Silver

Chapter 21 - then

'How was your weekend?' I asked Millie. It sounded unnatural, somehow.

'It was okay.' She spoke softer than usual, as though she was afraid of people listening. It was the first Monday of the month, meaning 'fitness morning'. We were standing in a queue for our measure up in our gym outfits; dark navy lycra pants and orange singlet tops. Our uniform was designed by Peter Osmo who designed the Australian Olympic team's uniforms three years prior, a reminder of how 'exclusive' and 'fortunate' we were at this school.

'How was the dressmaker?' I asked.

'Fine. Mum came along.'

'I went to McClelland with dad,' I said. 'We'll have to go. They have an exhibition of works by Ron Mueck. There's a sculpture made out of fibreglass and it's two and a half times the size of a real person. It's called the Wild Man. The detail was amazing, you could see the pimples on his back and every little hair on his leg. And it was so life-like, you could almost smell his body odour.' I was overcompensating, saying too much and talking too loudly. My mother's voice in my head reminded me to speak more like a lady. I softened my voice and asked, 'Are you having another meeting with the dressmaker?'

'Of course,' she said. I could hardly hear her when she whispered, 'we still have to get your dress made.'

I was relieved. I'd been fretting all weekend, imagining what I'd say if she told me I'd been sacked as head bridesmaid. I deserved to be sacked, but I didn't know how our friendship would ever survive if I was dismissed from the role.

'You mean you still want me to be your head bridesmaid?' I needed to be sure.

'I don't just want you to be head bridesmaid, I need you to be,' she whispered, with the first smile I'd seen on her face in days.

I was so overcome with relief and optimism that I blurted out, 'I'm getting married too.' She threw her arms around me and gave me the warmest hug, like the day I'd told her I'd gotten my period, the day after she'd gotten hers, and we knew that we now belonged together to a new club.

'Sylvie,' the sports teacher said with a tone of disapproval at this public display of affection. Millie dropped her arms away from me like I'd morphed into a rat. 'Get moving.'

I hadn't realised that I was at the front of the queue. I marched up the stairs to the top of the stage for my measure up. I stood with my wrists held together, high above my head, while a lady with a grassy scent used a tape measure to measure my waist and bustline. I could see Millie from up here, she looked so delighted and proud of me. Yet when I stepped on to the scales I thought, 'what the hell have I just said?'

I turned to look at the large digital display. It said 51 kg. The number combination is like white clouds against a blue sky. I'd been 41 kg every measure up since I started year 8.

'Very consistent,' said the lady entering the details into her zaplet. I walked down the stairs on the opposite side of the stage. I had a fortunate metabolism, despite my hair being lanky and my complexion poor.

I watched as Millie stood on the scales and her weight was displayed to everyone. She was 45 kg. The lady at the zaplet screen entered her details and then called her over and handed her a sheet of paper.

When Millie came down the steps, I asked, 'what's that?'

'Oh, it's just an eating plan,' she said, 'I've lost a couple of kilos. Must be the stress of the wedding.'

'Do you have to do the extra lessons?' Sometimes the girls who have lost or gained weight have to do extra healthy living lessons each week for a month, up until the next measure up. They usually have to do these lessons instead of their better-liked electives like art or music.

'Not yet. Don't worry about that. Let's talk about your wedding.' She linked her arm through mine and we walked out of the gym back to homeroom.