Head of the River (7 page)

We change the subject and talk about our biology assignment as we head back for more classes, but all I can think is
should I? Shouldn't I?
Like I'm tossing a coin in my head.
On the shiny side is easy entry back into the firsts and holding onto my scholarship. On the tarnished, green side is a voice that's asking if I'm a drug cheat.

It's the dumbest of dumb ideas, but I imagine taking my shirt off in front of Penny at the river. Imagining her face when she sees how ripped I am. It tips me in the wrong direction. The shiny side falls up.

Leni

Audrey and I take the 86 tram home and get off at Sunny's bakery on Smith Street. She orders a Vietnamese pork roll, extra chilli.

‘Same,' I tell the girl behind the counter. This is our Tuesday special. It never changes. That makes me happy.

While we wait for our rolls to be assembled, I pour a sachet of protein powder into a container of water and shake it up.

‘Let me taste that,' asks Audrey.

I hand it over. ‘You won't like it,' I warn.

She swigs and makes a face.

‘My tongue. It's burning!'

‘It's not that bad.'

‘It tastes like hell. Here, take your Satan shake.' She hands it back to me. ‘You are dedicated to drink that.'

The most exercise Audrey gets is using her mouse hand to play
World of Warcraft
, working up a sweat on a new earring design and running around muddy paddocks pretending to be a warrior queen. She's not the slightest bit interested in my training.

‘I wish Harley would spend half the cash that they do on the rowing program on fencing gear for Lucy,' she once mused. ‘Rowing gets all the attention and all the funding.'

I couldn't really argue with her. Everything else did seem to pale in comparison to my sport.

Audrey pays for our snack – we take turns shouting each other – and we walk towards her house. We've got an English essay to do, but we take it slow, chewing on the fresh coriander, strips of carrot, the tangy mystery pate and hot fatty pork.

We stop and look in the window of her favourite second-hand shop, ‘Release the Hounds'.

‘Should we go in?' Audrey asks. ‘Get a little something pretty?'

‘Best not. I'm broke. Let's go back to yours and make a start on
The Kite Runner
essay. Due tomorrow, don't forget.'

We're studying in Audrey's bedroom. It's like being in an enchanted forest. She's painted the walls dark green, and hand-drawn wood animals with big eyes, creeping vines, forests and snow-capped mountains. She's got a fish tank with two Mexican walking fish called Weasley and Dumbledore. Audrey says you're never too old to love Harry Potter. She has a quidditch broomstick in one corner.

My head's not in my work. I keep reading the same paragraph over and over, the words losing focus. I put my book down, wondering if I should betray Adam's trust and spill the details of last night. Would that make me an even worse girlfriend? Some things aren't for sharing.

‘Do you think I'm the sort of girl who shouldn't have a boyfriend? Lately I've been thinking maybe I should be single,' I say.

Audrey looks up from her book, puts her glasses on. She's horribly short-sighted.

‘You are torturing that poor Adam Langley. You still haven't put out, have you?'

‘I do put out. In certain pre-specified areas.'

Adam and I were engaged in an exhausting sexual tug of war. I held onto my virginity on one end of the rope and he pulled his in the other direction. The direction he was used to.

‘What's sex like, Auds? Worth doing?'

‘Of course it's worth doing. But only when you're ready. And when you're ready
with the right guy
.'

‘I shouldn't make such a big deal of it.'

‘It's the biggest deal,' says Audrey, sitting up and looking at me intensely. ‘Look, technically, it's just sticking something in a hole, but it changes everything. Like EVERYTHING,' she says. ‘You're not kids anymore. Boom. Like that.' She clicks her fingers. ‘You gotta worry about the babies and the diseases and taking the pill. Before sex, you're playing. After, it's business.'

‘So, Kieren, he's like the one? How do you know?'

‘I don't know. But he makes me feel safe and beautiful and we look out for each other. He gives me the
jtzooum.
'

We talk about the
jtzooum
a lot. That weird, tingly, floaty feeling that some guys give you. Adam doesn't. Sam does.

Audrey and her boyfriend have been together since she was in Year Ten. He's just finished Year Twelve. In high school years that's a long time.

Audrey sighs. ‘I told Kieren to dump me for schoolies' week.'

‘Why?'

‘I doubt he wants a little Year Eleven girlfriend who can't even go to clubs on the biggest party of his life. I told him we should break up for a week, and he can do whatever he likes. Then we can get back together.'

She looks miserable. ‘I think I made a huge mistake.'

I give her a hug.

‘Get back together with him. Kieren is awesome and you guys are like vegemite and toast. Not as good apart.'

She nods and wipes her nose on my sleeve.

‘Yuuuk,' I say. ‘We're not
that
close.'

I decide to confess something murky and secret to Audrey because we tell each other almost everything.

‘I'm crushing on someone at school.'

Audrey leans forward and widens her eyes.

‘Might this have something to do with you wanting to be single?'

‘Promise you won't tell anyone.'

‘Pinkie swear.'

‘It's Sam Camero.'

‘Bike Pant Guy? He's in my ceramics class. You should see him handle a piece of clay.' She makes a lewd gesture with her hands and laughs.

‘What do you think of him?'

Audrey shrugs. She hasn't spent a minute thinking about Sam. Unlike me.

‘Doesn't talk much, comes in, does his thing, leaves. Obviously he's very lovely to look at, but I reckon he's well aware of that. Oooh. Want to look him up on Facebook?' she asks.

I've already googled him, but I let Audrey feel like a detective.

‘I'll log in as you. Password?'

‘RowingGirl.'

‘Of course.'

‘Sam Camero, Samuel Camero Jr, Samantha Camero. There's heaps of them.'

I look over her shoulder at the profiles. ‘Cut out all the Samanthas and all the ones overseas. There he is.'

Sam's profile photo is of him riding a mountain bike over a huge cliff and taking air.

‘Let's see. Photos first,' Audrey says. ‘Photogenic character, isn't he?'

Sam's photo bank is like an action adventure catalogue. Mountain biking, rowing, snowboarding, bungy jumping and one of him in an insane yoga pose. There's a cute one where he's holding a baby I assume is his niece or nephew.

‘What can Facebook tell us about the elusive Sam?' Audrey says, reading his profile.

‘One hundred and eighteen friends. Interested in women.
Lucky.
Birthday, September. Dating status: It's complicated. Hmmm. What does that mean?'

What did that mean? It's new since I last stalked his profile.

‘Favourite activities: Bikram yoga, whatever that is, rowing, mountain biking. Yawn. He likes Discovery Channel, Nat GEO,
Breaking Bad
,
Dexter
, favourite movie
The Lord of the Rings
… okay, maybe I have a crush on him now.'

I'm too busy looking at Sam's page that I don't notice Audrey has moved the mouse to hover over the ‘Add friend' button. She looks at me, smiles and clicks it.

I scream and try to wrestle the mouse away from her.

‘You did not do that!'

‘It's sent, Leni!'

‘You are the worst best friend ever!' I scream, falling backwards onto her bed and covering my face with her pillow.

The next time Sam logs into Facebook he will see a big fat ‘Friend Request' from me.

‘He probably has a crush on you too. You're gorgeous,' says Audrey.

‘You think?'

‘Don't fish.'

‘I'm not!'

I knew I wasn't Year Nine Leni anymore, painfully skinny, with a faint moustache and greyhound legs. I looked good to guys. I'd seen them staring.

‘I can't believe you sent Sam a friend request from my account. What's he going to think?'

‘That you want to be friends? You'll thank me when you and Bike Pant Guy are doing Bikram yoga poses together.'

‘What am I going to do about Adam?'

‘Have you gone off him?'

‘I dunno. He's sweet and good-looking, but not much
jtzooum
.'

‘Wishy-washy. Break up with him,' Audrey advises.

‘You make it sound so simple.'

‘Why are you making it so hard?' says Audrey.

The question burns at me. Why wasn't I calling it off?

On my way home for dinner I come up with two answers. One: I was worried what Adam might do if I did break up with him and two: Adam made me feel special. He chose me, when he could've had any other girl at school. That was worth holding onto, wasn't it?

Cristian

It's Tuesday so we have a precious afternoon off training. Adam drives us to his gym after school. He's edgy and driving badly – tailgating and going through orange-red lights. He plays angry rap music and we don't talk. If we did, we might renege. Or at least I might. He seems resolute.

‘I'm nervous,' I say, turning the sound down on Adam's stereo. ‘How does this work exactly?'

He turns the music back up, even louder. ‘I have no idea! Relax Cris!'

The air-conditioned room smells like sweat and perfume. A bouncy soundtrack makes the lycra-clad receptionist jiggle as she swipes Adam's membership card and he pays for a guest visit for me. Putting down thirty bucks as if it's paper money. The timber floors squeak with the impact
of expensive running shoes and machines whir quietly.
I eye a guy with no neck and hulking shoulders in the free
weights room. Is he using? He catches me staring and I duck my chin to my chest. I don't want any more trouble.

‘Is Doug here?' Adam asks one of the trainers.

‘Finishing up a spin class,' says the girl, nodding towards the pulsating darkened room.

We stand near a wall, painted up with inspirational sports quotes. One of them says: ‘Pain is temporary. It may last a minute, or an hour, or a day, or a year, but eventually it will subside and something will take its place. If I quit, however, it lasts forever.' —
Lance Armstrong.

Underneath someone has scribbled ‘cheat' in very small letters – surely a sign for Adam and I to heed. I nudge Adam and point to the quote. He gives me his ‘shut up Cristian' stare.
I'm close to pulling the pin on the whole shady deal when Doug strolls towards us, shiny with sweat. He looks at us standing there all jittery and high schoolie and wisely decides to exit the building.

‘Boys. Let's adjourn to the café,' he says smoothly.

Doug's wearing a ‘Fitness Now!' uniform and looks pretty normal, which is reassuring. He's slim and toned. Like a regular personal trainer.

‘Next time, wear casual clothes, you look like preschoolers in those uniforms,' says Doug.

Doug orders us three coffees, his is skim with Equal so I order the same, even though it tastes so awful I can barely drink it.

‘Don't look so guilty,' Doug says to me.

I don't bother to answer him. This is Adam's deal.

‘Okay, let's do business. What do you boys want?'

‘What have you got?' says Adam.

‘Everything.'

In ten minutes flat we are walking down the street, our schoolbags loaded with gear and guilt.

I'm sitting in my bedroom, the door locked. The pills are in a plastic bag in my desk drawer. I've got to find a better hiding spot. But I don't have a fake air-con unit or a loose floorboard and my parents aren't prone to doing room searches. They trust Leni and me. Maybe they shouldn't. If Dad found out I was using performance-enhancing drugs he would sell me to the highest bidder or ship me back to Romania in a crate with air holes. Make me live with my dotty grandparents in their tiny apartment in Bucharest.

This goes against everything they believe in. They've talked about how much they detest drug cheats. How unfair it was to race against athletes who were chemically enhanced. Mum lost out on gold in the worlds because of a rower who looked like a man, except for her ponytail and the inch of make-up she wore to race. The next year, Mum won the Olympic gold in Seoul because that girl had been caught. Incidentally, Seoul was when yellow-eyed sprinter Ben Johnson was disqualified for drug use. Photos of him should be enough to put me off. He's half human, half science experiment. Fair and square. That's what my parents believe in. They like to think I'm the best of them, but maybe I'm the worst.

I take out one of the drug packets and open it, reading the fine print. I hit up Dr. Google and type in the name of the drug. ‘Increases aerobic capacity, blood pressure and oxygen transportation. Increases the rate at which body fat is metabolised. Prescribed for people with breathing disorders such as asthma.'

Not so bad.

‘Also prescribed for the treatment of horses.'

Horses? Damn.

There are some other scary side effects of steroids which I skim over. Mood swings, aggression,
testicles shrinkage (not good), reduced sperm count or infertility (I don't exactly want kids yet, so whatever), baldness (plenty of hair, no big deal), development of breasts (will I have to get a sports bra?), increased risk for prostate cancer (don't old dudes get that?).
The diet pills that Doug gave me aren't much better. Google says they cause anxiety, dry mouth, sleeplessness and rapid heart rate.