Friendship on Fire (4 page)

Roman walked me home from school and reassured me my social status would one day be restored.

With his help.

But not within the next week.

That's one thing he's good at. Making me feel like me again. He also comforts me when I lose my temper, make horrific choices, and most importantly, he feeds me when I'm hungry. Actually, we both do, and I take it upon myself very seriously to make sure Roman has a constant supply of lollies like redskins and snakes in his bag for our walks home.

Sometimes we stop and get fish ‘n' chips at Sailor's Wharf. It's the most famous chip shop in Twin Rocks, located right at the end of the long wharf, where there are squillions of hungry seagulls. It's only ten minutes walk from school and I swear they get most of their business from wagging St Dominic's and Addison Grammar students. Heck, we could run the place and make a profit. The owners know us by name. Roman never forgets my extra tomato sauce and my strawberry milkshake, just like I never forget to let him eat more than me. We make a good team.

Walking through a large green park a few blocks from my house, he suddenly asked me, ‘Dais, where are you going for Easter this year?' He offered me another redskin.

Chewing on it ungracefully, I tried to remember any family conversations about coming holidays. ‘Dunno. Why?'

‘Oh well … our family is going up the coast to Marion Bay this year and Mum asked if I wanted to take you with us, seeing as you like the beach and all …'

He had his eyes locked straight ahead and appeared nonchalant. When I didn't answer straight away, he turned his head to gauge my response. His sandy blonde hair was being blown into his eyes but I could see something in the blue depths of them. Was it nerves? He was nearly a head taller than me but I could still look him in the eyes when I had to. I made sure he could read my sincerity.

‘Yeah? That's heaps nice of her. I'll think about it.'

I stuck my tongue out and tried to prove that mine was redder. It was clearly his, but he let me win. He always did in my silly games.

I arrived home to find Dad sitting in a car. Not that that was unusual. It's that he didn't wave at me as I walked up the driveway. And he was in a different car. I thought this needed a closer inspection. I tapped on the window a few times and smiled. He didn't answer. His head was moving up and down and his eyes were closed, and his hands were using both his knees like a piano. Was he having a freak dream? No; he had the music as loud as an eighteen year old in his car and he was pretty much dancing like one too. I opened the passenger door and out escaped music that could have woken the dead. Not the kind an eighteen year old would listen to, but the shrill wails of an organ. It pierced my ears like a dying cat as I realised the sound system was being ruined by Handel's
Young Messiah
.

An awkward silence followed as I gently turned the music down and made myself comfortable in the passenger seat. Dad took one look at my hair and hid a smile behind his hand.

‘Dad, what's with the new car? Mum's going to freak,' I groaned, turning the attention to him. Dad had this habit of changing cars like his underwear. I mean they were great cars, but I know it annoyed Mum. This time, looking at the features he'd acquired, he'd gone too far.

Dad grinned. ‘Do you like my ride? It's got all these crazy features. It's an Audi TT, and it has all wheel drive, 3.2L V6, intelligent German engineering, air-conditioning, six speed manual, six disc stacker …' His voice trailed off and he began stroking the steering wheel.

‘Dad, are you having a midlife crisis?' I asked quite seriously. ‘Because you can tell me if you are. I'll try to understand.'

Dad laughed out loud. ‘Daisy, thank you for the concern, but the car isn't mine. It's on loan for a test drive. We don't have a budget for it, but I will try to convince your mother that we do ‘til I die.'

I sighed with relief. But there was a small piece of disappointment; it would have been nice to get my logbook hours finished in this car.

‘So, what happened?' he asked, sombre for my sake.

‘
You
got me the wrong colour,' I glared at him and tugged at my hair to prove it.

‘Did I? Well
you
shouldn't have entrusted me with something so important. The colours look the same to men anyway,' he said, and patted my arm sympathetically. ‘So that's why I haven't seen you since I gave you the box of colour?'

I nodded miserably and sighed. ‘As if I was going to risk my brothers seeing my hair as it is. I needed one morning without torture.'

‘Yeah, you'd better get a large hat or something. They're all home early today and I doubt you can sneak past without them noticing,' he nodded at the red fluff splaying out of my scalp.

Whoever said having older brothers was a special experience needs to have their shins kicked. Don't get me wrong, I love all three of the monsters, but they are always doing things older brothers reserve as a ‘rite of passage'. They tell me how to live my life and what decisions to make, right down to what boy I should date. It's like they can pick what a guy is like by hearing their name or where they work. Once my oldest brother Josh told me I shouldn't date a guy because his name, Sebastian, was ‘too gay'.

My second eldest, Treston, once warned me off his best friend because he was a player, but he would try to set him up with all of my friends at the same time. Treston said it was because I'm classy and his sister needed to have someone more suitable. But it's all right for them to behave like the boy they are warning me off and not all right for me to date that type of boy. It's hypocritical and annoying and I wish I didn't care about their opinions.

May as well suck it up. I swung the front door open boldly and made a grand entrance into the lounge room. The boys were sitting in front of the Wii playing Mario Kart, with sandwiches hanging out of their mouths and nothing but shorts on.

I held out my arms and said, ‘Give me everything you've got. I can take it.'

Without pausing the game, Josh said, ‘Great look, Dais. An improvement in fact.' I stuck out my tongue.

Treston flicked his eyes from his kart and nodded in approval. ‘Well, my friends are safe.'

Shane, the brother closest in age to me, said, like a typical lazy surfer, ‘Sweet as', and winked at me.

I was shocked. I was expecting such a ripping off that I was muted by their indifference. This was upsetting the natural balance of my life as I knew it.

‘So what, you guys don't care about me now, is that it? Wouldn't care if I came home wearing rags or have a broken leg, right? Thanks a lot.' I stormed into the kitchen.

Treston called out, ‘Aww Dais it's not like that. Dad told us to be nice to you ‘cos you've been all weird and shit about starting year twelve and finding a life. So we're trying to go easy on ya.'

So tactful. I stopped in my tracks and plodded back to the lounge room. Sticking my head around the wall, I said in a small voice, ‘Weird?'

‘Well, yeah. And stressing out about school captain. Why'd you think you had to dye your hair anyway? It was an awesome colour by itself.' He smiled in reassurance.

‘We can tease you if you want though, ranga. We don't like faking.' That was Shane.

‘Yes, please. Be normal. It's the one thing I can count on.'

I ran in front of the screen so I had their full attention when I said it. They tried to see around me and protested, pushing me out of the way.

Josh paused the game and said, ‘Oh hey, why'd you tell Mum we ate all the salt and vinegar chips? That's dog.' The others murmured in agreement.

‘I didn't.'

‘She says she won't buy any more, but don't worry, we'll find her stash. She's useless at hiding anything,' Treston grinned widely.

February
Dear Diary,
The first day of year twelve — my very last lifeline to the world I want to hold on to and never let go.

It sounds dramatic but there are so many things I will miss in thirty-five weeks time. My friends, familiar cracked hallways, and some of the teachers. I can't bear to move on and be expected to make a new life elsewhere. It's ridiculous. Who made the rules of life anyway? I'm quite happy where I am.

Surely others felt this way too? And I'm not the only sentimental old fool who will miss even the antics of the Blonde Brigade and their following of brain dead, horny young guys. You know what, I probably am. Everyone else is making plans for next year and I'm stuck in a rut. I'm torn between staying at Maccas, then saving up to travel around Europe, or going to uni without a break. Hopefully by the end of the year I'll have something permanent planned.

On the bright side, hot new guy spotted today. Well he doesn't actually go to my school; he just drops off this girl. Wish I could talk to him, he seems so confident and interesting.

Going to bed — after planning my five million new assignments.

Dais xx

As I was spreading my toast on the bench, I remembered my conversation with Roman the afternoon before.

‘Hey, Mum.'

‘Mmm?' she murmured with a full mouth of food.

‘Are we doing anything special for Easter?'

I sat down with her at the table and started cutting up my food. The boys came out and began serving themselves. While Shane's hands were occupied with utensils, Treston hit him in the balls and ran away laughing. Shane wasn't far behind.

‘Boys, hurry up and eat your breakfast before it gets cold,'

Mum yelled, not annoyed. To me, she replied, ‘Nah, probably not this year, Dais. Can't afford it with your grad stuff coming up.' As an afterthought, she added, ‘Don't want to make you feel bad though; we had to do it with the boys. It will be tight this year. Why do you ask?' She took a swig of Milo.