The Art of Being Normal

by Lisa Williamson

  I stiffen. ‘Yeah. You ask a lot of questions, you know that?’

  ‘What happens after that?’ he asks. ‘After hormone blockers I mean.’

  ‘Well, next year I’m meant to move on to testosterone.’

  ‘Testosterone,’ he echoes, sounding out each syllable as if trying out the word for size.

  ‘Two trans kids in one school,’ I say. ‘Who’d have thought, eh?’

  I realise then that maybe I suspected David all along, but didn’t properly admit it to myself until he actually told me. Because for some reason I’m not surprised, in fact it makes total sense, although now I’ve totally rained on his parade by whipping my top off. Shit, did I really do that?

  ‘I read somewhere that most schools have at least two transgender pupils,’ David says. ‘I always assumed it was a made-up statistic, to trick kids like me into feeling less of a freak. I never in a million years guessed the other one would be you.’

  I smile weakly.

  ‘Do you think there’s a transgender version of gaydar?’ David continues. ‘If so mine is totally off.’

  I look at my feet. ‘Yeah, well, no one was meant to know. It was meant to be a secret.’

  I can feel David’s eyes still on me, boring into me, like they want to get right inside and burrow under my skin.

  ‘You told Alicia, didn’t you?’ he says slowly. ‘That’s why she won’t talk to you. And why you haven’t been coming to school.’

  ‘Very perceptive,’ I say grimly.

  Just the mention of Alicia’s name makes me feel sick.

  ‘What happened?’ he asks.

  ‘What do you think happened, eh?’

  David looks at his feet. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Yeah, well,’ I mutter, shrugging, thinking maybe if I act like I don’t care, I’ll stop actually caring all together.

  ‘Is that why you left Cloverdale too?’ David asks.

  I don’t answer.

  ‘It is, isn’t it?’

  I sigh. ‘Yeah, that’s why I left Cloverdale.’

  ‘What happened? Were you in disguise there too?’

  ‘Disguise?’ I say. ‘This isn’t Scooby Doo you know.’

  He blushes. ‘Sorry, but all this vocabulary is kind of new to me. Not to mention the fact I’m still in mild shock from, well … this,’ he says, gesturing at me.

  ‘It’s called going stealth,’ I say. ‘And no, I wasn’t stealth at Cloverdale. Everyone there knew, it was impossible to avoid, I went to primary school with half of them and they’d all known me as Megan.’

  ‘Megan,’ David says. ‘Of course. Jesus, I’m dense.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I ask.

  ‘I googled you and all this stuff came up about a girl called Megan Denton. Hey, weren’t you some kind of swimming champion? Is that why you hang out here?’

  ‘Something like that,’ I mutter. I don’t like to talk about my life as Megan to anyone.

  ‘And how was it?’ David asks. ‘At school I mean?’

  I close my eyes for a second, trying to think of a suitable way to sum up life at Cloverdale.

  ‘Hell on earth?’ I offer, opening my eyes.

  ‘In what way?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘Did something specific happen? To make you leave?’ David pushes.

  I start to feel hot, the way I always do when conversation turns to what happened in February.

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

  And I don’t. If there’s one thing I want to dwell on less than Alicia Baker, it’s that.

  ‘Please?’ David asks.

  ‘No, David, seriously.’

  ‘Please. I want to know. I want to understand. I don’t know, maybe I can help?’

  And I don’t quite know whether it’s because I’ve said so much already I figure I’ve got nothing to lose, or because the clouds have moved across the moon, plunging the baths into darkness, or what. But for some reason, I start to speak.

  28

  It’s a freezing-cold day in February, one of those grey wintry days when the sun never seems to make it quite high enough into the sky. But I don’t care. Because today I’m meeting Hannah Brennan in the woods after school.

  She’s been giving me these looks for weeks. At first it was just a quick glance in the corridor, or a smile across the canteen. I’d glance behind me, to check she wasn’t aiming them at anyone else, but quickly I realised they were meant for me. And then they got longer, more seductive. The other morning she full-on licked her lips at me. In lessons she’s been making excuses to talk to me. Asking to borrow stationery and stuff, brushing her fingers against mine for a bit too long as I pass over an endless stream of pens and rulers.

  I’ve never really fancied Hannah in particular, no more than any other girl at school. But over the past few weeks I’ve begun to notice how nice her bum looks in her tight school skirt, spotted the lacy outline of her bra peeking through her blouse, thought about what it might be like to kiss her. For a bit she was Alex Bonner’s girlfriend, but they’ve been off for months now. She’s got a reputation for being a bit wild. There’s this rumour about her and one of the student teachers, and another about her and Clare Conroy on the overnight school trip to London … Amber reckons Hannah is a slut. But then that’s Amber’s standard opinion on anyone she doesn’t like.

  Anyway, yesterday I was walking to geography when Hannah appeared from nowhere and dragged me into this little alcove by the art rooms. She full-on pressed her body against mine, her tits rubbing against my chest, her cheap perfume filling my nostrils, making me dizzy.

  ‘Meet me after school tomorrow,’ she said breathlessly.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘The woods. Four o’clock.’

  ‘But, why?’

  She smiled this insanely sexy smile.

  ‘Come meet me and I’ll show you why.’

  Then she was gone.

  I spend the whole day debating whether or not to go meet Hannah, but when the bell rings for the end of the day, I tell Amber I’m staying behind to do some extra maths revision. She narrows her eyes in suspicion, but doesn’t push it. I go to the disabled toilet near the staff room and check my reflection. I suck on two polo mints at once. It’s still only 3.40 p.m. Already the school feels empty. I wander around the library, not really looking at the books, just killing time. At 3.55 p.m. I leave and head across the car park, towards the woods.

  The woods is kind of an elaborate title for the tangle of bushes and trees at the back of the school. They’re officially out of bounds. Not that anyone pays much attention. At lunch and break times they’re populated by Alex Bonner and his lot. Wild and overgrown, after dark they’re frequented by druggies and winos. As I trudge through the undergrowth, I spot two abandoned needles and a used condom. I’m heading for the little clearing in the centre, where I’m guessing Hannah will be waiting.

  I arrive to find it empty. I check the time. Four o’clock exactly. There’s an old wooden crate lying on its side. I turn it upside down and sit down. I look up. Above me the daylight is melting away.

  Five past four. There’s a crackle of undergrowth. I stand up. I realise my heart is beating crazy-fast. At first I assume it’s because I’m nervous about Hannah, but then I realise it’s not nerves, it’s fear. Because all of a sudden something doesn’t feel right. The sound coming towards me is too loud, too heavy to be just one girl.

  That’s when I start to run.

  ‘She’s on the move!’ someone yells. It’s Robert Marriott, Alex Bonner’s right-hand man.

  ‘After her then!’ Alex shouts.

  I keep running. But I know I can’t keep going in a straight line because if I do I’m going to hit the perimeter fence of the school. I need to veer off to the left or right if I have any hope of getting out of here without them catching me. They’re gaining on me, their whoops and hollers growing louder every second. From the sound of it, there are eight of them at least, maybe more. The whole crew. I t
ake a sharp left, but I’m not far enough ahead to do so without them noticing. I’m a decent runner, but among the gang is Tyler Williams, who runs the one hundred metres for the county, and he’s the one who’s gaining on me, expertly weaving through the trees, negotiating my sudden twists and turns with ease. Suddenly, he’s on me, grabbing my sweatshirt and yanking me backwards, holding on to me until the taller, stronger boys are able to catch up with him and tackle me to the ground, removing my coat and tossing it aside. Among them is Alex. He takes a spool of blue plastic string from his bag and cuts off two lengths with a Stanley knife. He passes a length each to the boys at my feet and head. Their first two attempts to tie me up fail because I’m struggling so much. But then Alex kicks me hard in the stomach. I fold up in pain. The two teams leap into action, knotting the string tightly round my wrists and ankles as I writhe in the dirt. Alex stands over me.

  ‘If you hadn’t turned up today, we’d have left you alone,’ he says. ‘But you pushed your luck. You thought you could get your dirty tranny paws on my girlfriend, and for that you’re going to have to pay.’

  ‘Girlfriend?’ I stammer.

  ‘Wait a second, you didn’t think Hannah was actually interested in you, did you? Sorry to disappoint you, mate, but she’s into real men.’

  Behind him, the other boys snigger.

  ‘Let’s go,’ he barks.

  He strides off leaving the four biggest boys to hoist me up. I squirm as much as I can, but the string only seems to get tighter, rubbing painfully against my skin. I’m dragged back to the clearing and tied against the largest tree, the string digging into my middle.

  ‘I think it’s time you remembered what you really are,’ Alex says. He takes the Stanley knife from his pocket and exposes the blade. It flashes in the light.

  I decide to use the only weapon I’ve got. I scream. I’ve spent so many years purposefully lowering my voice, I don’t even know whether I’ll be able to do it and at first the only noise I can make is a rattling squeal. But then it switches up and this sound emits from me I had no idea I was capable of making. The boys back away in shock.

  ‘Tape her mouth shut!’ Alex yells. Tyler gropes in his bag before dashing over with a roll of duct tape. He rips off a strip with his teeth and places it over my mouth. For a second our eyes meet. Tyler and I used to play together at nursery. I try to scream again but the sound is muffled against the tape.

  ‘Now, where was I?’ Alex says.

  I can see his breath in the air. He walks towards me, his eyes and the Stanley knife flashing. Why can’t he just beat me up, I think. I’ve taken enough beatings to know I can handle them. What’s another black eye? But beating me up would be boring.

  He takes the Stanley knife and slices through my sweatshirt, from the neck downwards, taking care not to cut through the string holding me in place against the tree. He slices again. The material falls away, landing at my feet. He does the same with my school shirt, leaving me wearing only my white T-shirt and binder. The cold hits me then, so icy it stings.

  Then Alex is cutting through my T-shirt and I realise I am crying, hot tears running down my face. I close my eyes. If they’re going to do what I think they’re going to do next, I don’t want to see their faces. As I hear the fabric of my T-shirt torn away from my body I hear a collective jeer. Then Alex is sawing through my binder, the Stanley knife snagging on the thick material.

  ‘Keep still,’ he demands.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, my body convulsing, no tears left.

  ‘Alex Bonner!’

  The voice of Mrs Hale, the Deputy Head, is unmistakable.

  The knife bounces off my knee as it drops to the ground. But still I can’t open my eyes. I keep them squeezed shut as I’m untied, as the tape is carefully removed from my mouth, as Mrs Hale forces my arms into her coat and phones for assistance. I finally open them to be guided back to school. The last thing I see are my tattered clothes on the ground and the gleam of Alex’s knife on top of them.

  I find out it was the caretaker who alerted Mrs Hale. He saw Alex and his gang heading to the woods and got suspicious. I’m later told some of the boys tried to run, but were quickly rounded up, along with Hannah.

  I’m given some uniform to wear from the lost property box. Everything is too big. Mam arrives with Tia in tow to collect me. When Mrs Hale realises we don’t have a car, she gives us a lift home. Mam doesn’t say a word, just wears this grim look on her face the whole journey.

  I don’t speak for a week.

  I never go back to Cloverdale School.

  ‘So what happened? To Alex and everyone?’ David whispers, breaking the silence.

  I run both hands through my hair. It’s the first time I’ve ever told anyone what happened all in one go like that. Even Jenny only got it in dribs and drabs and never the full story. I feel exhausted but weirdly relieved.

  ‘Well?’ David prompts.

  ‘Alex got excluded. The others were suspended for a week.’

  ‘That’s it?’

  ‘What else could they do? Exclude ten kids all at once?’

  ‘So they made you leave instead?’

  ‘They recommended I move elsewhere. For my own safety, they said. I reckon they just couldn’t do with the hassle. I had a tutor come round to my house for the rest of the school year. I’d have been quite happy going on like that but then I got the place at Eden Park. It was meant to be a fresh start. What a laugh, eh?’ I say, my mouth curling into a fake smile.

  ‘It’s not too late. You can still come back,’ David says, his face all hopeful.

  ‘No I can’t.’

  ‘But you can’t leave now.’

  ‘Now is exactly when I’ve got to leave. Before more people find out.’

  ‘Would that be so terrible?’

  ‘Did you not listen to a word I just told you? The world isn’t kind to people like me.’

  ‘People like us, you mean?’ David says.

  We lock eyes for a moment. David’s are wide, intense. They make me want to look away.

  ‘Eden Park isn’t Cloverdale. It’ll be different,’ he says.

  ‘Will it? Harry makes your life hell for something you wrote years ago, when you were just a little kid. He already hates me. Imagine what he’d do if he got wind of what I just told you. He’d make it his mission to destroy me, you know it, and I can bet you he wouldn’t be on his own.’

  David swallows hard. ‘Alicia might not tell. You might be able to keep it secret after all.’

  I shake my head.

  ‘You should call her,’ David says.

  ‘You think I haven’t tried already? Her phone’s switched off. She doesn’t even want to hear my voice, never mind actually talk to me.’

  David looks at his feet and immediately I feel bad for snapping at him.

  ‘Sorry,’ I mutter.

  There’s a long pause.

  ‘Leo, can I ask you something?’ David asks.

  I shrug,

  ‘How did your mum react? When you first told her about wanting to live as a boy?’

  I sigh. ‘There was never really a moment like that. It was just always the way I was, from birth, practically. She was all dismissive at first, when I kept telling her they’d made some big mistake at the hospital. She would tell me to shut up and stuff, but eventually she must have got sick of me begging because she took me to the doctor. And when they took it seriously, and referred me to a specialist, she started taking it seriously too. For a while we were really close, but for the last few years we’ve just been clashing all the time. We can hardly be in the same room as each other these days without one of us losing our rag.’

  ‘You’re lucky though,’ David says quietly, ‘to have her just accept you like that, even if you don’t get on so well any more.’

  I shake my head. ‘I dunno, lucky isn’t the word that springs to mind when I think of Mam.’

  Silence. David chews his fingernail and watches me, like he’s waiting for me to say some
thing more.

  ‘So, what are you going to do?’ he asks eventually. ‘About everything.’

  I don’t have the words to answer.

  29

  Leo walks me to the bus stop. The whole time my head is swimming.

  Leo is like me. I am like him.

  I want to ask him about a million questions, but don’t know where to start. Away from the dark safety of the pool, Leo is silent again. I keep sneaking looks at him out of the corner of my eye, looking for the evidence I’ve missed, my eyes trailing up and down his body for clues. But he’s still the same old Leo – gruff, grumpy, complicated Leo.

  By the time we reach the bus stop it’s started to drizzle and there’s a veil of grey mist in the air.

  ‘Can we swap numbers maybe?’ I ask.

  Leo frowns.

  ‘Unless you want me to come knocking on your door every time you go missing in action,’ I say.

  This does the trick and Leo reluctantly recites his number in a monotone. I immediately call it. Leo’s phone lights up in his jeans pocket, his ring-tone tinny and harsh.

  ‘And now you have mine,’ I say. ‘In case you need me,’ I add meaningfully.

  ‘Right,’ he mutters, not looking at me. ‘Look, you all right to wait on your own?’

  ‘Oh. Yeah, fine.’

  He nods. We stand awkwardly for a second, exposed under the bright lights of the bus shelter after the shadowy darkness of the pool.

  ‘I’m going to go then,’ he says, turning away.

  ‘Wait,’ I blurt.

  He turns, his brow wrinkled.

  ‘Will I see you again?’ I ask.

  The words seem silly the moment they leave my mouth – overly dramatic and sentimental, like they’re lines from a film or play.

  Leo just shrugs and prods an empty Coke can with his foot. The lights of an approaching bus blink into view. He jerks his head towards it.

  ‘Good timing,’ he says.

  ‘Yeah,’ I murmur, fishing around in my bag for the bus fare.

  ‘You can wait ages sometimes,’ Leo adds, his eyes fixed on the road.