Taking down evelyn tait, p.1
Taking Down Evelyn Tait, page 1
Wakefield Press
Poppy Nwosu is an Australian YA author. Her debut novel, Making Friends with Alice Dyson, was shortlisted for the 2018 Adelaide Festival Unpublished Manuscript Award, and for the Readings Young Adult Book Prize 2019. Growing up in central North Queensland, Poppy enjoyed a thoroughly wild childhood surrounded by rainforest and cane fields. After studying music at university, she moved overseas to Ireland, where she spent two years exploring Europe. These days Poppy and her husband still love to travel, but they also like to come home again to their house in Adelaide near the sea.
Visit Poppy at www.talltaleswithpoppynwosu.com.
Wakefield Press
16 Rose Street
Mile End
South Australia 5031
www.wakefieldpress.com.au
First published 2020
This edition published 2020
Copyright © Poppy Nwosu, 2020
All rights reserved. This book is copyright. Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part may be reproduced without written permission. Enquiries should be addressed to the publisher.
Cover designed by Liz Nicholson, Wakefield Press
Edited by Margot Lloyd, Wakefield Press
Cover illustration by Rory Brockman-Tanham
Text illustrations by Gus Nwosu
ISBN 978 1 74305 730 8
It’s for you, Guscake
1
How to lose your best friend and your breakfast. Excellent!
To be honest, it wasn’t excellent. I just said it so this would seem like an upbeat story. But surprise! It isn’t.
Also, I had vegemite toast and banana for breakfast. Obviously the banana wasn’t actually on top of the vegemite toast. They were separate. Only complete deviants eat those things together. Like my stepmum. She’s disgusting. In the end, though, everything gets mixed together in your belly. There’s nothing you can do about it. So it isn’t my fault.
Not really.
It’s Grace’s fault.
She tells me this thing on the train that really winds me up, and then I just can’t get it out of my head no matter how hard I try. I’m sitting there and the carriage is jerking and wiggling beneath me, and Grace is sitting across from me all innocent like. As if she hasn’t just told me she’s in love with my literal mortal enemy, Miss Perfect herself, Evelyn Tait.
The tracks are uneven and the seat is swaying and I’m starting to get real sick. Like, feel it rising inside my throat kind of sick. But Grace keeps prattling on and on about Evelyn, like everything is wonderful. Except it isn’t.
I shake the stunned expression off my face. ‘But you know how I feel about Evelyn!’ I hiss this real soft and quiet, because the train is filled with other students all going where we’re going, and I have no interest in being today’s biggest topic of gossip at school. Not that anyone is listening. The girls in the next booth are going on and on about some mad party one of them went to on the weekend. I try to block them out.
A flicker passes across Grace’s face. ‘Is this because she’s a girl?’
‘No,’ I splutter, ‘it’s because it’s Evelyn Tait.’
Grace knows how I feel about Miss Perfect. She knows. And besides, Grace has been obvious about liking girls since we first met. The fact that this is her first time dating a girl makes no difference. She’s hooked up before. She knows it’s not a big deal. I shake my head. ‘I just … seriously?’
My best friend bites her lip. ‘I know. I know it’s awkward, Lottie. I really do. And I’m sorry. I get why you’re upset.’ She hesitates and then the rest of it leaves her in a rush, ‘But I can’t help who I like. I can’t. I tried, I did try. Because of you. But I like her.’ She draws in a deep breath and then drops her next bombshell. ‘And she likes me back.’
‘No, she doesn’t,’ I say automatically. ‘She’s using you.’
Grace laughs, but there’s a sharper edge to it now. ‘Using me for what, exactly? My super rich family?’
Well, no.
‘My in-depth academic knowledge? To help with her grades?’
Mmmh. No. Evelyn doesn’t need anyone to help with her grades.
‘So what then?’ Grace lifts her chin just as the girls in the other booth burst into squeals of laughter. One of them is talking about the neighbours calling the cops on the party for being too wild. I raise my eyebrows at Grace, because it’s funny. The girls look about twelve.
She’s having none of it. ‘Lottie, I’m trying to talk to you about something important.’
I sigh. ‘I know, I know. But I just don’t like her.’
It’s not the truth. Or at least, not the whole truth. But Grace gets it. She knows, and she doesn’t care. Her face twists and she peers out the window at the wide slow river flashing by, reflecting orange morning light like fire. The girls behind us laugh again, giggling as the speaker finishes her tale by saying, ‘Then I woke up.’
I roll my eyes so hard I give myself a headache. It matches my nausea perfectly. And the more I think about it, the more irritated I feel. Not because of the misleading-party-dream idiots, but because of Grace. Because she knows me. Or at least she should. Her being with Evelyn isn’t some small deal. It’s an infringement. And she should have tried harder to avoid it.
The train rattles onwards through the suburbs, past old crumbling houses with big overgrown lawns and wild myrtle wattle peeking through the fences, straining to get out. I press against the glass, thinking of that scent, wattle and salt from the ocean, anything to keep my mind off Miss Perfect. The houses whizz by and we come to a patch of big freshly painted McMansions, line upon line of them, all the same.
My mum must be living happily in one of those in Sydney by now. Shiny mansions are her thing. Not that she’s invited me to visit her. I turn away, feeling sicker.
By the time we reach the station I’m really wired. I’m buzzing, nauseous, and I’m pissed. We stash our bags in our lockers and I’m considering swinging by old Jerry’s office just for a quiet sit on his threadbare couch, because that always calms me down. Except Grace nudges me and I glance up to catch Sebastian’s eye as he walks by. He smiles and I’m pretty sure I don’t smile back. I guess I must be staring, because Grace nudges me again, harder this time, her elbow in my rib cage.
‘Ow,’ I mutter, rubbing my side as Sebastian and his cloud of friends float away down the hall. I lean back against the metal lockers and feel even sicker. How can one boy be so pretty? I sigh and Grace gives me a very pointed look.
‘It’s not even remotely the same,’ I mutter.
She raises her eyebrow and says nothing, but I read the message loud and clear.
Grace has never liked Sebastian, not since we first started high school and he laughed when Jamie Gorecki made fun of her bright pink hair on the oval. I remember that day a whole lot more fondly than Grace, because it was the day she and I first met. We’ve been best friends ever since, so I guess I should thank Jamie Gorecki. Besides, Grace’s hair has only gotten brighter and pinker, and Jamie Gorecki learned the hard way not to mess with Grace Singh.
But still, my best friend never forgave Sebastian. Or me it seems, for liking him.
‘That was ages ago,’ I mutter. ‘And a lot’s happened since then. He’s different now.’
Grace grins sweetly. ‘Yeah, he got prettier.’
‘He was always pretty,’ I argue.
‘He’s gross.’ She shrugs, then this dreamy expression crawls over her face. ‘Unlike Evelyn.’
That hits me right in the stomach. I huff and puff and slam my locker shut. Whatever. Me and Sebastian are never going to happen, but this thing with Evelyn? My blood boils. The girl’s a witch. I’m sure she’s seducing my best friend just to get back at me for last time. She’s evil and she’s going to break Grace’s heart.
And the worst thing?
Everyone thinks she’s perfect. Everyone. They think she’s kind and smart and sweet. I’m the only one who knows the truth.
And there she is. I grimace, showing teeth.
Evelyn Tait.
With her thick luscious hair and her pretty pointed face.
School hasn’t started yet but she’s already in the lab, working away with her oversize safety glasses and stupid science tubes or whatever. I press my face against the big glass window separating the labs from the public access area. It’s getting busier in the corridor, students swelling through the halls on their way to class, jostling me and Grace. Not that my best friend notices. She’s watching Evelyn with a big goofy grin plastered on her face. I’m going to puke.
Instead I scowl at Evelyn through the glass, but she doesn’t even notice. She’s smiling back at Grace and waving shyly, smoothing her hair. Disgusting.
She’s not chaperoned. Only Evelyn would be allowed to do lab work unattended before school. Such a suck-up.
I don’t try to stop myself. And one good thing about me is that usually I do. Try, I mean. I always try to stop myself.
It rarely works, but whatever.
I push open the lab door, even though Grace is grasping my shoulder saying, ‘Lottie, we’ve got class. Come back!’
I shake her off. Inside the lab I stand frozen beside the door, no idea what I’m going to do, but feeling pretty vicious, like I’m definitely about to do something.
‘Hi Evelyn.’ I sound nasty.
My mortal enemy smiles shyly, like she doesn’t hear my tone. ‘Hey Grace.’
I huff again. She totally ignored me.
Grace squeezes into the lab behind me, giving a dumb little half wave.
I’m going to puke.
I turn away and startle, because someone else is in here, sprawled over a desk, tongue sticking out of his mouth as he does … some lab thing, I don’t know. Writing calculations in a crazy scrawl across a lab book. He pokes his freckled explosion of a face up and blinks at me. ‘Lottie, you can’t be in here.’
I roll my eyes. ‘I already am in here, Jude.’ He is such an idiot sometimes. ‘I’m just saying hi to Evelyn. You know Evelyn, of course. She’s a friend stealer and suck-up.’ I glare at her for effect.
‘Lottie!’ Grace isn’t happy.
I don’t care.
‘I do know Evelyn, yes,’ says Jude very seriously. ‘She’s my lab partner.’
I blink at him.
I’m pretty sure he’s joking.
I glare at him too, for good measure, but he just smiles.
‘Lottie.’ Grace has my arm again. ‘Let’s go to class, okay?’ Except then she’s distracted because Evelyn is smiling at her again, sweet as pie.
‘Do you think you could help me reach that beaker, Grace?’ Evelyn points high to a set of shelves fixed to the wall beside the whiteboard. ‘I’m not tall enough.’
Oh kill me now. She’s playing the damsel in distress. Disgusting.
I share a look with Jude but he just shrugs. He’s plenty tall and Evelyn is his lab partner, as he so nicely pointed out, and yet he stays where he is, bending to continue his work.
Grace skips across the room before I can stop her, reaching for the beaker. I bark out a laugh because she can’t reach it either. In fact, she’s even shorter than Evelyn.
Something nasty is rolling in my belly as I stalk across the room. ‘Poor tiny Evelyn. Here, let me help you.’ I start dragging one of the desks over, the lab equipment shaking and rattling, the glass violently clinking.
Jude is paying proper attention now, unfolding himself from the desk and scuffing his sneakers across the laminate floor as he takes faltering steps towards us. ‘Uh, Lottie, maybe you shouldn’t …’
I throw him a silencing glare. He’s dusted in so many freckles his face is an entirely different colour from the rest of his skin, all of it crowded together like a bomb went off.
I’m taller than both Grace and stupid Evelyn, but there’s no way even I could reach the dumb beaker. Still, I’m determined to help. The desk I’m dragging slams against the shelves and all the little bottles and tubes rattle and shake, glass on glass.
‘Lottie,’ Grace is focused on me now. ‘Seriously, what the hell are you doing? Get down.’
Sneakers on the desk, I’m towering over them all, Jude frozen just behind Evelyn who gapes at me. The desk shakes beneath my feet. It’s not entirely stable.
But I can’t help myself.
‘Get down, you’ll break it!’ Evelyn’s cries just urge me onwards.
‘Lottie, stop it!’ Grace steps away. ‘Please!’
I lift the beaker from the shelf. Hold it above Evelyn’s head, grinning wildly. I’m rather enjoying myself. I raise my eyebrows and she realises what I’m about to do.
I drop the beaker and she slams to her knees, grasping it just before it smashes against the floor.
I laugh and Grace squeals, down beside Evelyn now.
And that would have been it, I swear. I might have a problem with knowing where the line is, but seriously, I know when to stop.
Mostly.
Suddenly I realise the hallway is crowded with students, faces and noses pressed against the lab glass, all of them gawping. Boys push each other to get a better view, school bags and shoulders slamming against the glass.
All at once I feel very exposed, like maybe this wasn’t such an excellent idea after all. Like maybe I do have a problem with my behaviour like my dad says I do.
The thought of my dad makes my stomach turn.
I’m already on my millionth warning.
‘Get down,’ Grace hisses. She’s holding the desk steady, or at least trying to. ‘I don’t want to get in trouble right now, I told you, my …’
Hoots and cat calls sound through the door.
But that’s okay, I’m about to hop onto the floor anyway, one foot already lifted. I’m done. I’m less pissed off now, just sick. It’s erupting in waves in my belly, rising into my throat. Probably because I’ve just realised Sebastian is standing out there in the crowd, beautiful green gaze locked onto me. Of all the days for him to notice I exist.
The door swings open and Ms Peters walks in, red in the face, sweaty and harassed by the crowded students outside. She’s shouting at them as she enters, round glasses flashing and hair a mad tangle of red.
She stops. Gazes from me, frozen in the air, to Grace clutching the desk steady beneath my feet and then to Evelyn huddled on the floor. Jude raises his hands like he’s being arrested.
I roll my eyes at him. ‘Oh come on—’
The desk slides sideways, jerked from beneath my feet, abrupt and violent. I slam my hand on the shelf for balance, and the plastic gives way, down, down, the shelf slides from its slots. I grab wildly for another, a shower of beakers and bottles glittering in the air, a cacophony of screams and excitement from beyond the labs. I scream too. And then I hit the floor hard, my knee smacking the desk leg, which has flipped over, and I’m lying breathless in a pile of Evelyn and crushed beakers and broken glass.
Tangled and gasping.
And then silence.
‘Don’t move,’ screams Ms Peters. Her sensible heels crunch over the floor, but she’s not reaching for me, it’s Evelyn she extricates from our puddle of science mayhem, Evelyn who has a bright red stripe across her palm. Blood.
‘You’re injured.’ Ms Peters’s face is as red as her hair. ‘Oh my god, Evelyn.’
‘A teeny tiny cut,’ I mutter, dragging myself to my feet. Glass tinkles onto the linoleum floor. A shower of sparkles and glow. Grace has backed away to stand next to Jude now.
‘You … you …’ Ms Peters is sure looking at me now, tangled hair slicked unusually flat against her brow. She turns around wildly, hand still gripping Evelyn’s wrist and displaying the miniature, minuscule, barely there scrape on Miss Perfect’s palm. ‘All of you! To the principal’s office. Now!’
Grace shoots daggers at me. More like machine gun bullets. So does Evelyn, except hers are little atomic bombs. She’s almost as red as the teacher.
I gulp.
Jude just stands there. ‘But I didn’t do anything.’
‘All of you,’ screams Ms Peters. She reaches for my elbow, dragging me in a much rougher way than she’s dragging Evelyn. And that’s when I see it, right there on Miss Perfect’s pretty face. A curling of her lips, a twitch of her mouth, half-hidden by her wave of long sweeping hair.
Evelyn is smirking at me.
And I think about the desk, the way it jerked so suddenly to the side.
My stomach swells and rises.
I chuck up. Banana and vegemite mixing with the pretty flowers printed across Ms Peters’s blouse.
2
An apple a day keeps the …
I flop onto the threadbare couch, bag to the floor in a heavy thump.
Jerry looks up from his computer, glancing at me over the top of his glasses. He frowns. Excessively, if you ask me. Considering it was only a teeny tiny cut.
‘Back again, are we, Charlotte?’
The man is bald on top and it’s very distracting. So shiny. So round. Reminds me of one of those gobstopper lollies. The ones that never budge, never change, no matter how hard you try to wear them down. Like my stepmum, now that I think about it. I wrinkle my nose.
On the upside, Jerry definitely is a good listener. I’ll give him that.
‘You know you can call me Lottie,’ I tell him generously. ‘Don’t be shy, Jerry.’ I slouch further on the couch into a classic patient pose, head on the arm rest, feet hanging over the far side, ratty sneakers bobbing in midair. It’s a little small if I’m honest but still quite comfortable.
Jerry grimaces. ‘Charlotte, please sit straight. And it’s Mr Virk to you. Is that clear?’
I nod absently. ‘Sure. No worries.’ I don’t move.
He’s clicking away on his mouse with at least three green apples spread across his desk, which is pretty strange. I wonder if I should have brought him an apple. Would it cool his anger? Is that what the other students are doing these days?
