Faking Sweet Read online

  Jess gave that comment extra big approval, the suck-up.

  ‘The play explores many aspects of deception,’ Mrs Gideon went on. ‘Not just the deception of others, but the way we deceive ourselves; it really studies the fallibility of humans. Especially what we choose to see and believe!’ Her voice grew higher and louder. The whole class seemed absorbed in every word she uttered. I looked out the window and yawned.

  ‘Let’s look at Act One.’ Instantly the sound of turning pages. What was it with this teacher? It was like she’d cast a spell over the girls. ‘Jess, would you read Leonato? Rosie, could you be Beatrice?’ As the chosen ones were given their roles, I watched Jess begin to lick her lips over and over. I flicked through the pages. Yes, as I thought, she’d been given the main part and obviously couldn’t wait to hear the sound of her own voice.

  Calypso told me Jess was really into performing – public speaking, debating, all that ‘look at me’ stuff. In Calypso’s second week here she took part in a class debate with Jess. Apparently Jess went completely psychotic because she reckoned Calypso stole some of her points. Calypso wasn’t posing when she told me they’d won the debate because of her. She was just being honest. Calypso was a really, really good debater. I’d seen her myself.

  Apparently after the St Clemmie’s debate everyone went up to Calypso and congratulated her. Then later when no one was around Jess said to her, ‘Listen here, new girl. I don’t know where you’ve come from and I don’t actually care. But in Year 7 I won the debating award and I intend to win it again this year. So don’t go thinking you’re too hot.’

  Calypso told me she went straight to the toilets and had a little cry in a cubicle. She’s so brave, Calypso.

  Mrs Gideon was still explaining who the characters were, and Jess was still licking her lips, so much that a pink line was forming around her mouth.

  ‘Oh, and the Messenger!’ Mrs Gideon clapped her hands. ‘We can’t forget him. Holly, would you like to read the role of the Messenger?’

  The Messenger? That was the crap part. Why didn’t she just ask me to be the tree!

  ‘Holly, I know it’s your first class with us but we’re kind, aren’t we?’

  Heads nodded and murmurs of ‘yes’ filled the room.

  ‘Okay,’ I squeaked.

  I flicked through the pages. The Messenger only had a few lines in the beginning. I sat on my hands and waited.

  ‘So we’re at Governor Leonato’s house in the town of Messina.’ Mrs Gideon paced the room. ‘He’s with his daughter Hero and niece Beatrice, and a …’ She tapped me on the head. ‘… a messenger arrives with a letter.’

  She smiled and nodded at Jess. ‘Leonato opens the play.’

  ‘Um, yep,’ said Jess, shuffling a bit in her seat.

  ‘I learn … in this letter that Don Bed – I mean … um, Ped, Don Pedro …’

  I followed the text. Jess was averaging about one word a minute.

  ‘… um, of Arr-a-gon.’

  I watched her throat pop with a gulp. ‘… comes this night … to Mess – Messina.’

  ‘He is very near by this,’ I read quickly. ‘He was not three leagues off when I left him.’

  ‘How many gentlemen …’ Jess’s tongue circled around her lips again. ‘How many gentlemen have you lost in this … ac-tion?’

  ‘But few of any sort, and none of name,’ I read.

  Jess’s next lines took forevvvvvvvvvvvver. She stumbled and stuttered as she tried to wrap her mouth around basic Shakespeare stuff like ‘hath bestowed’. Duh! Everyone knows that line. It’s in every Shakespeare play.

  But the whole class stayed completely still and quiet.

  Nothing about this girl even vaguely resembled a debating champion. It looked like her ‘it girl-ability’ must’ve won her that status too. Not fair, considering Calypso had real talent. No wonder she thought this school sucked.

  Once my role was finished it was hard to stay awake. The lesson dragged on and on. Jess took about ten goes before she got, ‘What is he that you ask for, niece?’ right. Then she slipped on ‘betwixt’ that many times I had to control myself from getting up and whacking her on the back of the head, to aid in spitting it out.

  But the whole class sat there patiently like that’s what they’d come to expect of English – listening to Jess.

  The whole experience was excruciating. Plucking out one hair at a time would be more enjoyable. But there were two things I’d learnt. One, Jess was the teacher’s pet, like surprise, surprise. And two, she was a candidate for the Guinness Book of Records in the monumentally pathetic level of stammering and stuttering category. Please let her not have this role for the entire play or I will die of boredom, and death was not meant to be the outcome of this exercise!

  ‘Great work, girls,’ Mrs Gideon beamed. ‘Great effort, Jess.’

  Great effort, Jess? Was I hearing right?

  ‘For homework I want you all to finish reading Act One.’ Her voice rose a couple of octaves. ‘Look at how it’s relevant to our own lives – especially the character of Don John, who describes himself as a “plain-dealing villain”. Why would he say that? Is he a villain because of the jealousy that consumes him? Think about it, because this will be an option for the first assignment.’

  Villain! I thought. I know one of them. I looked over at Jess and practised boring my eyes into the back of her head. She turned around and caught me. I tried to look away but it’s like our eyes were locked together – the villain and me. Then, faking sweet, she smiled, and the strangest thing was that suddenly her teeth didn’t look so white and perfect.

  Saskia and Isabelle were waiting outside the classroom.

  ‘Jess!’ they squealed before their voices dropped to a whisper. I pretended to shuffle through my books so I could hang around and listen.

  ‘Saskia just got a text from Jase, and he’s sprung a party on us – tonight,’ said Isabelle.

  ‘You’re kidding,’ Jess gasped.

  ‘No, look.’ Saskia pushed her mobile into Jess’s face. ‘He’s so random, that guy.’

  ‘Oh my God, that’s fantastic,’ Jess replied. Then the sound of panic set in. ‘I don’t have anything to wear. Seriously nothing.’

  She was answered with clucks of sympathy.

  ‘You two have water polo practice after school, don’t you?’

  Nods and more clucks.

  ‘I’ll get Scott to come to the mall with me.’

  The other two nodded, their ponytails bobbing up and down in unison.

  ‘Yep, that’s what I’ll do.’

  ‘Jess, are you going to buy that top from Lipstix?’ Saskia asked.

  ‘Nah, can’t afford it yet. I think I’ll go to Spotti. I’ve seen some cute things there.’

  I felt my pocket for my phone. Spotti? I knew where those shops were in Melbourne. Obviously there was one here. Calypso would know where.

  ‘Hey, talking about random, guess what Saskia did to Nadene in Science?’ Isabelle started to giggle. ‘She pinned the back of her uniform up while she was sitting down.’

  Saskia covered her mouth while her shoulders jerked in rhythm with each snort.

  ‘When Nadene stood up there was just this big fat bum in yellow-spotted knickers.’

  Now they were doubled over and killing themselves.

  ‘It took her about five minutes to work out why everyone was pissing themselves,’ finished Isabelle.

  Jess had her hand over her mouth too. ‘You’re such a bitch, Saskia.’

  Isabelle could hardly speak now. ‘The yellow was all faded and like …’

  ‘Like the colour of poo!’ screamed Saskia, who now looked like she was coming close to pooing her own pants. ‘It was sooooo funny, Jess. You would have died laughing if you’d seen it.’

  The ‘it’ girls veered right to the occupied territory. I was not going to follow them. I was not going to be another Nadene ‘no-friends’ victim for them. Instead I turned left and made my way to the loos.


  It took me about ten goes of pushing and rattling the last toilet door to get it to lock. What was it with these posh schools and their crap toilets? I could imagine who’d fiddled with the locks – no doubt Saskia, Isabelle and Jess. So they could burst through the toilet door while Nadene ‘no-friends’ was sitting there with her faded undies around her ankles. Villains! Wait till I tell Mrs Gideon about villains.

  I sat on the loo seat and texted:

  Shopping at Spotti this arvo. Where is it?

  Less than a minute later I had my reply. Calypso must’ve been hiding in the toilets too, waiting for a message from me.

  That was the great thing we worked out: MLG and St Clemmie’s had their lunchbreaks at the exact same time. It didn’t make me feel like such a loser hiding in the loos when I knew Calypso was doing the same thing, just at another school in another city.

  Spotti 2nd floor opposite Target. Y? Who’s going??

  R u in the toilets 2? I wrote back.

  Thinking about it was giving me the giggles. Perhaps we should do a comparative survey on how much toilet paper was stuck on the ceiling. St Clemmie’s would win no worries.

  The phone beeped in response.

  What kind of a loser do u take me 4?

  Oh? I re-read Calypso’s message. She wasn’t in the toilets? Then I remembered of course it was Friday! Friday at MLG was Year 9’s day on the oval. Calypso was probably sitting on her own waiting for my messages.

  Beep. Another one.

  Who’s going to Spotti?

  Jess.

  I didn’t know whether to tell her Scott was going. But no, I had to be honest. That was part of the deal.

  Maybe Scott 2, I added.

  If Scott goes do not follow.

  Y?

  Seeing the weasel Scott was what I was looking forward to. I had already planned it. I was going to pretend I was stalking him like one of those psycho girls you see in the movies. Every time he turned around I’d be there staring at him. If he was the softie Isabelle and Saskia made out, then he’d be easy to unnerve. Even the scary music had started humming in my head.

  2 complicated 2 xplain. Calypso’s next text read. Gotta go. Keep me posted. Cx

  Too complicated, I wondered. What was too complicated? Why was Calypso so wimpy about Scott? He deserved to be punished, not protected.

  But I knew why she was doing it – she was still in love with him. It was the same with me and Joe. Even though you know it’s dumb you just can’t help it.

  The night I walked into the party and saw Miranda on Joe’s lap I wanted to gouge her eyeballs out. Obviously she’d wrestled herself onto his knee and no matter how hard Joe had tried to get her off she would not let go.

  And of course the only reason his hands were creeping up Miranda’s top was because she was threatening to make a scene and stalk him forever if he didn’t do as he was told. She was there for all to see, whispering stuff in his ear. Joe wasn’t really enjoying it. Well, that’s what I told myself.

  Joe didn’t like big boobs, he’d told me that himself at the movies after a rather unfortunate incident at Macca’s. I’d been a bit hysterical after his mate called out to me in the queue: ‘Hey pancake chest, get us another Big Mac.’ It was humiliating ’cause I’m sure everybody heard. So I ran to the toilets and hid.

  Joe completely understood why I was so upset. He even asked the girl sweeping the floor to go to the Ladies and see if I was okay.

  ‘Your boyfriend says to say the movie starts in three minutes,’ said the girl.

  ‘Oh?’ I opened the cubicle door and peered around. ‘Has he been worried about me?’

  ‘He said you’ve been in there forever and to hurry up.’

  Well, what else would you expect from a girl who sweeps the floor at Macca’s!

  I washed my face and went out to Joe, who was waiting for me outside. As soon as I appeared his mates skulked off. No doubt Joe had given it to them.

  ‘Come on.’ Joe grabbed my hand. ‘I can’t get a refund on these tickets.’

  Somewhere up the three flights of stairs, out the swinging doors and across the purple carpet of Hoyts, I asked him if he minded me having small boobs.

  ‘Small boobs?’ he said.

  ‘Yeah.’

  He shrugged. I found out later that’s what he did when he felt bad.

  The next weekend was when I saw Miranda on Joe’s knee and my blood whooshed up my spine and into my head. Miranda was a man-eater, and my Joe was one of her victims. I walked across the room as if in a trance. The tips of my fingers were tingling and my heart was pounding. How dare she? Who did she think she was?

  When they saw me coming Miranda jumped off Joe’s lap like she had a firecracker in her pants. Now he was free, I waited for him to run over and ask where I’d been, tell me he’d been searching for me all night. But he didn’t. He didn’t even move. He just shrugged.

  For weeks after that I wanted to get Miranda and spit in her face. I still did. But I didn’t feel like that about Joe, even when I found out the two of them had hooked up over and over and now were an item.

  I didn’t want to eat. I couldn’t sleep. I cried and cried. But every time Mum shook her head and said, ‘I can’t believe what that boy did to you,’ I’d reply, ‘It wasn’t Joe’s fault.’

  So for now I’d have to respect Calypso’s request not to follow Jess to Spotti if Scott was there. Even though I thought it was a cop-out, I understood. Scott was a ‘no-go’.

  I was about to walk out of the bathroom when I heard footsteps and a voice whining, ‘Scott. Scott.’

  I ducked back to the basins just as Jess walked in with a phone glued to her ear.

  ‘Scott?’ she whined again.

  I turned on the tap and began to wash my hands.

  ‘But why not?’ she snapped. ‘That’s not a good enough reason.’

  I pushed more soap out of the dispenser.

  ‘Scott?’ I could just make out a noise like chipmunks arguing. The sound was chattering out of her phone and into the atmosphere.

  ‘Scott? Scott!’ she shouted. ‘Well, I’ll go by myself then!’

  My hands were covered in orange bubbles. One was so enormous it almost reached my chin. But I was too afraid to move, in case she started yelling at me too.

  ‘Boys,’ she uttered to me through the mirror.

  I didn’t say anything back. Instead I waited for the sound of her shoes stomping across the tiled floor and back out of the bathroom.

  ‘One, two, three …’ Slowly I counted to twenty then crept back into the last cubicle and texted Calypso.

  This arvo on. She’s going alone.

  Spotti in Sydney didn’t look that different to Spotti in Melbourne, except for the prices. A skirt I bought the day before I left Melbourne was $5 more here. I should’ve bought three. But the floor plan was the same. Big, busy and crowded with clothes. Hiding here would be a breeze.

  First I went to the dressing rooms to check them out. I was going to get it right this time. Step 3: observation – completed. Daydream Island here I come.

  There were ten dressing rooms that each had a huge number above their door. This place was completely idiot proof. I checked out the clothes, selecting a few I would pretend I wanted to try on. I needed an excuse to hang around the dressing rooms so I could see what Jess took in and, more importantly, what Jess took out. I’d just have to make sure Jess didn’t see me.

  Beep, beep. Calypso must’ve been ready and waiting.

  R u there?

  Yes

  Just step 3.

  Before I had a chance to reassure her I had it under control, another text came through.

  Watch which number dressing room she goes in 2. Can u c big numbers?

  Duh, I wasn’t blind. I just didn’t know about shoplifting.

  Don’t worry.

  Watch her bag 2.

  I took in a deep breath, as Jess Flynn had just entered the shop.

  JF here, I texted.

  Jess
was at the entrance flicking through a rack of skirts. A sales assistant went up to her and said something. Jess nodded and smiled sweetly.

  ‘Hello.’ It was the same sales assistant, now standing next to me.

  ‘Oh, I’m still looking,’ I smiled sweetly too. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I must ask you to leave your school bag.’ Her arm signalled like a traffic controller. ‘At the entrance.’

  ‘Oh? Okay.’ It was not possible for me to go the way she was pointing, as it meant I’d have to squeeze past Jess.

  I picked up my bag and started to walk in the opposite direction, towards the dressing rooms, before turning right and making my way around the very edge of the store.

  ‘Excuse me?’ The assistant was following me. ‘Excuse me, Miss, but which … what … just put your bag …’

  I turned around. ‘I’m sorry,’ I smiled again. ‘It must seem, um, strange that I’m, um, taking the long way around but I’m in a, a, pedomathon. Like a walkathon except you get sponsored for how many, how many steps you take. It’s for the … the bushfire victims.’

  ‘Really?’ answered the assistant. ‘Now I feel terrible. I didn’t even know there’d been any bush-fires lately.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ I nodded. How gullible can you be? ‘Lots. Mostly in … Tasmania.’

  ‘Gee, maybe I should do it too. How did you find out about it?’ she said.

  ‘Urgh, well …’ Didn’t this woman have some work to do? My mind was racing a thousand k’s a minute. ‘Go to www.pedomathon.com.’

  ‘Pedomathon. P-e-d?’

  ‘P-e-d-o-, like walkathon.’

  ‘Great, thanks,’ she said. ‘I still feel guilty about missing the forty-hour famine this year. I bet you did it. Were you allowed to have rice this time?’

  ‘Gee, um, I can’t remember.’ I had lost sight of Jess. I craned my neck and did a quick three-sixty of the place. ‘I’d like to try these on.’ I threw the assistant the clothes I was holding. I just had to hope Jess was in a dressing room. ‘Now, please.’