Music From Standing Waves (11 page)

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah. Sure. Fine.”

“Ollie being a pain?” I guessed, though he
had given up pawing my dress and was peacefully making handprints
on the steamy window.

“Oh no,” said Hayley. She flicked the wipers
onto high. “No, no. He’s an angel. Aren’t you, baby?” Suddenly, her
voice was bright again. “So are you going with Justin?”

“I’m going with Simon,” I said finally.

“Oh.”

I was glad Hayley didn’t ask for an
explanation.

“This Simon guy…” Her eyes began to light up.
“Is he the one?”

I wished she would watch the road. “I don’t
know what you’re talking about.”

Hayley sighed teasingly. “Come on, sweetie,
you can tell me. I lost my virginity after my deb ball at the rock
pool with a guy named Tasso. Isn’t that a funny name? I think he
was Greek or something. Maybe Spanish. I don’t know. Anyway, he was
very well endowed. Made my eyes water.”

I knew late night swims would never be the
same again. I flung open the car door before it had stopped
moving.

“Thanks for the lift,” I mumbled, stepping
out into the rain.

“You’re welcome, sweetie. Don’t forget your
dress.”

I wished I had been more selective about my
boring A-line, first-thing-that-fitted dress when Justin’s
glamorous Mia swanned onto the dance floor in a strapless silk gown
and pearl tiara.

“I think she looks way too glitzy,” Rachel
offered as we waited at the back of the hall to be presented. The
festy redhead smacked out a few chords on the piano. “You look much
nicer. Plain and simple.” She squinted. “Besides, you couldn’t wear
a dress like that. You don’t have the tits to hold it up.”

I could see Justin’s parents sitting on a
table with Simon’s family. When they had been asked to fill out a
seating preference form, my mum had written
prefer to sit with
strangers
and they had ended up on a table with a guy from the
prawn fishing fleet whose son was in year twelve.

Sarah was watching with a forced smile, eyes
directed straight ahead to avoid exchanging glances with the people
she knew. Dad was beaming and holding his camera at the ready under
a big sign reading
no flash photography,
while Tim picked
wax off a candle in the centre of the table. Sarah had yelled at
Nick for not coming, despite his promise to grace the post-ball
piss-up.

“I expected more from you,” she said. “This
is a big deal for your sister.”

I replied that it wasn’t and Sarah had
proceeded to yell at both of us. I decided nothing good could come
of a day that had begun by poking myself in the eye with a mascara
brush.

After the presentations, I plonked myself at
Andrew’s table. Hayley had drunk too much champagne and was
reciting the voice-over from
Thriller
.

“Shh Hayles, that’ll do,” Andrew kept saying.
“So who pissed you off, Abs?” he asked. “You’ve got a face like a
busted arse.”

I glanced across the room at Mia.

Hayley dived across Andrew’s lap and grabbed
my elbow. “That Simon guy is hot like a fox!” she said. “You should
go for it!”

On the other side of the dance floor, Simon
was hamming it up to a group of giggling year ten girls with a
spinning rendition of the
YMCA
. I felt a tap on my
shoulder.

“Hey,” said Justin. He was buttoned into his
tuxedo jacket and waistcoat, a dark blue cravat at his neck.

My voice came out brassy. “Hi.”

He flashed me a smile so casual that I felt
for a second we could be at the rock pool in our bathers. “So I
think I owe you a dance,” he said. “If you still want one.”

I hesitated. I ached to turn him down, to
watch him walk alone back across the hall. He offered me his hand.
“Okay,” I squeaked, placing my palm inside his. He squeezed my
fingers and led me onto the dance floor. The band launched into a
cringe-worthy
Love Shack
. Justin pulled me closer to speak
in my ear.

“You look beautiful.” He caught my eye and I
felt myself blushing.

“So does Mia,” I mumbled. Justin looked taken
aback for a second. He glanced down.

“Are you having a good night?” I asked
hurriedly.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m having a good night.
What about you?” He paused. “How’s Simon?”

“Simon’s great,” I yelled over the music.
“Really great… And he’s hot like a fox…”

Justin hesitated. “Good.” He swung my hands
in his. “Listen Abby, I’m really sorry. I didn’t forget about that
promise we made. I just didn’t think that you… Anyway, I’m glad
you’re having fun.”

“Of course I’m having fun,” I snapped,
instantly regretting my sharpness. Justin dropped my hands and our
eyes met for a second.

“Are you going to the after party?” he
asked.

“Are you?”

“Of course.”

“Me too.”

He smiled. “Great. I’ll see you there.”

Simon walked me to the after party, stopping
for an ever-so-classy pash once outside the milk bar and once in
the car park behind the pub. I strutted inside with his arm over my
shoulder and my hand in the back pocket of his jeans. I ushered him
onto the dance floor and we made out through two entire songs.

I saw Justin at the bar. The bartender had
been to school with practically all the debutantes and didn’t care
that we were underage. Justin leant on one elbow and took a sip of
beer.

“So,” he said casually. “You and Simon, huh?”
He attempted to run a hand through his waxed hair, but his fingers
slid off and he tried to disguise it as a fly swat.

“Yeah. Me and Simon.”

He was still in his shiny black tuxedo
trousers, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up. He sat his
glass on the bar mat. “Abby…”

“What?”

He hesitated. “Do you want another
drink?”

I perfected my nonchalant lean on the bar.
“No thanks. Simon’s already bought me heaps.” Really, I’d only had
a Coke, but Justin didn’t need to know that. He nodded and tapped
his fingers against the side of his glass.

“You’re with him to make me jealous, aren’t
you?” he said boldly.

I paused, his brazenness catching me off
guard. “No,” I said. “I’m with him cos he’s hot like a fox.”

“Why do you keep saying that? You sound like
a dickhead.”

I felt my face flush. Justin began to walk
away.

“Wait,” I called over the music. He turned
back to face me. “If I was with him to make you jealous, would it
have worked?”

Justin covered my wrist with his hand and
slid his fingers down until they laced with mine.

I swallowed heavily. “Where’s Mia?”

He shrugged. His thumb ran up and down my
finger. I stood motionless, techno thudding in my ears. The bass
was making the floor shake. I felt a hand on my shoulder. Simon was
holding out a pot of beer. He glanced down at my hand, which was
firmly linked with Justin’s.

“Fuck you,” he hissed, slamming the glass
onto the bar. Foam frothed down the sides. “Fuck the both of you. I
should have bloody known. You know I only asked you to be my
partner so Rachel would stop hassling me.”

In spite of the situation, it still felt like
a kick in the guts.

Justin tugged my hand. “Come on,” he said,
his eyes catching Simon’s for a second. “Don’t worry about
him.”

I followed him away from the bar. We sneaked
up a roped off staircase and came to the empty function room. Large
round tables were covered in white sheets and chairs were stacked
along the wall. Glass doors led out onto a balcony.

“Are we allowed to be up here?” I asked.

Justin rattled the locked glass door. “Who’s
going to know? Come and look. You can see out to the reef.”

I stood at his side. Through the glass I
could see over tiled roofs to the shadowy sea. Boat lamps glowed in
the darkness. Justin stepped away from the window and pulled me
onto the floor beside him. He reached blindly for my hand, brushing
his palm over my thigh as he did. I could hear my heart thumping in
my ears. It was so loud I was afraid Justin could hear it too. He
kissed my fingers. Muted music from the party floated up from the
open windows. I could hear laughter in the street. Clinking
bottles. Simon’s voice.

Justin took my head in his hands, his palms
covering my ears. The noise became muffled, like I was listening
from underwater. I could smell the soapy wax in his hair and the
beer on his breath. Then suddenly his mouth on my lips and his hot
tongue sliding over mine. I shuffled closer to him as we kissed
again and again, desperate to make up for years of messing
around.

“I’m sorry,” I gushed, between kisses. “About
everything. About being so obsessed with my violin. And with
getting away.”

Justin just kissed me again.

I grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled
him closer. “Are you going to sleep with Mia?”

He rested his forehead against mine. “Abby, I
always thought you would be my first. Not Mia. I don’t want to be
with her.” He sat up and stared at me. “I want
you,
Abby. I
always have. I’m sorry I didn’t do the ball with you. I don’t know
what I was thinking.”

I kissed him softly and slid my singlet top
over my head.

“Are you sure about this?” he said.

I took a deep breath. “Yes. Are you?”

Justin nodded. “Hell yeah. I’m sure.”

I stretched back against the warm
floorboards. Justin threw off his shirt and lay over me; his bare
skin hot and sticky against mine. My heart was thumping. He began
to kiss my neck; his lips sliding along my collarbone. He slipped
my bra strap off my shoulder. I felt my breathing quicken. Suddenly
Justin pulled away.

I opened my eyes. “What is it?”

“It’s Mia,” he hissed. “I heard her voice,
she’s on the stairs.” He pushed my top into my hands. “You have to
hide. Get behind the curtain or something.”

“What?! You arsehole!”

“Come on Abby, just do it.” He fumbled with
his shirt buttons. “Please.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me off
the floor. “Over there,” he hissed, steering me into the corner. I
heard him open the door to Mia.

“Hey baby,” she sung. I heard them kiss.
Justin led her to the glass doors. I could hear their voices as I
slunk past them into the hallway.

“What have you been doing up here, baby?
Simon told me you were up here.”

“Nothing. Just waiting for you.”

I ran back to the caravan park, tears
streaming down my face and my stupid stiff curls sliding free from
their hairpins. Shoes in hand, I raced into the lounge and flopped
face first onto the couch. I hugged a cushion to my chest and began
to sob; my shoulders heaving as I gasped for breath. I reached up
and grabbed the blanket that was thrown over the back of the sofa.
Curled into a ball and wrapped it around me like a shell. I yanked
the last pins from my hair and flung them across the room. They
bounced off the TV screen. My sticky hair fell over my eyes. It
stank of hairspray and stale cigarettes.

I gulped down my tears and curled up in the
stillness of Acacia Beach. Inside, the kitchen tap dripped.
Outside, frogs twittered. I rolled onto my stomach and fell into an
uneasy sleep.

I woke up as Nick stumbled through the back
door and let the fly screen slam.

“What the hell are you doing home?” He
collapsed on the end of the couch and jerked me out of my daze.
“Big night?”

I poked my head out of the blanket.

“Your makeup’s all run. You look like
shit.”

I sat up angrily. “Yeah well you stink.”

Nick pulled the blanket off me and wrapped it
around his shoulders. I shuffled onto the arm of the couch and
stared at him. His blonde hair was tangled over the cushion. Dark
shadows underlined his eyes.

“So what is it?” My head was throbbing. “What
are you taking that makes your life so wonderful?”

Nick rolled onto his side so I couldn’t see
his face. “Stay out of it, Abby. It’s got nothing to do with
you.”

“Yeah right! I’m the one who has to pick up
the fucking syringes you leave on the floor in the toilets!”

Nick sighed. “They’re not mine, okay.”

“Bullshit!”

“Would you shut up!” he hissed. “Do you want
to wake her?”

I picked at the hem of the blanket.

“So how was the ball?” Nick asked finally. “I
was going to come down to the party but-”

“But what? But you were too stoned to even
remember your name?” I shook my head in disgust. “You need to get a
life.”

Nick snorted. “You’re an arrogant shit,
Abigail, you know that? You know nothing about anything. You’re
going to die of shock if you ever get out of this place.”

I leapt off the couch. “What would you know?
You don’t know the first thing about me!”

Nick let his hand fall over his eyes. “Yeah
and you sure as hell know everything there is to know about
me.”

Monday morning came in record time. I
couldn’t get out of bed. I told Sarah I was sick and she carried on
and on about how irresponsible I was for having drunk too much two
nights before. I pulled the doona over my head. Post-ball Monday:
what a debacle that would be. Rachel jabbering on to Katie over
their Bunsen burners. Justin and Mia pawing each other in the
canteen line. Whispers and giggles and gossip and lies.

I tried to will myself back to sleep. I’d
heard that when you dream, your mind travels to another plane of
existence. I’d have happily spent the rest of my life in some
alternate universe. Maybe I’d wake up and miraculously be a concert
violinist. Maybe I’d find the last seventeen years had been nothing
but a bad dream. But I’d slept so much on Sunday that all I could
do was thrash around under the sheets and listen to people in the
park holidaying without a care in the world. I willed malaria onto
them all.