The Yearbook Committee Read Online Free Page A

you,’ he says, agitated. ‘I was trying to be nice.’
    I sigh. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say after a moment, but he’s standing up to leave. ‘Hey, come on, please let me apologise . . .’
    He relents and lets me kiss his nose. ‘I already paid a deposit, Tammi,’ he says. ‘I thought you’d be excited.’
    â€˜There’s just so much happening this year already,’ I tell him. ‘I’m already under so much pressure to think about my future and uni preferences and what to do about dancing . . .’
    â€˜Yeah, but we’ve been going out since the year 10 formal,’ he says. ‘We need to move forwards.’
    I nod, a lump forming in my throat. ‘Yeah, you’re right, I suppose,’ I say, trying to smile.
    â€˜I’m putting in a lot of effort, you know,’ he says. ‘This is harder than you think. It’s embarrassing, especially when the boys ask . . .’
    â€˜So you’re more concerned with what the boys think of you than about what’s right for me?’
    â€˜Of course you come first. I know, it’s your body, blah, blah, but I’m a bloke. I have needs. I’m starting to feel like something’s the matter with me.’
    â€˜There’s nothing the matter with . . . Sorry, I have to go to the bathroom,’ I say quickly, grabbing my bag and making a run forthe toilets. Inside, I rush to the furthest cubicle and, a second later, I hurl into the toilet. The bell rings and I hear people walking to class, but I don’t move. I just stand there, staring at the former contents of my stomach. Gosh, just the idea of sex with him is making me physically sick.
    After a few minutes, I hear: ‘Tammi?’ It’s Lauren.
    â€˜In here,’ I croak.
    â€˜In where?’ comes the response.
    I open the cubicle door.
    â€˜Hey,’ she says. ‘Are you OK?’
    I shrug. ‘I don’t know. I feel like I’m going to vomit. Again.’
    â€˜Well, you’re not pregnant, that’s for sure,’ she says.
    â€˜Oh, come on, not you too,’ I say. ‘Why is he in such a rush?’
    â€˜Well . . . he’s a guy, not a priest,’ she says, shrugging. ‘It’s you I don’t get — what are you waiting for? A husband?’ she asks.
    â€˜No,’ I say, my face reddening. ‘And so what if I was?’
    â€˜â€œSo what”?’ she asks, looking at me like I’ve just grown an ear on my forehead. ‘It’s not normal, that’s what. This is not 1932.’
    I bow my head.
    â€˜Whatever,’ she says, rolling her eyes. ‘I don’t get why you’re holding on to it. It’s just more teenage baggage that you don’t need.’
    â€˜Is that supposed to make it easier?’ I ask. ‘Calling it baggage? Well, baggage can get lost and sent to the wrong place. It can get wrecked too.’
    She scoffs. ‘A room at the Four Seasons is not the wrong place, Tams. People lose their “baggage” in cars and back gardens and alleys outside parties. You think you’ll find someone better than a guy that buys you Tiffany for your birthday and a Prada wallet for Christmas?’
    â€˜His parents paid for that stuff . . .’
    â€˜It doesn’t matter who paid for it,’ she hisses. ‘The point is that most girls would kill for a guy like that. You’ve been spoilt. It’s time to spoil him.’
    â€˜So he gives me gifts and I give him my body, right?’ I ask, looking up. ‘There’s a word for that, you know.’
    She glares at me.
    â€˜Fine, let’s change the subject,’ she says after a moment. ‘I put your name down for the yearbook committee.’
    â€˜You did what ?’ I ask. ‘I told you not to do that.’
    I bury my head in my hands, wondering why my voice means nothing. To anyone in my life.
    â€˜Relax, it’s no big deal,