Self-Portraits - 9. The Revolutionaries

The next day at school, everyone is talking about the Year 11 Ball.

The biggest piece of gossip is that Darren asked Lisa to go with him on Saturday night and she didn’t say yes. She said she’d think about it, but she’d already asked Nicholas, and so she was waiting for Nicholas to decide between her and Carrie.

The second biggest piece of gossip is that Vicky and Stu have organised a meeting in protest of the boy-girl ticket rule. It’s today, after school, in the Year 11 common room.

In Chemistry, I overhear Darren saying, “No offence, but I don’t want to have to watch two fags grinding onto each other on the dance floor.”

This prompts enough laughter to make Dr Monagle say, “Settle down, focus on your own work, please.”

Lisa is the one of the only ones who doesn’t laugh at that. She whips her head around. “You’re a real fucking idiot.”

“Is that why you haven’t agreed to go with me yet?” Darren asks. “Because you really want to lez out with a girl?”

Lisa whips her head back around. “Don’t be disgusting.”

Someone mentions Stu and Vicky’s meeting in every class I go to but, as far as I can tell, nobody’s actually planning on showing their face in the Year 11 common room after school.

I wish Vicky had never started this.

“It seems so trivial,” I say to Harriet at lunchtime. “There are such big issues in the world. Vicky should be protesting starvation and genocide. Something that actually matters. Who cares about a school dance?”

“Sometimes, you can only fight the battles you’re facing,” Harriet says. “Personally, I admire your sister for standing up to Mr Jane.”

I narrow my eyes. “You’re not going to her meeting, are you?”

“No, I’m busy after school,” Harriet says.

I panic. “You’re not going back to Maggie’s house, are you?”

“No, I’ve got music practice,” Harriet says.

“What kind of music do you play?” I ask.

“A mix,” Harriet says vaguely.

“Classical?”

“Sometimes.”

“What about Penny and Benny? Do they play the piano too?”

“Yes, they can play a few different instruments. Clarinet, guitar, percussion.”

“That’s so cool,” I marvel. “When’s your concert again?”

Harriet hesitates. “This Saturday.”

“Can I come? Where is it?”

“A performance space at the Arcade Hall.”

“Great! I’d love to come.”

Harriet sighs. “The twins do have a spare ticket. But listen. If you make fun of us, I’ll cut your head off.”

“I can agree to that.”

The bell rings. We haven’t touched our books.

*

When the final bell rings, I drag my feet to the Year 11 common room. That’s where the dreaded meeting is taking place: in a room that smells like stale sandwich crusts, with a mini-fridge that rattles and couches with ten years’ worth of potato chip crumbs wedged between the cushions. When I step into the common room, it’s almost empty. There aren’t even ten people here.

Stu’s there, of course. Vicky’s also there, with three of her Year 10 friends, none of whom can even buy tickets. To my surprise, two Year 11 guys are there: Chris Smith and Dale Winduss. They’re not in any of my classes but they’re notorious for spending lunchtimes behind the school hall smoking cigarettes. I’ve also overheard Lisa say that they smoke cannabis on weekends. Their girlfriends Lacey and Sarah are also there, looking annoyed and embarrassed.

So this is the big meeting everyone’s been gossiping about all day: nine people, not counting me. I want everyone else to not count me too, so I sit as far away from the group as I can, next to the door, and open David Copperfield.

“Well, thanks for coming, everyone!” Stu’s upbeat, despite the poor turn-out. “As you know, the Year 11 Ball has a ticket policy of boy-girl couples only. Vicky here made her objections known and was rewarded with two detentions. Mr Jane has been clear: this is a school board decision and not up for negotiation. We disagree.”

“So, it’s true then?” Dale asks.

Stu frowns. “What’s true then?”

“That you’re gay.”

Stu laughs. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Not at the moment.”

Chris and Dale nod. “Cool, man.”

“Anyway,” Stu pushes on, “we’re here to discuss ways we can make a peaceful protest.”

Chris and Dale look disgruntled. “Peaceful? We thought we were going to be pulling an epic prank on Mr Jane. We want revenge for the week of detentions he gave us for climbing up onto the gym roof last month!”

Ah, so that’s why they’re here.

“It’ll definitely be epic,” Vicky says. “I was thinking we could do a flash mob, like you see on the internet, but make it all same-sex dancing! Katie found a really good one. Katie, play it – everyone, watch!”

Vicky’s friend Katie plays a dance video on her phone and everyone crowds around to see. Everyone laughs but it’s obvious nobody wants to learn a dance, and Chris points out a flash mob isn’t really a prank. Stu reminds Chris that they’re all there to discuss protesting not pranking.

Dale says he knows somewhere you can hire confetti canons. “What about filling them with rainbow confetti and firing them at Mr Jane?”

Chris likes that idea too, but Stu disagrees.

“Nothing involving explosives,” he says, which is a relief to hear. “If we break the school rules – or the law – then they can just expel us and completely ignore the message.”

“So how the fuck do we do it then?” Vicky asks. “How do we make it epic and stick to the stupid rules?”

Stu thinks for a moment. “Okay, how about this: we buy a bunch of boy-girl tickets. But on the night, the teachers all stand at the entrance, and we all have to enter with our partners, and introduce our partners to the teachers, right? But what we do is, even though we’ve bought boy-girl tickets, we arrive in same-sex couples. So, Chris, you get two tickets like you normally would but, on the night, you don’t turn up with Lacey. You turn up holding hands with Dale, right in front of Mr Jane and all the teachers, and Lacey, you turn up holding hands with Sarah – everyone introduces a same-sex partner to the faculty.”

Sarah looks up from her fingernails, unimpressed. “So, like, three couples turn up to the dance? That’s your protest?”

“Well, we would need to get more people involved for it to be effective,” Stu says.

“Actually, yeah,” Vicky says. “Imagine twenty couples filing past the teachers.”

Chris and Dale laugh. “Think of the look on Mr Jane’s face!”

“Exactly,” Stu says. “Between now and then, we would need to get as many people as possible to join us.”

“Yeah,” Vicky says, “and we can get more people on board if we tell them we’re playing a prank. It doesn’t matter why people are doing it. And we only need to walk into the dance in the same-sex pairs, past the teachers. Once we’re in, everyone can go back into their actual pairs, whatever they like.”

“If we can get more people involved, we can get in the news,” Stu says. “There’s this journalist Molly who comes to Sizzlers. I talked to her on Sunday afternoon and she loves the idea of a protest. She could turn up to the Ball and take pictures of us arriving and put it on the front page of the local paper. That’ll put pressure on the school board to change the rules.”

Chris and Dale are enthusiastic. They reckon they can get a few of their friends to join in – whatever it takes to give Mr Jane an embolism. Meanwhile, Vicky and her Year 10 friends all want to get involved, but they need a Year 11 boy to invite them. This results in a very peculiar matchmaking conversation between Chris, Dale, and Vicky’s friends.

The meeting’s over by four.

Stu comes over to me. “So? What do you think of our plan?”

“Oh, um, I don’t know. Mum just made me come to make sure Vicky doesn’t do anything stupid.” I show him David Copperfield. “I was just reading.”

“Are you going to be there?” he asks. “At the Ball, I mean.”

I think about what Nicholas said on Sunday, about asking a girl to go.

“I’m not sure,” I say. “I haven’t gotten tickets yet.”

“Good.” Stu grins. “Come with me, then.”

I freeze. Did I hear him correctly? “Ah …”

“Not as a date, just for the protest. We’ll find two girls to take but the girls can be each other’s dates, and you can be mine.”

There’s something alarming about the way he says you can be mine.

“But … me? I mean … I’m not …”

“You don’t have to,” Stu says. “You’ve just been nice to me, and your sister’s amazing. But if you’ve got someone you were wanting to ask, then that’s totally cool.”

“Yeah, I mean … I was going to ask someone … I just hadn’t gotten the tickets yet …”

If I was sitting inside the sun, my face wouldn’t be burning as much as it is right now.

“That’s cool, Sizzler Boy.” Stu grins again. “It’ll be an amazing night, no matter who we go with.”

*

On the way home, Vicky is remarkably optimistic about her protest plan, considering how few people turned up. She begs me not to say anything to Mum.

“I won’t,” I say, “if you stick to what Stu said about not breaking any rules.”

Vicky sighs. “You’re such a square queer.”

Good, I think. That’s what Nicholas wants. Playing by the rules, wearing neutral colours. If I wasn’t terrified of balls being thrown at my head, I’d even consider signing back up for Games.

Back home, I help Mum with dinner by peeling potatoes.

“So, how was the meeting?” Mum asks.

“Boring,” I say, which is a lie. “Hardly anyone came,” I say, which is true.

Mum’s relieved. “And she’s not up to anything that’ll get her expelled?”

“No, definitely not.”

But as soon as I say that, I picture a confetti canon exploding in Mr Jane’s face.

*

The next day, Mrs Hansen is still disappointed with my artistic efforts.

For the still life assignment, I painted a jug with flowers in it, but I tried to show some anger and emotion. I made the petals jagged and put cracks along the base of the jug.

“You’re trying to show me anger and emotion,” Mrs Hansen says, “but you’re not actually showing it.”

I feel like I could show her some anger right now.

“Tell me what was different about your technique,” she says.

I take a deep breath. “Well, my brushstrokes were definitely ... aggressive.”

“What does that mean for you? Aggressive?”

“Um … I pushed down harder with the brush …”

“Did you feel aggressive when you painted it?” Mrs Hansen says.

“Um …”

Truthfully, I can’t remember what I felt when I painted it. I usually tune out when I’m painting. That’s what I like about it.

“A little bit,” I lie.

“There’s no such thing as a little bit of aggression,” Mrs Hansen says. “You’ve got a thunderstorm inside you, Richard. I’d really love to see your black clouds and lightning come through in our next module.”

With that, she floats over to Lisa Meadows, who painted a bowl of fruit. She examines the painting for a long time, then asks, “Were your bananas bereft?”

*

On Thursday morning, Nicholas is waiting for me at the gates again. This time, he’s bouncing up and down on his heels and waves me over impatiently.

“You haven’t bought Ball tickets yet, have you?” he asks urgently.

“Hi – um, no, I haven’t.”

“And you’re not getting involved with whatever crazy thing Vicky’s organising, are you?”

“No way,” I say vehemently.

“Good.” Nicholas looks relieved. “You know I love her, but she’s a Year 10 twit getting fired up about a Year 11 dance. She’s crazy.”

“As always,” I say.

“And what’s the deal with that Stu guy?” Nicholas asks. “Do you know him?”

“Not really,” I say. “He works at Sizzlers.”

“Okay, well, whatever. Did you think about what I said on Sunday? About inviting a girl?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I’ve been thinking about it … um …”

Nicholas pulls a face. “You haven’t invited Harriet Hayes, have you?”

I’m embarrassed – I didn’t know Nicholas knew that Harriet and I have been hanging out – but I promise him I haven’t asked her to the Ball.

“I don’t know how you can put up with her. She’s got such a stick up her ass.”

I laugh, out of habit, but I can’t bring myself to agree after Harriet’s been so nice.

Instead, I ask, “Have you bought Ball tickets?”

“Yeah,” Nicholas says. “I decided to go with Carrie.”

“Oh, cool.”

“That’s why I need to talk to you. Carrie’s cousin Marta is staying with her that weekend,” Nicholas says, “and she really wants to go. I was thinking you could take her. She’s really pretty. No tits, but she’s skinny.”

Since when did Nicholas care about tits?

“So, I’ll take Carrie and you can take Marta,” Nicholas says. “That way, you and I can be there together.”

My heart soars. “That would be amazing.”

“Perfect.” He grins and squeezes my hand for a second. “You’re the best. Can you get the tickets, then?”

“Yes,” I say giddily. “I’ll get them today.”

“Thanks,” he says. The morning bell rings. “See ya when I see ya.”

“See ya when I see ya!”

*

All morning, I think to myself: I’m going to the Ball with Nicholas! I’m going to the Ball with Nicholas! And I keep replaying what he said: That way, you and I can be there together.

At lunchtime, I line up at the reception office to buy the tickets.

When I get to the front of the line, the stern-faced secretary says, “Name of partner?”

“Marta Green,” I say, but my brain says, I’m going to the dance with Nicholas!

The secretary nods approvingly and hands over the ancient card machine. $120 is a lot of money – almost half the contents of my bank account – but it’s worth every cent. The machine beeps happily and the receptionist slides two paper tickets across the counter. In Gold cursive, Crampton Collegiate Year 11 Ball, with the date, time, and venue.

I practically bounce into the library with my tickets.

“What is wrong with you today?” Harriet demands.

I show her the tickets and tell her what’s happened.

“Well, speaking of tickets,” Harriet says, “here is yours for the concert I’m playing in on Saturday.”

It’s at 8 o’clock at Arcade Hall. The concert is called Local Showcase, which doesn’t really tell me anything.

Still, I gush. “I’m so excited!”

“You’ve gone insane,” Harriet says.

She’s right. I have gone insane, insane with happiness.

I’m going to the Ball with Nicholas!