolate,' he said apologetically.

‘I shouldn't eat it,' I said. ‘I've got this pimple on my chin. And I have to watch Rowan play basketball tomorrow. Mum did tell you, didn't she?'

‘Yes, she mentioned that. I have to take you there, right? I can't really see much of a pimple, Millie. I think it would be safe to have a bit.'

We ate the whole block between us and neither of us felt even a little bit sick. I didn't bother telling
Mum about either the noodles or the chocolate when she rang and I noticed Tom didn't either.

The basketball game started at ten o'clock, so naturally I was out of bed, showered and ready by quarter to nine. I decided, after much soul-searching, to wear jeans with a pale blue hippy kind of top. I put lip gloss on, and then I wiped it off again. I didn't want to look as though I was trying too hard.

Tom still hadn't emerged by eight-fifty, so I made coffee. I hoped the smell of it would coax him out. I made it in Mum's expresso machine and I made it extra strong so the smell wafted down the hallway. It worked. He came out of Mum's bedroom at eight-fifty-eight.

‘Smells fantastic,' he said, sniffing the air the way Pavlov does when there's something dead nearby.

‘Coffee,' I said unnecessarily, and added, ‘Basketball's on at ten.'

‘Ah, yes.' Tom ran his fingers through his hair. ‘How's the pimple?'

‘Gone! Must have been the chocolate.'

‘Well, then, let's have breakfast and be off.'

We were just about to leave, after crumpets and honey, when the phone rang.

‘Just leave it,' I said desperately. ‘The machine will pick it up.'

‘It might be important.' Tom hovered over the phone.

‘Nuh, it won't be. Come on, I'll be late.'

‘I have to answer it, Millie. It might be your mum. Hello? Oh, Kate. Hi.'

‘Tom!'

‘Can I ring you back, Kate? It's just that Millie's got this ... Oh, okay. Sure. Fire away.'

He turned his back to me. I stayed in the room, though, tapping my foot. Not that he could hear that, because the carpet muffled the sound. I watched the digital clock on the mantle click the numbers up, closer and closer to ten o'clock. Rowan would think I wasn't coming. Rowan would think I was unreliable and unpunctual. Rowan would know I wasn't coming and would probably put his basketball bag next to someone else, a girl, a girl whose brother was playing for the other team.

She'd have long curly hair and her skin would be as clear as the morning. She'd like him straightaway. Well, who wouldn't? Rowan had the best smile in the world. It made you feel everything was going to be okay, despite people starving in many countries. It was the kind of smile that made you skip, without even knowing that was what you were doing.

When Tom finally got off the phone I glared at him.

‘We may as well not go now,' I said, in my most sarcastic voice, ‘the first half will be over.'

‘I'm sorry, Millie, but your mother had something rather important to discuss.'

Tom's voice sounded odd.

‘So are we going now?' I asked, as he seemed to be just standing in the hallway, as though he meant to stand there forever.

‘I thought you didn't want to go now.'

‘I was being sarcastic.' Where were
The Boyfriend's
brains?

‘Oh, sorry.'

We drove to the basketball courts in silence.

‘So can you come and get me at midday?' I asked him when I got out. I was scanning the onlookers, but I couldn't see Rowan anywhere. My heart was thumping and my stomach had butterflies whirling around in it.

‘I'll just wait here, I think,' Tom said. ‘I've bought my camera. I might try to get some shots.'

I didn't think that was too cool, but when I looked, there were parents sitting around everywhere.

I slowly walked over to the seats. I'd seen Rowan. He was shooting. I didn't want to wave or distract him from that, so I just sat down.

‘Well, hello,' a voice behind trilled. ‘Fancy you being here, Millie Dillie.'

It was Tayla. I knew even before I turned around.

‘What are you doing here?'

‘Watching the game, of course. I got here on time.'

‘So?'

‘Rowan's done really well. They're winning.'

The whistle sounded for half-time. I didn't know whether to go down and see Rowan or not. He looked up and half-waved, but before I could do anything Tayla was running down to him. I stayed where I was. I felt sick. She stayed down with the players even while the coach talked to them. I hated her.

Then the whistle sounded and they were back on.

At the end of the game, Rowan came up to where I was sitting.

‘You were late,' he said.

‘I couldn't help it,' I told him. ‘Mum rang
The Boyfriend
just as we were about to leave and they talked on the phone for hours. You're playing really well, Rowan.'

‘You're fantastic,' Tayla gushed from behind. ‘You should go for the state team.'

Rowan shrugged but he smiled at Tayla, too. Couldn't he hear how false she was?

‘Dad said I could invite you guys back to our
house after the game,' Tayla continued. ‘Want to come? We've got a brand new pool table in the games room and we're allowed to play whenever we want.'

‘Sure,' Rowan said, ‘I'll be in it. What about you, Millie?'

The whole afternoon at Tayla's? I didn't think so. On the other hand, if I didn't go, Tayla and Rowan might end up going out together. What was worse? Tayla for a whole afternoon or Rowan for never?

‘I'll have to ask
The Boyfriend,
' I said.

‘Go and ask now,' Tayla said, ‘because I have to tell Dad whether you're coming or not so he can organise lunch.' She held up a mobile phone. It was pearly pink and matched her tracksuit.

‘Gee, is that yours?' Rowan said. ‘Lucky you.'

‘Well, of course it's mine. It's cool, isn't it?'

‘Girlie colour.'

‘That's because I'm a girl, dipstick.' Tayla's laugh was high-pitched and evil, although I think she thought it was flirty and cute. I hated Tayla more than I hated boiled parsnip.