Not Quite Perfect Boyfriend by Lili Wilkinson Page B

all.’
    This is weird. Surely Dad wouldn’t lie to me about her being dead. But if she’s not dead, then what was he crying about last night?
    I get to school just as the bell rings, so I hurry to form assembly without going to my locker first. I try to convince myself that it’s because I missed the tram, but actually it’s because I don’t want to run into Tahni. Or Ben. I don’t really want to see George, either, but we’re in the same form, so I can’t avoid him.
    Except it seems like I can, because he studiously ignores me throughout form assembly, and then runs off as soon as the first period bell rings. I’m ridiculously glad, because it means I don’t have to confront the fact that’s been churning at the back of my mind since last night. The terrible truth that George was right about Ben.
    As I make my way from form assembly to History, I run into Nina Kennan.
    â€˜Great party, hey?’ she says. ‘I was so wasted.’
    â€˜Yeah,’ I say. ‘Wasted.’
    â€˜Have you seen Tahni?’
    I shake my head and feel guilty.
    â€˜She must still be sick.’ Nina leans towards me conspiratorially. ‘I heard her mum took her to hospital. After Chris dropped her home.’
    â€˜Hospital?’
    â€˜She got her stomach pumped. Alcohol poisoning.’
    â€˜Oh no,’ I say. I remember her, stumbling away with Chris Stitz. ‘I didn’t realise she was that drunk.’
    Nina winks at me. ‘I’m sure you had other things on your mind,’ she says with a smile. ‘Like that gorgeous man of yours.’
    I ignore this. ‘She really had her stomach pumped? You’re sure?’
    I swallow. It wasn’t my fault. Tahni’s a big girl. She should have known better than to drink so much. And it still doesn’t excuse her behaviour.
    â€˜Yep,’ says Nina. ‘I had to have it done last New Year’s. They force a tube down your throat and put charcoal in your stomach. The charcoal soaks up the alcohol and makes you vomit up all this black stuff.’
    Make her stop. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to think about Tahni with a tube in her throat.
    â€˜I have to go,’ I say. ‘I have a . . . a thing. See you.’
    I flee, feeling like the lowliest, most hateful and awfullest creature in the world.
    I don’t listen in History. Not even when Mr Loriot misspells goverment , disemmination and reccurrance . I can’t stop thinking about Tahni, lying in hospital with charcoal smeared around her mouth, the same way that eyeliner was smeared around her eyes at the party. I think about what George said.
    Maybe it’s because she hasn’t found the right one? And so she’s trying and trying to find one she has a connection with, and you stroll in and find the perfect boy on the first go.
    But did I?
    I think about Ben dancing with Tahni. And talking to the blonde girl in the kitchen. I think about all the times he called me on the phone or hung out with me. I think about him kissing me. I think about Imaginary Ben. He wouldn’t have got me to keep doing his MySpace page. He would have done his own English project. He wouldn’t hit me up every recess for a dollar to buy a Mars Bar.
    When the bell goes, I wander out in a daze and shuffle towards my locker.
    I feel hands on my waist and turn. It’s Ben. He leans in to kiss me, and I pull away. I don’t know why, but I don’t want him to touch me. Every thing I ever found adorable about him now seems sleazy and repulsive. His perfect-fitting uniform and perfect floppy hair are annoying. How much time does he spend in front of the mirror every morning getting it to look like that?
    â€˜Did you get my email?’ Ben asks. He doesn’t appear to notice my repulsion. ‘I’ve got a few more suggestions for my project.’
    He doesn’t ask what happened to me at the party. He probably