I Lost My Mobile At the Mall (10 page)

Today as I drag myself up the school steps I notice how many people are almost walking into the flagpole as they concentrate on typing their last-minute texts.

Who are they talking to? What are they saying?

SKL now, See U LTR.

s4mvl8r

Huh?

Gotta go. Catch U.

SISDU

SPYS

SOZ?

AYT?

There are billions of these messages swirling in the air – a constant invisible whirling tornado of vowels, consonants, question and exclamation marks.

EEEK. LOL. HAHA! ROFL. OMGGGGG!

My mobile's been gone more than a week and I've noticed that my fingers have stopped straying without my permission and given up trying to tap on an imaginary keypad. This morning my hands are all mine and I stop to pick one of the first gardenias of the season from the glossy dark green bushes that crowd the front steps of Oldcastle High. I pin it on my navy blue blazer pocket – just above my broken heart.

A sign outside the principal's office warns that mobiles are forbidden in class, but most of us push the rule to the max. We're always
buzzing
and texting under the desks. It sounds pretty sexy, until you see that it's Jai who's the main offender. When you see a huddle of bodies up the back of the room it's a sure sign that Jai's found a YouTube clip of a surfer being savaged by a shark or some psycho raving on about something weird – usually wearing a balaclava and waving an AK-47!

Today as I walk across the quadrangle, everyone's looking at me sideways since I'm the latest loony to make a spectacle of herself on the World Wide Web. I hate what Will's done to me and I don't think I'll ever recover from the humiliation, but something Carmelita wrote keeps going round and round in my head – that I should have worked it out with Will
in private
.

Too late now.

Everyone in school laughing at him – and me – as they follow every gory detail of our break-up online is not something I ever wanted. And even though I know Will probably deserves to be made a fool of, I also remember what Nan said – that he's a
self-contained
sort of fellow.
He must be hating this even more than me. I'll bet his dad has told him that it serves him right.

And it does serve him right. If what I saw is true. Photos can't lie. Can they?

I'm approaching the north-west terrace when Tenzin Choepel, a boy from my year, jumps out from behind a pillar.

'Good morning, Elly!' he says with the biggest dazzling white smile that almost splits his handsome brown face in half.

Tenzin's family is from Tibet. They came here to Oldcastle three years ago. I know his story well because I interviewed him for the March edition of the
Posh Post
– the month that marked the fiftieth anniversary of the occupation of Tibet by the Chinese.

His mother and father escaped their country sixteen years ago by hiding in the back of a truck under some boxes of engine parts and were really lucky not to be found by the Chinese guards at the border. From there they had to cross a river by pulling themselves hand-to-hand on ropes in the middle of the night. They made it to Kathmandu and from there to the Tibetan refugee camp in Dharamsala in India where the government-in-exile rules. It's where the Dalai Lama lives and it's where Tenzin and his sisters were born.

Tenzin's named after the Dalai Lama. He's a Buddhist and, even after everything his family's been through, he's always smiling.

'I've heard that you are . . . er . . . Would you like to go to the dance with me?' he asks.

I should be flattered, I suppose, but right now his invitation makes me burst into tears. I run away from him down the concrete terrace, wiping my eyes with the sleeve of my blazer.

Tenzin probably looked at my FacePlace and read that I was the happiest girl in the world without Will.

I hate this! I hate that anyone would think that our relationship meant so little to me. I hate that people think I'll go out with any old fish in the sea. I hate that everyone thinks they know about my life. I hate that I let Tilly talk me into putting that stupid page on the net!

I should have walked down to the beach at sunset and thrown a single red rose into the surf. It would have been a private funeral. Just something between me and my own bruised heart.

I'm hiding under a stairwell and trying to get my act together when I see Bianca barrelling towards me at a million miles an hour. Her hair comes at me first. She's totally teased and sprayed her do, and this morning it looks like the nest of a golden orb-weaver spider.

'Elly! Omigod!' shrieks Bianca. 'Why didn't you call me on the weekend?'

I patiently explain to her what I have already explained – that I don't have a phone.

'But you could have got in touch with me eye2eye.'

I explain that I haven't got a computer either.

'Huh?' says Bianca.

This information does not make sense to Bianca.
It does not compute.

'But, but . . . you could have . . .' Bianca is stopped in her tracks and cocks her head on the side like a confused chicken.

She can't imagine what it would be like not to have her phone in her hand. In fact, even as she's talking to me she's texting someone else. Truly, Bianca's a genius at this stuff and I can only imagine that when she leaves school she'll be an air traffic controller.

'Anyway,' Bianca chirps. 'Just so you know . . . Jayden's on the warpath. He read Lily's FacePlace, and yours, and he's gunna
smash
Will! If he's down at Wobbegong or Hammerhead or Gummy this afternoon Will's seriously gunna get it.'

Bianca shifts her schoolbag from shoulder to shoulder and hops from one foot to the other. The adrenaline's pumping and I don't think I've ever seen her so excited. Then Jai turns up at her elbow. His grin reminds me of a crumbed prawn.

'Yeah. Will's goin' down,' he squeaks.

This is SO BAD! I would never in a trillion years want anyone to physically hurt Will. I might have called him a love rat, but if they think that I would be pleased to see Will smashed they've got rocks in their heads. I tell Jai to tell Jayden to LAY OFF!

'Too bad,' sneers Jai. 'Will should of thought of all that before he put the moves on Lily. What happened after they got out of the spa is what Jay'd like to know.'

The pathetic slimeball! I'm still holding onto the vital information that Jai has been hassling Lily too, according to Tilly – who heard it from Georgie – who heard it from Lily herself. Will there ever be a right time to tell Bianca? At the moment she'd just laugh it off and think I was making it up.

Again I warn Jai that Jayden had better not try anything. Or else. Or else what? Who can I tell? That officer from Oldcastle police who didn't understand anything about anything? I can hear myself:
some boys
are planning something, somewhere – so Jai told me . . .

Bianca and Jai put their empty heads together, creating a wind tunnel, and then they run off. I watch as they both yap away on their phones.

That's it!

Bianca is now officially my ex-BF.

I have to warn Will. He can't go down to the beach tonight! The school bell rings and as I run along the terrace I am praying for massive onshore winds to blow the sea as flat and shiny as a mirror.

In class I'm watching as people text each other under their desks. I suppose that in Dad's day a folded note would have been passed from hand to hand.

OOOH! BIG RUMBLE DOWN ON THE BEACH TONIGHT.
BE THERE OR BE SQUARE!

I'm phone-free, so I've got no part in it. I'm above it all. It's odd – like I'm looking down on everything that's happening from the calm, sunny eye of the storm. But swirling around me there's a current of violent emotion that will catch up with Will unless I warn him.

In English Mr York asks me how my work is going on the
Posh Post
. As a matter of fact it's not going anywhere. At all. Not since my computer was nicked last night.

'Hmmm, yes well,' he says. 'The October edition's due out in a couple of days and it will count for your final exam mark, so in that case you'll have to work on it from the school's computer centre. You'd better get over there now.'

Groan! I'll be in there with all the tinies from Year Seven doing their dumb projects on the breeding cycle of frogs. Ribbit!

Soon enough I'm sitting in a scuzzy demountable classroom next to the tuckshop trying to get some sense from a computer that is so old it was last used by velociraptors in Jurassic Park.

Waiting for stuff to download seems to take for-ev-er. And while I wait there's only Karen Crenshaw to talk to. Karen's genius with all kinds of technology but hasn't quite got the hang of elastic bands. She has crazy tiny pigtails sprouting from all over her head. It looks like a cushion losing its stuffing.

To pass the time, Karen tells me that her mum is getting their kitchen renovated. By the time the stuff I want finally appears on the screen, I have been informed in excruciating detail that the new Crenshaw kitchen will feature fake marble benchtops and a barbecue with hot rocks. (YAWN!)

Finally, the info is downloaded and I fiddle around with a few articles submitted for the
Posh Post
. As usual they're all from boring teachers who want to inform the entire school of their great and good works.

Worm Farm for 7A – Let's Get Wriggling!

Year Eight Goes Eco-Troppo – Our Afternoon at the Gummy Beach Environment Centre!

By the time I edit all this earth-shattering information, it's almost lunchtime. The smell of meat and pastry wafting from the tuckshop pie warmer is making Karen twitch and me feel slightly ill – although that's probably as much from the thought of speaking to Will as it is from the stench of curried mincemeat. The bell rings for lunchtime and she's out the door like a rocket, clutching her $2.50 in her sweaty palm.

Now no-one's watching I can drop in on any website I like. FacePlace is where I should start, but what's the use? There will only be more nasty stuff on there aimed at me and Will.

Maybe Sun Tzu can tell me how I've come to be caught up in this battle? What went wrong? After all, my enemy was Jai. How did I end up sacrificing Will? Why does it feel like I'm losing everything?

In
The Art of War
I find there are 'five dangerous faults which may affect a general' (and lead you to being bombed into submission).

Looking at the list I can see that I am totally guilty of the first four sins – recklessness, cowardice, a hasty temper and a delicacy of honour. Will told me not to take any notice of Jai's stupid insults. If I hadn't been so
delicate
I wouldn't have cared. Maybe I shouldn't have been such a
coward
and confronted Jai. Instead, I let my
temper
lead me into being
reckless
.

The fifth sin is an 'over solicitude' for one's men. Huh?

noun
care or concern for someone or something. I think this means that I have been more worried about Bianca's broken heart than my own. I should have told her about Jai going behind her back as soon as I knew. Maybe then I'd still have Will. I can't put this off any longer. Even though my stomach is bouncing like a basketball, I have to go see Will.