Friendship on Fire (25 page)

The last day of detention awaited us. I couldn't wait. The same lecture again, with a different spin on it, like every other day. The same seats, the same stand-off with the Brigade. I needed a change of scenery; the hostility in the room was making me claustrophobic. I stared out the window longingly at the rest of the student body enjoying the sun and relaxation.

My mind wandered back to English this morning. What had Roman thought I was suggesting? That we hook up tonight? I guess my words and their meaning could have been misconstrued to appear like it would be only him and me at home together. Did he like me in that way? He was probably playing along with the joke.

As we were getting up to leave the room, Mr Head came over to Roman and me. He stared at the top of my head. ‘What has happened to your hair now, Daisy?'

‘It was the chlorine from the pool, sir, I swear. It is gradually washing out. In a few weeks I can dye my hair back as promised and we will never have this conversation again.'

‘That better be the case, Miss Brooks. Your badge depends on it.'

I gulped. I liked working with Roman. Mr Head couldn't take it away from me now. Who else would do a better job? Rach? Sarah? Linda?
Skye?
She probably would go for it, to annoy me, rub it in my face that I couldn't hold down a job as well as a boyfriend.

I pouted. Skye was right about one thing. There had been no talk of Nate being my boyfriend. We did everything a new couple did together; dated, kissed, called, cared, but it wasn't official. At what point is something like that unspoken, acknowledged in action only? I thought you stopped asking, 
‘Will you go out with me?'
in year eight or something, but in many ways I felt like I needed Nate to ask me. I wished he would ask me, so we were on the same page. And I could start calling him my boyfriend.

It's up to him to do. I'm not going to bring it up and beg to be his girlfriend. It was up to the guy to sort that stuff out, right? Was I prudish? Traditional? He might be one of those guys who didn't like to make it official. Or maybe he wanted me to have confidence in ‘us' and not doubt our relationship, whatever our supposed title was. Wait, was this a relationship? I was so confused.

There was a car I didn't recognise parked next to Josh's car outside my house when I got home. It had very girly stickers attached to it. They were the only two cars home at this time of the day. Was this the new girl?

Without thinking to knock, I opened the front door and stepped into the hallway. What I saw next would blind my eyes for centuries to come. Josh and his girl were lying on the couch, fully clothed, but intertwined at every possible limb, pashing so furiously that I was sure they could be featured on the Discovery Channel.

I shut the front door with a loud bang, expecting the noise to startle them, but it didn't. Did they know it was me and didn't care? Or were they so far into their trance that they couldn't hear anything in the outside world? It was gross, but how could I stop it? Pour cold water on them? Fart? Throw a cushion at them?

I coughed deliberately. No change. This girl was intently  groping my brother's backside. I felt nauseous. I coughed louder.

Josh stopped kissing strange-black-haired-girl and sat up to glare at me.

‘What.'

‘I'm home,' I said.

‘I could hear you,' he said, annoyance in his voice.

I folded my arms. ‘Did you now? The least you could have done was censor your erotica show for me. No one needs to see that,' I spat back.

‘Sorry, it's my fault,' said horny-strange-black-haired-girl. ‘I'm imposing on your house. You must be Daisy? I've heard all about you. I'm Pamela.'

‘Hi Pamela. Thanks for having manners for my lovely brother,' I said, smiling sweetly at her. ‘Pleased to meet you and I highly doubt you've heard all about me. I, on the other hand, haven't heard much about you. Is this new?' I asked, pointing back and forth at them.

Josh glared at me. I was being forward, but he had been rude first.

‘Yeah it is and we're trying to enjoy ourselves, so how about you run along to your room and do some homework or whatever you do?' Josh said, flicking his head towards my room.

‘Touchy,' I said back, then glanced mischievously at Pamela. ‘Are you staying for dinner? You're more than welcome. I'm sure everyone would love to meet you.'

I didn't bother looking at Josh's reaction. If he was stupid enough to bring her over on a Friday night without intending to invite her to our family dinner, then that was his problem.

‘Oh? Uh, OK,' she said, unsure, looking from Josh to me. ‘It's not some special occasion, though, is it?'

I waited for Josh to answer, but he didn't. He was busy scowling at me.
Fine, I'll do your job for you,
my eyes said back
.

‘Not really. I mean we have family dinners every Friday night with our nanna and other people, but you are practically family now, so we'd love to have you. Wouldn't we, Joshy?' I encouraged.

Josh put his hand on Pamela's leg. ‘Of course. I was about to ask you, but Daisy beat me to it. Stay.'

He went back to glaring at me.

Pamela beamed. Silly girl. I wish she could see through his facade. She seemed like a nice enough sort, too. ‘I will then. Can't wait to get to know you, Daisy,' she said, quite genuinely.

‘Me too,' I replied, knowing full well it was never going to happen.

Josh couldn't hang on to his women. Or rather, the women couldn't hang on to Josh. I wouldn't be surprised if I never saw her face again after tonight. I wouldn't be surprised if I didn't see her face at dinner tonight, either. He was a master of excuses, which meant no plans were ever set in concrete.

I bounced off to my room to get changed. What would I wear tonight? It's not like the queen was coming to dinner; still, I wanted to look nice. I scoured my drawers, already knowing each item that was in there. I hoped something new would magically appear that I could match with everything I owned.

I put on a pair of very light denim Roxy jeans, with a plain black Witchery singlet and a thick black leather wristband.

Grabbing my phone and sitting on my bed, I texted Rach and asked if she was feeling better from her cold which had claimed her school life the whole week. I felt a bit bad for not visiting her while she was at home, but I didn't want to get sick either. One person could infect the whole school. A card would have been nice, I suppose.

Dad arrived home half an hour later with ingredients for dinner. I ran to help him bring the food in and prepare for our guests. Josh and Pamela were joined at the tongues again, so as I greeted Dad outside I warned him of the impending doom that awaited his eyes, lest he look at the couple and turn to stone as he entered.

Thanking me for the warning, he avoided their tryst and headed straight for the kitchen.

‘What are we making, Dad?' I asked cheerfully.

‘Lasagne,' he replied confidently.

‘And?'

‘And what?' he said, forehead creasing into a frown.

‘Dad, you can't cook only one thing when you have guests. You should know that. What else have we got?' I demanded, opening the fridge.

‘Why not? You don't need anything more than my awesome lasagne, Daisy. You'll see.'

I sighed. ‘Mum will kill us,' I warned, hoping the threat of Mum's dietitian wrath would be enough to swing him.

‘Fine. Let's put spring rolls in the oven. Happy?' He opened the freezer above my head to hunt for them.

‘No. Lasagne and spring rolls don't go, Dad.' I pounded my fist on the fridge door in frustration.

Dad looked confused and harassed. ‘Daisy, I'm doing lasagne. You do something else if you think we need it.'

‘Mum had better reward me big time for this,' I muttered under my breath.

I started chopping lettuce for a big salad. Chopping up fresh basil, I added lemon juice and garlic salt for the salad dressing. Dad was chattering away to himself on the other side of the kitchen, cutting up vegetables and frying garlic, onion and capsicum. Josh and Pamela continued to pash on the couch.

An hour later, Mum came home with Shane and Treston. They, too, bypassed the lovers and didn't take the time to perve on the spectacle. Surely their lips were numb by now.

I was so proud of my achievement. Dragging Mum to the kitchen, I showed her my masterpiece. I had made gourmet salad, had dips and spreads set out nicely in a dish, and the lasagne was in the oven. I also tried my hand at a chocolate mousse. Mum said it looked lovely and I beamed.

I had to slap away Shane's prying hands. He kept stealing biscuits out of my dip dish and tomato slices out of my salad. Dusting off my hands, I went to check my phone in case Rach had answered my message. She had:

Feeling heaps better, thanks. Was a pretty crazy cold, hope you don't get it. I got to sleep lots and do all my assignments hehe. See you on Sunday for your soccer match? I'd love to see your team kick some butt :-)

That sounded like an awesome idea. Rach didn't come to many of my matches but I appreciated her coming to some of them for moral support. I replied with: 

Yeah? I'll see you at three then. Take care, hugs for the sicky.

Within fifteen minutes, Roman's family arrived, as well as Nanna. She came straight over to me with a small parcel of goodies, no doubt from the op shop. I ran to my room and threw it on my bed. Classically, Mum warned Josh that he needed to either take his passions elsewhere, or stop to entertain our guests and renew his strength. Shane agreed, and gave him a dead arm. So they stopped.

Pamela wasn't shy. She talked a lot during dinner, unlike the first time I met her when she mostly used her mouth for other purposes. She was very… uninhibited and especially friendly to all the boys, including Roman, when she'd only met us today. That didn't sit so well with me. There were some situations where I believe a person has to sit back and observe politely, and this was one of them. She, apparently, didn't hold the same attitude. Both her and Josh had hickeys across their necks and throat, which aided greatly to the conversation. Treston had a supply of mosquito jokes, along with, ‘Hey, did you get hit with golf balls by any chance today?'

Even Nanna chimed in. They were a never-ending source of entertainment, and they didn't mind a bit.

‘So Jordan, how's the real estate market at the moment?' Dad asked Roman's dad.

Jordan shook his head. ‘Not real good mate, not good. No one's buying, but it seems like everyone's selling. The balance has been thrown off very far, so our business is unpredictable.'

Mum clicked her tongue in sympathy. ‘It'll settle down. It always does. Don't listen to the hype from the media.'

‘Yeah, I guess so. Wouldn't mind some consistency,' said Jordan.

‘How's your work going, Lyn?' Mum looked at Roman's mum. She was a part time nurse, but looking to retire because of the gruelling shift work. When Roman was a child, she was often not at home to take care of him and the girls, so she felt like she'd missed out on them growing up. She wanted to stop working, or stay part time at a maximum, in order to make sure things were right in the household.

‘Yeah fine. People are sick. So we are still busy. How about yours?'

And so the conversation went back and forth, long into the night. Everyone commended Dad and me on our dinner, which I appreciated more than I let on. I wasn't taught how to cook for people; that is, I hadn't had as much practice as other friends. What I could do, I did well. What I couldn't do, I tried my best to make nice.

At the end of the night, Roman pulled me aside and congratulated me on my food. ‘You can cook for me any day,' he said, smiling mischievously.

‘You wish,' I teased back.

‘What's the go with your bro and his girl? Has she been around for a while?'

‘Nope. I met her tonight, same as everyone else. You know what he's like.' I shook my head in disapproval.

He nodded eagerly. ‘Sure do. Champ.'

‘Oi, you're terrible,' I accused. ‘You'd be as bad as him with half the chance, wouldn't you.'

‘Of course not,' he said sweetly, a halo almost appearing on his head. ‘I would take it to my room long before anyone got home.'

I gasped. ‘Too much information, Roman.'

‘Sorry. Gotta be honest. Hey, what are you doing tomorrow night? Seeing metro Grammar boy?' he asked, straightening his shoulders.

‘Maybe. Not sure yet. He's having family issues at the moment so he might be hanging out with his dad,' I said, not wanting to share someone else's personal information.

He nodded. ‘Well, if you aren't shagging rich boy …' he started, before I punched him in the arm. ‘Fine. If you aren't
pashing
Grammar boy, feel free to come over and hang out. It's been a while since you were at my house. We can watch movies, eat lollies, I can pick on you, that sort of thing. What you reckon?' Smiling at me with that boyish charm, I could hardly resist.