Faking Sweet (5 page)

2 complicated 2 xplain.
Calypso's next text read.
Gotta go. Keep me posted. Cx

Too complicated, I wondered. What was too complicated? Why was Calypso so wimpy about Scott? He deserved to be punished, not protected.

But I knew why she was doing it – she was still in love with him. It was the same with me and Joe. Even though you know it's dumb you just can't help it.

 

The night I walked into the party and saw Miranda on Joe's lap I wanted to gouge her eyeballs out. Obviously she'd wrestled herself onto his knee and no matter how hard Joe had tried to get her off she would not let go.

And of course the only reason his hands were creeping up Miranda's top was because she was threatening to make a scene and stalk him forever if he didn't do as he was told. She was there for all to see, whispering stuff in his ear. Joe wasn't really enjoying it. Well, that's what I told myself.

Joe didn't like big boobs, he'd told me that himself at the movies after a rather unfortunate incident at Macca's. I'd been a bit hysterical after his mate called out to me in the queue: ‘Hey pancake chest, get us another Big Mac.' It was humiliating 'cause I'm sure everybody heard. So I ran to the toilets and hid.

Joe completely understood why I was so upset. He even asked the girl sweeping the floor to go to the Ladies and see if I was okay.

‘Your boyfriend says to say the movie starts in three minutes,' said the girl.

‘Oh?' I opened the cubicle door and peered around. ‘Has he been worried about me?'

‘He said you've been in there forever and to hurry up.'

Well, what else would you expect from a girl who sweeps the floor at Macca's!

I washed my face and went out to Joe, who was waiting for me outside. As soon as I appeared his mates skulked off. No doubt Joe had given it to them.

‘Come on.' Joe grabbed my hand. ‘I can't get a refund on these tickets.'

Somewhere up the three flights of stairs, out the swinging doors and across the purple carpet of Hoyts, I asked him if he minded me having small boobs.

‘Small boobs?' he said.

‘Yeah.'

He shrugged. I found out later that's what he did when he felt bad.

The next weekend was when I saw Miranda on Joe's knee and my blood whooshed up my spine and into my head. Miranda was a man-eater, and my Joe was one of her victims. I walked across the room as if in a trance. The tips of my fingers were tingling and my heart was pounding. How dare she? Who did she think she was?

When they saw me coming Miranda jumped off Joe's lap like she had a firecracker in her pants. Now he was free, I waited for him to run over and ask where I'd been, tell me he'd been searching for me all night. But he didn't. He didn't even move. He just shrugged.

For weeks after that I wanted to get Miranda and spit in her face. I still did. But I didn't feel like that about Joe, even when I found out the two of them had hooked up over and over and now were an item.

I didn't want to eat. I couldn't sleep. I cried and cried. But every time Mum shook her head and said, ‘I can't believe what that boy did to you,' I'd reply, ‘It wasn't Joe's fault.'

 

So for now I'd have to respect Calypso's request not to follow Jess to Spotti if Scott was there. Even though I thought it was a cop-out, I understood. Scott was a ‘no-go'.

I was about to walk out of the bathroom when I heard footsteps and a voice whining, ‘Scott. Scott.'

I ducked back to the basins just as Jess walked in with a phone glued to her ear.

‘Scott?' she whined again.

I turned on the tap and began to wash my hands.

‘But why not?' she snapped. ‘That's not a good enough reason.'

I pushed more soap out of the dispenser.

‘Scott?' I could just make out a noise like chipmunks arguing. The sound was chattering out of her phone and into the atmosphere.

‘Scott? Scott!' she shouted. ‘Well, I'll go by myself then!'

My hands were covered in orange bubbles. One was so enormous it almost reached my chin. But I was too afraid to move, in case she started yelling at me too.

‘Boys,' she uttered to me through the mirror.

I didn't say anything back. Instead I waited for the sound of her shoes stomping across the tiled floor and back out of the bathroom.

‘One, two, three …' Slowly I counted to twenty then crept back into the last cubicle and texted Calypso.

This arvo on. She's going alone.

 

Spotti in Sydney didn't look that different to Spotti in Melbourne, except for the prices. A skirt I bought the day before I left Melbourne was $5 more here. I should've bought three. But the floor plan was the same. Big, busy and crowded with clothes. Hiding here would be a breeze.

First I went to the dressing rooms to check them out. I was going to get it right this time. Step 3: observation – completed. Daydream Island here I come.

There were ten dressing rooms that each had a huge number above their door. This place was completely idiot proof. I checked out the clothes, selecting a few I would pretend I wanted to try on. I needed an excuse to hang around the dressing rooms so I could see what Jess took in and, more importantly, what Jess took out. I'd just have to make sure Jess didn't see me.

Beep, beep. Calypso must've been ready and waiting.

R u there?

Yes

Just step 3.

Before I had a chance to reassure her I had it under control, another text came through.

Watch which number dressing room she goes in 2. Can u c big numbers?

Duh, I wasn't blind. I just didn't know about shoplifting.

Don't worry.

Watch her bag 2.

I took in a deep breath, as Jess Flynn had just entered the shop.

JF here,
I texted.

Jess was at the entrance flicking through a rack of skirts. A sales assistant went up to her and said something. Jess nodded and smiled sweetly.

‘Hello.' It was the same sales assistant, now standing next to me.

‘Oh, I'm still looking,' I smiled sweetly too. ‘Thank you.'

‘I must ask you to leave your school bag.' Her arm signalled like a traffic controller. ‘At the entrance.'

‘Oh? Okay.' It was not possible for me to go the way she was pointing, as it meant I'd have to squeeze past Jess.

I picked up my bag and started to walk in the opposite direction, towards the dressing rooms, before turning right and making my way around the very edge of the store.

‘Excuse me?' The assistant was following me. ‘Excuse me, Miss, but which … what … just put your bag …'

I turned around. ‘I'm sorry,' I smiled again. ‘It must seem, um, strange that I'm, um, taking the long way around but I'm in a, a, pedomathon. Like a walkathon except you get sponsored for how many, how many steps you take. It's for the … the bushfire victims.'

‘Really?' answered the assistant. ‘Now I feel terrible. I didn't even know there'd been any bush-fires lately.'

‘Oh yes,' I nodded. How gullible can you be? ‘Lots. Mostly in … Tasmania.'

‘Gee, maybe I should do it too. How did you find out about it?' she said.

‘Urgh, well …' Didn't this woman have some work to do? My mind was racing a thousand k's a minute. ‘Go to www.pedomathon.com.'

‘Pedomathon. P-e-d?'

‘P-e-d-o-, like walkathon.'

‘Great, thanks,' she said. ‘I still feel guilty about missing the forty-hour famine this year. I bet you did it. Were you allowed to have rice this time?'

‘Gee, um, I can't remember.' I had lost sight of Jess. I craned my neck and did a quick three-sixty of the place. ‘I'd like to try these on.' I threw the assistant the clothes I was holding. I just had to hope Jess was in a dressing room. ‘Now, please.'

‘All right,' she said. ‘You put your bag away then meet me up the back.'

I threw my bag like I was in the javelin finals and bolted off behind her, praying like a born-again that Jess was in a dressing room.

Luckily there were a couple of girls waiting, which gave me a moment to get my head together. If I slid down the wall a bit I could scan the feet under the doors.

In number seven, a honey-skinned foot with the softest pink polish lifted itself off the floor. It had to belong to Jess. I crossed my fingers and held my breath.

I was right! Out of number seven stepped Jess Flynn.

Wow! How amazing did she look in the tiniest pair of black shorts and the tightest little t-shirt. We all watched her checking herself out in the mirror. I'm sure I heard one of the waiting girls groan.

Another assistant stood there, her freckly complexion turning a shade of speckled green. ‘How is it?' she said through gritted teeth. ‘Maybe you should try another size in the shorts.'

‘Mmm?' Jess checked the rear view, first over her left shoulder then over her right, just in case her bum magically looked bigger from either side. Then her button nose began to screw up. Like how could she not be happy with what she was seeing?! Us hefalumps in the queue were about to catch the escalator to the top floor, link hands and jump off!

‘The shorts are a bit big,' Jess said. ‘Maybe I'll try an extra, extra small.'

That time I definitely heard a groan.

While Jess and the green-skinned assistant went off in search of a smaller size they kept reserved for the Ethiopians, I casually wandered up to dressing room number seven and peered in.

Jess's uniform was screwed up in a ball on the floor with her shoes and socks thrown in either corner. Nothing else. No suspiciously empty coat hangers. Definitely no bag. Nothing … that was on view.

Carefully I slid my foot into the cubicle and hooked it under her uniform, gently lifting it off the floor. Nothing under there either. There was absolutely positively no secret stash of clothes in there.

A male voice was looming up behind me. A horror thought struck. Maybe it was the Spotti security guard wanting to know what I was doing snooping in someone else's dressing room. Swiftly I turned around to slip back into line when, whoops, I found myself face to face with Jess and quite a cute, well actually an extremely cute, guy who maybe, well perhaps, looked a little bit like Scott.

‘Holly, hi,' she said, surprised.

My forehead, my cheeks, my whole face was burning up. I was almost touching noses with the boy who'd broken the heart of my bestie.

‘Don't worry,' she laughed. ‘I always get the dressing rooms mixed up here.'

I swore I saw Scott nudge her.

‘Oh this is Holly. From … Melbourne.' Jess pronounced ‘Melbourne' a bit too loudly. ‘Holly, this is Scott.'

He was better looking than in Calypso's photo. Like much, much better looking. He was tall and his eyes were a deep greeny-brown. Not that he impressed me. It was just interesting to note what the camera hides. Perhaps I wasn't as ugly as all my photos suggested.

Scott smiled quickly, giving Jess a little shove along.

‘Well, bye, Holly.' Jess waved and slipped back into number seven while the obedient boyfriend waited for her like a dog.

‘The dressing room's free now, love.' The gullible assistant was holding open the door to number five. The clothes I'd selected were staring at me from their hangers. I could almost hear them whispering, ‘You stuffed up again.'

‘I've changed my mind.' My phone was beeping in my pocket. ‘I've got to go.'

‘I don't blame you,' said one of the hefalumps from the line. ‘Too depressing after seeing that girl.'

‘Yeah,' I muttered, taking my mobile out and bracing myself for the message.

News please. Now.

I read Calypso's demand then zipped my mobile back into my pocket. Down the escalators I kept going until I found myself in the food court. The only remedy was to stuff my face with a jumbo cup of hot chips. They would do nothing for my skin but I didn't care. Maybe the fat would give me some breast tissue. Anyway that was the least of my problems. What was I going to say to Calypso?

Beep again. Bugger off, I told it.

How was I going to pull this whole revenge thing off? I was no shoplifter. I wasn't even an adequate observer of a shoplifter.

I picked up my bag and walked out of the mall, the mobile vibrating in my pocket. I was almost sure I could hear it sniggering, ‘Loser, loser.'

 

‘You're home!'

‘What's up with you?' I managed, once I'd wriggled out of my mother's cheek-flattening bear hug.

‘Your father suggested we all go out for pizza this evening. Doesn't that sound like fun?'

Poor Mum; she was so desperate for us to be a normal family.

‘Like all of us being me, you and Dad?' I just couldn't share her enthusiasm. ‘Wow, what a party. Is that why you're dressed up?'

‘No. I've been in the city. And guess what?'

‘What?'

‘Guess!' Her eyes were bulging so much they resembled a giant gobstopper. ‘Come on, Holly, guess.'

‘Um, you cracked the giant showcase this arvo?'

Mum was shaking her head with each word.

‘I know … you got it all right first go?'

‘No!' she shouted. ‘Much better!'

‘Better?' I frowned. ‘But there isn't any better. For you, that is. Is there?'

‘I saw Sally!'

‘Sally? Sally who?'

‘Sally! Sally, the main model. You know the one who sits in the car and waves at the end of the show.'

‘Oh.' My mother needed a life, or a lobotomy.

‘Even more stunning in real life, she was. Beautiful, really beautiful. I wished you'd been there, Holly.'

‘Mmmm.' I was backing my way down the hall.

‘I wanted to go up to her. I really did. I wanted to get her autograph but I was –'