The Yearbook Committee (5 page)

         
Charlie Scanlon
I miss Melbourne.

         
Pete Brady
and
Katy Coolidge-Brown
like this.

         
Katy Coolidge-Brown
#comehomecharlie

         
Charlie Scanlon
I LOVE that I have my own hashtag Xx

He sends me a winking-face emoji and I go warm and fuzzy inside. The guy started a hashtag at my old school — how can I not? Although there are a few issues with this:

The bell's annoying ring disturbs the list-making in my head. I glance at my watch and sigh. The committee meeting has come
despite my constant praying that it would get cancelled. And people wonder why I'm such a staunch atheist. I'm the victim here, shouldn't God be on my side?

I find my way to the computer lab, where the only other person is already seated and logged in to her school account.

I glance at the open, newish-looking notebook next to her. She has it open to a new page, and has written ‘The Yearbook Committee — Minutes for March Meeting' at the top, and underlined it in red pen. I resist the urge to make fun of her with all my might, and feel like I've earned a sundae for my efforts.

‘Hi,' she says, a little shyly. ‘I'm Gillian. I'm in your Legal class. I like that your opinions give Mr Hess a run for his money. Do you like the school so far?'

‘It could be worse,' I say, giving her a half-smile. ‘No one's told me to wear pink on Wednesdays yet.'

‘
Mean Girls
never gets old,' she says, smiling. ‘But if they tell you to, maybe you should. Regina George has got nothing on the queen bee here.'

‘You mean Lauren Pappas,' I say, nodding.

‘Wow, you're fast,' she says. ‘I've been going to school with these people for six years and I'm still learning things the hard way.'

I shrug. ‘I'm good at reading people, I guess. I watch a lot of crime shows, if that explains it.'

She laughs, just as a scruffy-looking guy walks in, seeming even less enthusiastic than I feel. Something about him strikes me — there's something weirdly familiar about his eyes, his cheekbones, the way he seems both open and dismissive at once. I watch him take the seat in the furthest back corner, smack-bang against the wall, as if he hopes it will suck him in and transport him to a
parallel universe. I decide to keep my eye on him — if it works, I definitely want in.

‘Matty, do you really need to be wearing that hoodie right now?' a voice asks from the front of the room.

The voice belongs to Ryan the Perv, who tosses a file on the teacher's desk in the front and puts his hands on his hips, like he's trying to take charge.

‘You take this school-captain thing too seriously,' Matty mutters.

‘No, I mean it's hot. You know what, forget it.'

We sit in silence for several minutes, Ryan rubbing the back of his neck.

Ryan stops being so awkward when another girl, who I always see hovering around him and his mates, walks in.

‘I see that she got to you,' he says to her, smiling.

‘She always does,' she replies in a sing-song voice, taking the seat in the front row.

‘Well, at least there's someone I know here,' he says.

Matty grunts from the back.

‘Problem?' Ryan asks.

‘You know, if you spoke to us, we would also be people that you knew,' he says quietly.

‘Sorry, dude, not what I meant.'

The girl in the front rolls her eyes.

Ryan pulls a piece of paper from his pocket.

‘Um, maybe we should just get started,' he says, looking at us all. ‘Mrs H did say there would only be five people, so I guess it's just us.'

‘Wow, the Neanderthal can count,' I say.

His eyes flash at me, but it's his friend who speaks.

‘Who is this?' she asks, gesturing at me.

‘Charlie Scanlon,' I say, giving her a small wave. ‘Feminist killjoy. Currently pondering our generation's dumbing-down, and turns out the best case studies are right here at Holy Family.'

The room goes silent.

‘I'm kidding,' I tell her, giving her a face. ‘Well, except about the feminist killjoy part.'

She gives me a strange, confused look before turning back to Ryan. ‘Seriously, you want
her
to work on the yearbook?'

‘Well, actually —' he says, but I interject.

‘Oh, I don't want to work on your stupid yearbook,' I explain. ‘I was forced here. Apparently the best way to introduce new students to the school is to get them working on a project where they'll get to know the class through year 7 photos and those stupid profiles with dumb ambitions for the future and final quotes they found on the internet next to “news” items on the Kardashians.'

‘Okaaayyy,' she says, turning her chair away from me slightly. I cheer inwardly, while Ryan looks on, dumbstruck.

‘OK, so we've established you don't want to be here —' I open my mouth to say something else, but Ryan puts his hand out to stop me — ‘on this committee or at this school. Trust me, I think I've got it.'

I lean back in my seat, smug.

‘What about everyone else?' he asks. ‘What can you bring?'

‘I'm really excited to compile the best years of our high-school lives in one book we'll be able to treasure later,' Gillian says. ‘Most of us are saying we can't wait to finish, but I bet we'll look back fondly on our memories in fifteen years' time.'

What a loser.

‘Do you have any strengths that can help with the project?' Ryan asks her.

‘Enthusiasm, clearly,' the other girl scoffs. Ryan suppresses a laugh, but Gillian misses the joke.

‘Yep, very enthusiastic,' she says animatedly. ‘I have loads of photos from all our excursions and camps, and I'm happy to ask around for more. I'll also record minutes of our meetings.'

‘Ahh, I don't know if that's necessary . . .' Ryan says, his voice trailing off.

She shrugs, unfazed. ‘Maybe I'll just write them down for me then. I like keeping records of stuff. I can just send you action points. Of stuff we need to do.'

‘Errr, OK,' he says uncertainly, looking a little out of his depth.

‘Oh, and I can help with profiles too. You know — last words, favourite memories, and ambitions for the future,' she pipes up.

‘Cool,' Ryan says. ‘They'll probably be the hardest, there's always going to be lazy people we'll have to chase up.'

‘So if they don't even care about the yearbook, why are we bothering?' Matty asks.

Ryan shrugs. ‘I dunno,' he says simply. ‘It's just the done thing.'

Matty raises his eyebrows, then puts his headphones on. I hear the faint chords of punk music behind me, and I'm jealous he has something to escape into. The room is awkwardly silent again.

Ryan and his friend start talking in hushed tones, and in front of me Gillian looks attentive, as if being on good behaviour will earn her a gold star. I shake my head.

‘We should probably start something,' I say, my voice rising. ‘None of us except her want to be here. Let's treat it like a Band-Aid and get it over with quick.'

‘OK, where do we start?' Ryan asks. ‘Mrs H put me in charge of this project and I have no idea what to do.'

‘I was going to start with who made you boss anyway, but you've already cleared that up with the whole I'm-down-with-the-principal comment, so let's move on,' I tell him.

‘Let's move on,
Ryan
,' he says slowly, pointing to himself.