Living With Leanne (7 page)

‘This is it.’

We stand looking up at this big brick building.

‘What was it?’

‘Sixteen.’

‘Okay, then. Upstairs.’

We go up till we reach the second floor and walk along the passageway till we reach sixteen. A plain wooden door.

‘Well, don’t just stand there. Knock.’

‘I can’t.’

Suddenly I’m scared stiff. What if he doesn’t know me? What if he does know me and tells me to get lost? What if …

Alicia bangs loudly on the door, making me jump. I’m
frozen to the spot, just staring at the wooden panel like it’s the most fascinating thing on the planet. Nothing happens so she bangs again. And again.

‘No one home. Probably at work,’ says Alicia. ‘Come on. We’ll hit the beach, stuff about for a while and come back tonight.’

I feel flat. All this tension then he’s not home. How can he do this to me? I feel like a bowl of mush.

‘Hey. Cheer up. You’ve found where he lives. He’s not going anywhere. Stop stressing and enjoy,’ says Alicia. ‘You’re cashed up. Let’s eat.’

‘McDonald’s?’

‘Nah. Let’s cruise into the Noosa Hilton and have lunch,’ she winks.

‘Ya gotta be jokin.’

‘Why not? Our money’s as good as anyone else’s, isn’t it?’

‘But … our clothes …’

‘Hey. The poverty look’s in. Millionaires are spending big bucks to look like us. Come on, don’t be a wimpette. Live for once.’

We find this posh hotel with a doorman and all. I’m too overcome to read the name, but there’s soft carpet and my sneakers sink up to my ankles. There’s marble and gold and chandeliers to go!

‘We would like to eat lunch,’ says Alicia to some dude behind a desk labelled ‘Concierge’.

‘The Brasserie? Or the Oceana Room?’

‘The first sounds good,’ says Alicia.

We stroll into this posh room, all wicker chairs, pale pink tablecloths, white roses on the table, silverware like you wouldn’t believe.

‘This is our kinda place,’ says Alicia. ‘Can you read me the menu, Leanne?’

I stare at her.

‘I can only read basic stuff. Not posh menus.’

I twig. She’s probably cut a lot of school. Well, not a problem. I can read almost anything. So I read out all the choices.

‘Drinks, ladies?’

This waiter sounds up himself but Alicia is cool.

‘Two glasses of raspberry,’ says Alicia. ‘Per … lease.’

He raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything.

Alicia narrows her eyes.

‘Nah. Changed me mind. Make that two champagnes.’

‘I’ll have to see an ID, ma’am.’

‘Sure.’

She rummages in her pocket then flings down an ID. As he’s peering at it she slips me a small plastic square under the table. I look at it. I’ve got mousey hair, a big nose, and
my name’s Petunia Green. He gives Alicia’s back (it had to be a good fake!) and holds out his hand. He reads mine.

‘Petunia?’

‘Mum was into flowers.’

‘Doesn’t look like you.’

I toss my head.

‘Dyed me hair, got a nose job.’

‘Waiter?’ calls a posh voice.

He shrugs, gives up, and trolls off to serve Ms Posh and get the drinks.

‘Here.’

I hand back Petunia Green. ‘Who is she?’

‘Who
was
she, ya mean. Dead.’

‘
Thanks
!’

I’ve got the ID of a
dead
person. I don’t want to
know
!

‘Thought you said you don’t drink alcohol,’ I say.

‘I don’t. I’m talkin cheap booze. Beer. But champagne? I’ve never had champagne. One glass isn’t gonna count, is it?’

‘I hope you don’t go all violent in here.’

‘Nah. It’s all in the feelings, ya know. And right now I’m feelin fantastic. Anyway, champagne isn’t alcohol, it’s glamour and money, right? Now, what are we gonna eat? Read the first bit again, the pasta stuff.’

We decide on marinara for her, carbonara for me. A bar
ramundi steak for her, a chicken breast with mango sauce for me for our main courses. Another waiter, this one with a totally posh voice, takes our order. He brings some hot rolls and butter, carefully avoiding Alicia’s side of the table. But it doesn’t worry her or she hasn’t noticed. She eats delicately, breaking her bread roll, putting her butter on her side plate. Such good manners.

‘Me foster folks taught me,’ she says, catching my glance of astonishment.

She knows more than I do although Mum’s taught me basic table manners so I can use them if I ever have to, which is now.

The food comes and it’s delicious. We sip our champagne and eat our pasta. The waiter clears the table.

‘Haven’t nicked ya silver,’ goes Alicia as he peers at our plates like they’re contaminated. He stalks off and brings back our main courses almost straight away.

‘Top service,’ I say to Alicia loudly, conning on that he wants us to hurry up and leave. He sniffs and walks away. We take our time.

By now the restaurant’s filling up and I’m amazed to see that Alicia’s right. The other diners are dressed down, jeans, tops (not as torn as Alicia’s) and I remember that grunge is in. We cop a few looks but no one seems interested in two teenage girls eating food in the Noosa Hilton.
I guess if you don’t do anything gross you can stay!

‘Dessert?’

The waiter gives us the menus. I read the selections.

‘No choice. Death by chocolate,’ says Alicia.

We have one each. And espresso coffee. I feel like I’m about to burst. The drinks waiter and the food waiter are hanging round, probably waiting to see if we’re cashed up, or whether we need to start washing dishes. Not a problem. I fork over $65 dollars to the cashier, my last notes on this earth plus a five dollar tip. (Might encourage them to be nicer to kids!) I’m broke, but who’s caring? Dad’ll stake me for sure. We walk out of the Bra thingy and I’m feeling like a millionaire. A full millionaire.

‘Okay,’ says Alicia, ‘that’s it. I’m dead. Let’s hit the beach and snooze till it’s time to see your dad.’

I lie on the warm sand staring at a bunch of soft streaky clouds drifting across the sky and feel really free for the first time in ages. I’m not really sure what’s going to happen next and I don’t really care.

I’m starting to miss Leanne. I know this sounds crazy. I always thought my ultimate dream would be for Leanne to leave home. I guess if you’ve had someone terrorising you for thirteen years it gets to be a habit. And habits are hard to break.

Mum’s starting to fall apart. She can’t eat, she can’t sleep. Every night I can hear her pacing up and down in her room. Steve’s been really good. He comes round most nights and mends leaky taps and stuff like that, helps me with my homework, sometimes brings steaks, other times phones up for pizzas and … the important thing, he doesn’t seem to be putting the hard word on Mum. He clears off every night about nine.

Last Saturday he drove me down to Strapper Surfboards so I could do my part-time job while Mum sat home glued to the phone. Then he fixed the lawnmower and cut all the grass. He’s fixed the gutters. He started to sand the old paint off the walls on Sunday and I gave him a hand. And best of all, he’s a nice guy with a great sense of humour. I’m hoping he’s not just feeling sorry for Mum amd propping her up, and when Leanne lobs back in, he’s going to disappear. But I don’t think so. I know you’re not supposed to make snap judgements about people but then some people you’ve known for years (Cooja for one) can turn out to be weird, so … I think Steve’s a top guy and if he turns out to be a murderer or a maniac I’ll stick myself in a monastery because I’ll never be able to trust another human being again.

I’m due to go to school. Still no news about Leanne and no more phone calls. Her lupins are just about hitting the roof—well, not quite, but I can’t wait to show them off. They’ve had to be headphoneless because they’re too tall and just listen to the Gunners full-on, but Mum’s been too miserable to notice.

I bring them into the kitchen and show her.

‘Look.’

Mum gazes at them and sighs.

‘Probably growing higher to get away from that awful noise
you
call music,’ she goes.

First joke she’s made in weeks. She was hoping that Leanne’s lobbed in to see Dad in Noosa but the cops have tracked him down and he reckons he hasn’t spotted her. We just have to wait.

‘Hey,’ she says, ‘I forgot to tell you there was this bit in the paper about lupins. When they’re fed to rams their testicles grow bigger. Wonder if it works with humans?’

I shrug and leave for school. Just outside the gate I stop. Lupins and big balls? Well … I break off the tops of a couple of the plants and chew them. They taste GROSS. Forget it. I’m a
Stud
human already.

I get on the bus and cop all this flak about ‘me beans’ and ‘Bush Tucker Man’ and ‘Jack and the Beanstalk and where’s me golden goose?’ etc., but I can see that the other lupin owners are impressed.

‘How come two are smaller?’ yells Cathy.

‘What?’ I squeeze my thighs together but she’s talking about the
lupins
. Whew.

I stagger up the back and Cooja’s practically ignoring me, too busy coping with the full-on attentions of Belinda and Cathy, who seem to be trying to outdo each other. I catch this girl Chani’s eye and she pulls a face. She used to hang with Belinda and Cathy but this new girl came to our class, Brooke, (who catches another bus) and now she mainly
hangs with her. I decide not to sit with Cooja and his two sucker-fish and go and sit next to Chani.

‘Wow. What’s with the giant plants?’ she says.

I give her the lupin low-down which takes the rest of the trip. As we pull up Cathy flounces down the aisle looking angry. She doesn’t even give me a glance. I sit holding the lupins while Cooja saunters past with Belinda, looking triumphant.

‘So,’ says Chani, ‘Cooja’s managed to break up their friendship.’

‘Seems a shame.’

I don’t mention that he’s on the verge of busting up
our
friendship, too.

I get off the bus and carry the container carefully into the science room. Miss Rosewall’s there surrounded by lupins and lupin-lovers and the guy from the CSIRO. Leanne’s are given a label and that’s it. I guess I thought there’d be a trumpet fanfare and I’d get a medal or a week off school as a reward or something. Nothing. I’m not sure what’s supposed to happen next so I slink off to my own class.

I find Cooja at the lockers. I can’t stand it any more.

‘What’s going on?’

‘What do ya mean?’

‘Who ya goin with, Cathy or Belinda?’

‘What’s it to you?’

‘Look,’ I go, ‘I don’t care if you’re tryin to get on with every Year 7 girl in the school, but I’m supposed to be ya best mate. Ya could give me a clue or two, but.’

‘Can’t. You’re emotionally involved.’

‘What?’

I face him, totally ripped out by what he’s just said.

‘Me? Emotionally involved?’

‘Belinda.’

‘I’m
not
,’ I shout. ‘I dumped her, she didn’t dump me.’

‘That’s not what she’s sayin, man.’

‘Yeah? Well, I couldn’t give a rat’s rissole what
she’s
saying. The only emotional grief I’m goin through right now is wonderin where my loopy sister Leanne’s got to, okay?’

‘If ya say so.’

‘Anyway,’ I go, ‘Belinda and I stopped bein an item nearly five months ago, so what’s brought all this on?’

‘Nothin.’

‘Ah.’

The furtive look on his face gives him away.

‘You’re tryna dump Cathy,’ I crow. ‘That’s what all this is about. Ya haven’t got the guts, so you’re tryna come on to Belinda plus push Cathy onto me. Good one, mate, good one.’

‘Yeah … well … ,’ Cooja looks at the floor and scuffs his shoe very busily. ‘Ar …’

He looks up and thumps me on the shoulder awkwardly.

‘Sorry. It was a shabby idea. You’re me best mate.’

‘Okay, okay.’

I awkwardly thump him back as the bell sounds for class assembly. We start walking towards our classroom with Boxie trailing behind and his ears flapping like radar discs.

‘Listen, you’re gonna have to deal with Cathy an it’s not a good idea to do it by crackin on to Belinda. Unless you really like her, of course.’

‘Nah.’

He narrows his eyes.

‘The chick I really fancy’s Gabby Zanoni.’

‘What? She’s in Year 11.’

‘So?’

‘Mate, forget it. Nearly every guy in the city’s got the hots for Gabby Zanoni.’

‘Yeah. She’s gorgeous.’

‘Another point you’ve forgotten, Spacehead, she doesn’t date.’

‘Yeah. But she would if she found the right guy.’

We’ve hit our home room.

‘So maybe I’m the right guy.’

‘Get real,’ I go. ‘You can get almost any girl you want. You’re cool. But you’re not
that
cool, Cooja.’

‘Yeah? Well …’

‘Gentlemen,’ says Randy Andy, ‘would you like to tell the whole class what is so interesting?’

I hate when teachers butt in and do this cornball thing. As if we want to tell the whole class what we’re talking about!

But Cooja’s always the grandstander. He can’t let the opportunity go by.

‘Yeah,’ he goes. His eyes flick to Cathy then to Belinda.

‘I was just tellin me mate Sam that I’m gonna get a date with Gabby Zanoni.’

Gasps. Giggles. Catcalls. Cheers. Groans. Cooja bows and struts to his seat. I follow. But before I sit I check Cathy’s face. She’s white. And Belinda next to her’s as red as a Mr Heinz big red tomato. For a second I think ‘Snow White and Rose Red’, the old fairy story from my kindergarten days.

Well, he’s successfully given Cathy the flick but what a way to do it. And Belinda hates his guts.

‘Well,’ says Randy Andy, who’s aware of Gabby Zanoni and her Ice Maiden reputation, ‘I wish you the best of British luck, Mr Coojanovic. What I’d like to know is how long you’re going to give yourself to attain your goal of dating Miss … er … Zanoni?’

Whoa, heavy. Randy Andy (who’s always disliked Cooja cause he’s a big-mouth in class) has homed right in on this. Now he’s putting Cooja on the spot. Cooja stands, grinning.

‘How long do
you
reckon, sir?’

Randy Andy shrugs.

‘Oh. I’d say a lifetime and then some!’

‘Give me a week,’ says Cooja.

Now I know he’s lost the plot. The moon’s going to fall out of the sky and hit him on the head before Gabby Zanoni goes out on a hot date with him!

‘Ah,’ says Randy Andy, ‘and are we to take your word when this event occurs? How will we know if Miss Zanoni is on a genuine date with you or just conned into appearing with you briefly in public?’

The bell’s gone but we’re all still sitting there, fascinated. Then Cathy puts up her hand.

‘Yes, Cathy?’

‘Gabby Zanoni’s got to come in here to home group assembly and tell us she’s in love with Michael Coojanovic,’ she says.

‘And she’s got to kiss him,’ adds Belinda.

‘Yeah. And on the lips,’ yells Boxie.

The class cracks up. Randy Andy gathers his papers together. He hasn’t even marked the roll or read out the daily bulletin and the next teacher’s walking in looking
annoyed with his Year 8 bashing at the door.

‘So. Taking up the challenge, Coojanovic?’ says Randy Andy.

‘You betcha,’ goes Cooja.

And we all troll out to the next class.

‘You’ve flipped,’ I hiss, as all these kids crowd round slapping him on the back and saying rude things. Out of the corner of my eye I see Belinda and Cathy go off arms round each other. A friendship’s just been patched up so that’s one good thing to come out of all this. We’ve got heavy classes up till recess so I don’t get a chance to talk to him until we’re in the canteen buying our coffee scrolls.

‘Ya gotta help me, Sam,’ he says as we find a spot away from the crowd.

‘What?’

‘Help me get a date with Gabby Zanoni.’

‘Me? Why me?’

‘Because you’re me best mate!’

Believe me, I’m starting to think that Jack the Ripper’d be a better mate.

‘Look, Cooja,’ I go, ‘you got yourself into this with your ego. I’ve got worries of my own, remember? My sister’s on the run, could be dead or worse, or have you forgotten?’

‘Thought ya hated her guts.’

‘Changed my mind. Anyway I’ve got enough on my
plate. You’ll have to get yourself outa your own mess. You’ll have to get your date with Gabby Zanoni all on your own!’

‘Sam Studley. Could Sam Studley please come to the Principal’s office?’

The message bellows over all the voices.

Now what?

‘Maybe Leanne’s turned up safe and well,’ goes Cooja.

He doesn’t add the next bit. Now I can concentrate on
his
problem … his hot date with Gabby.

I hurry to the office. Mr Bell (old Ding Dong) is there with the CSIRO man. And Leanne’s lupins. He explains that he’s been repeating the experiment with heaps of lupins and all sorts of music and for some reason they really thrive on heavy metal of the musical kind. ‘Great,’ I go.

Even more importantly, Guns N’ Roses have produced the best results, Hunters and Collectors second and Spin Doctors third. Surprisingly Metallica, Megadeth and the really heavy metal bands haven’t produced as good results. Big bucks will be paid out to find out why.

‘Great,’ I say again.

I really can’t understand why a government department’s so interested in the growth patterns of a bunch of dumb plants.

The guy sees my blank face and decides to explain.

‘Lupins are part of the legume family.’

‘Great.’

‘You know, like peas and beans?’

‘Yeah?’

‘And therefore are an important fodder for animals. Also there’s research occurring to look at lupins as a viable fuel source, like linseed.’

‘Great.’

‘Your sister’s inadvertent discovery of certain music to accelerate plant growth is of significant scientific importance to the nation and possibly the world.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Therefore the CSIRO’s nominating her for the Young Achiever’s Award.’

Leanne? The Young Achiever’s Award? She’ll
die
. Not her scene. I’ve got to get her out of this. Fast.

‘Er … I dunno,’ I go. ‘She’s kinda shy.’

‘Leanne Studley is definitely not shy,’ Ding Dong interrupts. ‘The only problem is that she’s er … temporarily interstate at the moment.’

‘I beg your pardon? I was told she’s recovering at home from German measles.’

‘That’s news to me,’ I blurt then wish I’d kept my big mouth shut.

The CSIRO man looks at me.

‘Where is she, Sam?’

‘Well … she’s run away.’

‘Ah. Often these young, highly intelligent females are temperamental and emotionally dysfunctional,’ he goes. ‘She’ll come back when she’s had some quality time alone.’

Quality time? Leanne?

While I’m thinking about this he shakes my hand and says he’ll be in touch. Then Ding Dong gives me this spiel about keeping Leanne’s disappearance quiet for the honour of the school, and that it’s a great honour for the school to have a nominee for the Young Achievers’ Award and the name of Leanne Studley will be inscribed on the school honour board.

If Leanne was here right now she’d be spewing her guts out. How can you be a super-cool rebel if your name’s in neon lights on the school honour board? If she comes back this is going to wreck her entire life. And if she finds out about this Achievers thing she’ll
never
come back. She’ll be too embarrassed to show her face in town!

‘Er,’ I go, ‘I’d better take these lupins back home and keep looking after them.’

I can always manage to knock them over and squash them flatter than a cane toad on the highway, or leave them out for the snails to eat. I’ve just got to demolish them, and in a hurry.

But the CSIRO guy isn’t handing them over. Leanne’s lupins are off to lab land, high-tech security, and I’ll get the blame for her success. How can life be such a bummer?

I go out of the office and there’s Cooja lurking in the corridor.

‘Help,’ he says.

Sometimes friends are a pain in the neck.

‘What now?’

‘You’re a true mate, right? Well, I want you to cruise casually up to Gabby Zanoni and tell her this really attractive guy would like to take her to the Madonna concert.’

‘Huh? Who’s the cool guy?’

‘Me, ya worm, who else?’