Preloved (19 page)

It made so much sense. I closed Dr Brian’s door and made to sneak down the hall.

Unfortunately, when I turned around, I found Valerie and Florence staring back at me.

“So are you in trouble again?” asked Florence in all seriousness. “What did you do? Steal more phones out of people’s bags?”

Oh.

“Only kidding!” screeched Florence. “Oh, Amy, the look on your face was priceless.”

“You’re so funny, Flo-Flo!” Valerie slapped her friend on the shoulder.

Yup. I really couldn’t wait to graduate.

“We’re both here for
unsolicited communication transfer
, which basically means we’re in trouble for–”

“Gossiping.
Again
.” Valerie and Florence looked at me like two really scary twins that shared the one brain.

“Did you hear how Serena Chew got caught by her mother kissing a boy when she was supposed to be studying?”

“Such a scandal!”

“Or how Angela Loh actually came out to her entire family?”

“Including her grandma!”

I was tempted to squeeze my eyes to keep my torture to a minimum.

“And just two days ago, Mum bumped into crazy old Mrs Lee at the supermarket ranting to herself!”

“Who?” I interrupted.

Valerie and Florence stared at each other for a while.

“Mrs Lee. When I was younger, my mum used to try to scare me from sneaking out by telling me about how a fox stole Mrs Lee’s daughter.”

“What?”

“A fox. Y’know, like a fox spirit that appears in the shape of an attractive member of the opposite sex?”

“I know what that is, Florence. Do you know what happened to Mrs Lee’s daughter?”

“She was never found, but Mrs Lee’s still trying to find her. Apparently, her daughter had this special birthmark on her left shoulder.”

I stumbled. I stumbled even though there was nothing around me and then I almost fell backwards onto the wall.

“She’s as mental as Mrs Lee,” I heard Valerie say behind me as I packed myself out of there.

“Hey, speaking of foxes,” said Florence, “Victor Zhang is definitely a fox.”

Chapter 12

I tore through the shopping square with the last of my energy, frowning at the wishing fountain as I went past.
Yes! I blame you! I never wished for this!
I wanted to scream at it.

Yes you did
, the voice whispered inside my head, and then it laughed. When I listened again, all I could hear was the twinkling sound of water, nothing more.

“Mum! Mum!” I called as I came to an abrupt stop, almost crashing into the vintage bicycle.

“What’s the commotion, Amy?” Mum stuck her head out the door, a china cat in each hand.

“I’m going to the ball.”

Mum put down the pair of china cats.

“And I would like you to help me get ready.”

Mum stood in front of me.

“I need to go and find Logan! I knew that I was right all along. I bumped into Valerie and Florence and they told me that–”

“Calm down, Amy.” Mum pressed her hands against my arms. It had the effect of making me freeze on the spot.

“That’s better,” said Mum, as if she already understood. “Now let me get your dress.”

Mum walked up to the window and pulled down the zipper on the white princess dress.

“Really?” I said as Mum laid it across my arms.

“No, just kidding,” said Mum. “Of course really. Hurry up then, chop chop!”

I ran into the shop’s changing room and grappled awkwardly with my school uniform. I pulled the scrunchie out of my hair and combed it with my fingers. I felt sticky and sweaty and generally unattractive. But the dress – it was perfect.

The crisscrossed fabric at the centre held my stomach in and it draped dreamily all the way to the ground. The strapless bodice even made me look like I had boobs. Yay!

It was so beautiful I could just stand there all day and stare at it, trying to fade out the awkward human coathanger wearing it.

“Mum?” I asked, peering through the curtain of the changing room.

“Come out. Let’s take a look then.”

Feeling like a bit of a joke, I stepped out, my fingers itching to tuck myself in there, push myself up here.

“Don’t hunch. Suck your stomach in, shoulders back and chin up.” Mum instructed, suddenly acting like she ran a finishing school that turned rough bogan chicks like me into fine young ladies. “Now hold it!”

I did as I was told as Mum slipped out to the back, coming back with something that looked suspiciously like a shoebox.

“Finally!” said Mum, catching my pose as she stood behind me in the mirror. “The ugly duckling has changed into a swan.”

Ugly
duckling? I kinda just broke out in a rash of low self-esteem.

“Here, Amy, I want you to have these. I was saving them for a special occasion, like your future wedding to a rich, influential doctor. But tonight – tonight is special too.”

Mum bent down and placed a pair of shoes before me. They were a pair of beautiful white pumps in absolutely pristine condition.

“I wore these to my own ball. Yes, in the Eighties,” said Mum.

“Awww, Mum!” I slipped them on. They were a little snug, but I knew they would be super comfy once the leather warmed up. I was tearing up. Who knew I would cry more this week than I probably did as a baby?

“As you can see, the shoes are pristine, ’cos I came home from my ball at a proper time.
Before
midnight. And I want you to do the same thing. Amy – are you listening?”

“Uh. Yeah. I mean yes.”

If I wasn’t mistaken, Mum’s eyes weren’t usually that misty.

“Amy, come sit down so I can look at you.”

I followed Mum over to the counter, trying to balance on the heels after a lifetime of wearing Cons, thongs and ballet flats. Mum plucked a bone and silver comb from her collection while I perched on the slippery vinyl stool.

I sat there like a little girl while Mum brushed out my sweaty, tangled hair and made it all smooth and glossy, so the blue-black colour I inherited from her shone through.

“I wish I had some nice jewellery to give you.” She tried to smile.

“That’s okay,” I said and I meant it. I knew in my heart I could look at all her trays of beautiful rings and earrings dripping with gems, things I once longed for as a girl, and they would never compare to the crappy fake locket I once had.

“I wish I could give you the bracelets your father’s mother gave me when we got married. But he’s taken them back.”

“Yeah, just like he’s taken everything else,” I mumbled unhappily into my lap.

“I’m sure he’ll want to give them to a new wife one day.”

“Jewellery should only be given once,” I snapped.

An uneasy silence descended. It wasn’t the right thing to say.

“I’m sorry.” I found myself apologising to Mum for the first time. “I’m sorry for always giving you such a hard time and I’m sorry you lost your bracelets.”

“Actually,” Mum replied slowly. “I agree with you. Jewellery should be given once. Then passed on down forever.”

Mum put the comb away and I stood up. I was in the world’s most beautiful dress and my mother’s heirloom shoes. She had brushed my hair with love. I couldn’t care less that I didn’t have any accessories.

“How do I look?” I asked Mum.

If there was one thing Chinese mum also didn’t do, it was to ever tell their daughters that they looked nice or that they didn’t look fat. Maybe in their minds, if they started handing out too many compliments, we would stop trying so hard and start eating lard by the tub full.

“You look … presentable,” said Mum, finally. She seemed proud of herself. She wrapped my fingers in hers, but it was more like she was examining my nails than trying to hold my hand.

“Just remember, Amy: don’t let people call you by your name at night or else a ghost might hear it and use it to call to you,” said Mum, smiling so that the one dimple showed in her cheek. She was so pleased for me, pride brimming in her eyes. I thought that maybe we should hug, but I didn’t know how to go about it. I waved Mum goodbye as I raced out the door.

I stopped. I remembered what Logan told me once, in his eloquent words: “Oh c’mon! Just be normal and hug, why don’t you? You don’t need a hideous-looking-eternally-unsatisfied-ghost to tell you that.”

I raced back in.

I did something I thought I’d never do in a million years: I kissed Mum on the cheek. Then I ran for it.

I had a hideous-looking-eternally-unsatisfied-ghost to find.

I stood at the corner, waiting for the bus to arrive. Forget the glass coach; at this rate
I
was going to turn into a pumpkin. I thought about ringing Nancy or Rebecca. Then the words Mum spoke when she sat on the bed with me last night rung out in my head.

It’s something you have to make the decision to do yourself
.

“Bugger!” I said, and I ran back towards the store.

Keeping my head down, so that Mum wouldn’t see me, I grabbed hold of the handlebars of the vintage display bike and started wheeling it away.

Have you ever tried riding a bike with a dress on? Let alone a ball dress. I had to hitch the skirt all the way above my knees and then sort of sit on the fabric to prevent it getting caught in the spokes.

I started pedalling like hell. I was off, heading towards the ghostly grey concrete majesty of the concert hall.

Whizzing down the city streets and rounding the corners, I felt ecstatic. I wished I had a flying bicycle, like in
E.T
.

A block away, I could see a strange billowing glow, like the raised, square block of the concert hall had descended into hell. Had I already died?

It was only when I got closer that I saw it was only smoke – smoke-machine smoke. The whole venue was lit up like some ghastly lightshow by the strobes coming through the long glass windows.

At the bottom of the stairs leading up to the hall, I leaned my bike against the bannister. I picked some of the flowers from the basket and threaded them through my hair. They were white carnations. Flowers of death.

Smoke was spilling down like some strange waterfall, and it curled around my ankles in a weird, creepy way as I walked up the stairs.

The party was in full swing when I reached the top.

I waved self-consciously to a few students who were leaning over the balcony and staring at the tropical garden below. More students sat bunched up under the outdoor umbrellas that, for some reason, had holes in the middle so palm trees could grow through them from planters below. The students sipped on drinks that glowed in the dark.

Girls and boys that had OD’d on fluoro-coloured clothing loomed in and out of my vision.

That’s if I could tell the girls from the boys.

That’s if I could tell who anyone was.

I knew all their names, or at least what they looked like, but tonight, they could have all been total strangers.

I pushed through the glass door and through the bodies. A photographer grabbed me by the arm and put me against the backdrop of blue skies and clouds. The flashes put stars in my eyes. The disco ball spinning on the roof threw sequins onto my skin and I looked at it, thinking it was lovely.

“Nancy!” I shouted, and I waved furiously to her. She was on the dance floor doing a robot dance in her gold sequined mini dress. With a lime-suited Michael Limawan, who waved back to me.

Nancy robot-walked over.

“You’re such a crap dancer,” I said to her.

“Why, thank you,” replied Nancy. By habit, her hand went to push her glasses up, but tonight she wasn’t wearing glasses.

“Glad you made it. You do know the theme is Eighties and not debutante, right?”

I wanted to explain to Nancy that this was just like Princess Diana’s Cannes Film Festival dress from 1987, and not everything should be reduced to a cheesy stereotype, but the music was too loud for anything other than short fits of screaming.

“Having a good time?”

“I totally get it now! There’s a time and place for hardline politics. Then there’s a time for just totally letting go. Whooo!”

“So have you made it with Victor Zhang?”

“Changed my mind! I’m not bothered by him,” shouted Nancy, looking both hot and bothered.

“What happened to Victor?”

“Valerie and Florence got to him before I did.”

“Who did he chose?”

“He didn’t.” Nancy pointed over the dancing heads. I could see Victor in the corner, with Valerie on one arm and Florence on the other. They both wore identical pink puffball dresses.

“Oh.”

“He’s getting two for the price of one. How could I possibly compete with that?” Nancy shrugged.

The song died down and a new one started.

“Oh, I love this song,” said Nancy. “Gotta get back. I suggest you do the same. Dance till you die!”

Michael waved for me to join in, I shook my head, and he and Nancy started dancing as awkwardly as two people trying to dance together possibly could.

I stood uncomfortably on the dance floor. I could see Rebecca sitting like a goddess, on an ornate couch against a wall of flocked paper. In her cute deep-purple dress with the oversized rosette at the waist. Her hair was now peach and curled like a huge halo around her face. A whole … harem? Bevy?
Large group
of boys surrounded her as she laughed and smacked a knee or two. Maybe Nancy didn’t want to hear Rebecca’s philosophical mumbo jumbo, but a lot of others sure did.