Make Up or Break Up Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Ally GOES to the MUSICAL AUDITION with Cat

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Ally JOINS the Latin extension class

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Ally ACCEPTS Tony’s offer

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Ally REFUSES Tony’s offer

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Ally SITS next to James

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Ally SITS with the girls

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Ally TELLS CAT about her secret romance with Tony

  Chapter Eight

  Ally KEEPS her romance with Tony a secret

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Ally tells CAT exactly WHAT she thinks

  Chapter Eight

  Ally BITES her tongue about Cat

  Chapter Eight

  Ally CONFRONTS Cat

  Chapter Nine

  Ally IGNORES Cat

  Chapter Nine

  Ally MAKES a chocolate cake

  Chapter Nine

  Ally BUYS treats FROM the shops

  Chapter Nine

  Copyright Page

  ‘Ally’s into hunks,’ I heard Mum say to our neighbour, Mrs Rickson. ‘She has a poster of Chris Hemsworth stuck to the ceiling of her bedroom.’

  Mum and Mrs Rickson were having coffee in our kitchen, and the window was wide open. I was studying for a Latin test on the lawn in the backyard, right under the window. I could hear every word they were saying.

  ‘They grow up so quickly these days, don’t they?’ Mrs Rickson said.

  ‘Ally’s a bit of a late developer,’ said Mum. ‘But she’s just as boy crazy as all her friends.’

  I rolled my eyes. Late developer? How embarrassing.

  ‘Well,’ Mrs Rickson said with a sigh, ‘my Tony’s shy around girls these days.’

  Tony Rickson was in my year at school. He was a long-haired muso nerd.

  ‘He’s mad about piano, though,’ She continued. ‘I never have to nag him to practise.’

  ‘It’s a shame that Ally and Tony don’t spend time together anymore,’ said Mum. ‘They used to be such good friends.’

  I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket. A message. Thank goodness. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what Mum and Mrs Rickson had to say about Tony and me. That was so ancient history.

  I pulled out my phone and opened the message. It was from my best friend, Cat.

  If you don’t come and help me with Latin now, I’ll have to cheat on the test tomorrow.

  Chuckling, I closed my textbook and went inside.

  ‘Mum, I’m going to Cat’s place to study,’ I called from the kitchen doorway.

  ‘Hello, Ally,’ said Mrs Rickson.

  ‘Hi, Mrs Rickson.’ I stood clutching my Latin book to my chest so she couldn’t tell that I really was a ‘late developer’, like Mum had said.

  I was sure they’d go into my room after I left to look at my poster of Chris Hemsworth. Then Mrs Rickson would go home and tell Tony all about it. ‘I don’t know why Ally Motbey thinks a hunk like Chris Hemsworth would be interested in her,’ she’d say to Tony. ‘She’s totally flat-chested.’

  ‘All right, but be back for dinner,’ said Mum. ‘No later than six.’

  ‘Okay. Bye, Mum. Bye, Mrs Rickson.’

  ‘No later than six!’ I heard Mum shout as I raced to the front door.

  ‘Okay. Geez …’ I muttered, slamming the door behind me.

  It was a short walk to Cat’s house – just twelve minutes through the park. It’s funny, I thought as I walked, how I’m always late home from Cat’s place even though it’s so close by. Something happened when we were together. It was like time flew or something. Like the planet started spinning faster, and in the blink of an eye two hours were gone. I guess that was why we were best friends. But it also meant I was always late for dinner!

  Cat and I had been besties since the dawn of time. Well, since Year 5, when we did detention together after squeezing tubes of paint down the art-room sink. Cat’s full name was Caterina-Cordelia Fini. Her father, Carlo Fini, was a famous fashion designer and her mother, Gina, used to be a model. Their house was a white two-storey with a triple garage and a really long driveway. It was huge.

  It’s definitely the biggest house in the street, I thought as I walked up their driveway.

  Cat’s mum, answered the front door, smiling. She always seemed happy to see me. ‘Cat’s upstairs, studying,’ she said, motioning me inside. ‘She said you might drop in this afternoon.’

  ‘Hi Gina,’ I said, kissing her first on one cheek and then the other. She and Cat were the only people I knew who were sophisticated enough to kiss both cheeks like that.

  Gina wasn’t like my mum or Mrs Rickson. Gina wore playsuits – not tracksuits – and her fingernails and toenails were always painted the same colour. She and Cat looked more like sisters than mother and daughter. She wouldn’t even let me call her ‘Mrs Fini’. She said it made her feel old.

  I ran up the stairs to Cat’s room. She was stretched out on her stomach, with headphones on, her toes tapping to the music. I looked around for her Latin book. It was on her desk. I sat on the end of her bed.

  ‘Ally!’ she squealed. She pulled off her headphones and crawled across the bed to sit next to me. We kissed on both cheeks.

  ‘Studying hard, Cat?’ I asked, innocently.

  She threw her hands in the air and groaned. ‘It’s been doing my head in! I just can’t handle Latin verbs. I mean, I totally get why Latin’s a dead language … those Romans must have died of boredom trying to learn it.’

  I laughed, and then looked at her questioningly. ‘I still don’t get it,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘I mean, you’re Italian. Latin should be a cinch for you.’

  ‘Yeah, but we never speak Italian at home,’ Cat said. Then she grinned. ‘Well, only the swearwords … And I don’t think Hawky will test us on those.’

  Hawky, or Mrs Hawkins, was our Latin teacher. Even though she was strict and most of the other kids thought she was an ogre, she was my favourite teacher, and Latin was my favourite subject.

  A couple of years ago, our school introduced Latin classes starting from Year 7. Not everyone was thrilled. To say Latin wasn’t Cat’s favourite subject would be the understatement of the millennium. She relied on me to help her study.

  I knew Cat would avoid studying for as long as she could, so I grabbed the Latin textbook from her desk. I turned to the verb table in the fourth chapter. For tomorrow’s test we had to memorise the Latin verb amare – ‘to love’.

  ‘Amo?’ I asked, looking at Cat. It meant ‘I love’. Even Cat knew that much.

  Cat flopped back onto the bed and closed her eyes, screwing up her face as if in tremendous pain.

  ‘Come on.’ I said. ‘Amo. What does it mean?’ I raised my eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

  ‘A mo,’ replied Cat, a grin erupting on her face, ‘would be a bad look on you. Uh-uh, Ally. I don’t think a moustache would suit you at all. I’d seriously have to reconsider my position as your bestie if you grew a mo.’

  I slammed the textbook shut and fixed her with a serious look. ‘Cat! You’re going to flunk this test if you don’t make an effort. Do you want me to help you or not?’

  ‘Amo,’ said Cat slowly, ‘means “I love” – as in amo Ollie.’

  I rolled my eyes. Ollie Haas, a Year 10 boy, was the hottest guy at our school. He was perfect
. Tall, blonde and athletic, Ollie was good at almost everything, especially music and drama.

  Cat loved singing and drama, too, and had performed with Ollie in the school musical last year. All the girls in the musical – including Cat – had been falling over themselves to get close to him. In the end he’d hooked up with the female lead – a girl in the year above him! – at the afterparty. The hottest news around the lockers was that they’d broken up over the summer holidays and Ollie was back on the market.

  Since she’d found out, Cat had hardly been able to talk about anything else. And then last week, when she found out that this year’s school musical was about to be announced, she’d gone into overdrive. She’d been talking about Ollie almost nonstop for a full week now – saying how she was going to star opposite him in the musical in a lead role, and how he would fall in love with her.

  It didn’t really surprise me that she couldn’t focus on Latin. Her head was totally filled up with dreams of stardom and her Ollie romance! But as her best friend I decided it was my duty to keep her from failing Latin, so I cast my eyes back to the verb table.

  ‘Amas,’ I said.

  Cat pouted and narrowed her green eyes. ‘Don’t know.’

  ‘Yes, you do. Come on.’

  ‘It means, “you love”. I know that. But who? Who do you love, Ally?’

  I didn’t hesitate. ‘I love Chris Hemsworth.’

  ‘Pfft! Doesn’t count. He’s famous … and he’s married now.’

  ‘I know. But when it’s just the two of us, alone in my room –’ I started.

  ‘Ally!’ Cat scolded. ‘You need a real guy. I mean, I’ll be going out with Ollie soon and you’ll need a boyfriend, too.’ A thoughtful look crossed her face. ‘Actually, you know who’s been looking pretty hot lately?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Your neighbour. The pianist.’

  For some reason, whenever someone said the word ‘pianist’ it sent me completely silly. It was just one of those words, like ‘spatchcock’. I started to giggle. ‘You mean Tony Rickson?’

  ‘Yeah. Are you laughing because it’s true or because I said “pianist”?’

  ‘Because you said “pianist”,’ I said firmly. ‘C’mon, Cat. Tony looks like a grunge rocker from the nineties.’

  ‘Trust me, under all that hair lies a total hottie,’ said Cat, stretching her arms behind her head. She considered herself an authority on who really was and wasn’t a hottie underneath it all. ‘He’s a diamond in the rough.’

  ‘More like an ugly hunk of quartz,’ I muttered. I studied the verb table intently.

  ‘So, you admit he’s a hunk.’

  ‘I’m not admitting anything,’ I said, starting to feel annoyed. ‘I wouldn’t go near him, Cat.’

  ‘But he used to hang around you like a bad smell – and you used to let him,’ Cat said. ‘Remember?’

  It felt like an accusation. Of course I remembered. For a short time last year, Tony and I had almost been more than just friends. But then something had happened – something I’d never told Cat about. I could feel my cheeks getting warm. I turned away, hoping Cat wouldn’t notice.

  ‘C’mon, Ally,’ she said, sitting up straight. ‘We’re fourteen now. You totally need a boyfriend. And besides, I’ll need you and Tony to come on double dates with me and Ollie.’

  I didn’t say anything.

  ‘You’re blushing,’ said Cat with a giggle. ‘And your face looked far, far away.’

  I lifted the textbook, holding it up to my face. ‘Amat.’ I said sternly. ‘What does it mean?’ I peered over the book at Cat.

  She was still smiling smugly. ‘Are you wearing a bra?’ she asked.

  I put the book down and crossed my arms over my chest. ‘I don’t wear one all the time,’ I said. ‘I don’t need to. Not like you.’

  Cat looked down at her cleavage and clicked her tongue. ‘Yeah, but you’ve got something.’

  ‘What does any of this have to do with Latin?’ I asked.

  ‘What exactly does Latin have to do with anything?’ she countered, flopping back onto the bed.

  Exasperated, I threw myself down beside her. We looked at each other and giggled. Cat reached for her phone and took a photo of us.

  I checked out the picture. My eyes were half-closed and Cat was grinning like a maniac. The end of my blonde plait looked like it was slithering into her ear. We both cracked up, then Cat deleted the photo.

  ‘C’mon, let’s get some gelato,’ she said. ‘Dad made a huge batch of hazelnut last night.’

  I wasn’t sure what hazelnut gelato had to do with bras or Latin or Tony Rickson, but it did sound like a good idea. We crept down the stairs to the kitchen, tiptoeing past Cat’s parents, who were both reading in the lounge room.

  Mr Fini burst into the kitchen as Cat opened the freezer door. He rolled up the newspaper he’d been reading and pretended to beat Cat’s legs with it. ‘Caterina! This is the last bowl before dinner!’

  ‘Okay, Dad,’ giggled Cat, slapping away the rolled-up paper.

  Mr Fini grinned at me. He was short and round, and looked more like an Italian chef than a fashion designer. ‘Good afternoon, Ally. How are you?’ He always spoke formally, with a faint Italian accent.

  ‘Fine, thank you. Your gelato looks so delicious,’ I answered, watching Cat scoop it into bowls.

  ‘It’s my new gelato machine. It turns out perfectly every time!’ Mr Fini slapped a kiss on Cat’s forehead and went back to the other room.

  ‘Your dad’s so fun,’ I said.

  ‘He seems fun,’ said Cat, with a snort. ‘But you know how strict he is.’

  I nodded, but Mr Fini didn’t seem all that strict to me. Cat got away with almost everything. She just hated it when anyone – including her parents – got in the way of her plans. But I didn’t say that. I just threw another spoonful of gelato down the hatch … and another … and another …

  We ended up eating two huge bowls each. Then Cat put on Mr Fini’s Andrea Bocelli CD. We tried to sing along to the Time to Say Goodbye duet, but our throats were so cold and phlegmy from eating so much gelato, we sounded like Kermit the Frog. When our duet was over, we heard Mr Fini giving us a slow clap from the next room. He’d heard the whole thing! We laughed until our faces were hot and tears were rolling down our cheeks.

  Then it was time for Cat to walk me home. The suburb where we lived, Cherrywood, was just outside the city. It was green and leafy, with big houses and perfect gardens. Even though the trip across the park was twelve minutes door to door, it often took us more than an hour to walk each other home. Cat would walk me home, but then we’d still have more to say, so I’d walk her back home. Then when we got back to her place, the conversation would still be flowing, so she’d have to walk me home, and so on. We’d continue like this until it got dark or our parents yelled at us to come inside. Cat and I never ran out of things to talk about – not once.

  This afternoon was no different – we walked back and forth, talking and laughing. I even got Cat singing Latin verbs. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it earlier. Cat could learn anything if she got to sing it.

  At the end of the fifth trip round, Dad was standing in our driveway with his arms folded. ‘That’s enough, girls,’ he said. He knew exactly what we were up to.

  ‘But Mr Motbey,’ pleaded Cat. ‘Ally always walks me to my place last.’

  Dad pretended to play a violin, his face contorted with mock grief. I giggled.

  Cat pouted. ‘I just don’t feel safe walking on my own,’ she said, shivering for effect. ‘And it’s getting dark.’

  Dad reached into his pocket and jangled his car keys. ‘I can drive you home,’ he offered.

  Cat gave me a withering glare, and I shot her a ‘what can I do?’ look in reply.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she told my dad grumpily. ‘I’ll just walk by myself.’

  ‘Amo you, Caterina-Cordelia Fini,’ I said.

  ‘Amo you too, Alexandra Motbey,’ sai
d Cat with a little smile.

  We hugged, and kissed each other on both cheeks.

  ‘What a drama queen,’ said Dad after she left.

  ‘She is not!’ I said crossly. I stormed off, with Cat-like huffiness, into the house. I didn’t want to hear anyone say anything against Cat. Even though, secretly, I kind of knew Dad was right.

  I lay on my bed and looked up at Chris Hemsworth. ‘That’s the thing about Cat,’ I told him in a secretive voice. ‘She blows everything out of proportion. If I tell her the truth about Tony …’ But I couldn’t finish the sentence, not even to Chris, and he was the best listener in the world.

  The truth which I couldn’t bring myself to tell Cat was that Tony and I had been really close for a few months last year. Cat had gone holidaying in Europe with her parents, so Tony and I spent a lot of time hanging out together. We used to go on these long walks around Cherrywood Lakes, talking about everything from music to movie stars to annoying things our parents did. Tony was into folk rock and he used to put one of his headphones in my ear so I could listen to The Lumineers with him. I wasn’t as crazy about them as he was, but I did like getting up close enough to share his headphones.

  Then one afternoon, we kissed. It had been my first kiss, and, I’m pretty sure, Tony’s first kiss, too.

  The whole truth was that I’d kissed him. He’d acted like he hadn’t seen it coming, in spite of all the signals he’d been giving me in the days before. The intense gazes, the unnecessary touching – apparently all of these things had meant nothing.

  After he pulled away from me, he’d wiped his lips with the back of his hand as though he’d just tasted something disgusting. He didn’t hug me. He didn’t tell me everything was all right. He didn’t say anything at all. We walked home in silence and have barely spoken since. Even though we’re neighbours, we never make eye contact anymore. There’s nothing between us now. Nothing but nervous embarrassment.

  That was the whole terrible truth. All I’d told Cat was that Tony and I had hung out a bit while she was away. Nothing else. I’d kept the truth from her because she had been in Europe when the kiss happened, and by the time she got back I just wanted to forget about it. Besides, she’d always said he was a muso dork.