AH! Thought I’d freak you out with an update. Summary of important events: Timmy has been staying with Noel’s family because his parents (Susan and Samuel are in Beijing.) Noel’s mum comes back from living la vida loca in NY and says she wants a divorce. Noel flips out, drives off to Canberra, with Tyler. They bond and become all love-y love-y until BAM Tyler gets a phone call saying that Timmy is missing. He goes all cold and leaves. Noel drives back home. She runs into Noah who goes crazy at her for scheming the whole year, for posting the Emily video (where she is cracking on to Tyler) and for caring more about Tyler, who he doesn’t trust and thinks is a class A tool, than him or her family. He’s basically pissed at her for scaring him like that (by running away). Noel’s like, screw you, then runs off to find Tyler, who she finds, standing in the rain, and he’s really upset because he feels like he doesn’t know his brother, feels guilty, and hates on Noel for getting him into this mess. He says she always over-reacts, and that she always makes things worse and he doesn’t recognise himself with her. She says at least people love her, she knows her own brother etc. She walks away. The music is sad and epic, the camera is in slow motion. That should bring us to-

Chapter Twenty Two

Use Somebody

They find Timmy cold, wet, exhausted and bordering on contracting pneumonia at a Bankstown train station. Apparently he thought he’d get on a train to try and find us, but once he’d gotten on one, he’d been too confused to decide where to get off. Susan finds out on her way back from the airport, when my mother calls her, and I swear she screams so loudly when she hears the word ‘Bankstown’ that it’s like she thinks Timmy’s been conscripted into a gang, gotten a tattoo with an infected needle and is about to come down with HIV any day now. Not that I blame her- I’ve never been to Bankstown, but I’m pretty sure it’s yobbo central.

Maybe it’s the fear of HIV that makes Susan insist that Timmy stays in hospital for a week, even though Mum assures me that Timmy only has a bad chest cold. I doubt the hospital needs Timmy taking up the bed space, but I don’t suppose it’s easy to kick the grandson of the owner of a pharmaceutical juggernaut out, when the Dillon Pharmaceutical company supplies half your medication.

I think about visiting Timmy a hundred times, and I even walk out the door with the intention to do so fifty times, but I back out because I feel too much like a murderer at her victim’s funeral to go.

Ok maybe my real reason is that I’m scared shitless of running into Tyler. My mother tells me on the second day, with a too understanding look, that Tyler doesn’t leave Timmy’s bedside.

Which is useful information, because it means I can go to school without being afraid of running into him. I wish I could just get angry at Tyler for being his usual, vicious self but every time I think about him in the rain and what he said to me, I just feel dangerously close to tears. Maybe I do always over react. Maybe that’s why I’m in this situation in the first place. If I’d just let Emily drop- Noah obviously didn’t care as much about it as I did- why did I have to go on about it? Why couldn’t I have just let her gone her way and I’d have gone mine. As for Tyler. Well, I’ve spent seventeen years wishing him out of my life and I finally got my wish. Great. Peachy. Swell.

If the decision had been left to me, I’d have opted for being home-schooled for the rest of the year, but my parents are having none of it. They let me stay home for one day but then insist the last two days of term are too important to be missed. Considering they’re on the brink of divorce they sure can agree on a hell of a lot. They seem to think it’s a good idea that Mum stays with us “until things settle down,” for instance. I try the whole “Daddy, don’t you think it’s best that I don’t go to school until things calm down,” with the big eyes and wide smile that usually remind him I’m his daughter, and he gets this stab of guilt for forgetting about raising me, so he agrees to whatever I want. Of course, that’s when Mum is not around to influence him.

“Noel, considering what you’ve been through, I think it’s in your best interests to show us that you’re capable of making mature decisions.”

“This is coming from a woman who’s been living like a hippie in New York,” I bite back.

My mother turns pink and I swear she’s about to start yelling, but she takes a deep breath, which just disappoints me. Noah is hovering in the background, already in uniform with his back pack over his shoulder, and I look to him, by reflex, a silent appeal for support. He pointedly avoids my gaze.

“I’m out. I’ll be home late,” he says, walking past us. God, I’d give up Tyler in a second if Noah would just be my brother again. I don’t know how he could think I would ever choose whatever I had with Tyler over him. As if it was a competition. That’s just messed up. But he’s my blood, my family. And when it comes down to it, he’s the only part of my family I care much about.

“All right sweetie, have a good day!” Mum tries to get in before he is out of the kitchen, but Noah can be a speed demon when he wants to be. I fight an impulse to follow him out of the room. He’s the one who is meant to apologise to me, I’ve made certain to tell myself that over and over again, but I’ve forgotten why that’s so important. My parents look obviously at each other, as if they can tell what I’m thinking.

“OK, I’ll just get dressed and leave,” I say awkwardly. Like hell I’m going to school though. I could think of a million things I’d rather do. Inserting nails into my spine, for instance.

“I’ll drive you,” my father says quickly. He’s far too astute, that man.

“Don’t you trust me?” I say, trying to look a little hurt.

He just purses his lips. “Noel, let me do this for you.”

I shrug. Doesn’t really make a difference. I can walk out as soon as he drives off.

“Oh and honey?” My mother says before I sidle out of the room.

“Mm?”

“Don’t forget about lunch time, all right?”

“Lunch?” I say blankly.

“Didn’t I tell you?” This is so quintessentially my mother that she should bottle up that question and sell it- the way it is said so casually when there is clearly great weight attached to it- it’d be a fire proof way to make girls every where hate their procreators. Plus the sentence makes no sense. How am I mean to know whether she’s told me or not until she tells me? Bloody hell. And to think this woman passed her genetics on to me. “Principal Carter wants to see you in his office. All of us actually. The entire family.”

“Oh.” My stomach has dropped so fast that it may have splattered all over the floor. “Sure. No problem.”

Holy cow. School- possible Emily encounter, Noah encounters, not to mention confronting the whole why-do-you-have-alcohol-in-your-locker-thing. If I survive today, I deserve an Order of Australia. Scratch that. Nobel Peace Prize.

I disappear into my room as fast as I can. Someone (probably my mother) has arranged my uniform on my bed- dry cleaned and pressed by the look of it. I pick it up like it is emitting nuclear radiation, and then throw it onto the flow and stomp all over it, in a vicious attempt to crumple it. I’ll look exactly how I want, mother dear.

While hopping into my stockings and freshly crumpled skirt I dial Jet’s number.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” I chant as I wriggle into my shirt. I haven’t spoken to anyone since I got back, but that doesn’t mean every body won’t already know what happened. Gossip has its own secret way of getting around. Like an STD.

“Hey!” she answers finally, sounding surprised.

“I’m coming to school. Meet me at the gates in about twenty minutes?”

“Uh, sure.”

“I’m serious Jet. I can’t do this alone.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m there. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Why, is it that bad?”

“No, I just haven’t heard from you, and- are you ok?”

I figure I’m going to have to get used to hearing this question a hundred times. I practice the lie. Chin up. Smile. Slow breaths. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

I hang up and throw a couple of things into my school bag before heading into the kitchen. My parents are standing around drinking coffee, determinedly avoiding each other’s eyes. My dad is reading the paper. Upside down.

“Well,” I announce my presence.

Dad gratefully looks up, drains the last of his coffee and smiles hesitantly at me.

Dad flicks off the radio when it turns on with the engine, and he drums his fingers on the steering wheel so hard that I can tell he’s itching to say something he feels too awkward to bring up. After about ten minutes I put him out of his misery.

“Well, spit it out then.”

He just starts laughing, and it makes his face look all the more lined. How did he get so old without me noticing?

“I just want you to know that your mother and I…”

“Yes?”

“We love you very much.”

“Ok.”

“And we’re here for you, no matter what. Even if you don’t always believe it. And I know it hurts right now, but…”

“But what?”

“Maybe you should forgive your mother.”

“What?” I feel like he’s taken a swing at me from the side.

“I know you’re angry and you have every right to be. Both of us have been poor parents this past year. I should have explained. But you know, some things, no matter how much you love them, have to come to an end.” I can tell that now he’s started, he wants to get it all out before he loses the courage. “And I think it’s for the best that our marriage comes to an end. It’s decaying and neither of us is happy, and it’s the best thing for you and Noah not to have to put up with it.”

“So that’s it?” I say, shocked, but I feel something unclench in my stomach- it might be guilt, guilt for feeling relieved that my parental drama is ending.

“Yeah,” he says, smiling a little. “That’s it. Think of it like putting a beloved pet down.”

“Wow, Dad. Comparing your marriage to euthanasia for animals. That’s great.”

He laughs again and turns around to look at me. Feeling awkward, I look out the window. We’re practically at school. I feel the dread creeping over me. I’ve never wanted to avoid something so much in my life. Maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe somebody got pregnant yesterday so everyone’s forgotten all about me.

“You’ll be fine,” Dad says, reaching out to squeeze my hand. “You got my looks and your mother’s courage.”

“Courage?” I say incredulously.

We’re just outside the school gates and I can make out Jet’s skinny silhouette in the distance. I might not have Noah and I might have lost Tyler without even trying, but at least I have Jet. Dad kills the engine of the car. “Absolutely,” he says, all traces of humour disappearing from his face. “I don’t think I’d ever have been brave enough to tell her our marriage was killing me.”

“Dad, that’s really not what a kid wants to hear.”

He ruffles my hair. “I think we’ve all had enough of dodging the truth,” he says, a little too significantly and I roll my eyes, knowing exactly what he’s thinking.

“Dad, I’m not an alcoholic.”

“I know, sweetie, I know,” he assures me, but he sounds relieved all the same. “Go on then. You can do this. You’re smart, and beautiful, and I don’t know how something I did ended up with you, but it’s the best thing I’ve ever done.”

“Aw, come on Dad,” I say, my cheeks burning. “You don’t have to say that.”

“Get to school, you’re late. I’ll see you at lunch.”

I sigh at the switch back to the attempt at authoritative parenting mode, but when I step out of the car, I feel a little braver. Then Jet runs up to me and squashes me in a hug that has us cheek to cheek.

“Are you ok?” she demands to know, her hands on my shoulders, her eyes raking over me for any sign of hysteria. “Are you?”

“Do me a favour and don’t ask me that question again.”

“Ok,” she says, smiling guiltily, then she weaves her arms through mine. “Do we talk about it?”

“No,” I say decidedly.

“Ok. But if you feel the need to talk about it, we should have a code word. Like a safe word.”

“Really Jet, it’s fine.”

“No listen to me,” she says, stopping in her tracks. She looks at me like this is the most important thing in the world. “Sometimes you get that feeling to let it all out but then you get too scared, so you don’t give into the impulse and then you’re like shit, I should have just said it but now the moment’s gone. So when you get that feeling, you just say- ‘tantric sex!’”

“Subtle.”

“I was thinking of Eurotrip. You know in Amsterdam how-?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok, cool.” She looks at me for a moment. “Do you need to use the safe word?”

I can’t help laughing. After Noah’s indifference, and my parents’ embarrassed attempts to prove their worth, her unapologetic care is touching. “Yeah, don’t ask me that either.”

Jet bumps my hip with hers, and I know we’re okay.

My Dad’s reassurance and Jet’s safe word turns out to be the best part of the day. I have only to walk down a corridor for an explosion of whispers to erupt around me. I feel like doing something crazy, like kissing Jet on the lips and yelling at them- “do you want more to bitch about? Do you?” but somehow I manage to reign that lesbian urge in. At least in class I can keep my head down and take notes, and at recess, I escape Jet (whose determination to talk lightly about other things like Dean’s new iPhone is really getting to me). I spend the fifteen minutes in one stall. Of course a girl’s bathroom wouldn’t be a girl’s bathroom without a gaggle of girls gossiping. A whole horde come in and start off with- “Did you see, Noel’s come back to school? I heard her and Tyler like, were having sex the whole day while Tyler’s brother was trying to find them and he’s like, still missing? I mean oh my God, imagine freaking out your family like that, and then your own like, baby brother is trying to find you and you don’t even care?”

I don’t know what’s more degrading- that I’ve become the subject of a conversation of girls who “like” to end everything on an inflexion or that I’m too chicken shit to get out there and tell them off. Because they’re kind of right. What kind of person does that- drives off to another freaking city and scares her family half to death?

Lunch time arrives all too fast. Jet walks me to the office, and when she sees Noah waiting outside as well she yells ‘tantric sex’ (just in case I felt the need to say it and was too afraid to) but I shove her down the corridor while trying to look thankful for her concern at the same time.

The secretary asks us to wait until the Principal is ready so I take a seat next to Noah, wondering what to do. I want to tell him what Dad said in the car, but I’m too afraid he’s going to turn away. But because it feels to awkward not to, I say, “hey.”

He nods. “Hey.”

Thrilling. I feel the tendrils of reconciliation already.

Thankfully the door to Carter’s office opens, relieving me of the dilemma of whether or not to start up a conversation. I’m surprised to see my parents already inside. Carter ushers us in, and explains that he’s just been having a chat to our parents before we arrived. Well, obviously.

The interview doesn’t turn out to be that bad. I don’t even have to defend myself. Carter says it is very obvious that that the radio blaring out music, the incriminating photograph of me, and the disappearance of my text books make it obvious that putting the beer there wasn’t my idea. He says he understands the family is going through a difficult time at the moment but that we can work it out together. I nod and look hopeful because I know that’s what he wants to see. He tells me that he made an announcement in assembly asking the perpetrator to come forward.

And then he asks me something unexpected. He asks if I have any idea who it may be.

This is the moment. This is the moment where I can hand Emily on a golden platter up to be crucified. She’d be losing her head girl badge, for one. Risking suspension, even expulsion if her parents can’t make sufficient (monetary) amends.

I don’t know exactly why, but her name sticks in my throat and I can’t pull it out. It’s not for any noble reason. It’s just that I’m sick of it. The whole year. I want it to be over. I want to graduate and move on and forget.

“No sir, I don’t have any idea.”

Noah looks sharply at me and Principle Carter, scenting a weak point, pounces on it.

“Noah, do you have any idea?”

Noah looks at me- I can tell he’s grinding his teeth but his brain is ticking over. Tears pop into my eyes but I squeeze them out. I’ve cried quite enough over the past few days, thank you.

“No sir, I don’t,” he says.

I tune out much of the rest of the interview, instead holding onto the warm feeling gushing over me- I might have proved to Noah I’m not so bad after all.

Kendall is waiting outside the principle’s office. Noah continues to walk without a backward glance at her or me. My parents hover around but I gesture for my parents to move on and take a seat beside her. I look at her expressionless face and the guilt threatens to prise me apart, right there on the cushioned chair.

“You were right,” I tell her. “I filmed the video, I posted it online, I pretended to be with Tyler, all to get Emily back for… screwing me over.”

“I know.”

“Oh.”

“I also know that, contrary to Emily’s efforts to make you appear like a bigger alcoholic than Leo McGarry,” (I grin at this- who would have thought she was a West Wing fan?) “You’re not. And I know she put all that beer in there.”

“You can’t prove that.”

“No. But I can tell Carter that I helped her.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Innate notions of justice.” She can tell I’m not impressed. “That, and this is a great thing to hold over your head for the rest of your life.” The secretary comes out then to ask Kendall to come in. She looks back at me in a last ditch attempt to convince me, or to forgive her, it feels like. “Look, it was a shitty thing for me to do, but I caught up in the having popular beautiful friends and I shouldn’t have done it. I hate myself for it. I’m sorry.” She stands, straightens her blazer and doesn’t look back. God. Everyone’s a fucking hero except me.

By the end of the day, Emily becomes the first head girl in the history of Chelsea College to receive a permanent demotion from her position, and suspension. There is a confrontation between her and me in the school car park, which gives rise to the wildest rumours- the most violent of which involve me pushing her under a bus and jumping on her dead body (I mean please- that’s a little too Mean Girls)- but as I was the only person there apart from Emily, I can tell you that all she did was pull an old envelope out of her pocket and force it into my hand. “Here, I found this in your locker. You never read it.” Then, after a moment, she takes off her head girl badge and shoves it at me too. “I hope you’re happy now,” she says. And strangely enough, I’m not.

Mainly to give myself something new to think about, I look down at the envelope, trying to place it. Finally it comes back to me- it was our assignment from counselling- her letter to me, explaining why she and I were friends. My hand shaking slightly, I rip the envelope open. Emily’s neat cursive begins-

Noel-

Do you really need me to explain why we were friends? I guess we were just together a lot and it just became one of those things. You made me laugh, feel crazy. Sometimes I feel like I’m too tightly wound for anyone to like me, but you never made me feel like that. I had a good time with you- until I didn’t. You don’t realise it, but you can be a brat. You always have to be the centre of attention, you always have to have people doing what you want. That can be exhausting. And guys are always looking at you like they want you, and you don’t even notice. You don’t even notice when they don’t notice me. So when I started to like Tyler I thought it was safe ground. You hated him, right? There was no way you and him every would have ever hooked up. I should have realised then that you are the only person who gets the most reaction out of him. That’s got to count for something.

I shouldn’t have kissed your brother last Christmas. I didn’t know he liked me. I’m not excusing what I did but if I had known I wouldn’t have done it. But Tyler had his hands all of you, and I thought well- if she can take something of mine, I can take something of hers.

Stupid, I know.

You should have let me explain. We should have talked it out. But you just started attacking me this year after ignoring me all summer. You never gave me a chance to get you to forgive me. You can be harsh like that. And now quite frankly, I don’t know if you’re the type of person I want in my life.

But I’m too blame too. There was a time when I wished you were my sister, and I guess, well, I am sorry. About everything.

I read over the letter several times. Only Emily could make a letter of apology sound genuine and pompous at the same time. But I run my hands over the words “I am sorry” over and over again.

It’s two am and I’m still awake, wondering how I’m going to unravel the string of mistakes I’ve created for myself. Should I try and get Emily’s suspension removed? That’s going to be a permanent blot on her record. What if she can’t get into uni because of all our shenanigans? And Noah…. Emily’s right. I don’t give people a chance to say sorry and I can’t be annoyed at him for not giving me a chance. I don’t even recognise myself anymore. But he’s my twin. That’s got to count for something, right? And Tyler. Christ I can’t even think about him because I don’t know where to begin. I don’t even know what I want from him.

I want him to know that I care about Timmy as much as he does, and even though he hates it, I try to help him because I do care. I don’t want him to go through life trusting no one, letting no one in. I don’t want him to go through life without letting me in.

Finally I get up for a glass of water, but I end up knocking on the door of the guest room where my Mum is sleeping. She groggily sits up and peers through the dark.

“Noel?”

Hearing my name is enough to bring me to tears. Christ, I’m so sick of being a human watering can, but I can’t help it. I cross the room and clamber into her bed, and let her wrap her arms around me, feeling immeasurably relieved. It’s exhausting holding that much hate and anger in.

I bury my head into her shoulder and let the words out. “Mum, what have I done?”

She says nothing but rocks me gently. I breathe in her scent, and I feel like I’m five again and the world rights itself when you’re in your mother’s arms. I even believe her when she tells me it’s going to be okay. Eventually the sobs fade and I untangle myself, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Sorry, Mum.” How many times have I said that? Sorry for spilling the milk, scratching the car, forgetting to pick up your dry cleaning. It doesn’t sound any different now, but it’s important that she understands I am sorry about everything. About everything I’ve become over the past year.

“Don’t apologise sweetie. I’m your mother. I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

I grin at her unconscious echoing of Dad’s words. But I’m not going to let her get off that easy. “Then why’d you leave?”

Her breathing is loud against the dark. I don’t think she’s going to answer, but finally she speaks. “I had to. I felt so useless. So pointless. You and Noah don’t need me anymore. You’re growing into beautiful, intelligent adults and I’ve spent the best part of my life pretending to be one. I’m almost fifty and I’m not doing anything with my life. I don’t ever want that for you. I don’t ever want you to feel the way I felt.”

I nod, even though she can’t see it. It breaks a little part of me to hear that she feels her life, raising us, was worthless, but I’d rather she were happy a million miles away than here and regretting each day. “You should have told me.”

“I was ashamed. I’m sorry. I won’t put you through that again.”

I collapse onto the pillow and say, a little hesitantly. “You don’t have to say sorry. I’m your daughter.” I can’t quite bring myself to the “I love you bit” but I hope she can pick it out anyway. I shut my eyes, feeling the tiredness seep into me. “Tell me about New York.”

“Where can I begin?” she says, sighing. “They really do have those yellow cabs. And people are rather rude. But there’s something electrifying about being in such a big crowd. Great food too. I went regularly to a small place in Queens, serves wonderful Egyptian food…”

I fall asleep with pictures of bright lights and speeding cars and blaring horns, and in the morning I wake up without that depressed feeling hanging over me.

A/N Haha so when you sit down to write exam notes, magic things happen. Like finishing this chapter. You all are champions for putting up with the delay. Thank you. :)

There is probably a chapter (really a chapter and a half but I’ll probably jam it into one) left. And then an epilogue. I’m sorry if the ending is feeling rushed but I really just want to finish this because it’s like extracting a tooth but I just want to prove to myself that I can finish it. Next chapter will have a Noah and Tyler confrontation. Noah can explain himself, he seems to have made himself rather unpopular. Thank you again and I send much loveity love in your direction! (Which is far better than your average run of the mill love).

Oh yeah, and I fully ripped of the “it’s two am and I’m still awake”- well more like adapted it from Anna Nalik’s Breathe (2am). Very beautiful song.