The Gaps

by Leanne Hall

  ‘How are you doing?’

  ‘Good.’ It’s hard not to sound nervous.

  Ms Nouri taps her big teacher’s diary with glitter-storm fingernails.

  ‘I have something difficult to tell you, Chloe.’

  She hasn’t looked at me properly until now. She looks worried.

  ‘A decision has been made to remove your artwork from the exhibition. After receiving a complaint, Mrs Christie has decided this is the best course of action, to prevent others from getting upset.’

  Ice runs through me. It’s very similar to the feeling I had when Sam went missing at the mall. It takes a few seconds for me to get any words out.

  ‘What kind of complaint?’

  ‘I didn’t field the complaint personally, so I don’t know every detail. Mrs Christie indicated that the person was distraught.’

  ‘My photo upset them?’ I ask, trying to make sense of it. Ms Nouri has spent the entire year telling us art is supposed to make us feel something. ‘I don’t get it. Why didn’t I get called into the principal’s office?’

  ‘It was thought best that I discuss it with you. Break the news to you gently.’ Ms Nouri attempts a laugh and sounds nothing but bitter. It dawns on me that Mrs Christie has made her do this. ‘I can still accept the piece as your final project, though. Your grade won’t be affected at all.’

  I think of all the guidance Ms Nouri gave me, the suggestions, the extra attention. Maybe she had been doing that for everyone, though. Here I was thinking I was someone special.

  ‘What do you think?’ The ice floes melt, and all of a sudden I flood, turn to water. ‘Do you think I did something wrong?’

  My cheeks are wet, my eyes spilling over. I don’t care about dignity anymore.

  I spent every bit of my money I had. I endured awkward exchanges with Natalia. I barely went outside all holidays. Tears fall onto my school tights, soaking my legs.

  ‘I’m in a difficult position, Chloe. I can’t talk as freely as I’d like.’ Ms Nouri rolls her chair closer and pats my shoulder. ‘I can tell you though, that you’ve done nothing wrong.’

  ‘But I’m disqualified from the prize.’

  ‘Yes.’

  It’s true that Balmoral isn’t for people like me. They let you think for a moment that it is, that you’re on equal footing to them, and the whole time it’s not true.

  I knew I’d never get that prize or money. I shouldn’t have bothered.

  ‘You didn’t tell Mrs Christie what you think, though. You didn’t tell her you think I’d done nothing wrong. You—’

  But I’m hiccup-crying too hard to get the words out so I stand up, wipe my face.

  ‘It’s so unfair.’

  ‘My hands are tied, Chloe.’ Ms Nouri fusses about on her desk, finds an envelope and hands it to me. ‘Please understand that, I want you to—’

  I leave without saying more, I can barely see or think. I crush the envelope in my fist.

  Ms Nouri’s office door slams shut behind me and then I’m face to face with Marley and Ally, who are huddled against a wall nearby, looking intently at Marley’s phone.

  They’ve been waiting for me. No longer strangers or enemies, but not friends either.

  ‘Chloe? Are you okay?’

  I march away from Ally’s worried voice.

  ‘What’s happened? Chloe? Talk to us.’

  She calls my name until I turn the corner, already searching for a place to be alone.

  After nearly crying in the middle of Japanese, I skip PE completely. I’ve never been able to leave a scab alone so it makes sense that I have to see for myself that my photo isn’t there anymore.

  The corridors are empty, but when I pass the Great Hall I see Natalia already standing in front of the space where Someone’s Watching used to be.

  ‘You’re quick,’ I say.

  I wonder how much longer it’s going to take before it’s the talk of the year level. Or maybe I’m flattering myself that anyone beyond us will care.

  ‘I have eyes everywhere.’ If I thought she’d hug me in commiseration, I’m wrong. Natalia is preternaturally still.

  We contemplate the bare wall. Who would have thought that white space could say so much.

  ‘Where is it?’ she asks.

  ‘I don’t know.’ This surprises me. I don’t think it was in Ms Nouri’s office. It’s big enough that I would have noticed. ‘I have absolutely no idea.’

  ‘Tell me exactly what Nouri said to you.’

  I swallow over the nervous lump in my throat and try to remember the whole blurry awful conversation.

  ‘She said someone put in an official complaint about our photo, uh, they were distraught, and Mrs Christie made the decision to take it out of the exhibition. I got the impression that Nouri might not agree but was forced to go along with it.’

  ‘Distraught?’ Natalia’s voice is steely. ‘What a joke. Who do they think is distraught?’

  A great weariness takes over me. My limbs are heavy, my head heavier still. I think about Sunita and Bridie and all their talk about dead bodies and blood, and I can’t figure out anymore if I’ve done something wrong. Was it too much? Was it the wrong message?

  Natalia’s phone chimes. She checks it, puts it away.

  ‘Okay, we need to go.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Right now.’

  Her fingers close around my wrist and she walks me, fast, towards the closest door that leads outside.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Shush. Thinking.’

  ‘Who was that?’

  Natalia doesn’t answer, but it soon becomes obvious as we round the outside of the tuckshop and cross the small lawn to the portable that serves as the Year Ten common room. There are so many reasons not to go to the common room—it’s cold, the carpet smells, it’s cliquey—that I can barely remember what it looks like inside.

  Marley lounges on the steps, Ally is doing some sort of risky parkour move, standing on the handrail and clutching the windowsill.

  ‘She’s in there.’ She jumps down.

  Natalia storms up the stairs, checking to see I’m with her. And something very obvious becomes clear to me.

  Natalia is not still, not calm or relaxed or resigned. She’s wound up, waiting for the right moment, muscles coiled like a panther. She’s a weapon about to be unleashed.

  I follow her across the common room, to the corner where a group of boarders—Brooke, Petra, Audrey, Jody and others—are sitting on couches.

  Natalia slows to a saunter.

  ‘Hi guys!’ Natalia’s voice is friendly bright. ‘Mind if I sit down?’

  Instead of waiting for them to make room she muscles into the group, forcing herself into place right next to Petra. I hover a few metres away.

  ‘How are you going, Galbraith?’ Natalia slings her arm across the back of the couch and Petra cringes away from her. ‘Been up to anything interesting lately? Like, sorting your pencil case, or…ruining someone else’s hard work perhaps?’

  The group finally catches Natalia’s tone, because they start melting away, until it’s just Petra and Audrey.

  Petra doesn’t say anything. Audrey looks intently at her feet.

  ‘I’m trying to figure out why you would do this,’ Natalia continues to Petra conversationally. ‘Is it because you’re a bit of a jealous bitch? You can’t stand that Chloe’s not only smart but creative too? I mean, you get good marks, right, but there’s something robotic about you, isn’t there?’

  ‘Tal—don’t, I don’t need you to—’ I say, even as I’m wondering if she’s gotten it right. Why would Petra do this to me?

  ‘Or perhaps it was me that offended you? Oh, that Natalia, she’s always looking for attention, she thinks she’s so hot. Is there something about me that bothers you?’

  Natalia has never looked more of an evil little pixie, with a mouth full of knives and eyes that can slash.

  I have to ask. ‘Petra, was it you?’

 
Petra looks up at me, stricken. I remember her fidgeting in the library this morning, and all of a sudden I don’t need her to answer.

  ‘Why wouldn’t you say something to me directly? I wasn’t trying to upset anyone.’

  I was trying to pull on a thin thread of meaning from deep inside and convince myself it was worth something, that it was significant enough to show.

  ‘The photo is disrespectful, Chloe!’ Petra blurts out. ‘Even if you didn’t mean it to be.’

  ‘I definitely didn’t mean—’ I try to interject but Petra is bursting with things to say.

  ‘You haven’t been here as long, so you don’t know what it feels like. You’re making fun of something awful that’s happened to us. Death is serious, death is forever…I don’t know why you of all people don’t see that, Natalia! The whole thing is really tacky.’

  That word takes my breath away, even as I was starting to feel sorry for Petra, being pinned down by Natalia’s force.

  Tacky.

  Tacky is tracksuits in public, second-hand school blazers and fourth-hand textbooks, sneakers from Kmart, saying haitch like my Morrison friends do. Bringing your basic sandwiches to school, your family not having a car, living in the wrong suburb, never having the right jeans. Like filth, like smudges on white surfaces. Tacky.

  ‘How dare you act like you even care.’ Natalia puts her face close to Petra’s. ‘You think you’re better than everyone else, always being so good and so holy, the way you sit back and judge everyone.’

  ‘I don’t.’ Petra’s voice trickles out.

  ‘Only a suck like you could have talked Mrs Christie into this. Did you get Daddy on the phone? I guess he does donate millions to the school. Everyone knows why you’re always dux, why you get so many prizes…’

  Audrey finally gets the courage to look up. ‘That’s too much, Natalia.’

  Natalia doesn’t listen. She pushes herself up and away. I stand there for a moment, waiting for more words to come, but when nothing happens I follow Natalia out.

  No one can see you if you sit low on the banks of the oval, in the far corner of the school grounds, close to the outer fence. The grass is lush and soft there, and a cluster of tree ferns and wattles keep the sun at bay.

  No one can see you let your face finally crumble, soften around the edges and slide off into misery.

  No one can see you, but you can see others: the cars driving down the side street, student specks crossing from the main building to the PE centre, from the music building to the boarding house, back and forth.

  You can hear the bells for the end of lunch and the beginning of fifth period.

  You can text Katie in peace, begging her to bribe Tim to come pick you up after school so you don’t have to carry this thing on the tram or endure the stares or overhear the whispered gossip.

  You can see Lisbeth’s progress as she power-walks across the oval, looking around like she’s committing high treason.

  ‘Oh, it’s true,’ she says, when she sees Someone’s Watching lying on the grass next to me, collected from one of the impassive secretaries in the main office. Mrs Christie has managed to execute her ban without even seeing me, or even asking me to explain my artwork, or give my side of the story.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Chloe.’ Lisbeth drops down next to me. ‘I think it’s very unfair to make you remove your photo.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She’s the first person to say a simple ‘sorry’.

  ‘Maybe you’re not in the mood for this, but I got you a spinach-and-cheese from the tuckshop.’ She hands me a paper bag. I don’t mind that Lisbeth sees my puffy eyes and red nose, but I don’t want Ms Nouri or Mrs Christie or any of the teachers or anyone else to see how much I care about this.

  I peek at the pastry, but I can’t stomach it. ‘How did you know where I was?’

  ‘Sunita saw you walking this way.’

  It’s impossible to keep a secret around here, apparently.

  Lisbeth smoothes her school skirt over her knees. She wears her uniform extra long. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Petra complained about my photo and Mrs Christie banned it. Ms Nouri told me in second period.’

  I think of our creative writing task in English class, and how Petra was right there next to me. She had every opportunity to say something, to talk about it with me, and she didn’t. I don’t understand why she would go against me, straight to a teacher.

  ‘What have you been doing since then? I didn’t see you at recess.’

  ‘Trying not to cry, mostly.’ I scrunch the napkin. ‘And getting into fights.’

  Lisbeth’s eyebrows shoot up.

  ‘Natalia made me come with her to the common room to confront Petra, and then it got pretty heated. Natalia was practically yelling, saying that Petra’s dad gives all this money to the school and that’s why Mrs Christie took her side.’

  Natalia’s twisted face sticks in my mind, making me uneasy. I would almost have sympathy for Petra, but then I think about how messed up it is that she could ruin everything for us so easily, with no regrets. I’m right in the middle of a giant pile of steaming Balmoral drama, which is exactly where I didn’t want to be.

  ‘It is actually true that Petra’s dad donates a lot of money to Balmoral’s building fund,’ Lisbeth says. ‘You know the Galbraith wing? Where the new science labs are?’

  It never occurred to me to connect the name of the Galbraith wing with Petra. I’m beginning to wonder if I understand anything about this school.

  I sigh. Part of me did want to slap Petra when we saw her in the common room, but the other part of me wanted to run away and hide.

  Lisbeth picks the daisies around her feet, pulling them into a little bunch. ‘Has anyone told you yet about Natalia and Yin?’

  ‘What about them?’

  ‘They used to be best friends. The bestest friends you could imagine. In Junior School, like maybe in grades four, five and six, they did everything together.’

  ‘I didn’t know that.’

  I try to remember if I ever saw Yin and Natalia even say hello to each other. Yin was in such a tight three with Claire and Milla, and so deep into senior orchestra, that it’s hard to imagine her and Natalia having anything in common.

  ‘They even had this special secret language they would use. No one could come between them.’

  I don’t know what to do with this information. It puts a twist on everything I know about Natalia. I think about what it would be like if something happened to Katie or Liana. I don’t know how I would react. Maybe I would go around yelling at people and poking them in the eye.

  ‘It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?’ Lisbeth says. ‘In Junior School we’d always say YinandNatalia as one word, but as soon as they got to Year Seven…’

  ‘What happened in Year Seven?’

  ‘Everything changes when you get to Senior School. I mean, I used to be friends with Teaghan, can you believe it?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘We used to do bible study together, but Teaghan strayed from the path. I did try to save her…’

  ‘You do know I’m a massive atheist, right?’ I’m not sure I should be risking one of my only Balmoral friendships, but honesty seems important right now.

  ‘Of course, Chloe. I’ve matured a lot. I can be friends with non-believers.’

  Lisbeth picks up my photo and dusts it off. She takes off her blazer and lays the photo carefully on top of it.

  Something dawns on me.

  ‘Hang on, Lisbeth, are you wagging class?’

  ‘I am. I should be in Maths right now.’ She looks equal parts terrified and pleased. ‘It’s my first time, but it turns out to be quite easy, especially if you have chronic sinusitis. Mr Scrutton thinks I’m in sick bay.’ She pats me on the arm. ‘I’ll stay for as long as you need me, Chloe. And I’m going to pray for you extra-hard tonight.’

  ‘Thanks Lisbeth.’ I’m in danger of tearing up again. I may be a heathen but I know praying is her way of showing sh
e cares and I’m grateful. ‘Don’t go overboard. Just one little mention will do.’

  Mum is on the night shift so I deadlock the front and back doors and give in to Sam’s demands to paint his nails, toes and fingers. I was so busy on the school holidays that he is super thirsty for my attention. We had to send him on a council holiday program for the first time in ages, and I’m full of guilt.

  Sam chooses a Disney soundtrack playlist and instead of complaining I sing along. It blocks any thoughts I might have had about messaging anyone or hopping online to vent or rant or see if anyone even cares about my photo.

  I paint Sam’s fingernails alternating blue and red, with silver stripes down the centre of each nail. Superhero nails, sort of. He’s so excited he can barely sit still, and I keep smudging the stripes. I sincerely hope the kids in his class think they’re as cool as he does.

  My phone beeps and I lean over to see who it is. Mum, plus three unread messages.

  Mum—feeling sorry for me obviously—authorises takeout for dinner using her credit card.

  Lisbeth forgot what chapters we were supposed to revise for Japanese—easy. I text her back.

  Katie wants to sneak into the dodgy pub next to Meridian—definitely not.

  Natalia wants to discuss ‘our next move’—hard no.

  I’m caught between being hurt that Natalia didn’t confide in me about Yin, and feeling terrible that I made her pose like that. Her reaction makes more sense now. I hope I didn’t traumatise her.

  I can see from my notifications that Bochen has sent me a Facebook message too. Every message makes my head hurt even more.

  ‘And then Louis gave me a go only the batteries were almost flat so I only got five minutes but do you think Mum would buy me one? Not the old model, the new one.’

  Sam has been erupting words, an unending monologue, for at least an hour now. I’m trying, but I can only keep focus for so long before my mind wanders, going back to the same few sore scenes. Petra shunning me in the library. Ms Nouri’s office. The common room.

  Petra’s right. I’ve been at Balmoral for less than a year and clearly I don’t understand anything or anyone. I could finish her sentence for her: you haven’t been here as long, and by the way—in case you haven’t figured it out yet—you still don’t belong.