It’s fine, I tell myself. No one remembers.
Trudging up to the school gates, my head down, I try to remain calm, even as my heart pounds and breakfast gurgles in my stomach. It’s cold today, but sweat gathers in my armpits, making me itch. Already my blouse feels damp and my skirt chafes at the waistline—the classic hand-me-down, size-too-big uniform clings to me in all the wrong places. Discreetly, I readjust myself, but it doesn’t help much.
At the time, it seemed like a good idea. I’m hardly the most sought-after attendee on the year elevens’ guest list, so a real-life invitation to a real-life party was hard to turn down. Looking back, through all the dancing and drinking and talking and touching, I begin to wish I’d made another call.
They won’t remember. I approach my locker and enter the combination. Surely, they won’t remember.
‘Maggie!’
Flinching, my eyes pop at the sight of Arisa. With an angular, tiny form, she looks more like a fairy princess than an eleventh grader, her long blonde hair gathered into a high ponytail and her makeup just subtle enough to pass under the teachers’ radar. She grins, showing off years of orthodontic work.
‘I’m so glad I caught up to you!’ she says. ‘How was the rest of your weekend?’
My face twitches toward a frown—Arisa cares about my weekend?—but I force it into a smile. ‘It was good, thanks. How was yours?’
‘Pretty boring, after the party of course. I had such a good time.’ Something changes in her expression—a flash of knowing on her pretty blue eyes. ‘You did too, didn’t you?’
For a moment, I hesitate. Is she talking about what I think she’s talking about?
Arisa laughs. ‘Relax, it’s all totally fine. I just think it was super cool the way you and Bella, you know …’
Heat floods my face, making me blush in all the worst spots—red-hot ears, splotchy pink neck—nothing cute about it. I avert my gaze. ‘Uh, yeah.’
‘You could’ve told us you were into girls, Maggie! This is a no hate zone.’
I blink, like I’m waiting for her to say more. This is a no hate zone, but … or This is a no hate zone, as long as it never happens again.
A couple seconds pass, before I realise she’s finished talking. Slowly, my shoulders relax. I find myself smiling for real.
‘Thank you,’ I tell her. ‘I really appreciate that.’
Arisa stays with me until the first bell rings for homeroom, nattering on about the party—who else got with who, Ben’s parents giving him an earful about mud tracks in the house, looking after the girls who downed too many Vodka Cruisers, and whatever else she can remember. It’s strange—the two of us have been in the same year group, at the same school, for as long as I can remember, but this is the longest conversation we’ve ever shared. Every time Arisa asks me a question—where did you get that dress from Saturday? How long have you been a lesbian? Are you and Bella dating now?—I just about stop in my tracks. At some point in my high school career, I must have convinced myself that no one of Arisa’s status would ever give a damn about what I have to say. Her enthusiasm is so surreal, I half expect a camera crew to roll out and loudly declare I’ve been punk’d.
But there are no camera crews. No last-minute jokes or jabs. Arisa drops me off outside my homeroom door, makes me promise we’ll catch up at lunch, and prances away.
Still reeling, I enter the classroom and take my seat. Mr Howard waits for everyone else to arrive before calling attendance, but there’s nothing else on the agenda today, so for the next fifteen minutes we’re just expected to get ready for the first period. As usual, I take this opportunity to pull out my headphones and finish off some homework, but before I can make a start I am interrupted.
‘Hey.’
I look up to see Toby and Jacob—two of our year’s most notorious troublemakers. As far as I know, they’re well-liked enough, even if it’s only for giving out free smokes at parties.
‘How’s it going, Maggie?’ asks Jacob.
My name sounds strange in his mouth. It’s probably the first time I’ve heard him say it.
Removing the headphones from my ears, I respond slowly. ‘It’s … good, I guess.’
‘We’re ducking out in first period for a puff,’ Toby tells me. ‘You keen?’
‘We saw you at Ben’s party,’ Jacob adds. ‘You seem cool.’
‘Oh.’ This time, when I blush, I feel it on my cheeks. I tilt my head, pretending to consider the offer, before responding with all the nonchalance I can muster, ‘Thanks a lot, but I think I’m alright.’
They shrug, like my rejection is of little consequence, muttering something about seeing me around before returning to their desks. It takes me a while to remember to put my headphones back in, but there’s no hope of getting any homework done now. The shock of the morning is still settling in: Arisa, Toby, Jacob—arguably three of the coolest students in my year—are interested in me? Getting to school today was a nightmare. I thought I’d be outed as a dyke, or called a slut, or maybe a poser, but now? It seems hooking up with Bella at my first big high school party has somehow made me cool.
I make it through my morning classes uninterrupted, though I can’t help but notice the sideways glances directed my way. People I’ve never spoken to suddenly take note of my existence. I feel the rush of rising hairs on the back of my neck each time their eyes linger on me too long. It’s hot—too hot, and I start to sweat again—but I like the way my heart thumps in my ears and my blood sings in my skin.
Arisa is fast to find me at lunch. She drags me out to the courtyard and drops me in front of her friends, Cara and Hayley, who, for some reason, light up at my presence. Occasionally struggling to find the right words, they poke into my affairs with all the sensitivity they can muster, like they’re itching to crack me open and see what’s inside.
‘I love how you’re so open about it,’ Cara says. ‘It’s actually kind of inspiring, because I’ve always felt a little bi-curious and stuff, but you’re the real deal.’
‘Yeah,’ Hayley agrees. ‘We saw how you were with Bella—you knew what you wanted and you went for it. Like a boss.’
‘I wish I were more like that,’ Cara sighs. ‘I won’t make out with anyone unless they initiate it, know what I mean? It’s lame.’
Suddenly, Arisa gasps. ‘I almost forgot—Georgia’s throwing a party this Friday night. Maggie, you should come with us!’
Utterly consumed by the heat of the moment—all the attention practically pummelling me—I can’t help but laugh. ‘Really?’
‘Of course! I’ll make sure Bella’s invited right now.’
There is a beat of silence. I dare to ask, ‘Uh … why’s that?’
Cara, Hayley and Arisa all give me the same, single-arched eyebrow expression, making it apparent that I’ve asked a stupid question. Even so, with a small, sweet smile, Hayley answers.
‘Well, so you guys can hook up. Like last time.’
‘Oh.’ I frown. ‘I mean, we were both a little drunk, I’m not sure if we’ll—’
‘Come on, Maggie.’ Arisa’s voice has resumed a familiar severity—it’s the cold, detached tone I’ve heard before during group projects and other obligatory interactions. ‘What’s the fun otherwise?’
For a moment, I just sit there, watching as my classmates’ bubbly, eager expressions give way to an icy hardness. I hold my breath, fumbling to figure out what I’ve done wrong. Somewhere, somehow, I must have misstepped, and now these three pretty, popular girls are glaring at me as if they don’t know how a gawky, random outsider dropped into their inner circle.
Finally, in a quiet voice I hope doesn’t crack, I say, ‘Sure. Good idea.’
The fog lifts. The ice melts. The girls smile.
‘Awesome,’ Arisa cheers. ‘Can’t wait.’
Yeah. My uniform itches and I try to readjust. Awesome.
Sophie Breeze is currently studying a Master of Creative Writing, Editing and Publishing at the University of Melbourne. She is very interested in contemporary feminist theory as the basis for her creative work.