Mine. S.A Partridge
jerk at the sound of applause and stand up quickly. I need air. Sky. Anything. I need to get off this tiny chair. “I’m going to the bathroom.”
Across the room, Kayla looks up from her flute and our eyes meet again. When she’s not smiling, she just looks sad. I tear my gaze away and rush outside before Jules can gather her bag.
I shouldn’t be here. I should be at home writing music. Or out with the crew. I decide to let Jules down via text message and I pull out my phone. I’m a coward. The sooner she realises that, the better. I can’t give her what she wants.
I’m busy typing when I hear voices. I look around the corner and see a group of girls in black dresses drinking water out of plastic bottles. Blue-haired Girl is among them.
“Well done, Kayla. You didn’t screw up. That’s a first, right?” It’s Jules’ friend Lucinda. Inside the hall, a clarinet echoes moodily.
Blue-haired Girl looks defiant. “Wow, you were nice for what, ten minutes? That must be a new record.” Her voice has a certain brusqueness to it. Almost tomboyish.
They all laugh. It’s a catty, ugly sound.
“I wasn’t being nice. I was being professional so that you didn’t fall apart and ruin our piece. It’s not fair that I have to carry your weight during my own recital. I’m going to ask for another partner next time.”
Blue-haired Girl stalks off. In my direction. I back up against the wall, trying to make myself invisible.
Blue-haired Girl wipes a tear from her eyes with the back of her hand, and I can’t resist. Without knowing what I’m doing or even why, I step out just as she passes.
“You okay?”
She looks up in fright, then bristles. “What do you care?”
I can’t help but smile, remembering the middle finger from the other night.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise I’d made a joke,” she says crossly, folding her arms across her chest. Her feistiness and mock-bravado is adorable.
“I’m sorry. It’s just … ah … never mind. You shouldn’t take crap from those girls. You’re better than them.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “Wow. Okay. That’s a first – I’m better than the future Miss South Africa finalists. You should tell them that.”
“I would if I had any interest in talking to them. You played really well. I liked it.”
She looks around uncertainly. “You’re not from this school, are you?”
“No. Does it matter?”
I’m smiling. She’s not. In fact, her expression is blank.
“Yeah, because if you went to this school, you probably wouldn’t be talking to me.” And with those words she disappears down the dark path.
Kayla
RONDEBOSCH, TUESDAY
I hate my life. I hate everything. School. Music. Ma. I want to go to another school, where no one knows my name.
Craig is there when I get home. He looks me up and down in my black dress like he’s never seen a girl before. “You been on a hot date or something?” he asks, grinning.
“No. I had a music recital.”
He would have known that if he was my boyfriend. He would have been there supporting me, telling me how amazing I was. I erase the image of Ponytail Boy out my head. He doesn’t know me. And he has a girlfriend – Julia Montgomery, of all people. One of the Queen Bitches. Those girls would kill me if they knew I was giving Julia’s boyfriend the eye. And he’s clearly a cheater.
I untwist the straps of my gladiator sandals.
Craig sits down on the bed and runs his hand over my leg. “You look pretty,” he says.
My head drops. I know Craig – the compliments always come first. I hate myself for wanting this.
“Go lock the door,” I say.
While Craig nuzzles into my neck, I shut my eyes and imagine Sebastian’s cello piece that he’s spent weeks practising for, with Leo on bassoon. I’ve always loved the cello. And I replay Lucinda’s words in my head. Replay the conversation in Sebastian’s bedroom. Replay the word “pretty”. Pretty, pretty, pretty.
Something shifts inside me. It strikes me that I’m addicted to this feeling of disappointment. It’s a warped sense of satisfaction that comes when people reveal their true selves. I should know better than to try so hard to fit in. The knowledge simmers inside me. Next time, I won’t be fooled so easily.
“Kayla?” Lorenda calls through the door.
I push Craig away. “Yes, Lorenda?”
“It’s late. Please say goodbye to your friend.”
I turn to Craig. “You heard her. Go home.”
He tries to act cool while he puts on his shoes, and shoots me with pistol fingers before leaving.
I exhale. That was very nearly another mistake.
I put on some music and lie back on my bed. I can’t keep doing this.
For the first time in a long while, I don’t reach for my diary. I don’t need to remind myself that I’m a huge fool.
Finlay
NEWLANDS, TUESDAY
I walk in a daze behind the pack of giggling, chattering girls as we approach the house. Jules has her hand in mine, and she’s swinging it back and forth like we’re little kids.
“Thanks for coming,” she says, her teeth shining in the dark. “I didn’t know who else to ask.”
Giggle. Giggle. Whisper.
I can’t get Blue-haired Girl out of my head. She was so upset when I complimented her. She acted just like I do whenever someone compliments me. I whack it back, retreat into my little cave of self-loathing. “I really dug that first duo,” I say.
“Lucinda, you mean?” says Jules.
“Yeah, and the other one. The flautist.”
She frowns. “Kayla? Lucinda says she’s terrible. Everyone in the Music class hates her – most of the school too. She’s such a weirdo.”
“Really?”
Jules takes this as an invitation to dive in. “Yeah, she’s a total freakshow. She doesn’t have any friends, and she sleeps with everyone’s boyfriends. Such a slut.”
“Who’re you talking about?” asks one of the girls behind us.
“Kayla,” Jules replies without turning around.
“Oh yeah, she’s a total slut.”
“Told you,” says Jules with a smirk.
“Really? You wouldn’t think so by looking at her. She looked pretty innocent to me.”
“Ha ha. No. She doesn’t fit in with anyone. Lucinda says she brings down the whole vibe in Music. But the principal doesn’t want to kick her out because there are no other flutists.”
“Flautists.”
“She might be a Satanist too. One of the girls in my class is in the Christian Society, and she told me Kayla said some pretty messed up things at one of their meetings.” Jules beams at me. “Aren’t you glad I’m normal?”
I give her hand a squeeze. But really, I’m not so sure. Ever since I started hanging with the crew, I keep wondering when they’re going to realise the truth about me – that I’m a faker from a bad family. Everyone thinks I’m cool because of Dark Father.