The Betrayal of Bindy Mackenzie (13 page)

‘Well, Sergio,' I thought, in a clear, chiming voice, ‘is it any wonder you have that terrible
burn scar
on your face with an attitude like that?'

And then there was the silence.

Such a silence.

It seemed that the entire café had paused, but for the sound of a single plastic teaspoon tapping on the side of a mug. Outside, a row of cars stood in suspense at the traffic lights.

I looked up, surprised.

What had happened?

Uneasiness curled tentacles around my heart.

Every person in that circle of chairs—every person except Sergio—was staring directly at me.

Surely I had not said those words aloud?

Please don't let me have said those words aloud.

But just as one knows for certain that the buzz of an alarm clock is not a dream, so I knew with a sudden twist in my stomach that I had spoken those words aloud.

‘Well, Sergio,' I had said, ‘is it any wonder you have that terrible burn scar on your face?'

The silent faces were worse, far worse, than any of their gasps or murmurs. These faces no longer blended together. They did not have the faded, vacant stares of blown-up paper photographs.

These faces were sharper than the fangs of a saw-scaled viper.

Furthermore, these faces were ready to launch themselves at me in a single, unified attack.

I admit this:

I did not believe I could survive the attack.

My only chance, as far as I could tell, was to leap over the
back of my chair, spin on my heel, dive through the curtain, and run. While running, I would have to scream and knock over tables, in order to create confusion.

In all honesty, I was drawing my knees up ready to spring when I noticed Sergio.

He was grinning at me.

‘You got me there, Bindy,' he said, broadening the grin. ‘To be fair, I didn't pick up this particular scar in a high-speed car chase. But, okay, Bind, I could have got it that way, and you got me.'

His tone was playful, wry and mock-gallant all at once, and he settled himself into his armchair, in a deliberate gesture of repose. Scuffed black shoes landed with a thud on the coffee table. Arms stretched up and folded themselves behind his head.

The others seemed to take his behaviour as a cue. As one, they altered their positions. Chairs creaked. Toby Mazzerati scratched his ear. Elizabeth breathed in deeply through her nose. Finnegan shifted a mug which was dangerously close to Sergio's foot.

Try, who sits on a low footstool, looked up around the group and began to speak.

She was nervous. She spoke rapidly. She spoke nonsense.

‘Well, ya see,' she began, her accent stronger than ever, even taking on a southern twang I had not noticed before. ‘Ya see, I'm just glad I got you guys to talk about
flaws
in your character today. Because, I'll tell y'all what I was thinking when you talked. I was thinking: these are not
flaws
talking, these are
teenagers!
And one day, sometime soon, I want to tell you
my
theories about that species. The species of teenager. Ha ha.'

I held my head perfectly still.

I thought:
What have I done?

I thought:
Sergio just won me a reprieve, but for how long?

And a smaller voice in the back of my mind:
You think
they want to kill you now? Wait until they see what you've done to the Year 11 wing.

Try's voice sounded over my heartbeat.

‘So, just to finish up,' she was saying. ‘I want to take another shot at that Name Game. You remember the Name Game? Where you write your names in the centre of a paper and pass it around the group? I want to do that again today, now that you've all got to know each other better. Who knows? You might be in for some surprises!'

She studied each face in turn as she spoke, but did not even glance in my direction.

Bindy, maybe you should seek advice from a mental health professional?

SHE'S KIND OF INSENSITIVE.

I used to think that you couldn't help being the Way you are, Bindy, and so sometimes I forgave you. Now I realise you do it on purpose so I never want to see you again. Thanks.

No offence, but someone needs to arrange a slow and painful death for you, Bindy.

 

Bindy Mackenzie

 

Bindy, you have to try to learn that you're not superior to every other person in the room.

Bindy, I'm not sure if you realise it but today you've upset almost every single person in the FAD group including Try! Have you ever considered USING that huge brain of yours?

Bindy Mackenzie has poison running through her veins.

The Ashbury Online News: Gabby's Gossip Column

Mysterious goings-on in the Year 11
wing
today!
Students
headed to afternoon rollcall, unaware of the transformation that awaited them. Soon, they would become aware!!

As the
students
flooded into the wing, aiming for their lockers, a gasp of horror rose up. It was a gasp that could probably be heard as far afield as the Castle Hill RSL!

(Which reminds me of a certain
last Friday night
. . . Did someone say the words ‘fake ID'? Not mentioning any names, but try borrowing your
sister's
ID next time, Flick—not your boyfriend's!)

Anyway, back to the
Year 11 wing.
The gasp was for this reason: the room had been
transformed!.
The walls, windows, lockers and doors were
covered
in HUGE colour photographs. The photos were of certain
Year 11 students.
They were the size of enormous posters! And they had WORDS written across them in red letters! (‘Huh?' we all said to ourselves.)

If that shock wasn't enough, further excitement was about to
unfold.
Bindy Mackenzie
(famous for having a computer instead of a brain, and for her popular [?] lunchtime seminars of yonder years, on ‘Taming the Teen Monster Inside You' (did someone just say the word ‘huh?'. . .)

Anyway, enough of the asides,
Bindy Mackenzie
came storming in with a crazed expression on her face, and started
ripping the photos down!!
This led to
chaos
as some of us hadn't had a chance to look properly, and wanted a bit more time. ‘Hang on,' we said, reasonably enough, ‘let us look.' But
Bindy
was a machine!!! To everyone's amazement, she had the posters crumpled up into spit-wad-sized balls before you could say the word ‘blink'.

(Which reminds me of a certain
last Saturday night
. . . Did someone say the words ‘stolen property'? Not mentioning any names, but Marty, how many pint glasses do you reckon you can fit down your pants before somebody notices? You're not
that
much of a legend!!!)

ANYWAY, as I was saying, your trusty gossip columnist has asked around and thinks she can confirm that the following faces were hanging from the walls of the Year 11 wing. And these words were splashed across the faces:

Toby Mazzerati
—frog (or maybe cane toad)
Emily Thompson
—dragon (or maybe kimono)
Briony Atkins
—sea-cucumber
Elizabeth Clarry
—butterfly?
Astrid Bexonville
—sea wasp
Sergio Saba
—platypus.

So far, no-one has claimed responsibility for this
strange photographic display.
Our beloved Year Co-ordinator,
Mr Botherit,
was heard commenting, ‘I don't know who put the posters up. I expect it was some kind of natural phenomenon that we'll never explain, like a cyclone or like Stonehenge. Anyway, they've come down now so it's not serious. Let's forget about it.'

Mrs Lilydale,
our beloved (?) Year Co-ordinator from
last
year, was heard commenting: ‘Well, how can he be sure it's not serious?' She then added, thoughtfully: ‘Thank goodness for the quick wit and good citizenship of
Bindy Mackenzie.'

Night Time Musings of Bindy Mackenzie
Wednesday, midnight

This is how it feels to stand on the street and look at cars that you have broken. To look at steel, crumpled and bent. To know that you alone inflicted that damage, but you alone can never fix it.

It's like seeing this: Emily's wounded pride at having been tricked. The tilt of Try's head over her cartoons. A startled glance from Astrid. Disappointment drawing over Finnegan's face. Sergio's wide-eyed grin.

It's like tearing down a series of posters, and seeing it all again: their crumpled faces in my hands.

FROM THE TRANSCRIPT FILE OF BINDY MACKENZIE
Thursday, 10.30 am
Auntie Veronica and Uncle Jake's place. Veronica and Jake are in the hallway by the open front door. Jake is tossing his car keys gently in the air. I am in the kitchen.

Veronica:
Watch out for that speed camera down by—
Jake:
Yep. Gotcha. You just slow down when you get near—
Veronica:
Okay, well, but don't get distracted by talk radio. I had to pay Maria in two-dollar coins today, it was all I had. She didn't seem to mind. She did Bindy's room for me this morning, and the bathrooms.
Jake:
All that while I was sleeping? She must've done a shocker of a job. What's up with Bindy, anyway? Why's she home from school?
Veronica:
She's got a sore throat, poor kid. I don't know, I think she overworks herself. I said to her, I said, ‘Bindy, you can't burn a candle at both—'
hello
there, you. I thought you were in the tv room watching tv.
Bella:
I
am
in the tv room watching tv.
Jake:
Well, Bella-baby, it looks like you're standing in the hallway.

Friday, 7.28 am
I have come to school early to try to catch up on missed school work. But here I sit on my shadow seat, just outside the school library

A woman's voice:
No, no, it's perfectly fine. I
lied
in mine. But the rest of them should just go through.
A second woman's voice:
Do you think that's wise? I mean—
The first woman's voice:
There's someone sitting there—oh, it's Bindy Mackenzie. [
The first woman is Mrs Lilydale. I hadn't recognised her voice. The other woman wears a hat tipped forward over her sunglasses. She slips away as Mrs Lily-dale speaks to me:
] Bindy, we didn't see you there! Good that it's you, I was looking for you yesterday but it turned out you weren't at school. We've got to talk debating and this problem that you have, I mean to say, the Tearsdale gets underway after . . . Oh, and I heard about those pictures in the Year 11 wing on Wednesday, and how you took them—Bindy, you look tired, have you been taking those carob-coated energy drops I gave you, let me give you some more—

Later in the morning 8.55 am, still on my shadow seat. I see Astrid and Sergio arriving at school together. Astrid has a lime-green ribbon in her hair, which sets off the darkness of her high ponytail.

Astrid: I
guess I just ask myself, why would someone choose the personality she's chosen? You know what I mean? I mean,
why
would you choose to be a really annoying, like, insensitive, self-centred b-i-t-c-h?
Sergio:
Nice spelling. Maybe she didn't choose it? Maybe she can't help being that way. Didja think of that?
Astrid:
Well, who else would have chosen it? She's got to accept respons—

Sergio:
Shhhhh,
she's sitting
right there.
Astrid:
She can't hear me. Don't worry about it. She can't hear us.

Sunday, 4.30 pm
At the kitchen table in Veronica and Jake's place. Jake is at the stove, staring into a saucepan. Bella is on the floor, quietly reading, her little finger sliding slowly across the page. There is a recipe book open on the table beside me.

Jake
: [
talking to himself
] What, so that's it? It can't be right. No, there's got to be more than this, [
raising his voice
] Bindy, is this right? I'm just stirring this with a wooden spoon? And that's it? Can you read it out again?
Bindy:
You're doing it right. It's just chocolate, cream and butter. You just stir like you're doing.
Jake
: Would you check out this melting chocolate, Bindy? Look at it spilling from the spoon, see that? Like a chocolate waterfall—it's like that kid in the chocolate factory movie who goes up the pipe [
makes a slurping noise
], he goes up the pipe like [
makes the slurping noise again
]—I can't believe this is it. This is how you make truffles? Veronica's going to be over the—why don't I do this all the time? Oh, sorry, Bindy, you're trying to work. I'll be quiet.
Bindy:
It's okay, Jake. Keep talking.

Monday, 8.07 am
On the school bus, surrounded by Ashbury students. From a few seats back, I hear the conversation of two people I know
—
it is Astrid and Elizabeth
—
why is it always Astrid?

Astrid:
What do you reckon's wrong with her? I mean, it must have been her that put up those photos with the animal
words? She keeps going on about animals in FAD, and like describing them, so it must have been—and then she takes them all down like some kind of—I mean, what's
up
with her?
Elizabeth:
Maybe we should ask her?
There are two boys in the seat behind me. They are taking out their lunches.
One
of
the
boys: What have I got today? A ham sandwich? That is so
random.

Tuesday
I am in Economics. Mr Patel just handed back our essays. I got 16/20. I have never received 16/20 on anything before. Mr Patel has asked Jacob Kowalski to read out his essay. Jacob got 20/20. Someone giggles.

Mr Patel:
Hang on, Jacob, until the giggles stop. I know you're texting, Celia, don't try to hide that phone! There will be no multi-tasking in this room!
[
But I can't stop staring at the number 16. Such a strange, unfamiliar number.
]

Wednesday, 11.30 am
Year 12 students coming out of an English exam, passing my shadow seat.

Girl's earnest voice: I
think it's, like, if you've got a good feeling at the end, that's the best indication? That's what Kara said anyway, and I was, like, ok.
Another girl's voice:
Did you do that third question? I was, like:
excuse me?
And that's even though I ate fish fingers last night.
Girl's voice:
I asked Try for some help yesterday, with the
themes and that, cause she used to be an English teacher and she's like the f. . .n life raft? You could tell she was really trying but she didn't have an effin clue. Anyway, I guess, why would she, she's from Ohio so they'd have different English there. Do they even speak English in Ohio?
Boy's voice:
Do you want to go to Mackas and not talk?

Later, still on my shadow seat. It's almost 2.00 pm. Mr Botherit, our Year Co-ordinator, is rushing by.

Mr Botherit:
Hey there, Bindy Mackenzie, hard at it as usual. That's what we like to see. [
He rushes on
—
hesitates
—
turns back.
] Bindy, don't you have your FAD class now? [
Taking a few steps closer
] Bindy? Lunchtime ended an age ago, didn't you hear the bell? Shouldn't you be at FAD? And call me old-fashioned, but shouldn't you stop typing when a teacher speaks to you?