Alana Oakley (8 page)

“What's wrong?”

“Oh, nothing. Just this stupid tooth again.”

“You said you were fixing that tooth,” said Alana, shouldering her school backpack. “You did make another appointment, didn't you?” Alana's eyes narrowed.

A second look of guilt flashed across Emma's features. How could she tell Alana that instead of seeing the dentist she was going on a date? She hoped these new painkillers did the trick … she was beginning to think she needed something stronger. “Yes well, about that,” she began, but was prevented from explaining further with the arrival of Katriona and Ling Ling.

Katriona strolled past the laundry basket and picked up a random pair of knickers. She eyed them with disgust, even though they were clean. They were, she decided, a metaphor for her friend's life: over-stretched, bedraggled and outdated. She dangled them on a long finger with a grimace.

“We need to go shopping.”

“Oh, not again,” Alana moaned. The purchases her mum made in the company of her friends were never very practical. Katriona and Ling Ling were responsible for the Mexican
sombrero
Alana had used to “hide” from Flynn. The hat had failed as a fashion statement and been equally disastrous as camouflage. Chastened, it sat on the kitchen bench cradling a watermelon.

“Don't worry, Alana,” Katriona smirked, “I'm sure we can find
you
a nice little pair. I saw some Little Bo Peep ones the other day.”

Alana gave a sugar-coated smile of steel. “No thanks. But,” she looked up and peered closely at Katriona's face, so close she could see the hair in Katriona's greyhound-thin nostrils, “Auntie Katriona, you might want some anti-aging cream for yourself. Aren't those
crow's feet
on your face?” Alana asked, her tongue hijacked by a whim of devilry.

Katriona looked horror-struck as she rushed to find a mirror. Alana was reminded of Edvard Munch's painting,
The Scream.
She wondered if Munch had played a similar joke and told his model, “You've got wrinkles,” and then said, “Hold that pose.”

Ling Ling noticed the tub of organic waste still in Alana's hand. “Eww, what's
that?
” she asked.

“It's for the compost,” Emma explained. “It makes great fertiliser. Some people even use raw vegetables on their skin.” Emma was an avid reader of all topics and, like Sofia and Mr Hornby the Maths teacher, collected trivia with the same fervour she had for collecting strays.

Katriona rushed back into the kitchen. “What for?” she cried. Neither Katriona nor Ling Ling ate many vegetables, and when they did it was usually by mistake. That vegetables could be of benefit to the skin
from the outside
was news to them.

“It has rejuvenative qualities,” Emma explained.

“So people shove gunk like that on their face to help them look younger?” Katriona asked with urgency.

“Well,” Emma said uncertainly, “kind of.”

“Great. We'll take it,” and with all thoughts of underwear shopping banished from her mind, Katriona snatched the container of rotting vegetation from Alana and clomped to the door as fast as her five-inch wedges allowed. The idea of fruity face masks and vegetable facial scrubs required further investigation. Immediately!

Ling Ling gave an apologetic shrug and turned to go – but not before slipping a DVD called
Dating Simulation
into Emma's hand with a wink.

Emma was careful to conceal the newly acquired DVD behind her back as she kissed ‘LaLa' goodbye. Alana had many names. She was Clever Clogs, or Darling Girl, or LaLa to her mum, and sometimes Lani or Lana-Iguana to her friends. Katriona secretly called her Piranha – Alana Piranha – because, to Katriona, the name suited her to perfection: a small, ferocious beast with sharp teeth that tore you apart and asked questions later. With that kind of reputation, Emma was reluctant to tell Alana anything about her upcoming date with Dr Gray.

When Emma finally had the house to herself, she slipped the DVD into the player and pressed

‘Play'. The head and shoulders of a handsome Japanese man appeared on the screen. He smiled. He nodded. His facial expressions changed from one of sympathy to polite humour. Suddenly, he laughed out loud. It was all very baffling. The instructions were little help:
No lonely anymore!
They promised.
Date-boy be your friend. Smile. Have fun. Say, Cheese!
With a start, Emma realised she was expected to practise ‘conversing' with the screen ‘date', who made sympathetic noises and sounds.

“Hi, my name is Emma,” she began. “No. Scrap that. You know my name already. Umm, I really enjoyed your book.”

The Japanese man gave a slight smile and shrug.
Wow,
Emma thought.
Not a bad start.

“Have you always liked working with teenagers?”

The man's face broke into an enthusiastic grin. Emma was amazed:
I'm really good at this!

“I'm feeling pretty nervous.”

The man smiled in sympathy.
I'm on a roll!
She chortled.

Hours later Katriona and Ling Ling returned. Emma was still in her nightie with her hair un-brushed. The skin of Katriona's face was a lurid green, while Ling Ling's was a blotchy, bright purple.

“Look at this, look at this,” Emma cried, her mouth overflowing with popcorn and painkillers. She turned to the man on the TV screen. “My feet stink so bad, people usually ask me what died!”

On cue, the Japanese ‘date' threw his head back and gave a throaty chuckle.

“I'm on fire!” Emma said excitedly.

Katriona ripped the snack bowl from Emma's unresisting fingers and bent down until they were eye-to-eye. “You. Are. Not. Taking. This. Seriously. Enough,” she bit out.

Emma drew back suddenly from the green ghoul who had replaced her friend. “What happened to your face?” she said, aghast.

“You!” her friends howled with such Wicked-Witch-Of-The-East-like fury that Emma wished she had magical ruby slippers to click together to escape home. Not that it would have helped, she remembered …

She
was
home!

CHAPTER 13

One step forward, two steps back

Saturday night arrived all too soon for Emma who – after a week of anxious waiting – was a bundle of nerves. Katriona and Ling Ling solved the problem of how to tell Alana by turning up with an armful of clothes and make-up for Mum's Hot Date. Alana was fine once she'd established the Hot Date was over 18. She did
not
want a repeat of the Jet Tierbert fiasco!

“Grandma will be happy,” was all she said.

Emma wasn't too pleased to be reminded of that fact, but she was very pleased with her appearance. Katriona and Ling Ling had worked their Make-over Magic. Gone was the soft, tatty, comfortable nightie. Gone was the bushy, untameable mane. Gone was the excessive hair that had invaded her eyebrows, under-arms and legs. In their place was a sleek, sophisticated woman ready for her first Real Date in seventeen years, with a man she met only a week ago, who looked like a male model …

Emma felt sick.

Five minutes later, Katriona and Ling Ling were pounding on the door of her office, where Emma huddled under the covers of her new futon. Her heart was racing and she was finding it hard to breathe. She looked around at her familiar surroundings and listed them in her head for comfort. Desk covered with reference books, papers and last night's dishes. Okay, she conceded, last
week's
dishes.
Check.
Computer.
Check
. Extra-large, green Christmas tree, covered with ornaments, and random scraps of paper with Ideas for Articles.
Check
. Bookshelves with favourite novels, family photo albums and more reference titles.
Check
. Essential-oils air freshener for Calm and Relaxation.
Check
. (She took a quick sniff. No change. Damn.) Claypot. Never used.
Check
. Pressure cooker. Used once but stopped after it acted like a rocket.
Check
. Food processor. Not used after almost lost a finger.
Check
. Her eyes continued their path around the room and settled on a book.
Teenage Terrorism
by Dr Oliver Gray. Emma kicked it out of sight with a squeal.

“Emma, open the door!” Katriona yelled.

“I need to touch up your hair,” Ling Ling cried.

Emma felt her hair. It was already starting to puff up.

“I know it's doing that poufy thing again,” Ling Ling added.

“I'm not coming out,” Emma yelled. “I'm not doing it. I can't do it. You can't make me!” she cried, smearing off the carefully applied lipstick, running frantic fingers through her hair, and slipping back into her tatty nightie with a mixture of relief and defiance.

The door reverberated as the pounding resumed with more urgency. It bounced on its hinges.
Thud. Thud. Thud
.

“Are you okay?” Emma heard a small voice at her elbow. It was Alana. Katriona and Ling Ling had forgotten about the second entrance to the room. Alana made her way towards her mum the same way a veterinarian approaches an injured animal. Emma, with her racoon eyes and a slash for a mouth, held out her arms. Alana dove into them and squeezed.

Thud. Thud. Thud
.

Ping-pong
pealed the doorbell.

Thudthudthudthudthudthud.

Emma and Alana looked at each other. Emma gave a tiny nod. Alana opened the office door. It was Katriona. Ling Ling was peering through the peephole of the front door.

“He's here,” they heard Ling Ling cry.

Katriona's shocked gasp brought Ling Ling running into the office like a streak of sunshine.

“
Wah lao, eh!
” (Oh no!) she cried. “Why like that?”

Emma shook her head. “I can't do it. Tell him I'm sick. But not too sick,” she said, biting her lip. “Nothing so contagious that he won't want to see me again.” Ling Ling made to go. She grabbed at Ling Ling's arm. “But nothing I can recover from too quickly.” Emma sagged like a sail that had lost its wind. “I'm just … not ready.”

The doorbell rang a second time.

Ling Ling wrenched her arm away and rushed to the front door. She put one curly, fake eyelash to the hole in the door. “Wah seh! So handsome, loh,” she said, her voice heavy with disappointment.

“Really?” Katriona smoothed her hair. “How handsome?”

“Very,
very
handsome. Sayang,” she muttered, staring at Emma darkly. “What a waste!” Just as quickly, Ling Ling calmed down as she took charge of the situation. She was a Shu, wasn't she? Hadn't her ancestors survived the Wall Street crash of 1929? She could do this.

“Aiyah, I will handle it.” Ling Ling gave a quick spray of the essential oil (for Calm and Relaxation), behind her ears, under her arms, and a final squirt in her mouth for good measure. She opened the door wide, mouth pursed like a prune. “Hi hi! You must be Dr Gray. Wah, you very stylo milo one!”

CHAPTER 14

Alana has a ball

Alana had been looking forward to Sunday soccer practice all week, particularly soccer practice with Uncle James. She had high hopes this year. Their five-a-side team promised to be really tight with the addition of Khalilah, who turned out to be a skilful goalie. Not much got past her and, if it did, it wasn't because she hadn't leapt into the air to a ridiculous height or thrust out a leg at an impossible angle. Khalilah was a vast improvement on Sofia, whose strategy was to close her eyes and point the Confuse and Defeat Your Enemies Magical Talisman at incoming balls. Sofia willingly gave up her position to play reserve. She was running out of amulets.

Sometimes the rest of the team joined Alana for soccer practice in one of the local parks. Sometimes it was just her and James. On this occasion everybody was there, and they practised passing while they waited for him to turn up.

Apart from Sofia and Khalilah, the two other girls on their team were the Ashley twins, Prita and Preyasi. It was impossible to tell them apart. Both had dark brown hair and skin the colour of strong tea. Both were petite and fast. They'd earned the nickname ‘Pocket Rockets', a far cry from the real meaning of their names, which was ‘Dear One' and ‘Beloved'. They always wore the same outfits and often spoke at the same time. It was like listening in stereo. When they didn't speak together, they finished each other's sentences – a habit Alana found just as spooky. Their footwork was telepathic too, and they worked fluidly on the field.

Alana felt they had a good chance this year to chalk up some decent points, especially now they had the twins
and
Khalilah in goal. To date, the soccer competitions had been dominated by the Soccer Academy – students who had been training since before they could walk. Although Gibson High trained hard, they had never collected enough points to compete in the more serious leagues. It was critical they won the next game.

James arrived at the field soon after the girls began their 2-km warm-up.

“Ooh,” said Maddie, “someone got into a fight with a lawnmower and lost,” she teased.

James gave her a good-natured grin and fell into step next to them. He had no trouble matching the girls' pace. James's longish locks
had
been trimmed and he looked good, although they would never dare tell him that. His hair now just scraped the bottom of his nape, and in the heat, he had wrapped a bandana around it to keep it off his neck.

“A little less talk and a little more action, thanks,” he said, picking up the pace.

“Oh yeah? Let's see how fast you can run then, old man,” Prita and Preyasi both challenged. The 2-km jog turned into a 2-km sprint. Sofia was the first to drop away, and Khalilah soon joined her. By the end of it, Maddie and the twins were neck and neck, with James not far behind. Not bad, considering Alana had wrestled onto his back for a piggy-back ride!

“No (
pant, pant
) fair,” James gasped, falling to the ground. The girls giggled and ran to get the ball.