Silver

Chapter 16 - then

Fridays. Banana yellow. That day was asphalt charcoal.

The static of the loudspeaker in homeroom, like a forewarning. Millie's name was called out for 'anti-social behaviour.' She sat a row ahead of me in class and I saw blotches of red spread up the back of her neck. She turned her head to look at me, her mouth agape and her face flushed. Then another look washed over her as she realised she shouldn't have looked at me at all. Because in that instance I knew it was me she'd been bitching about.

She'd avoided me all day. After the English exam she'd stormed off before I could apologise for the previous night. She didn't come to our usual spot for recess or for lunch. When I went looking for her at lunch time, I saw her sitting on the netball court talking to Audrey, who's getting married in three weeks' time. Recently they'd bonded over seating plans and bonboneries in art class, but they weren't really friends.

I was sure that Millie had seen me out the corner of her eye, looking through the chainlink fencing at the two of them. But she didn't call me over. She completely ignored me.

I had the feeling she was talking about me. And it was confirmed in that instance that Millie looked at me in homeroom.

When the final bell rang, I bolted out of class to the train station. My feet slapped on the silicone footpaths, the nature strips were cleared of trees, so they didn't pose a risk in an accident. I felt anger and embarrassment running through my veins, and saw this as crushed purple velvet.

I wanted to get home as fast as I could, away from all those girls in their navy blue uniforms, and their dreams of wedding vows and dinners for two in their 'own home'. But when I got to the station I saw the train pulling away from me.

I waited, frustrated, as girls in navy blue started streaming on to the platform. The noise level rose in the underground, gossip and bitchiness withheld in the schoolyard now escaping out of their mouths like a blowhole. Audrey and her usual gang of four were standing by a pole. I was sure she was recounting whatever it was that Millie had said about me.

A girl from homeroom, Hazel, came and stood next to me.

'Do you think Millie will be okay?' She was searching for goss.

'I don't know,' I said, shrugging my shoulders and tightening my lips.

She moved away from me, having fished and caught nothing.

Something about the tone of her voice made me concerned. Should I be more sympathetic about Millie? If I were a good friend, would I run away like this? Even though I'm angry?

The next train arrived. Now I was unsure what I should do. I stood back, watching all the girls get on the train; the girls who were too young to be married off, the girls who were waiting to get married and the girls who were already married, going home to their husband and their house and their domestic cell.

I let the train pull away, standing on the empty platform. I was in no rush to go home. If Millie was ever going to forgive me for last night, I should support her when she gets out of the session. If I hadn't criticised her way of getting married, then we wouldn't have had an argument and she wouldn't have bitched about me and be in the reform session.

I waited in the ivy-covered quadrant. Another girl came out of the reform building first. She was a Pacific Islander, one of the environmental refugees our school had recently taken in fee-free to show how 'caring and sharing' they were. She lumbered off, grimly, in the direction of the boarding school.

Less than a minute later, Millie emerged through the same doors. She didn't see me at first. Her face was drawn, and for the first time I noticed a tiny cluster of spider veins on each of her cheeks.

'I'm so sorry for last night,' I said to her.

'I'm sorry too,' she said, her eyes looked at me vaguely. There was no conviction in her voice. We walked towards the train station together. It was awkward, this silence of ours. I didn't look at her. Her pace was slower than mine. I slowed down so that I was walking beside her.

I wondered if she still wanted me to be head bridesmaid. I probably didn't deserve this role on her 'big day'. She deserved someone who was a hundred percent supportive of her. Not someone like me who won't even go along to a meeting with the dressmaker.

I'd participated in every conversation about her wedding as though it was something to be tolerated, not something to be enjoyed. A real friend would have gone along with whatever made her happy.

Millie's hand was clutching the strap of her schoolbag up near her shoulder, like a flag bearer. Her thumb was jarred out to the side, stretched open in a long V. Her thumb looked so tense. I didn't know how long a thumb could suffer being stretched out like that.

I wanted to know what happened in the reform session. I wanted to know, so that I could help her to recover from it. When I went to say, 'Millie, I'm so sorry, if you ever want to ...'

She cut in, 'I never want to talk about this. Ever.'