Black, p.5
Black, page 5
After our photos are taken, a teacher from another school ticks off our names and we enter the ballroom.
It’s already after nine and the place is chock-full. Round tables take up half of the room and the rest is dance floor, which is packed.
Aiden takes my hand and leads me through the crowd. Someone grabs me from behind. It’s Anita. She screams. ‘You came! You’re here! You look amazing!’ She hugs me. The other A’s appear and have the same response. It’s a nice welcome to start the night and I can’t stop smiling.
‘Wow. Look at you guys,’ I say. ‘You really do look like you belong on the red carpet.’
Their dresses are dazzling – long and silky, sequined and perfectly fitted, matched to strappy heels and beautiful, professionally done hair.
‘You should have said you were coming!’ Abby yells to be heard over the music. ‘We had drinks at my place first. You could have come!’
‘I worked until six. Then Aiden was late.’ I point to Aiden’s head wound. The A’s all fuss over him for a moment, giggling, and pull him into the circle beside me.
‘So, you two …’ Abby leaves her sentence hanging.
Anita winks at me in approval.
‘Our table is that one over there, right next to the Stanton boys,’ says Abby. Her new boyfriend is from Stanton. ‘We’re sneaking out for a quick refuel. You wanna come?’
I shake my head. We only just arrived.
Abby hugs me again, squeezing me tight before disappearing into the crowd towards the side door.
As soon as they go, Aiden reaches around my waist and pulls me towards him. It’s unexpected but not unwelcome.
‘This is torture,’ he says.
‘Why?’
‘It’s our first date and we’re here among all these people and noise where I can’t hear you or talk to you properly … And I have to share you.’
I laugh to cover my shock at Aiden calling this a date. I hadn’t really thought of it that way. ‘You won’t have to worry about that for long. The A’s are the only ones who talk to me.’ I quite like the idea of this being a date. And he said ‘first date’, like there will be more.
There are so many people in the hall. The crowd moves as one, pushing us. Then Aiden is shoved in the back. He staggers forward.
It’s the Knuckleheads. Triple trouble. George, Nigel and Jake stand with their chests puffed out like roosters. They’re dressed in suits but they look dishevelled.
‘Sorry, risk-taker … er, I mean, Aiden. Didn’t see you there,’ George slurs.
Aiden looks at George and shakes his head. Jake and Nigel laugh like hyenas. Their eyes are bloodshot and their laughter makes them sway on their feet. They place their arms around each other’s shoulders to hold themselves up. They’ll be kicked out before long. And the principal will suspend them if she sees them like this.
‘What happened to your head? Unlucky lightning strike?’ The more Jake and Nigel laugh, the more George keeps going. ‘Anyway, thrill-seeker, I gotta hand it to ya, you got balls. Didn’t think you’d go through with it. But you win. Here’s your cash.’
George slaps Aiden’s face with a crumpled fifty-dollar note.
Aiden lets go of me and hits George’s hand away. George shoves him in the chest. Aiden takes him by the scruff of his shirt and walks him backwards until George slams into the wall.
People dive out of the way and shouting breaks out.
‘There is no bet, I already told you,’ Aiden says through clenched teeth. ‘Get. Out. Of. My. Face.’
Two teachers fly through the crowd. They pull Aiden off George.
‘You’re out, mate,’ one of them says to Aiden.
‘And so are you,’ the other says to George. Jake and Nigel have already disappeared, leaving George to take the fall on his own.
People stare at us and move out of our way as the teachers march Aiden and George towards the foyer. I follow along behind with my head held high and shoulders pulled back to hide my humiliation, just as I’ve done so many times before.
Mrs Woods, our principal, rushes towards us. ‘These are mine,’ she says to the teachers. ‘I’ll handle this.’
The teachers let go of Aiden and George.
‘I want to speak to you both. George, you first,’ Mrs Woods says. She takes him into a tiny office. Aiden moves to the side of the foyer and takes a seat. I sit beside him. The two teachers stand close by, their arms crossed over their chests.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Aiden says. ‘Shit! I’m so sorry. I guess I’ll be sent home.’
‘Probably,’ I say.
He closes his eyes and breathes deeply as he runs his fingers over the white tape on his head.
‘I’d forgotten that being my date is a bet,’ I say. I guess I’ll never really know when our date stopped being a dare and became something Aiden wanted.
‘It isn’t. Well, at first it was – you knew that – but I called it off. Honestly,’ Aiden says defensively. ‘George was being a dick just now because their game backfired. He knew the bet was off. He was just trying to cause trouble.’
I know what he says is true, but I still feel angry about the whole thing. ‘It pisses me off that they have anything to do with anything I do.’
‘It depends which way you look at it,’ Aiden says. ‘If it weren’t for those three guys, I wouldn’t have asked you, and if it weren’t for them you wouldn’t have said yes.’
I laugh because it’s true. ‘Maybe I’ll send them a thank-you card,’ I joke.
We hold each other’s gaze and I have an urge to lean across and kiss him, until I feel someone watching me. I turn towards the ballroom and lock eyes with Ged. The coldness in her stare is so jarring that the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. She’s tall and angular like a stick insect, tightly wrapped in a pale blue silk dress that goes all the way to the floor. No frills or sequins, just a shawl, the colour of mountains in the distance, draped around her shoulders. She’s striking in an unusual kind of way. Her bob is dead straight, shiny and angular. Black eyeliner makes her eyes look massive and they bore into me. She backs into the crowd, looks away and moves out of my line of vision.
A few minutes later, George’s father enters the foyer, his face as stormy as the night. When he sees what state George is in he’ll be even angrier. He disappears into the little office and a few minutes later emerges with his son. He’s clutching George’s arm, holding him up, as he walks him outside.
Mrs Woods comes out. ‘Aiden, I’ll see you now.’
Aiden stands.
The principal pauses when she sees me. ‘Are you here together?’
I stand. ‘Yes, Mrs Woods.’
‘Are you involved in this incident?’
‘Yes,’ I say.
She looks Aiden up and down. He’s steady on his feet, alert, and has a polite expression on his face. It’s obvious he isn’t drunk like George.
‘Then I will deal with you together.’
I like Mrs Woods. She’s upfront and fair. We follow her into the room and sit across the desk from her.
‘Aiden, it looks like you’ve been in the wars.’ Mrs Woods’ eyes flick over Aiden’s injury.
Aiden’s hand shoots up to his head wound. ‘This happened earlier, at home. It was an accident …’
‘Good. I’m glad to hear it didn’t happen through brawling,’ Mrs Woods says curtly. ‘Aiden, please explain what happened out there.’
Aiden clears his throat. ‘I’m really sorry for causing a scene. I lost it with George and it should never have happened.’
‘Aiden, what I want to know is why you lost it. I’ve just sent one student home in disgrace and I’m deciding whether to send you home as well.’
‘It’s a private matter, Mrs Woods. It started a few days ago and I thought I had sorted it out, but I guess I hadn’t.’
I can tell that as much as he doesn’t like the Knuckleheads, Aiden doesn’t want to dob them in.
‘What I can say,’ Aiden continues, ‘is that I’m not drunk, and I can assure you I’m not going to cause any further trouble, should you decide to let me stay.’
Mrs Woods leans back in her chair and turns to me. ‘Black, it’s lovely to see you here this evening.’
We smile at each other. ‘Thank you.’
Mrs Woods has been to our house a few times to talk to Mum and me about the importance of me keeping a friendship circle – she was concerned I was spending too much time alone in the science wing. She’s a nice lady and most of the older kids at school like her. I can tell she accepts that Aiden isn’t willing to add fuel to the fire that George is already roasting in.
‘Black, can you shed some light on this?’ Mrs Woods asks.
Aiden looks from me to Mrs Woods.
‘I don’t know what went on before tonight,’ I say, ‘but just now, Aiden was sticking up for me.’
Surely seeing the state George was in, she would know he was the one who started it. George always gets mouthy when he drinks. He’s even been delivered home to his parents by Cole a few times for being drunk and yahooing in the street.
Mrs Woods nods. ‘I can see that neither of you are under the influence of alcohol. Had you shown signs of drunkenness, I would call your parents and send you home immediately. Aiden, I will let you stay. However, I want you to remember that fighting is not tolerated at our school, so you will not get off without punishment. You have one week of detention beginning Monday.’
‘Yes, Mrs Woods,’ Aiden says.
‘Black, you should be able to attend functions without being bullied or ostracised. I’m sorry this has occurred and I hope it hasn’t ruined the evening for you. I trust you will stay on and see the night out?’
I look at Aiden. He nods.
‘Yes, thank you, Mrs Woods. I’d like to stay.’
Mrs Woods stands to indicate the meeting is over.
Once we’re out of the room and back in the foyer, I turn to Aiden.
He smiles. ‘Talk about class pet,’ he teases.
‘Stick with me and you’ll go places.’
We laugh ourselves into an awkward moment of silence.
‘How’s your head?’ I ask. He looks pale and the swelling has moved down his forehead.
‘Splitting,’ he says.
‘Maybe we should go. Maybe you should go home and lie down … You know, before you get into more trouble.’
‘When we just did everything we could not to be sent home?’ says Aiden, laughing. ‘I’m not ready to go home, but I would like to go somewhere quieter, less crowded, and sit down while I have some paracetamol and a glass of water.’ He studies my face for a moment and then laughs again. ‘I must have impressed you so far. First I’m late. When I do eventually arrive, I have a head like an alien. Then when we get to the formal, I get into a fight in the first ten minutes and now I want to go somewhere quiet so I can drink water.’
‘Yep, you’re certainly lots of fun,’ I tease.
Mrs Woods is talking to a teacher behind us. I turn to her. ‘Excuse me, Mrs Woods. Is it all right if we sign ourselves out for a few minutes and go across the road to Bon Bon’s? Aiden needs to sit somewhere quiet while his painkillers kick in.’ I point to Aiden’s head.
‘Certainly, Black.’ Mrs Woods goes to the attendance register and signs us out. ‘I hope you’re feeling better soon, Aiden. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.’
‘Thank you,’ Aiden says.
EIGHT
We walk into the cold street. Dim yellow illuminates the windows of Bon Bon’s across the road. Inside it’s quiet, warm and inviting. We grab a bottle of water and two glasses and find an empty booth.
‘So. Are you like that with all your teachers?’
‘Like what?’ I smile. ‘You must be thinking what a goody-two-shoes I am. But to be honest, the five teachers I have now – and Mrs Woods – went out of their way to help me after my friends died. It was good of them and I like them, so yes, I am like that with them. There are a couple of teachers who are total bitch-face gossipers, so that’s a different story. But I can avoid them because they don’t teach science or maths. I never see them.’
‘Which teachers?’
I smile. ‘I’m not listing names. You might like them. They might be great with you.’
‘So the media teachers? Or –’
‘I’m not going there. I didn’t mean your teachers. Aside from media, I don’t even know what classes you take. You can work out who you like and who you don’t.’
‘You’re tough,’ he says.
I glance around the cafe. It’s pretty much empty.
Aiden throws a couple of soluble tablets into his glass. They fizz white.
‘Thanks for coming out, even though you banged your head,’ I say.
His eyes rest on mine. ‘I hope you give me another chance.’
I giggle. ‘Maybe we should go out for breakfast next time. Less chance of you hurting yourself beforehand. You can just get out of bed and carefully make your way up the street.’
‘I’m not that clumsy. I’m not accident-prone at all, actually. Nothing ever happens to me.’
‘Maybe you’ve just been lucky.’
‘I don’t believe in luck. People make their own luck – good or bad.’
Oscar was unlucky. He was unlucky to cross paths with the drunk driver. Had he forgotten something and run back inside for it, he would still be here. Twenty seconds would have made a difference. Ten seconds. Even two seconds. If that isn’t luck, or bad luck, I don’t know what is. Same could be said for Jess and the driver who hit her.
‘Not always,’ I say. ‘Whether you call it luck or bad timing or whatever …’ My voice trails off and I don’t finish what I was going to say.
Aiden looks at me. ‘What about destiny?’
I smile. ‘If you’re asking if I believe in predetermined paths set out for people by some higher being then no. Not at all.’
Aiden drinks down his medication. ‘Me neither,’ he says. ‘But I do believe the past dictates our future. Every minute of every day passed adds up to where we are in this very minute of this very day. And I also believe this goes back generations. What our parents or grandparents did has a flow-on effect to us.’
‘I don’t think anything my grandparents did affects me now,’ I say. ‘I mean, how could it? And anyway, you’re also saying what we’re doing right now could affect our children, our grandchildren and so on, and I don’t see how that can happen.’
‘Just because you don’t know how it’s affecting you doesn’t mean it’s not. Take my great-great-grandfather. He survived two wars because he was a veterinary doctor. He was never placed on the front line. His brother, though, was classified as unskilled, so he fought on the front line. He died, so there’s a whole branch of my family missing. My grandmother didn’t have cousins on that side of the family.’
I nod. I get where he’s coming from. ‘Sounds like you’ve put a bit of thought into it.’
‘I have. I’d love to make a movie about it, write a story about how people and events over time are connected. I’d set it in the same house so I could show the passing of time with the garden growing and changing, too.’
‘That would be cool. Really, you should write it.’
‘Can you act?’
‘Oooooh no. Not in a million years.’ I giggle. ‘I’d be hopeless.’
‘C’mon, you’d look so good on camera.’ Aiden pulls his phone out of his pocket and flips it onto video mode. He points it at me.
I bring up my hand to block the camera. ‘Stop!’
Aiden lowers the phone.
‘I do know of a really cool house you could use in your film,’ I say. ‘Although it would probably be more suitable for a horror film … It’s an old, run-down, abandoned place out the back of Rockland Forest. It’s overgrown and creepy. I found it this week at work. And guess what?’
Aiden leans in, his eyes wide.
‘Someone was there. Someone visits it. I got really spooked and I hid,’ I whisper. ‘The most embarrassing thing is that they knew I was there.’ I burst into hushed laughter, feeling my face flush hot. I must sound mental, but since the weird chat I had with Dad this afternoon, I haven’t been able to get the house out of my mind. ‘Apparently something freaky happened out there years ago and the people just left.’
Aiden sits back. ‘I know about that house,’ he says, frowning. ‘God, that’s so bizarre.’
I stare at him, shocked. ‘You do?’
‘Yep,’ he says. ‘Today in history Ged and I were working on our project. We have to research local history. Everyone was researching when the first store in town was built, when the swimming pool was built, when the rail started and things like that. So, to be different, Ged and I thought we’d focus our research on the people of Dainsfield. Anyway, Ged googled a few surnames of families that had been here for generations and an article came up that mentioned a house out the back of Rockland Forest.’
The sound of Ged’s name in this conversation is jarring. I sit back against the seat so hard a small puff of air expels sharply from my lungs. ‘What did it say?’
‘Well, it was too recent for us to use for our project, but Ged was really interested in it and she printed it out.’
‘Can I read it?’ I ask.
‘Ged has the printout, but I’m sure we’d find it again if we searched.’
‘Can’t you just tell me what it said?’
‘Er … Eighteen years ago a woman was found on the road that leads out towards Rockland Forest. It was her surname that Ged had searched for. The woman was hurt, real bad. She was taken to hospital but she died. Apparently on the way to hospital she talked about some pretty weird shit, and it turned out she was schizophrenic.’
‘What weird shit? How was she hurt? Why did she die?’
‘The article just said “internal injuries”. How she got the injuries – well, that was the mystery. On the way to hospital she told a witness she’d been held against her will and exorcised at that house. She told him that her dad thought she was possessed by a demon and had called in the local priest. The police never found evidence of any exorcism, though.’
