The Secret Life Of Maeve Lee Kwong Part 3

'Done,' said Maeve.

5.

Three Musketeers Steph was sullen as they sat at the bus stop together.

'You won't miss much,' said Maeve. 'It will be boring without you.'

'I feel like I'm missing heaps,' said Steph, flicking at the pages of her school diary. 'Bunka doesn't want me around the way she used to. It's like three's a crowd.'

'That's crazy, Steph. I know she doesn't feel that way. It's only really good when all three of us are together.'

'Don't start that triple-treat stuff again. You know things have changed. Sometimes I think I should cross over to Balmain High for Year 9. It would be a lot easier for my folks. The scholars.h.i.+p only covers fees and there are always extras.'

'What? Leave St Phil's! You can't!' Maeve felt her cheeks flush. Sometimes she worried it was all her fault that they were at St Philomena's and not the local high school. Maeve's grandparents had insisted that she attend St Philomena's. When Steph and Bianca discovered that Maeve had no choice they both made sure she wouldn't be alone. Steph talked her parents into letting her sit the scholars.h.i.+p exam so the three of them could stay together. It would have been terrible to be split up after sharing two years of kindergarten and seven years of primary school.

'St Phil's is great, but what I really want to do in the end is be an actor. I don't need to be at St Phil's for that.'

'We have a great drama department. Ms Donahue is a legend, and you like McCabe too, don't you? I mean, he's the one who calls us the Three Musketeers. I've been thinking, maybe that's a better name for us than triple treat.'

'Are you trying to not talk about this party?'

Maeve took Steph's face in her hands and forced her to look at her squarely. 'Steph, you know what Bunka's like. This time it's me, next time it's you. We do stuff without her too. We're equal but different, that's all.'

'Okay, okay,' said Steph, her sulky expression giving way to a smile. 'I get it. Bunka's the beauty, I'm the brain, and you're the muscle in this outfit?'

Maeve hugged her and laughed. 'Just like the Three Musketeers! I looked them up on the Internet. I think you're like Aramis. He's the stylish thinker. And Bunka's like Porthos he's the flirt.'

'So what does that leave you? You're not really muscly enough to be the strongman.'

'Well, the third one is called Athos but he's not really like me. I mean, he has this secret past.'

'Maybe that is you!'

'Yeah, right. It's so secret not even I know about it!'

'Do I look fat in this?' asked Bianca, turning around so Maeve could check her out from behind.

'You don't look fat in anything, Bunka. You know that,' said Maeve.

'I wish we were older. I'm so over being thirteen.'

'Thirteen is okay. But fourteen will be better, I suppose.'

'No, fifteen,' said Bianca, sighing. 'Life will really start happening when we're fifteen.'

'Actually, Bunka, our life is happening right now. Like this party that we're meant to be at.'

They'd been at Jess's for nearly an hour but Bianca had spent most of that time in the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub looking stressed-out. Maeve told her the story of Queen Maeve and how that had helped talk her mother around, but Bianca seemed distracted by the mirror and had trouble following it.

'Bunka, can we please go back to the party now?' asked Maeve.

'I can't. I can't go out until I've decided who I like best, Josh or Omar.'

'Omar? Since when did Omar get on the radar?'

'Since Sat.u.r.day. And then he said "Hi" to me when he arrived so now I am really torn.'

'No, you are really twisted. I'm going back out to the party and you can either sit here or come out with me.'

Most of the party was happening in the back yard where coloured lights were strung up along the fence. Maeve stood by the food table and picked at a plate of chips. Apart from Bianca, she didn't really know anyone. They were all in Years 9 and 10 and only half of them were from St Philomena's. She couldn't believe she'd fought so hard to get permission to come.

Maeve looked at her watch. It was only 9.30. She still had half an hour to get through before they'd get picked up. Sue had insisted on coming in with them and talking to Jessica's mum at the beginning of the party. It had been so embarra.s.sing. No one else had even arrived. Somehow, the tables covered in pink tablecloths and the pink fruit punch with strawberries floating in it had rea.s.sured Sue and she'd left looking cheerful. Maeve hoped she wouldn't come back inside when she came to pick them up. Things were definitely starting to look seedy. Food was spilt all over the back lawn and there was a growing pile of discarded tinnies down near the barbecue. A crowd of older kids were sitting on lounges right down the back of the yard, the tips of their cigarettes bright in the darkness. In the living room that opened onto the back porch, a dozen girls were dancing to the Black Eyed Peas with Josh Whitton in the middle. There was definitely a shortage of boys at the party.

Maeve filled a plastic cup with the punch, but after a mouthful she discreetly spat it out behind a tree.

'Are you okay?'

Maeve wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. 'Oh hi, Omar. Yeah, I'm fine. But the punch is disgusting. It was okay before, but it tastes weird now.'

'It's spiked. I saw Joe Turner pour a bottle of vodka into it.'

'My mother will flip if she finds out there's been drinking here.'

'Jessica's mum doesn't look too stoked about it either,' he said, gesturing with his head towards the back porch. A girl that Maeve didn't recognise was throwing up in a bucket while Jessica's mum, with an expression like thunder, held the girl's long hair out of the way.

'Yuk,' said Maeve.

'Yeah, gross,' added Bianca, stepping between Maeve and Omar.

'Hey, why don't you two come hang with us?' suggested Omar. 'You can get a great view across Glebe from the upstairs balcony.'

'We'd love to,' said Bianca, crooking her finger for Maeve to follow. Maeve groaned inwardly.

Upstairs, on the balcony overlooking the street, a small group sat chatting, their heads close together. Maeve hung over the railing and stared out into the night. When her mother's silvery Corolla turned into the street she felt a rush of relief.

'C'mon, Bunka. My mum is waiting for us downstairs.'

Bianca turned to Omar and touched him lightly on the arm.

'See ya round, Omar. Gotta go.'

But Omar got up and caught her as she turned to leave. Without speaking he pulled Bianca to him and kissed her. Maeve saw Bianca stiffen but she didn't pull back. Maeve didn't know where to look.

As they walked down the stairs together, Maeve whispered to Bianca, 'What was it like?'

'Kind of gross. I hate my braces. I was so worried about cutting his lips I couldn't relax. And his tongue! He tried to stick it in my mouth but it was all cold and gross and tasted like cigarettes. I think I'll have to take up smoking if I'm going to ever get used to kissing him.'

'Bianca!'

'Only kidding. Anyway, maybe I like Josh better.'

Maeve laughed. 'You are incredible. We should call you Bee instead of Bunka, buzzing from one flower to the next.'

'Queen Bee and Queen Maeve, I like it!'

6.

Tunnel vision Maeve tugged at her uniform, trying to make the zip lie straight.

'I really need a new uniform, Mum. This is so too small for me.'

Sue was trying to clean Ned's face, wiping the remnants of his breakfast away and b.u.t.toning up a new s.h.i.+rt. 'The school year is nearly over. You only have another six weeks. You're not going to grow much in that short a time, sweetheart. Better to wait until February, then you'll get the most wear out of the new one.'

'But it's pinching in all the wrong places,' complained Maeve. 'Ned gets a new s.h.i.+rt, which he doesn't even need, and I have to wait months for a new uniform.'

Suddenly, she looked up and saw how tired and unhappy her mother looked.

'Mum? Are you okay?'

'Ned's starting creche today. I finally found him a place. Which is great. But even with an extra couple of days a week, I can't see myself earning enough to justify the cost. And then there's this Hong Kong holiday idea.'

'We can't not go on the trip, Mum. You promised. You promised we'd go this summer holiday. Even Steph has at least been to New Zealand. I've never been anywhere, ever.'

'Maybe we should go somewhere inside Australia.'

'You just mean somewhere cheaper, don't you?'

'I don't want to have to ask your grandparents to help us out. Andy would hate it.'

'Andy! What's he got to do with it, anyway? He never wants us to go anywhere without him, that's his problem. Besides, we don't need anyone's help. Your designs are so cool. Even my friends think they're cool. You'll sell heaps before Christmas.'

'Thanks for the vote of confidence,' said Sue.

'And next year, I'll get a job. When I'm fourteen, I'll get a job in Macca's at Darling Harbour. Jessica works there. She's earned enough to go on the overseas tour next year.'

'It's okay, Maeve. You don't have to get a job the minute you're old enough. We're not that hard up.' She picked Ned up and kissed his cheek. 'I'll give you a lift, if you like.'

Maeve wasn't used to being early for school. She jumped out of the car and ran straight through the cast-iron gate, and then realised the bell wouldn't ring for another twenty minutes. By the time she turned around to wave to Ned, the Corolla was out of sight. She flung her backpack onto the gra.s.s beneath a jacaranda tree and lay down beside it. The purple blossoms looked hazy against the summery blue morning sky. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Steph sitting near the old convent verandah, doing her homework. Maeve sat up and waved, calling her over.

'You're never here before nine. Why are you so early?' she asked, hugging Steph.

'Homework. I didn't get that book report finished. But I worked all day Sunday and I've got eighty bucks to prove it!'

'Doing what?' asked Maeve, sitting up abruptly.

'You know that florist's near the bus stop, Crazy Daisies? They've been really busy doing all these functions and they needed someone to help out. They're going to give me work every weekend, Sat.u.r.day and Sunday, from now on.'

'But what about dance? You can't not come to dance! We've been going together since we were three. Remember when we were fluffy ducks at that first concert? If you miss cla.s.ses, Louise might not let you dance with us.'

'I'll come to the Tuesday-night cla.s.s and I'll make it some of the Sat.u.r.days,' said Steph, avoiding meeting Maeve's shocked expression. 'Anyway, you and Bianca will be fine. I mean, you two are the party animals.'

'Don't start that again. I told you that party would be c.r.a.p and it was. Bianca hooked up with Omar while I stood around bored out of my brain.'

Stephanie laughed. 'That's what you get being a bodyguard.'

Maeve was glad it was music cla.s.s first up until she realised she'd left her flute in her mum's car. Chloe was playing clarinet at the front of the cla.s.sroom, running through a long, squeaky piece of jazz. Maeve slumped lower in her seat between Steph and Bianca. 'I am so going to cop it,' she muttered. 'I don't have my flute.'

'McCabe won't give you a detention,' said Bianca.

'Yeah, but he'll make me feel really guilty. He's good at that. I'd rather get shouted at.'

'Musketeers,' said McCabe, turning around, 'I know it's Monday and you feel a compelling need to debrief on your weekends, but the rest of us are trying to listen to Chloe.'

'See what I mean?' whispered Maeve, as soon as the teacher turned away.

Steph and Bianca shook their heads, warning Maeve to be quiet, but it was too late.

'Maeve!' said McCabe, his voice sharp. 'You're next.'

'I forgot my flute,' said Maeve.

McCabe rolled his eyes and ran one hand through his thick, silvery hair. 'You can borrow one of the school's,' he said.

Maeve suddenly felt an irresistible urge to annoy him. 'Can Bianca and Steph come with me?'

'No!' he shouted, pointing towards the music storeroom door. 'Go, now, this instant!'

At recess, Maeve, Steph and Bianca took up their position on the bench under the jacaranda. 'You shouldn't wind up McCabe,' said Steph. 'He's cool. I mean, he's not like a regular teacher. I heard he used to be a famous musician or something and he only got into teaching to sort of discover new talent.'

'You're hopeful,' said Maeve, laughing.

'I heard he used to be a priest,' added Bianca. 'And that he chucked it in and ran off with one of his paris.h.i.+oners.'