Girl Next Door - Alyssa Brugman [18]
'Declan,' I call after him.
'Shut up, Jenna-Belle. This could be the last time we see each other. Do you know that? I could die tonight and then think how sorry you'll be.'
'Why would I be sorry?' I call after him. 'I just granted your dying wish!'
The screen door slams behind him.
I go inside and stare into the empty fridge for a few minutes.
Bryce Cole wanders down the hallway. 'Fight with your boyfriend?' He grins at me.
I'm supposed to squeal and object, but instead I just curl my lip.
Declan has a crush on me, but it might just be because I'm convenient. He's not very experienced with girls. I tease him about that, but the truth is I don't know much either. I've always gone to girls' schools. It's like the beer thing. We're practising on each other, except I haven't told him, or he would dare me into doing stuff more often. Everybody pretends that girls aren't interested, but I'm probably as curious as Declan is – almost.
There was this boy who had a piano lesson after mine when I first started high school, and I would stand on the doorstep of the piano lady's house and we would flirt with each other. When I climbed in the car my mum would sigh and huff, all How come it took so long? Didn't you see me waiting here? because she's so passive-aggressive, but she was the one who wanted me to play the piano. So I gave piano boy the eye, and waited for him to ask me out, but he never did.
I do wonder about how far I should go with Declan, because I know I'm supposed to wait for that really special guy, but in all the movies there is always the hot, dangerous guy, and then the guy who's loved the girl all along, and he always ends up being the right one. So I could just skip the hot, dangerous guy part and be with Declan, who is literally the boy next door.
But then maybe it's a conspiracy, and all the chick flicks are written by a syndicate of guys like Declan on a mission to get chicks to be with them. Or alternatively, there's a secret syndicate of girls-next-door who want to keep all the hot, dangerous guys to themselves. Who knows?
Mum comes in and puts her house keys on the kitchen bench. She's flicking through the mail. She drops the unopened letters on the table one by one. I recognise the logos in the corners – Telstra, Energy Australia, David Jones, American Express, Sydney Water. She finds one that interests her and runs her thumb under the lip. She tosses it on the counter. It's her driver's licence renewal reminder. Her licence is out of date. She opens the last letter. While she's reading, she presses the button on the answering machine.
Beep. Hi Sue, this is Melanie from accounts receivable . . .
Mum presses fast-forward.
Beep. This is Jason calling about your Visa card statement . . .
Beep. It's Melanie again . . .
The phone cord is all tangled up beside the answering machine. Mum tries to untangle it, but it just gets more knotted, so she slams the handset back down and picks up the last letter.
'Beep. This is Mr Morris from The Finsbury School . . .
Mum's finger hovers over the fast-forward button.
I'd like to talk to you about a complaint we've received from the Australian Jockey Club. While Jenna-Belle is temporarily not a student of this school we would certainly appreciate her not attending gambling venues or bars in The Finsbury School uniform.
Jughandles! You bastard!
The Principal and I consider this a matter of great concern and urgency. My number is . . .
Mum presses fast-forward again and the machine emits a long beep – end of messages. She stares at me.
'They must have the wrong student,' I blurt.
She holds out the piece of paper. I'm not taking it – not this time.
'We've been sent a section fifty-seven two B of the Real Property Act. It says we have to repay our loan in full or vacate the property within thirty days. It's just a piece of paper that came through the post.' She stares at the page. 'I would have thought something like that would be on bright red paper, or that you'd have to sign for it. Something. You