Black as Ebony (Instalment One)

“WHAT?”

My mother whipped her head up from her newspaper. Pinning me to the spot with her beady eyes, her eyes started to pop out of her head like bubbles.

“You want a boy to come here?” she asked, spitting out the word “boy” like a contagious disease. “To our house? For lunch? How long has this relationship been going on behind my back?”

“Mum, I’ve known him since kindergarten. He’s only a friend who I’m working on a project with,” I protested. “You know, Emily Li’s son. Peter. You’ve definitely seen him before.”

“The one with the dark hair and chronic chickenpox?” she asked suspiciously.

“They’re freckles, Mum,” I sighed.

“Oh, yes, I remember. I’ll think about it, Ebony.” With that she buried her head back in her newspaper.

I rolled my eyes. She was always so moody. I supposed her mistrust of boys had come about since gran’s divorce with gramps three years ago. Mum was never fussy about boys coming over before the divorce and now it was three years since the divorce I didn’t see why she wouldn’t let Peter come over. After all, she knew he was just a friend.

If you’re wondering why it never affected me that much, it’s because of my friend Lara. During my visits to her house when I was in Year Seven I met her parents. I know it sounds clichéd but they were definitely in love. You could see a kind of sparkle in their eyes when they looked at each other. They’re also really nice. My parents, well, they just put up with each other.

I’m currently in Year Ten and I’ve just turned 16. It’s still the summer holidays so I don’t get as many birthday wishes because some people can’t be bothered to ring you up and say, “Happy birthday.” Which sucks, because people tend to give you more presents when your birthday is in the school term in order to seem nicer and gain more popularity points. At least Amisha and Lara came over for my birthday lunch. They’re my best friends.

Amisha’s tall, slim and beautiful with skin the colour of milk chocolate. She plays the trumpet really well and swims in international competitions. Lara’s only slightly shorter than Amisha and has innocent blue eyes framed by long blonde hair. There’s only one word to describe her: crazy. She broke both her legs when jumping from the second storey of her house when she was dared. She excels at art and is always doing things to make Amisha and I laugh.

That brings me to another person. Priscilla. She’s the grade’s official bitch. She was the one to dare Lara to jump out the window. She’s also extremely pretty, with short copper hair, green eyes and an upturned nose that gives you the impression that she thinks she’s superior to you. Priscilla’s quite short but she has this huge presence that makes you gape at her when she enters the room. If there’s someone she doesn’t like, they’ll be at another school by the end of the month. Take Darren Newington. He sneered at her height at the beginning of Year 9 and he was several countries away by the time she’d been through with him. She wouldn’t hesitate to spread false rumours, sabotage your property, steal your friends and pretend she hadn’t done anything at the end of it all. So far, we had escaped her notice.

I sat down at the piano and began to do my practice. I’m doing my Licentiate of Music this year, which is the final grade before you’re fully qualified to teach piano. I planned to teach as a part time job during university. Again and again I practised phrases, my fingers flowing over the keys.

“Ebony! Keep it down, will you! I’m trying to work here, you know,” my mother called, immersed in an enormous pile of papers. As an accountant she was always bogged down with work.

Scowling, I put the practise pedal on, which muted the sound. I practised and practised until my fingers were worn out. I really loved playing the piano.

Suddenly, the phone rang. My mother picked it up and said, “It’s for you, Ebony.”

I ran over, hoping it was Amisha or Lara who had promised to ring to update me on all their summer adventures. Amisha had gone up to Queensland to visit her relatives and Lara had gone to Paris while I was stuck back in Sydney.

“Hello?” I asked excitedly.

“It’s Priscilla,” the voice coolly informed me.