"The roses are dead,
The violets are too,
Don't mention romance,
You'll make me spew."
Francesca Burton knows all there is to know about love and romance. She knows that love is for the naïve and romance is for the delusional. Her parents taught her...
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And that's how I find myself catching the train home with the great, golden Travers Riordan.
My mother beamed when I told her that Trav and I were doing homework together after school. Cass' eyes lit up like heart-shaped fireworks. Trav's friends seem not to have even noticed that I'm on the train with them. He doesn't make any move to include me in the conversation, and I don't make any effort to include myself in it.
Trav's group is made up mainly of boys, with the occasional girlfriend thrown in. The exception is Cecily Ryan, Trav's Co-Captain of Wentworth House. Cecily and Trav have been inseparable since we were all in junior school together. Cass says that a lot of Trav's five-week-long relationships end because the girlfriend can't handle the fact that Trav's best friend is also a girl. I suspect Trav just has a short attention span.
Interestingly, Bethany is not with us, even though I'm pretty sure she lives on this train line.
"Yo, Riordan, you coming to Robbo's party on Saturday?" Matt Chomsky. Better known as 'Chomper'. State rugby star and built like it. Also, according to Cass, some sort of maths genius. Not that you'd know it. His current performance swinging from the overhead handrails smacks decidedly of moron.
"Of course, Mate, wouldn't miss it."
"Yeah, it's gonna be lit." Chomper swaps swinging for chin ups. Two of the other guys dutifully count his reps. "Cec, you gonna get on the decks?" Cecily is an aspiring DJ. I've only heard her play once, at the Year 11 formal, but from what I can tell, she's pretty good.
"I'm not sure, I haven't talked to Robbo about it and I don't know how I'd get my gear to his place." Cecily shrugs, her copper-coloured curls bouncing against her shoulders.
"Gemma said she'd drive me, I know she won't mind giving you a lift," Trav tells her.
Gemma? Who's Gemma? Maybe my predictions have already come true and Trav and Bethany are through. I make a mental note to share this intel with Cass.
"This is us, Burton," Trav says. His friends look at me in surprise, clearly wondering what on earth Trav and I are doing getting off the train together.
"I'll call you tonight?" Cecily asks him, glancing in my direction with raised eyebrows.
"Sure, chat later." Trav squeezes her arm as we exit the carriage.
Trav's house isn't far from the station, which is good, because it's sweltering hot and the silence between us isn't exactly comfortable. The house is a pretty, two-storey weatherboard. Pale grey with a white trim and hugged by a wide veranda. There's a towering fig tree in the front yard, which I have vivid memories of being dared to climb during a junior school class party.
Trav turns his key in the front door and ushers me inside. I breathe a sigh of relief to discover that the Riordans have air conditioning.
"Gemma? Gem, are you home?" Trav yells up the stairs, shrugging out of his blazer and dumping his bag on the polished floorboards.
Gemma lives with him?
"Up here, Frog," comes the muffled reply.
Frog?
"Come on," Trav says, the first thing he's said to me since we left the train. He takes my bag and places it on the floor with far more care than he discarded his own. "Come meet my idea."
I follow him up the stairs and into a room that looks like a lolly shop exploded in it. Flamingo pink walls; turquoise carpet; orange skirtings and picture rails. A green and white palm frond-patterned bedspread. A girl with mauve hair typing furiously in front of a bank of computer monitors.
"Francesca, this is my big sister Gemma. Gem, this is Francesca."
So, not a live-in girlfriend then. Well, that's disappointing.
Gemma holds up a single finger in the universal gesture for 'wait', while continuing to punch keys at a zillion kilometres per hour.
Trav waits in patient silence and I take my cue from him. Eventually, Gemma stops attacking her keyboard and swivels her chair around to face us. Beyond the hair, disco-glitter eye shadow and diamond nose stud, the family resemblance is obvious.
The older Riordan has Trav's light grey eyes and, when she grins at me in greeting, her mouth does the same lopsided, Riordan thing that has melted the hearts of so many misguided souls.
"Hi, Francesca was it? Sorry about that, I was just finishing something off. What can I do for you guys?"
"You know that algorithm you built for your uni prac last year? The dating app one? Can we use it for a school thing?" Trav asks his sister.
I look at him in undisguised horror. This is his great idea? A dating app? As if our year level needs more fuel added to its relationship-crazed, hormone-happy fire. Nowhere in my future planning does it say anything about being the fake CEO of a fake matchmaking service.
No Ma'am.
No way.
Not happening.
"Sure," Gemma says, with another sunny, lopsided smile. "It's all yours. What do you need it for?"
Before I have the chance to formulate the right words to tell Travers Riordan exactly how very bad I think his great idea is, Trav is already explaining our Intro to BusComm assignment to Gemma, and Gemma is off and running with undisguised enthusiasm.
I stand there, silently fuming. The boy is cracked if he thinks I'm agreeing to this. I don't believe in any of this stuff. I'm like the anti-Cupid of matchmaking. But how am I supposed to explain that to the Dating King of St Mark's without sounding like the cynical downer Cass is always accusing me of being? And why exactly do I care if Travers Riordan thinks I'm bitter and twisted?
(Actually, ignore that last question. I don't have the brain space or the time to try and muddle that one out right now. Focus Frankie, focus).
"That is such a wicked assignment," Gemma is saying. "And you can market the shit out of this thing. Website design isn't exactly my sweet spot but it's totally Gordo's. You remember Gordo, Frog? The guy I went on that yoga retreat with last year? He'll totally help you guys set up a website and a cute app interface."
"Awesome," Trav says. "I was thinking we could also do one of those guerrilla-style events, like a surprise public performance or something. Then we film it and put it online, with just a graphic at the end with the app name or the URL?"
The two of them are on a roll, brainstorming and finishing each other's sentences; smiling manically like lopsided Cheshire cats.
"Ummm," I finally spit out, when it becomes clear that the Riordan siblings have all but forgotten I exist. "Do I get any say in this at all?"
"Of course," Trav says, glancing at me in surprise. "You're really good at arty stuff aren't you? I always see you sketching in those little notebooks. I was sort of hoping you'd want to handle the design side of things?"
"No." I say it softly but something in my voice or my face must tell Trav I'm deadly serious, because he puts an immediate lid on his enthusiasm.
"Gem, thanks. I really appreciate you letting us use your stuff. Francesca and I just need a little bit of time to talk it all over and work out our game plan."
"No problem," Gemma says, giving me a little wave as Trav bundles me gently out of the room like a grenade tipped to blow.
