Dirty Little Secrets

Chapter 5: Dear Fashion Deficient

Dear DLS, I got a scholarship to a rich school, but they all have way cooler clothes than me. What can I do? My parents don’t have thousands of dollars to spend like they do on clothes!

Love, Desperate 4 Armani.

Dear Desperate,

Forget about it. Either you do away with the scholarship – and go to a school where your friends are. Or you find some other fashion deficient individuals such as yourself at school, are there any other scholar’s going? Also, don’t judge them like you think they’ll judge you – just because they’re rich, doesn’t mean they’re materialistic. You don’t want to turn out to be the Jenny of your highschool. If you’re really stressing – get a job! Don’t expect your parents to pay for everything.

Love, DLS.

“Why did you sit next to him?” Lorraine wanted to know. She was sitting in a plastic blow-up chair, much like the one Shelly peed on when I was little, sipping a cup of tea, pinkie pointing outwards. I could hear squealing. “I told you not to sit next to him.”

“No, Michael did.” I said. Where was that squealing coming from, anyway? I’m sure I could hear squealing, a very high pitched squeal. “What is that squealing noise, can you hear it, Lorraine?”

“No.” she said shaking her head, and giving Michael a look when he opened his mouth. Michael, affronted, mouthed what? at her. I wonder what that was about. “I don’t hear anything. Why did you sit next to him, Holly? He’s a jock, he’s popular – you’re going to get hurt.”

I was going to get hurt. Seriously. Going to get hurt meant that, unlike all those other girls, I didn’t know what I was doing, what I was getting myself into here. But I did. I’ve seen that Duke isn’t perfect, no one is perfect – look at his company! But despite his lack of taste for lackeys, he was pretty close to it. I knew he had a girlfriend, but it wasn’t like I had fallen for him.

But I will – and when that happens, he’ll for me too. Not like those other girls, those other girls don’t know him and believe me, I know him. I’ve looked into those deep blue eyes of his, much darker than mine, and I’ve seen him. It’s just too bad that Michael and Lorraine couldn’t see what I see.

“Oh, come on, it’s not like I’m in love with him.” I said. Not that I’d tell them that. It’s like an author, telling her peers that what she wishes to do best is writing – but then they’re all, ‘hey, that doesn’t pay much, does it?’. When to you, it’s not the money that even matters, but you’ll get it soon enough – you just have to keep writing, and writing well, until it pays off – or in this case, until you’ve got the guy reeled in so far no one can tell you you’re not going to catch him. “I only just met him.”

“This is coming from a girl who told me she was going to marry that blonde from home alone, when she watched the movie for the first time.” Lorraine said sceptically. I glared at her for saying it in front of Michael, who actually looked too absorbed in his computer – but whom could be listening in. “What? You totally did. And then you made me watch the video ten times over again – and then, you borrowed Ritchie Rich and My Girl – Oh God, wasn’t that a nightmare.”

I may have gone a little hysterical when he died from a bee sting – but how was I to know he was going to die in the movie? I had worn black in mourning for over a week – a very long time, considering I had only one black dress. I was a kid; I didn’t believe good people died: except for grandma, but she always gave me horrible lollies.

“Lorraine.” I said. “Shut up. What is that squealing? I know you can hear it, just listen – hey, is that coming from the kitchen?”

“It’s nothing.” Lorraine said quickly. “Hey, look, I was thinking – do you want me to take you shopping tonight? I mean, you haven’t gone shopping in Melbourne yet. You’re totally missing out, girl.”

“Sure.” I stood up. I swear, I could still hear it. What was it? What was dad doing in the kitchen; did he have the TV on? Probably. It was probably a mystery; I liked mystery, especially stuff with lots of screaming and explosions. “Hey dad, what are you –”

It was a lobster, sitting in the middle of the frying pan, squealing at me. I wanted to take my eyes away from it, but I couldn’t. I was frozen on the spot, watching that poor lobster writhe around in the spitting oil.

I was overcome with emotion. The poor lobster, who had done nothing to us, was suffering a most painful death – couldn’t dad see it? Couldn’t dad, atleast, kill it in a less painful way?

I had to do it. I had to wait for the right moment before I could do it, and when that moment came, while dad reached down into the cupboards for some flour – I took action, and rushed for the lobster, scooping it into my hands and running upstairs.

Where I was now filling up a bath, and dropping it, as it snapped its claws (affectionately, I liked to describe it) at me, into the cool water.

And then I threw up in the sink basin.

Everyone was looking at me as they ate their veggie burgers.

“I wanted lobster!” Timothy burst out and dropped his plate on the floor. It didn’t have quite the effect he wanted it to, being that my stepmother was too smart for him and gave him a plastic one. But he still got food all over the floor.

Paula, angry at her son, glared at him, “You pick that up, kid. Or you’ll get no dessert.”

Zoey looks up at me, looking very sorry for her brother’s actions (have I mentioned Zoey, my little sister? She’s adorable and three years of age! Quite an achievement, as far as kids go, most I find annoying. She’s the one I’m naming my kid after) and says. “I don’t like lobster anyway.”

I send her an appreciative look, and she smiles and goes “Teehee” and takes a bite out of her veggie burger. How cute is that? Teehee! Really, I haven’t seen that out of anyone since – well, I played Harvest Moon!

Paula, looking all proud that atleast one of her kids turned out normal. I mean, it has to be upsetting, having Lorraine – who, looking at her, you might think hey, she looks nice. I want to be her friend. If I didn’t know her, and didn’t know her world revolved around screaming out parts of Romeo and Juliet, at times – and that she was, being an actress and all (what she blamed it on) extremely suspicious.

One time when we were little she played Goldilocks, and man, you should have been there. I said ‘Macbeth’ as a joke and she punched me out – I am serious, for someone whose arms were so little, and who was quite small-framed, she could really dish it out when she wanted to.

So if I didn’t know her – I’d want to be her friend. She was kind of cool, that way.

And Timothy? He is just all intelligence and no social skills to go with it. I think he’d make a good comedian, actually. Because they all seem to be able to tell majorly embarrassing stories about themselves to a room full of strangers and laugh about it – Timothy would be good at that, last night, he told me he had a dream about the lead powerpuff girl, Blossom.

They ended up saving the world and ended up getting married and having 27 children (all Blossom’s fault, her stomach kept exploding, and then her butt fell off. Because, that, is The Way Babies Are Born).

I figured it would be pretty good material for an upcoming comedian.

“I don’t want dessert! I WANT LOBSTER!” he said, and beats his fists on the table. Paula opens her mouth to scold him, but the phone starts to ring, so she sends him a look. You know, the Look? The one that says, I can’t tell you off right now but when I do...and then it leaves you, thinking about all the kinds of awful things your mum will do to you. Lock you in the cupboard. Take your allowance. Shave your head while you’re sleeping. Send you to an orphanage.

Timothy just eats the rest of his veggie burger quietly, and then everyone starts talking about their day. Or atleast, Lorraine starts talking about my day. Her version of my day.

“Dad, Holly was flirting it up with It boy today. You know the one whose brother died, along with that other kid’s, Corey, or something?” Lorraine says after swallowing. She didn’t even look shameful about it – blurting it out to the entire table, in front of her three year old sister—

And Timothy, who, forgetting he was supposed to be in trouble, started chanting, “Holly likes a boy! Holly likes a boy! Holly likes a BOY!” Coming from a boy who had a crush on a powerpuff girl, really! I glared at him, and he stuck his tongue out at me and continued chanting – all this in front of MICHAEL! Who of course, having witnessed everything today and all, knew about it anyway. But it wasn’t like I wanted her reminding him. He was smirking, too. I think he looks like he’s smirking. Is he smirking?

“I do not like him.” I said. He was definitely smirking; I could see it even as he downed the rest of his cordial. He was totally smirking. “That would be immoral. He has a girlfriend.”

“You like that kid whose brother died? Terrible accident, they were driving together – that Corey kid’s brother, and the boy your liking’s brother.” My dad said, tapping a finger to his chin. He seemed to be in deep thought. “You like this boy? This It boy? Is he hip? Happening?” dad nudged me and winked.

Oh God. How did Lorraine live with this every day? And with Michael, too? Michael was watching this happening right now! It was humiliating, though it did cause me to wonder, if Michael annoyed me so much, with all his stupid opinions, and his dislike of Duke – why did I even care what he thought? I didn’t! I couldn’t! I won’t.

“Dad, shut up. I do not like him.” I said, starting to turn red.

But I did.

Luckily, Paula came in, carrying the phone with this smile on her face. “It’s Serena, sweetheart.”

Paula always liked Serena, ever since Serena came over to visit here with me one holiday, and she said she liked Paula’s stir fry that she cooked that day. No one, ever, liked Paula’s stir fry’s. So she didn’t make them all that often – but Serena liked them. Therefore, in Paula’s eyes, Serena could do no wrong.

Glad for the opportunity to leave the table, I swiped the phone up and was about to say ‘hi’ when Michael went, “Another one of your lesbian friends?”

“Who’s that?” Serena said, sounding excited. She didn’t even care about the lesbian remark. I, however, frowned at him. I’d like to say – I frowned at him good. But he just went on smirking.

“Are you of the opinion that all my friends are gay, Michael?” I said, outraged. How could he say something like that, in front of all my family, who were – coincidentally – not even paying him nor I any attention, the commercial break was over and they were back to watching The Simpson’s.

“If the shoe fits.” He said. I couldn’t believe it. I looked to Lorraine, in desperation, but she was too busy texting to pay any attention.

“Who is that?!” Serena said again, more urgently. “Can I speak to him?”

“No.” I said.

“Why not?” she whined, sounding incredibly disappointed. Serena was always very disappointed when anyone said no to her. She wasn’t really used to it, being an only child. She got what she wanted, when she wanted. It was very confusing when people said no to her, and this is why boys flocked to her doorstep. Because she had the highlights and the killer legs her daddy paid her personal trainer for – she also bossed them around, which kind of turned them on.

I was kind of an only child – but Mum didn’t treat me like one, and liked to pretend she had all these other people she had to look after, like Grandma. Who can so get up and get the newspaper off the porch if she wants to – she’s in better shape than me!

“Because I said so.” I said, knowing I sounded totally lame. But it wasn’t like I could say what I really wanted to, and would of if Michael wasn’t still sitting there, flicking peas around on his plate. I would have said, “Because he just called you a lesbian, Serena. Who’d want to talk to someone like that?”

But I couldn’t say it, because it was mean. My parents would kill me for saying it. They loved Michael just as much as they loved Serena, like a son. He was always going around, fixing stuff when they wrecked it – like when Mum spilt coffee all over the toaster the other morning, and it started steaming.

Right on cue Serena went, like a little kid, “Because you said so why?”

“I would tell you. But then I’d have to kill you.” I said and then she started gushing to herself.

She started going, much like Timothy (I’m sure it’s her fault he’s like this, last time she came over, Timothy developed a major crush on her so now it’s all Blossom blah blah blah...annnnd, guess what? Serena says she might come for Christmas! On his Microsoft Word diary entries, which I have read only because he left the page open, and I couldn’t help myself), “Holly likes a boy! Holly likes a boy! How long has it been, Holly?”

“I do not.” I said, telling the truth this time. I didn’t like Michael. Who would like Michael, apart from my stepsister, I mean? He was so...annoying?

Paula came up again, and said all cheerfully, “Hey, there’s this Shelly girl at the door for you, Hols! You sure are popular!”

I dropped the phone.

“Um, okay? Can you tell her not now?” I said, picking up the phone.

“I let her in; she’s taking her shoes off at the doorway.” Paula said, frowning to herself. “Should I not have let her in? Do you not like this girl, Holly?”

“Why’d you drop the phone?” Serena wanted to know. “Did you trip over the phone cord, again?”

The phone didn’t have a cord, but I pretended it did anyway, “Um, yeah. I got to go.”

“WAIT! Call me back! I want details!”

“Are you finished in the toilet?” Timothy wanted to know, and I wanted to know why he had to use the bathroom I was in. I think he was just trying to be difficult. “I need to go pee!”

“Move it.” I heard a very familiar voice say sweetly, but managed to sound commanding at the same time. I could hear shuffles – Timothy, realising he wasn’t going to get into this bathroom anytime soon, ran off downstairs. The door opened and there stood Shelly, a hand on her hip. I wondered if she was going to stamp, and pull my hair – like she used to do when I took a bite out of her chicken sandwich.

She didn’t, she just sighed and shook her head, smiling at me. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too?” I said, not knowing what else to say. It’s hard to think of what to say when your best friend suddenly kisses you, especially if she’s a girl and you’re not well, gay. She looked at me all sarcastically, and I could tell she was getting kind of mad at me. I’d know. I mean, I’m an expert at getting mad – but it wasn’t like I knew what to say to her. “Do you want to watch a movie, or something?”

“How about Ritchie Rich?” she said with a laugh.

“Okay,” I said, and this time, I smiled too.

We were in the theatre room, watching it, when I felt the urge to say something – to apologise, I mean, that’s what she came here for right? My conscious was telling me so, anyway. She was just sitting there, popping popcorn in her mouth, when I blurted out, “I’m sorry. I was eleven, I was stupid – and you were my best friend, it just really, really confused me and maddened me that my first kiss was given to me from a girl. I wasn’t the most sensitive kid, and well, I’m still not.”

“Okay.” She said, with a shrug. Just okay, just like that – and I was forgiven. “But I’m not gay, just so you know.”

“Bisexual then.” I said.

She shook her head. “Just confused.”

“Okay.” I said, with a shrug too. “Why didn’t you tell me you were moving?”

She sniffed. “Because, when I found out about it I didn’t want you treating me any different and I felt sad, and depressed and just awful...you, being nice to me? That would just make me feel even worse. I was going to tell you, that day, but I was so embarrassed. I couldn’t face you.”

“I missed you.” I said, this time meaning it.

“Missed you too.” She smiled.

A thought came to me, even back as a chubby kid – Shelly really knew how to dress, which is probably why every boy in our grade had a crush on her, rather than Wendy, who was the school sweetheart. She loved nothing more than to shop – even all those horrid games she played, were no match to how much she loved to shop. She could really sew, too.

It would be just the thing, to our nice little Made For TV type reunion.

“Hey Shelly?” she looked up. “Want to come shopping with me and Lorraine?”

“Are you kidding me?” she said, and grabbed her shoulder bag. “Let’s go!”

Sorry for taking so long! Gotta skidaddle! BYE!