The Mag Hags Page 3

  ‘What’s she doing with your dad anyway,’ said Mand. ‘He’s old enough to be her –’

  ‘It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?’ interrupted Maggie. ‘So Reanne, what first attracted you to the millionaire Adrian Askew?’

  The girls cracked up laughing, partly out of surprise that Maggie could be so funny. Belle laughed so much she had bubbles from the ginger ale coming out of her nose. Maggie was chuffed. She had made a joke, even if she had nicked it from an English TV show.

  ‘It’s true. I’m sure she’s only after him for his money,’ said Belle, once she had stopped hyperventilating. ‘I don’t trust her. She’s so fake, she even calls him, “Ade-Poo”. She says, “Ade-Poo, Ree Ree needs a cuddle from her Poo-Poo.” My father has been reduced to a bowel movement!’

  ‘I’ve never liked any of my mother’s boyfriends,’ admitted Mand, aware that everyone in town knew about the hairless stripper episode. ‘Before Kane, she went out with a really hairy guy and used to call him “Hairy Bear”. His back was so hairy you could have woven a carpet big enough for this whole house. I’d be like, “Mum, I know they’re both mammals, but why are you dating a bear, not a human?”’

  ‘You think that’s bad,’ said Wanda. ‘My parents have been together for twenty-two years and still think they’re love-struck teenagers. Rather than get a life, it’s get a room! They’re always snogging all over the house, it’s disgusting.’

  ‘I think that’s sweet,’ said Cat. ‘Makes me believe that love can last forever.’

  ‘Love only exists in the minds of the deluded,’ said Belle glibly. ‘Now, are we going to get on with this magazine or what?’

  While it was good news that the girls were finally talking to each other, they were still at an impasse on what the magazine was to be about. Maybe because it was her house, or maybe it was because she had inherited a naturally bossy streak from her father, Belle took over.

  ‘Bone says we have to talk directly to our peers,’ she said. ‘What do you think that means exactly?’

  ‘I suppose,’ began Maggie hesitantly, ‘it means the magazine isn’t actually about us. It’s for girls like us and that means all of us. So if we’re all contributing then, of course, we’ll be talking directly to our peers.’ She was on a roll now, and the others stared at her in shock – they’d never heard so many words come out of her mouth at once. ‘It’s like Bone said, “Use each other’s strengths.” So let’s use the fact that we are dissimilar, and have different tastes in practically everything, and then surely we’ll be talking directly to our peers – and that means all of them.’

  ‘You’re right,’ said Wanda, impressed. ‘So what are girls like us into?’

  ‘Well I’m not into all the fluffy commercialism we’re spoonfed – you know, own this, buy that or look like me and you’ll be happy,’ said Mand. ‘Because we’re teenagers all we’re supposed to care about is shopping, celebrities and make-up. Meanwhile, the planet burns up and so does our future. And we’re supposed to go down the shopping centre and not notice. And if we do, we’re freaks.’ She glared at Cat, who rolled her eyeballs.

  ‘But I read magazines to escape from reality,’ said Cat. ‘I don’t need to be reminded that the world sucks the big one. I can forget all the doom and gloom, tune out. I like to be entertained, not preached to.’

  ‘I love the whole look of them, the way they’re designed, the way they feel,’ said Belle, who saw the world in pictures rather than words.

  ‘And I love fashion, being able to express who I am through what I wear, not conforming to what someone else perceives as style,’ said Wanda, more animated than the others had seen her before. ‘What about you, Maggie, what do you like?’

  ‘Newspapers. I like reading about what’s going on in the world, trying to work out what makes people tick. Why humans do such crazy stuff.’

  ‘I reckon Maggie’s right – if we have a combination of everything we’re interested in, we could make it work,’ said Wanda.

  The other girls agreed, shocked that they could come to a consensus about anything.

  ‘Okay, next on the list, we’ve got to come up with some keywords that encapsulate what the magazine is about,’ said Belle. ‘Shall we give it a try?’

  The girls dug deep into their schoolbags and fished out notepads from dark recesses that contained everything from squashed sandwiches, to unravelling tampons, a tube of dried-out mascara and mouldy wet swimmers. They started scribbling away and the only sound in the room was the tick-tocking of the grandfather clock as the girls’ brains went into overdrive.

  ‘Okay, who wants to go first?’ said Belle after ten minutes.

  When none of the girls responded, Belle pointed to Cat and told her to get on with it.

  ‘Entertaining, fun and fluffy,’ said Cat. ‘Everybody loves celebrities.’

  ‘Speak for yourself,’ muttered Mand.

  ‘I’d love to interview Tyler Grey from Federal Investigation. Oh my god, he’s so hot! I’m obsessed!’

  ‘What, so you’re just going to ring him up and say, “Hey Tyler, I’m doing a crappy magazine for my Year 10 English project, can I come over and interview you?”’ said Mand. ‘“And after that we can go on a date to Hoolio’s, then get married and have babies.”’

  ‘Why not?’ said Cat, already composing the letter in her head. ‘Okay, Ms Negative, what are your keywords?’

  ‘Real, relevant, down-to-earth,’ said Mand. ‘I want to write about the serious issues that affect girls like us. Like body image and diets. Who here likes their body?’

  None of the girls put their hands up. The truth was, Wanda hated the fact she was so short and had an athletic figure. Maggie disliked being so tall. She towered over the boys – no wonder she felt like such an alien. Belle hated her curves because strange men on buses stared at her, while Cat detested her big thighs, which were in fact slender, like the rest of her, but she thought they were fat. Although Mand suggested the topic, she spent hours looking at her bum in the mirror, cursing her boyish frame. ‘See,’ she said. ‘If we’ve got to talk to our peers, we should be talking about why so many girls don’t eat their lunch.’

  ‘What are your keywords then, Wanda?’ asked Belle.

  ‘Funky, pretty and fashionable,’ said Wanda. ‘I design and make all my own clothes, so I’m always getting ideas from fashion mags.’

  ‘Wanda, are you serious? I thought you were joking,’ said Maggie. ‘You’ve got such a reputation as a maths boffin.’

  ‘I know. Boring, isn’t it?’ said Wanda with a raise of her eyebrows. ‘I can’t ever escape from that cliché. Just because I’m good at maths doesn’t necessarily mean I enjoy it. I want to be a fashion designer.’

  ‘Wow!’ said Mand. ‘I never knew that, but I guess I’ve never seen you outside of school.’ She turned to Maggie. ‘What about you, what are your keywords?’

  ‘Intelligent, deep and meaningful,’ said Maggie. ‘You know, a girl’s place in the world and where we are heading, who we really are.’

  ‘Girls don’t want that kind of stuff,’ said Cat with a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘Isn’t that feminism? We learned about it in social sciences last year.’

  ‘D’uh! Feminism is about having all the opportunities men have,’ said Mand. She couldn’t believe Cat was such an airhead. ‘Not like in the old days when it was expected that we had to stay home looking after the baby while the man went off and had a career.’

  ‘Okay, Belle, you next,’ said Wanda before Cat and Mand started another scrap. ‘What are your keywords?’

  ‘I was thinking of what the magazine should look like, rather than what’s in it. I wrote down, funky, bright, colourful and inviting.’

  Just then the door opened and in walked Mr ‘Get A Wiggle On’ himself. Belle had obviously inherited her good looks from her mother.

  ‘My, my, my,’ said Adrian, looking around at the girls. ‘What a bevy of beauties sitting at my dining room table. Hello Corabelle, are you going to
introduce me to these lovely ladies?’

  Belle couldn’t believe her dad sometimes, but she dutifully did the introductions and Adrian shook hands with each girl. Cat stood up and blushed – she had never been so close to somebody who was on the television before.

  ‘So happy to make your acquaintance, Mr Askew,’ she said with what appeared to be a little curtsey, as though she was being introduced to the Queen.

  ‘I hear you girls are coming up with a magazine,’ said Adrian. ‘What’s it called?’

  ‘Dad, we’re still trying to come up with an idea we all like,’ said Belle impatiently. ‘We don’t have a clue yet. We’ll work that out at the next meeting, it’s getting late and the girls have to get the bus home.’ The last thing she wanted was for the girls to see her father and Reanne in full ‘Poo-Poo’ mode.

  ‘The bus!’ said her father. ‘That’s ridiculous. Pierson is outside, I’ll ask him to drop the girls off.’

  Belle cringed but Mand couldn’t stop herself from smiling. Going home in a chauffeur-driven Rolls Royce – the neighbours would have a field day.

  ‘Okay, girls, your chariot will await you in five minutes at the front of the house,’ said Adrian, with a sweeping bow – he was always one for amateur dramatics. ‘Next time you come over, make sure Corabelle gives you a turn on The Vultron. I’d be keen to know what you think.’

  Cat couldn’t believe her luck. Her ex-boyfriend, Nate Smyth-Jones, who represented the district in water polo, had been desperate to have a turn ever since Billy Prince had scored a go when his father went to a business meeting at the Askew house and Billy tagged along. If Cat could get him an invite to Belle’s place, then maybe she could win him back.

  Ever since he had broken up with her by text six weeks ago, with the words: Sorry nt digin tis ting no mor, she had thought about nothing but Nate. Where he was, who he was with, and why he didn’t love her like she loved him. If she could get him an invite to Belle’s, then perhaps he would see that he had made a huge mistake and realise that Cat was actually the love of his life.

  The girls packed up and headed towards the door. On the way out, Mand noticed a solitary photo in a magnificent silver frame set on a side table. In it were Belle, her father and the most beautiful-looking boy Mand had ever seen. Her heart suddenly started doing the macarena. He had a shock of black spiky hair, he was wearing a black jumper and his eyes were the blue of the sea in the shallows on a bright day. A feeling of nausea settled over her stomach, as though she had just eaten a dodgy kebab.

  As they were climbing into the Rolls, Belle asked, ‘Where will we meet next?’

  ‘Come to my house,’ said Wanda as she put her seatbelt on. ‘How about next Tuesday after school? We can meet at the bus stop again.’

  The girls all agreed and waved goodbye as they sped off down the driveway. Belle turned and went back into the house to spend another evening alone with Mrs Biggins in front of the television, as her father took Reanne out yet again.

  Despite the fact they had been working together during English periods and had even seen each other after school, the five girls refused to acknowledge one another in the schoolyard. Cat still sat on her steps with the Us Crew – Kylie Mannigan, Sherelle Mead, Jessica Humble, Maxine Cue and Sophia Poppolopodus. When Wanda passed by on the way to her seat, she knew Cat was looking at her but she never said hello. Perhaps she didn’t want her crew seeing her talking to a ‘Them’, as the girls called anyone who wasn’t an ‘Us’. At least Cat didn’t call out anything biting for a change, which was something to be grateful for.

  On Tuesday afternoon Wanda, Belle, Maggie and Cat were at the bus stop in plenty of time; they mumbled half-hearted greetings to one another, although still not quite ready to acknowledge they were together. The bus arrived and the girls took their seats at the back. It looked as though Mand wasn’t going to turn up after all, but just as the bus was pulling away, there was a banging on the doors.

  ‘What are you doing, girlie?’ said the bus driver as the door opened with a loud hiss. ‘Trying to get yourself killed?’

  ‘Being under a bus doesn’t sound like a bad option at this point of my life,’ said Mand, the sleeves of her jumper hanging down over her hands, so only the tips of her fingernails were visible.

  She made her way to the back of the bus and sat down without saying hello.

  Wanda lived on the opposite side of town from Belle, in a brand-new development that spread out from the centre and east to the suburbs. Getting off the bus, the girls followed Wanda past the new homes, where the gardens hadn’t really grown up yet. The trees and bushes were small, the cars new and shiny. Kids played hopscotch in the middle of the road and rode their bikes over jumps made from slabs of wood, taken from unfinished houses. It was the kind of street you could do that without the fear of getting run over or abducted.

  Wanda’s house was two storeys high and made from blond brick. Parked in the driveway was her mum’s green four-wheel drive with sheepskin seats and a bumper sticker that read: Figure It Out With Accent Accounting.

  Wanda had her own set of door keys. There were no gasps like there had been at Belle’s mansion. Just a neat suburban home with a chocolate-brown leather lounge facing an enormous plasma TV screen that dominated the room from every angle. Wanda’s mother, Kim, came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands with a tea towel. The girls were amazed at how much Wanda looked like her mum – the same beautiful almond eyes with thin crescent-shaped eyebrows, the same big bright smile.

  ‘Hi Mum, what are you doing home from work?’ said Wanda, slightly disappointed, as she loved having the house to herself.

  ‘I thought I’d work from home this afternoon,’ said Mrs Hong.

  Wanda did the introductions and the girls dutifully said hello then followed Wanda up the wooden staircase to the second level.

  For a girl who had seemed like such a straight maths head, Wanda clearly had an overwhelming affection for the girlie colour pink. Her bedspread was a delicate fairy-floss pink with darker pink circles embroidered onto it; while the walls were painted a slightly darker shade of crimson, although you couldn’t see much wall space, as the smiling mug and glowingly white molars of Jason Jones, last year’s winner of Popstarz, covered almost every inch of the walls. The dressing table was a rich fuchsia with a mirror festooned with fairy lights and pink flowers; underneath it stood a stool covered in pink leopard-skin print. In the corner of the room was Wanda’s pride and joy – her sewing machine. A very cute pair of pink dungarees with a silver star in the middle hung over it.

  ‘These are so cool,’ said Cat, holding the dungarees against herself and looking in the mirror. ‘Where did you get them, Glitz or Ms Right?’

  ‘I made them,’ said Wanda shyly.

  ‘No way!’ said Cat. ‘They look professionally made. What else have you made?’

  Wanda went to her wardrobe and started pulling out clothes: a green satin shirt with a plunging cleavage and cute pearl buttons, a purple hand-knitted minidress with a cowl-neck collar, a pair of black trousers with studs around the pockets and ankles, a delicate silk dress with the finest gold embroidery around the neckline, and a funky green army jacket with copies of badges, like I’m Miss Understood and Kisses 10 cents hand-embroidered all over it.

  ‘These clothes are so wicked!’ said Belle. ‘You’re serious, you made all of these?’

  ‘Yep,’ said Wanda. ‘I’ve always loved making things. My parents call it my hobby, but it’s my passion. Dad has been giving Mum a hard time about how long I spend at the sewing machine. He says I’ll have to get rid of it in Year 11, so I can spend more time studying and less time sewing.’

  ‘That’s so not fair,’ said Mand. ‘You’re obviously incredibly talented.’

  ‘Well, I was thinking that we could do a fashion shoot for our magazine,’ said Wanda with a tentative smile.

  ‘That’s a brilliant idea!’ said Belle. ‘I’m really into photography. My father bought me a fantastic digital camera fo
r Christmas last year.’

  ‘I can do make-up too,’ said Wanda pointing to a plastic box under the vanity unit. ‘I’ve got tonnes of make-up. I’ve been collecting it since I was five.’

  Wanda dragged out the box and opened the lid. It was like an Aladdin’s cave of the beauty world – every colour of eye shadow, blush, mascara and foundation. There was a set of very professional-looking make-up brushes that had obviously been well used.

  ‘I’ve spent hours making over everyone in the street,’ said Wanda. ‘Actually, I was thinking about suggesting an article for the magazine on make-up, so girls can learn all the tricks of the trade.’

  ‘That’s fantastic!’ said Cat. ‘Wanda could be our fashion and beauty editor. What do you reckon, girls?’

  Everyone agreed it was a fabulous idea.

  ‘Okay, now we’ve got one job out of the way,’ said Wanda, relieved that the girls had finally realised there was more to her than maths. ‘Now we’ve got to decide who’s going to be the editor.’

  A chilly silence fell over Wanda’s bedroom. It was the top job and secretly Mand, Cat and Belle all wanted to be in charge.

  ‘Well, I nominate myself,’ said Belle with a confident toss of her head. ‘My father is a business leader and I know how to manage people.’

  ‘Just because you’ve got a rich daddy doesn’t mean you know more than us about magazines,’ said Mand.

  ‘Actually,’ said Cat, ‘If anybody should be the editor, it’s me! At least, I know what’s cool and what’s not.’

  ‘Your coolness makes you the obvious choice, does it?’ said Mand. ‘Well, girl, if you think that because you’re in the Us Crew you’re cool, you’re deluded. Want to hear some home truths? The rest of the school thinks you’re a bunch of stuck-up bitches. There is nothing cool about being a –’

  ‘Yes, Mand,’ said Cat, standing up and looking as though she was going to jump on Mand and strangle her. ‘You wouldn’t know cool if you were locked overnight in the freezer at Samways Supermarket. Your Black Jumper posse are the laughing stock of the school.’