Fury (10 page)

I stared at him with loathing choking in my throat. If only his face was close enough to connect with my fist I would, like…

Neil elbowed Gauntly.

“What a tool!” I turned to Marianne, but I found that she was already staring at me. And it wasn’t pretty. Marianne was staring at me with a look of contempt.

“What?” I mouthed. But Marianne turned away silently and faced the front of the class instead.

“
Enough,
Mr Gauntly,” warned Mr Steele. “Never use such words toward a lady. As I was saying, the matter is settled, and I do not want to hear any more. If you wish to bring your sandwich and watch the disaster during lunchtime, then that is your own time to waste. Now—”, Mr Steele strolled slowly to the front of the classroom, “—which of my two favourite students will lead the first reading?”

Hang on.
Two
favourite students? When had there ever been two favourite students?

I forgot that there were two extra students in our class today. And that one of them was sitting beside me right now, squeezed uncomfortably close against my arm. It suddenly became apparent that this special spot in the room, right in front of Mr Steele’s desk, was not just my desk for Lit class.

“Miss Jones,” announced Mr Steele with a flourish of his hand, “please continue with where we last left off.”

Did I hear that right? He just chose
Marianne.

I thought this was supposed to be
my
class. Marianne is good at everything. English Lit is supposed to be my thing. It is the only thing I’m good at. What with my talent at turning every conversation with my mother into an argument and my ability to repel my dad—it’s the one thing I have.

I had to believe Mr Steele was just being polite to Marianne, the
guest.
I couldn’t take it any other way. It would kill me.

I pushed the novel, perfectly balanced between me and Lexi, toward Marianne.

Marianne stared down at the novel. Then she pushed it back to me. She reached into her bag and took out her own heavily dog-eared copy.

“—
That the Miss Lucases and the Miss Bennets should meet to talk over a ball was absolutely necessary; and the morning after the assembly brought the former to Longbourn to hear and to communicate,”
Marianne read. “‘
You began the evening well, Charlotte’, said Mrs Bennet with civil self-command to Miss Lucas. ‘You were Mr Bingley’s first choi—’”

“‘—Yes; but he seemed to like his second better,’”
I said loudly.

The class was quiet.

“Miss Boans,” said Mr Steele. “This is a reading, not a two-way combat. Please wait your turn.”

I felt my face flush. But I wasn’t sorry. I was only sorry that Mr Steele didn’t choose me.

We were interrupted by a knock on the door. Mr Steele went over to answer it.

On my left, a glowering Marianne opened her mouth to say something to me, but I pretended I was suddenly fascinated by a passage in the novel.

“What’s wrong with you?” Lexi whispered loudly.

“Nothing,” I snapped back. “What’s up with you? Upset that I’m ruining your chances with boy-toy up the back?”

Ouch. Even that one managed to flick me in the face and sting.

Lexi went to say something back, but I ignored her. She looked away, upset, and started rummaging in her bag, presumably looking for her imaginary copy of
Pride & Prejudice.

I felt a tap on my shoulder. Cathy-Ann Moss, sitting directly behind me, was holding out a folded piece of paper between her fingers. When I took it from her, she put her head down immediately and pretended to be writing notes.

I looked at the creased piece of pink paper. I opened it in my lap under the desk.

“Listen to this girls. Looks like Bottle Blonde number two is throwing a party.”

Neither Marianne nor Lexi looked at me. They were both still too busy trying to be upset with me.

Bottle Blonde number two, AKA Jane Mutton, was the other half of the Jane Blondes. She was as her name suggested—an overdressed designer spring lamb. We’re talking two sizes too small, two seasons too late and
always
a shade of pink. I vaguely remember a glasses-wearing, pig-tailed brunette from Year Eight, but ever since Jane Mutton got adopted by her Bo Peep, that girl hasn’t been seen since.

I looked over at Marianne. Back in the beginning of time, Jane Mutton was not Jane Ayres’ first choice when she was looking for a BFF. It was no secret who her first choice was. She knew it; everyone knew it.

Unfortunately, the only person who didn’t want to know about it was Marianne herself. Jane Ayres may be the biggest bitch this side of the border and always used to getting what she wanted, but she was no match for Marianne.

All I know was that it only took one lunch break, one girl’s bathroom, the two of them locked in it, some audible snippets of a heated discussion, and that was the end of
that
plan. Neither Marianne nor Jane ever spoke about it again and everyone was too scared to ask.

In so many ways I could see how Marianne was identical to Jane Ayres. I sometimes wondered why she chose to be friends with us instead. Why she chose to be friends with
me.

My eyes flicked back to the long, wonky list of scrawled names. Everyone knew that it was Jane Ayres’ birthday on Saturday—I mean, how could you not with the way she’d been carrying on? But would it kill the girl to have some nice invitations and RSVP cards made up? Guess she didn’t want there to be any evidence. It was also no secret that Jane Mutton’s parents were going away that weekend.

I scanned the names. Not that I was eager or anything … and there it was.
Neil.
Under Aardant and Gauntly’s names. All three names were written in the same sick-looking handwriting that belonged to the same sick-looking owner.

Great,
I thought.
Maybe we can triple-date.
The Jock, Boy-Next-Door and Burberry Trench Coat Mafia. Who in the real world would have nothing in common, except here they have to play pretend because all their dads are on the executive committee of the East Rivermoor Golf Club.

“The party’s this Saturday night. I’ll put us all down,” I said and smiled cheerfully to my left and then to my right. “You can both come over on Friday night and we’ll decide on outfits. My mum’s brought heaps of clothes back for me from her trip and I’m even going to share. Won’t that be fun?”

I didn’t get an answer from either, so I scribbled our names onto the pink piece of paper and shoved it into the pocket of my blazer.

I’ve since spent countless sleepless nights thinking about that one piece of paper. Baby pink and innocent looking, crushed between my lip-gloss and a square of bubble gum.
On it, the lives I was about to sign away. In my girly, loopy handwriting.

If only I hadn’t been trying so hard to fight with Marianne and prove she wasn’t the boss. If only I hadn’t been trying to show Lexi that I was the one in charge. And trying to show Ella how cool my group was. We could have been safe.

I mean, we don’t even like Jane.
Either
of them. We would all be whole and not in a million little pieces like we were to become.

I found Jane Mutton in the hall after English. She stood in front of me like a little pink elephant, her school skirt so tight that it looked like it had been sprayed on. Which, by the way, wasn’t a compliment.

“We’ll all be there,” I said and I held the note out to her.

“Great!” she replied breathlessly and then she lowered her tone. “This is not
me
saying, right? But if you, uh, want to bring alcohol, then, uh, you can.”

I screwed my face up at Jane Mutton’s school shirt with its buttons gaping around the bulging contours of her body.

“Um, yeah. See you Saturday night.”

In my head, I watch that same scene over and over again. My hand with the pink invitation. Jane’s fleshy hand, with its pink gem-stoned rings, as it closed tight with the invitation inside.
Too late to take back now.

On Saturday we would all head off in our best outfits to our tragedy. Because I was the leader and I thought I made the best decisions for all of us. It was not Ella’s fault.

It was mine, and had been all along.

What a traitor I am.

There is a knock at the door.

A slightly thickset, curly-haired girl lets herself in. I’d guess she’s in her early-thirties, or as my mum would say, someone in her last year of looking decent before her looks go downhill. I recognise this girl as the youth counsellor that I refused to speak to when I first got here.

She smiles at me encouragingly. I don’t smile back. I don’t want to encourage her.

“Hey,” I say. “Are you the female colleague? The one with the best muffins?”

“Eliza,” says Dr Fadden cautiously.

“Brian,” she says, turning her eyes on him. “I have some urgent news for you. Regarding one of the other girls.”

“Yes?” says Dr Fadden.

She looks at him expectantly. “I need to speak to you privately.”

Her eyes shift back onto me. I narrow mine.

“What does she want to say that I am not allowed to hear?” I demand.

“Eliza—”

“Don’t
Eliza
me. You’re not my mother. She’s supposed to be a counsellor, so why is she trying to hide things from me? She’s making me anxious. I might have another panic attack, you know, like
before.”

“Shut up, Eliza,” says Dr Fadden. He turns back to the counsellor.

“Go ahead. Tell us both.”

She gives me a dirty look. “Well, if you insist. And I have warned you, Brian. The Chief Inspector will not be pleased if I contaminate the interviews and I don’t want to be held—”

“—just spit it out, Dr Jennens.”

My ears prick up at the sugar tone she uses for “Chief Inspector”. Interesting.

She sighs.

“I came here to tell you that one of the girls, Alexandria Gutenberg, has been hospitalised.”

“What?” says Dr Fadden.

My mouth drops open.

“She was being interviewed when she smashed a mug onto the desk and tried to cut herself. For her safety we’ve had her sedated and taken to the hospital until—”

“—hang on, you said
we,
who is
we?
Do you mean
you?”

“Be
quiet,
Eliza,” says Dr Fadden.

The counsellor tries to lower her gaze and appear sorry, but I know she isn’t. She’s just sorry she majorly sucks at her job.

“She was there when it happened, wasn’t she? She’s the one questioning Lexi!”

“Eliza, calm down. Stop accusing people without knowing the story.”

“You bitch,” I shout and I stand up. “What did you do to her?”

The youth counsellor takes a step back and looks around nervously.

“Brian,” I say, turning to the doctor, and I march right up to him. “Aren’t you going to do anything about her? She needs to be stopped!”

Dr Fadden doesn’t answer me. He isn’t even looking at me.

“Get some help,” I hear him say to the youth counsellor, “I think I can handle this, but just in…”

The voice that comes out of his mouth is all wrong. It sounds all broken. Like a bad connection.

“She has to be stopped! Do you hear me?”

“Eliza. Eliza—stop. You’re hurting me.”

I stare at Dr Fadden’s face. I open my eyes so wide that they hurt. He has long red gashes on his cheek. I look down at my hand. There is blood under my fingernails.

“Oh my God!”

“It’s okay, Eliza, just sit back down on the chair.”

I can’t stop looking at my hands. What do I do with the blood on my fingers? Do I wipe it on my clothes? Do I pretend it’s not there, or can I ask for a tissue? I have to
think of an answer fast. The blood is drying and my hands are shaking.

“I just want her … I … it to stop.”

“It will,” he says. “I promise you, Eliza. Just sit back down.”

“Don’t make them take me away,” I say weakly. “I’m not crazy.”

“Sit down and I promise you, Eliza.”

I look at the doctor. He looks like he’s fading away. I wish that he would stay. I feel my knees give way. My bum barely touches the chair when someone lifts my arm up. I look at the man all dressed in white. He injects something into my arm and then I don’t remember.

It was just a little argument. Only a tiny scratch. By the end of the day it had healed. Perhaps under a certain light it could be found by someone who sought it.

I got to the school gates first that day after school. Lexi and I walked home together everyday too, since—well, forever. Sometimes Marianne would join us. It depended on whether she had one of her endless extra-curricular lessons. You know, the ones she said would make me a more
accomplished person. The ones she really meant would make me more like her: perfect.

“Hi Lexi,” I said.

Lexi couldn’t look me in the eye. She was clutching a copy of
The Dieter’s Digest
which had headlines such as “Lose Weight with Fat Blockers” and “The Cheeky Chocolate Diet for Chocoholics”. Following two steps behind her was Marianne. Obviously the two of them weren’t talking to each other either.

“Do you think I’m a
teacher’s pet?”
Marianne demanded to no one in particular. “I don’t think I’m a ‘pet’. I’m certainly not a cheerleader, that’s for sure. I have never once attempted to try out for the Pink Prioriettes. I have no idea why he would think that.”

“Are you done?” I asked Marianne.

She finally looked up to flash me a hurt look. She shut up.

“Good. Let’s get going then.”

“Hey, wait for me!”

We turned our heads at the same time to see Ella running toward us.

Ella walked up to Marianne, threw her arm around her shoulder and whispered something into her ear.

Lexi and I stared at each other in surprise. We leaned in eagerly to see what would happen next. I was kinda hoping to see Marianne punch Ella in the face.

Ella pulled away from Marianne’s ear, looked her in the
eye and smiled. Then the impossible happened. Marianne looked at Ella and smiled back.

“Should we tell Lexi then?” asked Ella.

Marianne nodded.

Lexi looked suspicious, but curiosity got the better of her and she ran over to them and pushed her ear up against Ella. She let out a sudden squeal and clapped her hands together.

Hang on. Lexi with a huge smile plastered across her face, and Marianne grinning away like she’s got BPD? Ella looking as if she couldn’t believe her popularity?

So, finally, the three of them were friends. Guess that’s what I wanted all along. Why then was I the only one unhappy about it?

“Should we tell her?” Ella asked cautiously under her breath.

“Uh, no,” said Lexi. “It’ll be a
surprise.”

Lexi bounced up to me and linked my arm with hers, which was a bit of a change from her emo act before.

“She’ll see soon enough.”

I allowed Lexi to drag me off. I turned to see Ella extend her arm out to Marianne. Marianne rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. She slipped her arm into Ella’s.

“Where are we going?” I asked Lexi.

“I told you, it’s a surprise.”

“Well at least tell me in what direction we’re supposed to be heading, so you don’t have to drag me around like I’m your brand new puppy.”

“Ella’s house. That’s all I can say.”

“Does this have something to do with—”

“Shhhh! I said
that’s all I can say.
Now just be quiet.”

I liked how in East Rivermoor four girls could walk home safe. We’ve all heard stories about what can happen out there. How girls could be snatched off the streets and never be heard from again. Not until their bodies turn up at the bottom of a ditch. That’s exactly what happened one summer. It was a long time ago, but the damage is set so deep I think it will always be here.

She was a Middlemoore girl who had disappeared after coming out of a local hotel, last seen partying, drinking and talking to strangers. Our own Mayor had said “if you go out in the rain, then you expect to get wet.” He just meant he didn’t care because it didn’t happen in our suburb. Nothing happened to the good girls that stayed at home with mum and dad.

That was the first girl. Then three more girls disappeared in exactly the same way and that’s when our suburb freaked out. Instead of trying to help, it ended its shaky relationship with Middlemoore. But no one can run away from the ditch. It forms its own deep, natural border. On one side is us and on the other is the Middlemoore train-yard where carriages that break down come to rest forever.

The very edge of East Rivermoor was where we were headed to right now. Yes, we do have a “bad part”; face it, doesn’t every suburb? If a natural order didn’t exist, how else
then would my street be the best? It doesn’t mean it’s overrun by thugs and you might get shot at if you drive by, it just means the houses are smaller and less nice, like Ella’s.

I never liked passing here; it gave me the creeps. But it was the shortest way to Ella’s house.

I stared at the billboard standing in front of the ditch. It read:
East Rivermoor—the new face of re-urbanisation.
On it is a picture of a happy family with unusually bright and perfect teeth. I stared at it for a long time, looking at the cherry-coloured graffiti dried on the front. I reckon that if I stared long enough at this place, I could still see the old face of East Rivermoor. And it wasn’t so pretty back then.

“Eliza, come on!”

I must have drifted off. In the distance Ella and Marianne were already marching toward the purple house with the roof the colour of a thousand exotic bird poos.

I don’t dare look down. What if I see her?

“Stop looking at that disgusting ditch. Like
, eww.
I wish they’d get rid of it.”

Lexi grabbed me by the hand and dragged me away.

I wondered if they could, or would, ever get rid of that ditch. If they took it away, what would separate us from them? The people on the other side of East Rivermoor.

Inside Ella’s place, it was strangely quiet.

“Where is your mum?” I asked.

“Oh, she’s gone out for the night,” replied Ella, unfazed. She didn’t offer to explain where her mum had gone.

“Right.
Now
can you tell me what’s happening?”

I sounded grumpy. I didn’t like it when I wasn’t in control. I didn’t care if I sounded like a sad ungrateful cow.

“Hey, don’t be such sad ungrateful cow,” Lexi said. “Ella’s got a surprise for us. Tell her now, Ella.”

“Well,” said Ella, bursting with excitement. “My mum has made a dress for each one of us! I mean, I personally think they are gorgeous enough to wear to the ball, but like my mum said, they are only half-dresses. You can all take them home today. For free. They’re yours.”

Lexi squeezed my arm. “Isn’t that exciting, Lizzie?”

I frowned. “I thought I told you I’m banned from going to the ball?”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Ella. “My mum didn’t forget about you. And I think you will especially like yours, Eliza. All of us agreed on the fabric.”

“
Us?
When did all of
us
agree on the fabric?”

“Oh, on that day we first came here and you decided to suddenly take off,” answered Lexi. “We sat down with Mrs Dashwood and we had afternoon tea, in her
design studio.”

“We had the scrummiest little petit-fours and
real
English tea in a
real
bone-china teapot,” said Marianne butting in. “It was the most elegant thing
ever.”

“Wonderful,” I replied flatly. “Well? Where are these dresses then?”

“Let’s go see!” said Lexi, grabbing Ella by the hand and pulling her up the stairs.

Since I had no choice, I followed my temporarily crazed friends. I bet there was a full moon that night.

Now, there are probably only a few things in life that would make a East Rivermoor girl go weak, since we’ve pretty much seen everything worth seeing. But when Ella opened those French doors, I think I cried a little on the inside.

I can’t remember too many moments in my life that have made me for one moment forget about my mother, my teachers, my loneliness, my boredom and my piked-out father. That have the ability to make me just truly, utterly, dizzily happy. Those four dresses on the white mannequin bodies—they came pretty close.

“I guess we’d better try them on,” said Lexi, interrupting the silence. “Just to make sure they, um … fit.”

Nobody moved. I don’t think we could. I looked at the faces of my friends standing beside me. I don’t think Lexi was worried anymore that I was a bully. I don’t think Marianne cared right now that Mr Steele liked her better than me. And even though it still burnt raw and painful somewhere in the back of my mind, right now I didn’t care that Mr Steele liked Marianne better either.

Like a bunch of kids in an egg-and-spoon race, we made a sudden run for it, grabbing the dresses eagerly and laughing as the mannequins crashed onto the ground. We raced down the hall clutching the lush, light-as-air dresses. I don’t
remember my feet touching the ground at all. We piled into Ella’s bedroom together, eager to know if she had a full-length mirror.

Ella was right. I did especially like mine. More than like, I
loved
it. I ran my thumb across the label on the back that read
Dot & Dash.
I ripped off my school clothes and eagerly slipped the dress over my head.

As I stared at my reflection, and I felt myself changing on the spot. I was melting into the sky-blue of the fabric, slowly becoming invisible. I could blow away along with the tiny white and sage green flowers on the print. The fabric smelt like summer and in my bones I yearned for the beach and sand.

Marianne was the second to get ready after me. I watched as she stood in front of the mirror in her dress. In white, Marianne looked like a garden bride. She looked beautiful. She always did.

I helped Lexi zip up the side of her dress. Lexi was in pale pink. She looked so sweet, like candy. Like no harm could, or should ever come to her. I spun her around and stared at her pretty face. Look at her. She’s the new Queen of Hearts. She’s going to make sure those child-victims of landmines have new legs.

Then there was Ella. Ella in taupe.

Lexi once told me that taupe was the colour of sickness and sadness. That nothing should be the colour of taupe, especially not girls who wanted to be happy. But Ella looked
beautiful too. We all did, in that moment—one that I knew could only last inside the life of a bubble.

“Do you have any makeup?” Lexi asked Ella. She didn’t look very hopeful.

“Of course I do,” replied Ella. “What makes you think I don’t?”

“I’m sorry,” said Lexi. “I thought with your mother—that she’d rather you pinch your cheeks and rub mulberry juice on your lips.”

They both laughed. “My mother doesn’t have to know everything, you know,” said Ella.

I watched as Marianne twisted Lexi’s long dark tresses into a braided bun and then worked her magic fingers on Ella’s boofy hair. Ella must have thought she had died and gone to Pretty Girl Heaven.

Maybe one day Marianne will tire of her mother whoring her out to all those extra-curricular classes and run off to Middlemoore to become a hairdresser. I can just imagine a chain-smoking, peroxide-permed Marianne, blue-rinsing Middlemoore grannies.

We all dream about it, sometimes we even talk about it, but I know we will never leave East Rivermoor.

“Okay,” I said, staring at the others. “What now?”

We were all made up and had trouble looking each other in the eye. It was like we’d suddenly become shy because
we’d suddenly become strangers. I looked out of the window instead and realised that the sky had darkened. We must have spent hours here without realising it.

“All dressed up and nowhere to go,” sighed Lexi.

“Not necessarily,” replied Marianne.

She tilted her head to the side and smiled her large smile. Marianne reminded me of a cat. One about to eat a bird.

Looking out into the dusk, I found myself thinking of the dead girl again. I could see her tumbling, hitting the shallow water in the bottom of the ditch. The killer was never caught. One day it just stopped. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief and everything went back to normal. But I wonder if it ever really did. They never removed the six-thirty curfew. Dormant is not the same as stopped.

Marianne was propped up lazily on Ella’s bed like she was Cleopatra and half-hoping someone would feed her peeled grapes. She had
that
look on her face.

“Come here Ella, Lexi,” she said, lifting a limp hand. “Come over and tell me if you think that this is a good idea.”

Marianne whispered something into their ears. She spoke too softly for me to hear, but I thought I heard the word
punish.
When the girls closed their eyes, the colours on their eyelids sparkled.

Ella broke out into a laugh.

“I think that is a superb idea. And I have just the thing.”

“Let’s go then,” said Marianne and she yawned. To show her interest, I supposed.

Okay, so I
get it.
It’s great that they’re all suddenly BFFs, but I didn’t expect it to be at my expense. I didn’t like being the victim—

“Follow me,” said Ella, and she shot out the door with the other two following eagerly.

I looked around at the room and caught my reflection in the full-length mirror. I looked pale. Even a little sickly. The emptiness made me feel ill somewhere deep inside my stomach, so I left the room as quickly as I could.

I found them inside a closet.

Literally.
Trust me when I say that a East Rivermoor broom closet can be bigger than apartments in other neighbourhoods. Ella lit a big pillar candle on an iron stand.

“This is my mother’s new project,” she said. “Apparently ‘Zoo Couture’ is the latest fashion with, like, pop stars. They all want to dress up like rabbits and things at private parties. But I’m not allowed to tell anyone about it. Well, I mean I
wasn’t
supposed to tell anyone about it…”

Marianne reached out to touch a white mask with a long spiral. She bumped the shelf next to it, which made a creaking noise and wobbled. Then something came tumbling down.

Marianne screamed and grabbed Lexi, who screamed as well. The room was suddenly filled with something floating and white. It was filled with feathers.