Rickola

Rickola | Chapter Nine

A chorus of resonated cheers sounded in my head and I tried hard to hide my satisfied smile. Yes! It looked like the world loved me after all. I cleared my throat and spoke with as serious a voice as I could muster. “Yeah, it’s in the umm… Royal Botanic Gardens.” I knew exactly where it was because I visited the gardens frequently. It was a great place to run.

Kylie stopped walking and a woman almost ran right into her. She glared as she dodged us and kept going. “Wait, what? I thought we were going to the Opera House.” Kylie was stunned.

“Obviously not.” It was difficult to sound indifferent because I was secretly thrilled. Mrs. Macquarie Point was nowhere near where Rick would be performing tonight. In fact, it was across an entire bay.

“Are you sure it’s not just some small area that no one knows the name of near the Opera House?” she desperately hoped.

I nodded. “It’s definitely in the Botanic Gardens, right by the water.” Kylie looked furious as we continued walking. As I lead her towards the place Maree had told everyone to meet at, she fumed, talking on her phone. Yelling would be overstating her reactions, but she was definitely loud. She had called Maree and was letting her have it. I walked with a skip in my step as she trudged along. Sure, I was a little disappointed, but this meant that I wouldn’t have to deal with all the traitorous thoughts when I was alone later. I was on the road to healing and no bumps were about to interfere with that.

We had reached the entrance to the gardens by the time Kylie hung up on Maree. She was not a happy camper. “Hope you brought something warm to wear later tonight. It’s gonna get cold next to the water.” By the look she gave me, I knew she hadn’t even thought about it.

No matter where we were in the city, if there was water nearby, we were bound to feel a little chill, even in the middle of this scorching summer. I had a backpack of my own that carried a jacket and plenty of water. Knowing the people I was going with, none of them would even think to bring bottles of water. They would all try to survive on cans of soft drink and packets of chips.

When we came to the access point after waiting in a clustered line, an officer in a fluoro orange vest requested to check our bags. When the older man spied the half-dozen bottles in my bag, he asked if he could see one. It was an age-old trick to fill water bottles with vodka, an easy way to sneak alcohol in for a good party. I allowed him to pick a bottle at random. They were all sealed, the caps unbroken, but he didn’t seem satisfied. He cracked it open and smelled the liquid inside.

He grunted disapprovingly when no smell of alcohol reached his grey, hair-filled nose and he handed back the capped bottle. I smirked at him, satisfied with his sour expression. Just because I was a teenager did not mean I felt obligated to carry in alcohol.

“Asshole,” mumbled Kylie as we walked away. He had requested that she empty her bag out, believing that the bottles in my bag were merely decoys.

I zipped up my backpack and threw it over my shoulder. “We can’t blame him, though, not with everything that goes on around here on New Years.”

 She shrugged, knowing it was true.

It was difficult to locate Maree and the others because there were people everywhere. It was only twelve thirty in the afternoon and the place was already packed. Kylie ended up calling Maree again, asking for directions to her exact location. We eventually found her, surrounded by a sea of blankets, bags and a few people I knew from school. Her flaming red hair was tied back in a sleek ponytail, and she wore a nice flowing dress printed with funky patterns. She was far too dressed up, but, after all, we were supposed to be at the concert. The first words that Kylie spoke to her were full of fury.