Silver Tides (Silver Tides Series) (15 page)

“I feel like I’m in princess boot camp.” I joked, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Being a princess is easy compared to being popular in high school.” Tamara expertly tossed her hair over her shoulder.

I laughed.

Tamara raised a manicured eyebrow. “Seriously, the popularity gods have smiled on you. Appreciate it.”

“I’ll try,” I replied as I reached my locker. “Maybe we should just stay for the last two periods...”

Tamara shrugged. “It’s your choice.”

“You’re the expert on popularity,” I joked, but Tamara didn’t see popularity as a joking matter. The seriousness with which she addressed the issue made me focus too.

“I think you’ve done enough today,” Tamara replied, weighing the days events. “Going home will only make you seem more mysterious.”

I laughed and winced as my lip started bleeding again. “Let’s go home then.”

Tamara and I climbed into her old Ford Meteor, a relic from the 80s. I wrestled the seat belt, like a crocodile hunter meeting her match, till Tamara tweaked it.

"I’ve never been in your car before," I commented, while sending Daniel a quick text to let him know I was going home.

“There’s no pleasure in riding home in the Conkout Queen here.” Tamara shook her head in disgust.

"
See you after school
," Daniel texted in return. He was the only person I knew whom texted whole words.

Tamara sighed. "It's a piece of crap, but it gets me to where I need to be; Miranda won't sit in it—she's too good."

"Thanks for taking me home," I said, leaning my head back and closing my eyes.

"I never thought I'd see the day you became popular," Tamara mused. "You're always so quiet... I've been dying to see Miranda get crushed since my first week at school. You know when I arrived, I nearly took her place as queen bee."

"I remember," I replied. Tamara had arrived in our second year of high school from Sydney. She was a big-city girl in a plus-sized country town, and everyone loved her. Jaimie thought she was the epitome of style and beauty; they became fast friends immediately. I couldn't remember how she had become one of Miranda's cronies with such a promising start.

"You know it was Miranda that spread those rumors; she’ll never admit it, but I'm sure it was," Tamara complained, checking her reflection as we stopped at the lights.

"What rumors?" I asked, keeping my face still to quell the throbbing.

"That Tammy and I were making out," Tamara replied sheepishly.

"I'd totally make out with Tammy," I said without thinking. "She's smoking hot."

Tamara laughed. "I can see why Jaimie likes you so much; you’re totally sweet."

"Seriously, you don't think Tammy's hot?" I asked, moving my head to look at her.

The blush that swept across Tamara's cheeks answered my question.

"I wish more people were like you and Jaimie," she sighed regretfully.

"Jaimie's great," I agreed. "Nicest person I know."

"You're OK too," Tamara said grudgingly.

"Thanks," I laughed. "Don't sound too excited."

"I'll be more excited when all this stuff with Miranda is cleared up," she answered diplomatically.

"I didn't mean to overthrow Miranda," I defended myself.

"I know, Mya, but it's been brewing since the day Miranda saw the photo of Daniel in the paper," Tamara countered. "She's obsessed with him. There was always going to be a show down, I just assumed it would end with you moving schools."

"I guess even Miranda Stevens can't get everything she wants," I thought out loud.

Tamara pulled into my driveway and carried my bag to the front door.

"Do you want to come in?" I asked.

Tamara nodded scrutinizing the door, with its iron lion-head knocker. She observed the hall with its mismatched rugs with an artist’s eye. She ran her fingers across the couches, which Mum had recently covered in gypsy-style blankets. Tamara exhaled, her posture relaxing as she decided my house was safe, there was no one to impress.

I dropped my bag on the living room floor, which Dad hated because he said it was a safety hazard, and led Tamara to the kitchen. I poured her a drink, while she pulled a bag of frozen peas out of the freezer for my face.

Tamara examined the family photos lining the dining room hutch as we walked through to the living room.

"You guys look happy," Tamara said, thoughtfully.

"I'm pretty lucky," I agreed. "We all get along."

“My parents divorced the year we moved here," Tamara said more to herself than me. "I guess with Tammy and Julia's parents being divorced it didn't seem as big a deal to Miranda as it was to me. I'm glad she didn't use that for gossip at the time; I would have shaved her head as she slept if she had."

I giggled at the visual of Miranda's reaction to a shaved head. "For the sake of preventing a mean girl war, I'm glad she never did."

"My parents got back together like a year later, so I got to be a bridesmaid at my own parents’ wedding. That’s pretty dysfunctional. You're the only person I know with a functional family," Tamara observed.

"We're plenty dysfunctional; my dad adopted me, and I found out in school today." I sighed, exasperated. "We just embrace the madness and make it work for us."

Tamara smiled, the first genuine smile I'd ever seen on her face. "Despite that, your family works?"

"Yeah, we're not functional, but we function," I agreed.

"A functioning family sounds pretty great," Tamara confided. "My dad brought his mistress to uncle Beau's fiftieth in Sydney and introduced her to Mum as his girlfriend. That’s why we moved, before the divorce and reconciliation."

"Ouch," I said, shocked.

"Where is Dawson's Creek?" Tamara read off a DVD cover.

"You've never heard of Dawson's Creek?" I asked, incredulous.

"The cover says it aired in 1998; were we even born then?" Tamara teased, sending a lame vibe.

"You'll love it," I assured her, grabbing the first season.

"Are these like your mum's DVDs?" Tamara asked, dubious.

I ignored her jesting. "Dawson's Creek is the classic tale of falling in love with the girl next door. In a simpler time before vampires and werewolves, when being a teenager was angsty enough without having a supernatural handicap to overcome."

"You're a nut," Tamara said, skeptical of the DVD choice.

"Let's pop some corn and watch the first episode," I offered, ignoring the insult. "If you don't like it, we'll change it."

We sunk into the old couch, a bowl of popcorn between us. I pressed the gummy play button hard, and made sure not to sing the theme song.

"Is that the former Mrs. Tom Cruise?" Tamara asked as a young Katie Holmes played through the intro.

Fifteen minutes into the first episode Tamara was immersed. When it finished she nonchalantly suggested we watch another episode; she was addicted.

A firm knock at the door pulled me from the teen drama.

I got the door since Tamara was transfixed by the Dawson, Joey, and Jen drama unfolding on-screen.

Daniel leaned against the door like an Olympus god, his blue eyes sparkling and his golden tan shining through where his tie was askew. My heart thumped in my chest at his presence; he was beautiful. His face clouded with anger the minute he saw my bruises.

"What happened?" he asked, the words cracking with anger.

"Miranda!" Tamara called from the living room, obviously not as transfixed as I thought.

His hand traced my swollen eye and cracked lip. "When did she do this?"

"In the principal's office." I shrugged, catching his hand and giving it a squeeze.

"Our mothers are planning on destroying Miranda; when they see this they might just push her house off the cliff," he said angrily, "and I'll help them!"

I heard the episode finish, and Tamara joined us in the hall. "I'll let you love birds have a moment. Can I borrow the first season?"

"Sure," I agreed, grabbing the box of DVDs.

"I'll pick you up in the morning," Tamara told me.

"I take Mya to school," Daniel informed her annoyed.

"So, you'll do her makeup in the morning to cover the shiner?" Tamara replied sarcastically.

"Fine," he agreed, exasperated.

Tamara left without fanfare so Daniel and I could face our mothers. As much as I wanted to know who my biological father was, I was scared that Miranda was right; that for whatever reason he hated me. I knew it was illogical, but being partially adopted had opened a well of insecurity in my chest, every logical thought and feeling was being sucked into the vortex.  I hoped that the truth was less awful than any of the scenarios my mind was conjuring, but deep down I knew that whatever the truth was, it would change my world.

adopted

Daniel drove down the highway till the suburbs turned into open farmland and then morphed back into suburbs again. His silver BMW convertible floated along the road as he clutched my hand. George had handed down the Silver Streak as a reliable car for Daniel to use till he decided on what car he wanted. It was luxurious, the seat warmers were a real treat as the colder months approached. Daniel’s clenched jaw and unceasing circular motions on my hand betrayed how frustrated he was at Miranda.

“You’re going to wear a circle on my hand,” I joked, as we ascended a tiny incline.

“I’m sorry.” He smiled, embarrassed. “I just wish I’d gone to the principal’s office with you.”

“What difference would that have made?” I asked, watching the breathtaking view of the turquoise sea appear. The sea seemed happy and tranquil as the sun shone down on it. I figured lying on the golden Australian sand would make anyone happy on a sunny day.

The Victorian coast was devastatingly beautiful but notoriously cold, maybe not compared to the English coast, but most definitely colder than the Northern states of Australia. Not to mention the fickle weather that had inspired
Crowded House
to pen the song,
Four Seasons In One Day
.
As winter approached the beauty increased while the temperature decreased.

“She wouldn’t have attacked you in front of me.” Daniel sighed.

I grunted noncommittally, starting to feel tired after all the emotion of the day.

Daniel pulled the Silver Streak into the shiny flagstone driveway, which reminded me of a chessboard without the pieces. The rows of windows reflected the afternoon sun, almost blinding us. The house was essentially windows, with white trimmings to keep them in place. Daniel parked the car in the garage, and we walked through the laundry room, which was bigger than my bedroom, and found our mums hunkered down over a laptop.

“Ladies,” Daniel greeted, kissing his mum on the cheek.

“Mya!” Mum screamed, running over to me and grabbing my chin. “What happened?”

“Miranda.” I winced, as Mum gingerly turned my face from side to side. “She went ballistic in the principal’s office.”

Sophia made her way to the freezer and pulled out a bag of frozen mixed vegetables to press against my cheek.

"We're going to destroy Miranda," Mum fumed.

All I wanted was for the whole thing to blow over; going to court and having to testify seemed like a lot of hard work; it would only make Miranda meaner to me at school. If there was a way that we could resolve everything amicably, that was the option I wanted to take.

"What happened to turn the other cheek?" I asked Mum, who had spent my childhood encouraging me to take the high road.

"It gave you two bruised cheeks," Daniel laughed, moving around the kitchen to gather snacks. He pulled a bottle of juice from the huge silver fridge and poured two glasses.

"Ha, ha," I said sarcastically, accepting the drink Daniel offered. I took a sip, before continuing, "I'm just saying, this is all getting out of hand; maybe we should take a breath before we destroy Mr. Stevens’ livelihood."

Feeling the shift in tension, Sophia asked Daniel to move one of the couches in the living room. They were trying to be subtle, but it was obvious they were giving Mum and I time alone.

"What if Miranda does the same thing to someone else?" Mum argued passionately. We’d spent so much time in the Esso’s kitchen that it didn’t even seem weird that we were having a family argument in someone else’s house. The kitchen offered beachfront and pool views, it was usually a tranquil place, but it felt like I was in a fry pan under Mum’s anger.

"She won't," I replied, persuasively. "You should have seen her dad today. He was crazy mad; he'll lock everything up, and she'll be too scared to ever break in."

"This is crazy talk, Mya," Mum said angrily. Mum was a borderline hippie with strong Christian overtones; she was the “give peace a chance” chick. Her sudden philosophy shift was freaking me out.

"Her parents are getting divorced." I tried the empathy track. "She just broke up with her boyfriend, and today I dethroned her as the most popular girl at school. All I'm saying is that what's going on in her life is bad enough."

"Some teen angst doesn't justify her sharing our family secrets and beating you up," Mum disagreed. She shook her head; a few stray curls adding motion to the fierce look in her eyes.

"Are you angry at Miranda or yourself?" I asked, quietly. Mum only overreacted like this when she felt guilty. "Miranda beat me up and that's totally wrong, but there wouldn't have been a secret for her to oust if you'd already told me."

Mum looked shattered at my accusation, I wished that I could take it back.

"She did the wrong thing, Mya; we can't be party to that. The whole world can do the wrong thing, but we can't!” Mum insisted.

The way she set her jaw and the fire in her eyes told me that she was on a crusade; there was nothing I could say to change her mind. Over the years she had chosen many different social issues to represent, and when she got ‘
that look
’ in her eyes, there was nothing anyone could say to change her mind.

"Fine," I agreed, wanting to rub my face in frustration, but it was too sore. "Let's settle out of court and keep the madness to a minimum," I said, irritated.

“You’ll see this is the right thing to do,” Mum said giving me a hug.

It didn’t feel like the right thing to do. Miranda was going to be out for blood tomorrow, and the longer Mum and Sophia chased the issue, the longer Miranda would want to kill me. I’d assumed that the purpose of calling the lawyers was to get the papers off the Internet and to give Miranda’s dad a scare; I didn’t realize that it would be to get Mr. Steven’s fired. It seemed like overkill for someone to lose their job because their child had done something thoughtless.

I sat at the white marble bench, while Mum moved the laptop from the glass dining table so she could sit beside me. I held the defrosting vegetables to my face, feeling the squishy contents pooling in the corner and threatening to spill lukewarm goop on me.

Mum began to show me something, but my mind was too tired to register anything. I was relieved when Daniel and Sophia returned, drawing attention away from Mum’s crusade.

"Have a biscuit," Sophia offered, sailing into the kitchen in her designer jeans and t-shirt. She pulled out a large Tupperware container and offered me a biscuit that looked more like petrified fish eggs than biscuits. "I made them myself."

I took one, doing my best to act excited rather than scared. I bit into the biscuit and almost broke a tooth on its rock-hard surface. The fragrance of burnt sugar matched the charcoal flavor.

"Try it with a glass of milk." Mum encouraged politely, as she took a biscuit.

"Are these rock-and-smoke-flavoured cookies, Mum? Because I think you nailed it,"
Daniel joked, tapping the biscuit on the bench comically.

Mum and I both looked up and laughed in spite of our diplomatic actions moments earlier. Sophia was unfazed by Daniel’s declaration.

"I thought they were a bit dark." Sophia sighed, ruffling Daniel's hair. "Considering it's the first time I've baked in over two years, you could have just eaten it with milk."

"I love you too much to lie to you, Ma," he replied, jovially.

She laughed, giving him a warm hug, but his words struck me deeply. My family had always been so honest, or so I'd thought, but they'd kept my birth father a secret, and I felt betrayed.

"Let's go for a walk, Mum," I suggested. I knew that I was being abrupt, but I needed to know the truth and Mum was more concerned with reading the lawyer’s jargon than explaining who my father was. I walked toward the roller door that opened onto the white stone deck that led to the pool and beach.

“We’ll start on some dinner,” Sophia suggested.

“By that I hope you mean you’re going to order something,” Daniel joked.

“Maybe you can help me,” Sophia shot back.

They continued their banter as Mum followed me quietly. I felt like a principal taking a child to my office for discipline; I hated the feeling of being in more control than my parent. She was supposed to be my mother, she was supposed to have all the answers and give them in due course, but instead she’d withheld what I really needed to know.

Mum’s concentrated silence was a sure sign that she was running through what to say to me. Mum and I both struggled to communicate our feelings clearly when we were emotional. She was as bad at comebacks as I was; we both communicated best when we prepared for the conversation. I felt behind, because Mum had had seventeen years to think about telling me who my biological father was; I’d had less than 12 hours to face the conversation we needed to have.

The sand was cold as we stepped off the white paved tiles. I buried my toes into the soft sand allowing it to lend comfort after such a harrowing day. I secretly hated winter for stealing the warmth from the sand. My favorite part of visiting the beach was the sand being so hot that I had to run all the way into the water to keep my toes from being burnt.

Mum and I walked in silence, staring out at the subdued waves rolling onto the slick sand.

I grappled with how to start the conversation. There was no teen advice magazine with instructions on how to discover that your dad's not your dad.

Fortunately, Mum spoke first. "I'm sorry."

"For my whole life being a lie, or for the way I found out?" I asked, sounding more accusatory than I'd intended.

"There's no need to be melodramatic," she chided. "It's an insignificant detail from your life that we didn't get around to telling you."

"I don't know, Mum," I said, irritated by her nonchalance. "I figure the identity of one’s father is pretty major."

"That's not what I meant," she said, matching my frustration.

"Who's my father?" I asked, stopping and looking at Mum.

"His name is Leopold Aegeus; he lives out west," Mum replied, struggling with details. "He's in the defense forces and hasn't been back for a long time."

"Like seventeen years?" I asked sarcastically. Mum was being evasive and it set me on edge. I hugged myself to keep it together. The conversation was hard enough without the look on Mum’s face, suggesting she was trying to decipher a puzzle, rather than inform me of my paternity.

"Yes." Mum ignored the sarcasm. "He's been away a long time."

"So, what happened? I was a one-night stand, an accident, what?" I asked, feeling a sensation of falling in
 the pit of my stomach. It hurt more than I was willing to admit that my boring life was being rewritten. I'd always wished that something exciting would happen, like a half brother showing up on our doorstep. The reality of having an absent biological father was significantly less glamorous than I'd imagined; I felt rejected. It made me question what else Mum was keeping from me.

"He was my husband, not in the legal sense," Mum said when my head snapped up. "We were married under nature’s laws."

"What does that even mean?” I asked, confounded. The wind was clawing at my jeans and hoodie, making me feel like the battle inside me was raging around me too.

“Life is rarely black and white,” Mum responded. “There are so many things that we don’t know or understand...”

I was waiting for Mum to say something that made sense, but she just kept looking at me imploring me to understanding. So I tried to piece the timeline together. “Then you married ... Paul, Dad, in the legal sense? So, what, you're a bigamist now?" I asked, reeling.

"It's complicated," Mum defended, wringing her hands. "I could follow Leo anywhere before you were born, but you were a hard birth, with special needs, and…”

I’d heard anecdotally about how difficult my early years had been, but I’d never thought that it would cause Mum to leave her old life to accommodate me. It was self-centered, but I’d never really thought about Mum having a life before me, that realization was like being slapped. "So you married Dad, er, Paul because we could stay in one place?" I tried to piece what Mum was saying together, but it seemed like a thousand piece white puzzle.