3She has heels on that are killing her and a watch that keeps pinching her wrist but her smile is full and certain. Like that of every other day of her life.
Her daughter's friend Elena, or Eliza or something is charming some prospects over in a corner of the patio. Doesn't quite have the looks of Lycra, but the charm is impeccable.
"Ouch! Mum, watch your watch!" I mumble as her watch pinches my back as she shoves me across some kind of deck thing. I'm smiling my gorgeous smile, saying my gorgeous sayings and generally being gorgeous.
God, I hate these things. I can't even go over and talk to Enid.
I spot a hottie over in the corner and leave mum. I walk purposefully towards the bar and as he looks up twitch my head so my hair shimmers down my back.
I learnt that from Pandora.
As I order a Sprite from the bar. I hear a soft;
"Here, let me pay for that," The guy is leaning over me with a fiver in his manicured hand.
"No thank you," I say smoothly. He runs his hand down the small of my back and rests it on my bare shoulder. Omigod, he's a sleaze. Oops, serious mistake.
"I insist," he has light brown hair that is gelled up. Gross. A guy that does that is automatically crossed off my list. I love it when a guy's hair falls over his eyes. His is standing straight up. But he has really white and straight teeth.
"I said no thank you," I say and slip the exact amount on the counter. I notice Enid talking to a striking guy, she loves pretending she's not gay. It's weird, but she loves flirting with guys. She never leads them on though.
I make my way back to my mother, glad that I got out of that one. She introduces me to some architect and he asks;
"With your life, what do you plan on doing?"
What the hell?
"I am currently thinking of taking up rock climbing and scaling Mt Yuksud."
He stares at me and mum stands on my foot.
That sleazy guy is walking steadily towards my mother.
She notices him and starts to prepare her smile.
"Hello," he says, deepening his voice. "My name is Joshua Kent. My father owns the sculpture over there." He points to a sculpture of a giant apple.
"Joclyn Clements," my mother states and holds out her hand. I can't believe this, but he bends down and kisses it! Gross.
"And this is my daughter Lycra," Smooch on the hand for me.
"Would you perhaps like to accompany me on the dance floor?"
No. No. No. No.
"She would love to. Isn't that right Lycra?" Voice like ice, thanks Mum.
"O-of course,"
I'm glided away to the dance floor and he puts his hands around my waist. My arms are forced upwards towards his neck.
I don't want this guy to touch me.
We waltz around for a while. All these other people have moved onto the dance place. I can't see Enid.
He's moving his chin into the crook of my neck. No! I want to scream.
"Please excuse me," I say and try to move, but either he's deaf, 'lost in the music' or just won't let go of me!
We have drifted over near this giant pot plant thing, next to a fire exit. He finally removes his chin from my neck. Than God.
He looks into my eyes. His hands move to my front. His lips crash into mine. I struggle. I squirm. I beat my hands against is shoulder.
"Stop it you dickhead!" I retch in his ear.
"Feisty, I like it," His hands are moving all over my dress.
I kick him hard in the shin with my shoe.
"Bitch."
I grab my bag.
I run.
Through the fire exit, down the concrete stairs, through the grate and into the car park. I can see my mum's Alfa near the side. I bolt to it. Fumbling in my bag for my phone I dial my mum in record time.
"Roslyn Clements" comes the annoyed answer.
"Mum I'm catching a cab home, now."
I hear her say to someone else;
"Business, please excuse me,"
Wait.
"Lycra! What do you mean? Where are you?"
"Josh is a sleaze."
"I see."
"And I'm at your car. I'm catching a cab.
"I see,"
"Good bye."
I quickly call a cab and walk around to the front of the allotment. I have no idea where I am. I'm lonely. I'm scared. What a creep. I can still feel those spidery hands on me. I shudder.
A cab pulls up, and I get in gratefully.
The ride home is a blur of city lights.
As I get into my apartment I realise nobody is home. Again.
I fall into bed.
Ages later I wake up.
Muffled voices. Rising and lowering. Shrill and deep. Mum and Dad. I tiptoe to the door and walk up the corridor to the edge so I can just hear what's being said in the kitchen.
"She was brittle and embarrassing,"
"Honey, you know she didn't want to go,"
"Most girls would kill to met a young man like that,"
"Did he hurt her?"
"Garath! She ran out on him."
"Yes, but is she okay?"
"I don't know, she caught a cab home,"
"Well, she's asleep now, but …"
"Calling me when I was talking to Peter Holland, he owns …"
"Yes, I know who he is dear,"
"Embarrassing me like that,"
I go back to my room. Tears are falling steadily down my face. Running onto my collar. My nose is running and my eyes are sticking together.
But I'm remembering when I was much younger. About twelve. And I'm at somebody's birthday party. Ann-Lousie Carey's birthday party. I didn't even like her much. But her mum was editor of Vogue or something so Mum said I should go. I was wearing a new dress. Mum had spent a lot of money on this dress.
The party was outside and a boy was climbing on a deckchair. He jumped right at me. I moved out of the way. He landed in the giant icing cake, table collapse and my new dress was ruined. Cake stains and a rip near the hem.
I remember that later that night, I heard Mum talking to Dad about the ruined dress. About how I had been getting in the way. I had embarrassed her.
Never once has my mother wondered how I have been. If I have been hurt. Sad. Angry. Never once.
"Lycra, get up, you're late again!"
My head swims as I stumble out of sleep. My head is grinding and my face is stiff. I see the time and shoot out of bed. I pull on my uniform and hurtle into the kitchen.
I grab a bowl of oats.
My mum is rifling through HOME magazine.
I add milk to the oats and a sprinkle of sugar.
"Lycra that is incredibly fattening."
"I don't mind"
"You should,"
"Well I don't,"
"Don't you take that tone with me!"
"Don't criticise my breakfast then,"
"Do you want to have a lift to school or not?"
"You weren't even going to give me one anyway."
Liam waltzes in.
He runs his hand through my hair.
"Morning Bubs,"
"Morning,"
He stretches, his uniform already creased. His tie undone and his hair ruffled.
"You wanna lift Bubs?"
"Yes please," I don't look at my mother.
"C'mon then," he grabs his keys and wallet.
"See ya Mum,"
I slip my bag over my shoulder and follow him, grabbing a pack of mints on the way. I do that when I can't brush my teeth. I eat a whole packet of mints.
"Liam!,"
"Yes Mum?" he pokes his head back through the door.
"What have you had for breakfast?"
"I'll get Macca's on the way,"
Silence.
"Okay, drive safely."
"Whatever,"
In my head I scream. "Don't you take that tone with me! That's incredibly fattening!"
In the lift, he rifles through his bag and finds a book. He flips through it. Finds the index card at the back and crosses his name out.
"I was on a footy camp right?" he winks.
"Yes Liam,"
That's what he's like when it comes to school.
His car is a Lexus. Dad bought it for him when he was selected for some State Basketball thing. It's really cool and Liam drives really fast.
When we get to school, he parks it and a girl comes rushing up to him. She throws herself around his neck.
"Liiiiiiaaaam!" Her lips melt into his.
Great welcome. I get out and mutter a thank you.
Thank God I have Drama first up.
AUTHORS NOTE: Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Please review. Tell me anything.
Thanks Ailsa babe, I'll try and introduce Robyn a bit better in later chapters.
- Ever Laughing One.