I snap the delicate red ribbon I’m tying around the top of the silver pouch in my hands. I grab another, trying very hard to keep my mouth shut.
“What’s Miz Peggy?” Fiona asks with a grimace.
“It’s this website for fat chicks. It’s excellent. I subscribed to it to spice things up with Wayne,” Penny explains, talking about her ex-boyfriend. “Total waste of money on him but it’s a fun website so I’m still a member. Miz Peggy’s just added wedding stuff on it—but I guess, you’re too skinny now for that, Bels.”
Fiona makes a noise, and for a beat, I think she’s disagreeing with Penny. But a closer look shows she’s got beads of sweat all along her hair line and upper lip, her face contorted with pain.
“You okay, Fiona?” Isabella asks.
“Ate too many almonds.” She rubs the beach ball in front of her, exhaling through O-shaped lips. “Yeah, must be the…fu—ck!” She suddenly doubles over, hands splayed on each side of her gigantic belly. “Sorry. Can one of you call an ambulance, please? I think I’ve gone into labour.”
Chapter 24
Nobody knows who I’m supposed to be in a singlet, yoga pants, sneakers and a ponytail, especially with a bullet hole on my forehead and blood and brain matter spilling down the side of my face. It’s one of those costumes that only makes sense when accompanied by other parts of the set. And today, the bride and groom wanted the whole bridal party to participate in the annual Zombie Walk—a Brain Foundation charity event held near Halloween where participants come as zombies.
Mia and the usually late Penny are already waiting in the shaded sitting area on a hill just outside the festival grounds. Mia is busy on her smart phone while Penny, who is sitting on a bench beside her, is eating a small pizza and talking to a “soldier”. She’s wearing a short sleeveless black dress with a high neckline, and her black hair is styled into a bob. Part of her face is “missing”, exposing bone and teeth.
“Hi, Jess,” she says as I come nearer. “Can you guess who we are yet?” she asks her new friend. She motions to me, then Mia who is wearing a singlet, patterned thin cotton pyjama bottoms, and a curly light brown wig with blonde streaks. Her costume is finished off with a line of fake blood across her throat.
The “soldier” shakes his head, readjusting the plastic assault weapon on his shoulder.
“Oh cool. Here come Isabella and the guys,” Penny says pointing to six more zombies walking towards us from the road where we see Isabella’s Mini Cooper is parked.
Isabella, who is walking hand in hand with Byron, is wearing a mini dress with the Union Jack design taking up the front of it. She has on chunky, knee-high platform boots, a bright ginger wig and a large butcher’s knife lodged in her head. Beside her, Byron looks yummy despite being in a veil and an ill-fitting eighties-style satin wedding dress with the shoulders that balloon out and a mullet-style skirt—short in front, long at the back. Walking just behind the literally blushing “bride” are four “bridesmaids”—his groomsmen—in matching peach satin dresses with bell-shaped skirts.
My breath catches as it always does when I see Keats, my skin tingling with awareness even in his outfit that reaches just below his knees. It leaves his unshaved legs exposed. All five men are wearing thongs on their feet, what Keats sometimes calls flip flops when he forgets he’s back in Australia.
“Can you guess who we are yet?” Penny asks her new friend impatiently as Isabella nears.
“Um, yeah, my sister used to listen to them when we were in primary school. The Spice Chicks?”
“The Spice Girls!” Penny says with exasperation. “See? I’m Posh Spice, Jess’s Sporty Spice, Mia’s Scary Spice, and Isabella’s Ginger Spice!”
The guy squints as if that would make us all thinner and more closely resemble the nineties group. Frankly, I think we look like the bloated Spice Girls, or like we ate them and put on their clothes. He’s too polite to voice this out.
“All we’re missing is Baby Spice but our friend almost had her baby in my dining room on Monday. Luckily, it was a false alarm, but the doctor’s admitted her to hospital for the rest of her pregnancy so the baby doesn’t come early. Hey, babe!” Penny says on the same breath, turning to Byron. It seems she’s bored with her new friend. “You make a beautiful bride, Jail Bait. How are you?” She goes in for a sisterly hug. “And your bridesmaids are adorable.”
The guys have obviously raided a charity store and are now walking around in someone’s idea of a dream wedding in the eighties.
“You guys know Blake. These are Tomohiro and Jamal—my other groomsmen. They’re doctors,” Byron introduces while the men extend their hands to us. Tomo is about as tall as Keats. His arms are pale but firm. Jamal has a curly black wig on though I can see his closely cropped hair underneath. He looks just slightly taller than me but fit. The sun glints against his wedding ring as he goes to shake my hand.
“Anything to eat here?” Blake asks no one in particular.
“They’re selling pizzas inside,” Penny provides. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind another one. Mia, you ready for lunch yet?”
After a quick chat, she and Mia walk off with three of the groomsmen.
I’d love a pizza but it would go straight to my arse or my gut.
“Who needs more blood?” I ask, ignoring the knot in my stomach as it complains about not getting any fast food. I take a large sauce bottle out of the plastic bag that I’ve brought with me. I’ve mixed together water, corn syrup, green and red food dye and some peppermint to make it more palatable.
“The three of us do. I didn’t want to get it all over my car,” Isabella says, indicating herself and the McAllister brothers on either side of
