by Thalia Lark
She hesitated and glanced at me, a hint of a smile in her eyes as she shrugged. ‘Only here at school.’ She seemed about to say something more, but her friends suddenly called her from the other side of the court. Throwing a quick glance towards them, Alex looked back at me and shrugged. ‘I’d better go…but you should come play again sometime.’
I nodded. ‘Sure.’ I’d never agreed so effortlessly with anything anyone had ever said to me in my entire life. I clenched my teeth in annoyance at the strange amenability that had overcome me, and then looked away as Alex turned to take the equipment back to the shed. When Lori and Emma appeared beside me, I followed them out of the court without saying anything more to the three girls we’d joined. But when I looked back halfway around the football oval, just out of curiosity, I could swear Alex was looking at me too.
Crossing Bridges
I had to meet with the principal that evening after dinner. Apparently my behaviour was unacceptable and a quick slap on the wrist just wouldn’t suffice as reprimand. I was dreading having to talk over what happened – even more so when I arrived at the principal Mrs Bentley’s office and she informed me that my mother would be involved over speaker phone. I was about to raise objection, but as I opened my mouth the door swung open and Miss Wheaton sidled in.
Mrs Bentley smiled at her and gestured us both to the two padded seats opposite her desk. ‘I thought you might feel a bit more comfortable with a familiar face present.’
I sat down in silence, unwilling to admit that I did feel more comfortable now Miss Wheaton was here. Though our acquaintance so far had been nothing more than a casual chat over tea and biscuits, I felt an instinctual trust towards her. Whether that would prove helpful or not, I was yet to find out.
‘Would you like to talk to your mum first, Julianne?’ Mrs Bentley asked.
I deliberated for a moment before reluctantly taking the phone from her outstretched hand, settling back into my chair and dialling. Mum sounded tired when she finally picked up the phone. ‘Hello?’
‘Hi Mum, it’s me.’ When she didn’t say anything, I exhaled sharply through my nostrils, trying not to allow my irritation to taint my voice. My mother had never been particularly verbose on the phone, but she usually offered a little more than one-word responses. That was my domain. ‘Um…the principal was trying to contact you this afternoon. She told me she—’
‘I know. She and I talked about an hour and a half ago.’
‘Oh.’ I sighed, not really knowing what to say after that. My forehead knotted and I glanced sideways at Mrs Bentley, who was reading through something on her computer screen behind her desk and tactfully ignoring me.
‘So you tried to run away,’ Mum said suddenly.
I shrugged before realising she couldn’t see me. ‘Yeah.’
‘That was smart, wasn’t it? Where were you planning on going? You didn’t take any cash with you, did you? Its nine hundred fucking kilometres from Brisbane to home, Juli. I suppose you had some crafty plan of sneaking aboard a freight train or something.’
I scowled. ‘I’m not that stupid. I was going to barter my belongings for food and set up camp under a bridge.’
‘Don’t be a smartass.’
My frown deepened. I could have explained to her that I’d just lost control. I could have told her that the anger and fear of being in a new school had just consumed me to the point that I’d no longer had any will to reason with it. But I knew Mum wouldn’t understand that, if she even managed to sit through my full explanation without interrupting and telling me how stupid I’d been. So instead I just said: ‘The principal and my form teacher wanted to talk about it.’
‘Fine. Put me on speaker.’
I pulled the phone away from my ear and cleared my throat a little to get Mrs Bentley’s attention. The principal glanced up at me with her eyebrows raised and then nodded when I motioned my head to the phone, putting it on speaker and setting the handset in its cradle. After a minute of introductions and a brief explanation of what had happened, including a sullen and stilted version from me as I glared at the phone with my arms across my chest, we discussed my options from there on in.
‘I fully appreciate that Juli was distressed,’ Mrs Bentley said, ‘but her behaviour is obviously a little more serious than a few tears at bedtime.’
‘So punish her,’ my mother said.
The principal hesitated. ‘With all due respect, I think we’d be a lot better off setting some measures in place to ease her transition into life at St Peter’s. After all, it’s a big change moving from a small country town to boarding school.’
‘All the other kids seem to do okay.’
Mrs Bentley ignored her snide comment. ‘Perhaps we could organise for Julianne to attend a few sessions with the school counsellor, and then she can check in with me at the end of the week. Hopefully with a little moral support things like running away won’t be necessary again.’ Despite the firmness of her tone when she insisted on the counsellor idea, Mrs Bentley’s eyes were warm and her mannerisms concerned. ‘Does that sound good to you, Mrs Page?’
Mum sighed over the phone. ‘I suppose… Look, I’ve got to rush off now. One of the horses needs medicating before bed. But apologies again for all the trouble she’s caused. You call me if she does anything else so moronic and I’ll be sure to have words with her. Is that clear, Juli?’
‘I’m sure further action won’t be necessary,’ Mrs Bentley said, her eyes narrowing a fraction. ‘I think with the counsellor, Miss Wheaton and I here to help, Juli will find she settles into life at St Peter’s very smoothly.’ The principal glanced at me and raised her eyebrows questioningly.
I nodded in silence, staring at the phone as my mother disconnected the call. Mrs Bentley then frowned – looking blatantly surprised at my mum’s abrupt departure – before deliberately smoothing her expression and turning back to me with a small exhalation of relief. ‘Well, now that’s over…’
Miss Wheaton raised her hand tentatively, glancing at me in question. ‘Juli, Mr Warner and the students explained very briefly to me what happened this morning in English.’
I frowned.
‘Do you normally wear glasses?’
‘No.’
‘Do you think we should book you an appointment with the local optici—?’
‘There’s nothing wrong with my eyes.’
She was quiet for a moment. ‘Alright. Tell us what the problem was then.’ I sighed in frustration, glaring at the desktop. Miss Wheaton waited patiently for me to talk, then after a few tense moments of silence she continued herself, seemingly realising I was either unable or unwilling to voice the truth aloud. ‘If you struggle with reading and writing, there’s extra tuition available.’
I scowled. The last thing I wanted to do was publicly announce to my new cohort that I couldn’t read or write properly. But the resolve in the principal’s and my form teacher’s expressions told me very clearly that I wasn’t going to get a choice in the matter – and if I was being totally honest, there was a small part of me willing to acknowledge that extra tuition would be helpful, maybe even a part of me that wanted it to happen. There was also a part of me feeling incredulous and a little uncomfortable at how understanding the principal and my teacher were both being. That coupled with complete and utter exhaustion was making my feet itch to leave. So, rather than argue, I just nodded and agreed grudgingly to attend. Miss Wheaton smiled and assured me it would be a worthwhile investment.
‘And I will call Mr Samuels tomorrow morning and arrange a counselling session for you within the next few days,’ Mrs Bentley added.
I nodded. ‘Can I go now? Please?’
The principal nodded. ‘I’ll let Miss Wheaton walk you back to your dorm. I’m sure nothing like today will happen again, Juli, but if it does we may have to take further action, alright? You’re not in trouble, I just want you to understand how important your safety is to us, and know that we’ll put measures in place to ensure it if we h
ave to.’
I nodded and thanked her quietly before my form teacher and I returned to the dormitories. I was still dressed in my uniform, as were two of the other girls who were still studying by the light of their desk lamps when we arrived. Miss Wheaton left me by the Dead Bed and moved to the bunk on the far left, where she began speaking in an inaudible tone to Hilary, a slight girl with brown braids and large round brown eyes, who was currently dressed in pink frilly pyjamas. Hilary looked anxious about something, wringing her hands together and casting nervous looks about the room.
Miss Wheaton glanced over at the three of us still in our uniform momentarily, and flapped one hand at us. ‘Quickly, girls. Nearly lights out.’
I only had one pair of faded flannelette pyjamas, and so I dragged these out of my bag and balled them up tightly before anyone could see. Lori’s head appeared over the side of the bunk beside me.
‘Hey,’ she said. ‘Where have you been? You’d better get ready for bed now.’
I nodded, grabbing my toiletries bag and hurrying down the hall to the bathroom shared between the tenth and eleventh graders. I didn’t look at any of the girls standing in front of the sinks when I entered. I walked directly to one of the cubicles and locked myself inside. Hanging my bag up and taking a deep calming breath, I stripped off my uniform and dragged on my stripy pyjamas, grey with wear and sporting a noticeable rip in one of the knees. I remembered the tear had been from the frangipani tree outside my bedroom window, which I’d scaled to get some fresh air one night after Mum had locked me in my room. In her defence, I had tipped half a pint of petrol into the dunny out back and attempted to ignite it with the gas lighter from the barbeque. I couldn’t remember where I’d gotten that brilliant idea.
My thoughts returning to the present, I stared at my pyjama top hesitantly before pulling it on. I usually slept without a bra on at home, sharing a room only occasionally with the cat. But I decided to keep my bra on tonight, feeling too self-conscious to take it off.
There was chatter and the sound of running water coming from outside my cubicle still. I hesitated inside the door, my hand poised beside the lock. I looked down at my pyjamas, knowing how slovenly they’d look beside the designer city wear of all my cabin mates. I slowly sat down on the bench inside the cubicle to wait until the room had cleared. After a minute or two though, I realised I wouldn’t have enough time to brush my teeth if I waited too long to venture out. So I took a deep breath, raised my chin defiantly and strode out.
There were two girls left at the sinks, both from the grade above, both unrecognisable. They glanced at me briefly but looked away when I scowled at them. One raised her eyebrows and motioned her head towards me questioningly. The other nodded, and I knew somehow they were silently confirming that yes, I was the new kid they’d heard about. I clenched my fists in frustration and hesitated by the sink, frowning at the tiles, before deciding my teeth could wait until morning.
I dumped my uniform on my desk and climbed up my ladder before anyone could register I’d returned. Then I crawled under my sheets and pulled my pillow over my head, ripping out my hair tie and shoving it down the side of my mattress. The lights were blaringly white and the chatter unavoidably noisy. I lay there hating the world until the lights flickered out and there were a few squeals.
‘Quiet, girls,’ Miss Wheaton said.
There was rustling as everyone climbed up to their beds and the desk lamps were switched off one by one. Even after they’d been turned off, I noticed there was still a faint glow in the room. I rolled over, curiosity getting the better of me, and peered through the slats of my bunk to see a small nightlight affixed to the power socket beside the door. I settled back into my pillow and watched Miss Wheaton’s form stroll up and down the aisle until everyone was in bed. I’d never been scared of the dark, even as a child, but the nightlight was strangely comforting. I took a deep steadying breath.
‘Alright, is everyone in?’
There were mumbled affirmatives.
‘Right then, dream happy dreams and be quiet.’
A few girls giggled.
‘Remember that some people would actually like to catch a few before the sun comes up.’ Miss Wheaton’s voice was light but serious. I watched her circle the room, pausing at the end bunk on the opposite wall and whispering to whichever girl it housed. She nodded after a second and moved on. Then to my surprise she stopped beside my bed. I watched her shake out my uniform and drape it over the back of my desk chair before she stood on tiptoes and gripped the slats of my bed.
‘Thanks,’ I mumbled.
‘I don’t usually tidy up after you girls, but considering it’s your first day. Get some rest. I’m only down the hall on the right if you need me.’
She made her way slowly out of the dorm, and by the time she disappeared there was silence in the room save for the occasional rustle of bed sheets. I sighed and nestled down into my pillow. I’d slept on the ground and in a swag many a night before, so though the Dead Bed’s mattress was hard, it didn’t bother me. I lay wide awake for an hour or two before I was able to fall asleep though. I didn’t feel homesick or frightened, just unused to the bed and the sound of eleven other girls breathing deeply around me. I tossed and turned in silence, staring at the shadowy ceiling. I started to feel a little hot and claustrophobic at one point, used to having a wide-open window beside me and breathing the cool night air in. But I decided not to push my luck by climbing out the window tonight. The thought amused me a little, and within a few more minutes, I drifted off.
The Dawn of Things to Come
The first few days passed relatively smoothly, even Wednesday afternoon during which I had a reasonably tolerable “chat” with Mr Samuels, the school counsellor. Lori and Emma kept me close as much as they could, showing me the ropes, introducing me to some of the boys over breakfast on Tuesday, and to the other teachers as the week dragged on. I started to eat and sleep better as I gradually became accustomed to life at St Peter’s Boarding School.
I woke early enough on Thursday morning that the light coming through the gap in the curtains was very dim, and there were no noises except the breathing of the other girls. I was twisted in my sheets and pouring sweat. I also quickly realised my bladder was extremely full, but rolled over in the hope of going back to sleep until a more reasonable hour. I didn’t want to climb down my creaky ladder and wake anyone.
After a few minutes though, I was forced to accept it was either creep down to the bathroom or pee in my bed. So I sat up and pushed my hair off my face, smoothing it into a ponytail and rummaging down the side of my mattress until I found my hair tie. Then I crawled to the ladder, the Dead Bed wobbling beneath me but thankfully making little noise. I climbed to the floor and then tip-toed to the door of the dormitory. Once I reached the hall, I quickened my step, thanking the heavens that the corridors were carpeted.
After relieving myself, I climbed back into bed and lay on my side, my eyes itchy and tired but my brain wired-up. I usually woke early, not quite this early but early enough that the sun wasn’t completely up. If it wasn’t time to bring the horses in on the quad bike, then I’d eat breakfast on the balcony and go wandering up and down the driveway for a while in the crisp morning air. I felt a pang of longing in my stomach. I knew it would wake the whole room if I opened the curtains for some fresh air now, but I wondered how difficult it would be to sneak downstairs and go outside. I was sure if I was caught I’d be in major trouble. But the thought of a nippy breeze on my face, regenerating my clammy body and filling my lungs with cool freshness, was too irresistible. So I climbed back down, rolled up my pyjama pants, glanced around the room to make sure nobody else was awake, and crept back out.
The stairs thankfully didn’t squeak too much. After the few creaks they did give rise to, I froze where I was and listened for a minute before continuing. The glass door on the bottom floor was shut but luckily not locked. I twisted the handle and gently pushed it open, smiling as cool air washed over
my face. Once outside, I followed the path down to the right a little, sinking down to the floor with my back against the side of the building. I wrapped my arms around my bent legs, my bare feet resting on the cold concrete, and closed my eyes to inhale deeply for a moment. The sun hadn’t risen yet, so most of the grounds were still in shadow, but they were pastel blue pre-dawn shadows rather than the black shadows of night.
I jumped a mile when suddenly a voice hissed at me from the doorway.
‘Julianne.’
I turned my head to the entrance, surprised to see someone poking their head around the edge of the door, relieved that it wasn’t a staff member, and embarrassed by the sudden warmth in my stomach as I recognised who it was. The figure’s deep auburn hair was in two tousled plaits, wayward strands escaping and brushing her jawline, and her hazel eyes were swollen with sleep but bright and alert. Alex Calvin gripped the frame of the glass with white fingers and frowned at me reproachfully. ‘You’ll get in trouble if they catch you out here at this time.’
I narrowed my eyes. ‘Well, I’ll make sure they don’t catch me then, won’t I?’ I resisted looking directly into her face – scared she might be able to sense the butterflies now swarming inside my chest – as I shrugged and continued in a low voice. ‘I just needed some fresh air.’
She paused for a moment, then slowly slinked out, her bare feet almost silent on the damp cement. I glanced at her as she approached me, my eyes raking up and down her body. Her legs were long and bare, and she was wearing only undergarments, a loose-fitting tank top and short pyjama bottoms with pictures of squirrels printed on them. My jaw tightened unexpectedly, my eyes hovering over her as she gracefully lowered herself to the floor beside me in the dim light. She didn’t notice my uncomfortable silence; she was thumbing through something on an iPhone, the headphones dangling from her spare hand. I took her staying with me to either mean she didn’t think we’d get in too much trouble, or she knew we would and didn’t care.
