Finding Sloane Winters Crazy

Teak Cameron Richardson
Wrong plans

"That Sloane girl is lovely, Teak." Mum says one day, when I come in the door from my drum lessons, and she's drying her aging hands on a tea towel whilst scolding at Quinn to stop pressing her hands against the oven-- which had a cake baking in it.

"Yeah, T." Quinn pipes in, and starts to lick the chocolate cake batter. "She's cool, she showed me how to do plaits! And all my friends think I'm cool now, because I can do plaits all by myself now!"

"You're going to, you know..." Mum pauses, "Open up?"

I shrug, saying, "I don't know, I don't want to tell her about dad."

Mum looks down and sighs, "I know talking-- or even thinking about your father is hard, Teak hun. But you're in love with the girl, you're going to have to trust her."

"Ooh! Teak's in love!" Quinn giggles, making smoochy faces, "I better tell Sloane that boys have cooties, or else she'll get sick and die!"

Glaring at Quinn, I shake my head. "I'm not in love with her, mum."

"Really, Teak? Really?"

I stand up, and stalk up the stairs, saying over my shoulder, "I'm not having this conversation." Make my way into my bedroom, and then I can feel my phone buzzing in my jeans pocket.

7-Eleven in ten mins.

It's from Sloane. And it's like my blood's boiling, and I'm angry at just seeing her name-- because I'm not in love with her. I'm not.

"Teak?! Give me your school uniform, will you? I have to wash it, or else you'll have to go starkers to school on Monday!"

Scowl, and shovel up all my clothes into my arms, then a piece of paper falls in the ground.

It's in girl-ish handwriting, and a red heart, with a phone number on it. I contemplate this, grab my own phone and call it.

"Hey there." says the voice on the send ring. "Who's this?"

"Teak," I say simply, "Meet me at 7-Eleven in five minutes?"

I can hear her already; the jingling of her keys, humming a Rise Against song, the loud footsteps of her combat boots. She opens the door, I can imagine her eating her favourite ice cream.

I push Mandy against the wall, place my hands on her waist and then I'm kissing her. But it all feels so wrong. My hands don't belong on her curves, my lips don't feel right on her lip glossed ones. And I'm asking myself:

Is all of this worth it?

I break away from Mandy when I can hear her shoes pounding on the cement away from me, and I want to wipe my hand over my mouth, because Mandy tastes all wrong. She tastes like anchovies with cream (not literally, just figuratively), not like strawberries in summer or citrus bubblegum.

"Nice talking to you, Teak." Mandy's smirking, she thinks she's got me wrapped around her finger. But I'm not, because I'm wrapped around Sloane's.

But she's gone, and it wasn't worth it.

"I heard you kissed Mandy on Sat'day." she says, on a cold Monday morning, a wicked grin on her face. But it's cracking every second she's waiting for her answer.

She's lying, she didn't hear me; she saw.

"Where did you hear that?" I say, aware of her soft eyes on my face. And I'm not giving eye contact, and she's still waiting.

"I heard Mandy's friends gossiping about it in the loos."

That smile, faltering and waiting-- she knows, but there's the gleam in her eyes that shows she's hopeful, that it was all a nightmare, that it was just another guy who looked exactly like me.

All I can do is look straightforward, not into her eyes-- "I didn't know you'd believe what they'd say." -- and there's that smile dropping.

And she knows that it's true.