by A K Reynolds
A boy looked at me as I made my way down a corridor between lessons. I tried a shy smile and he sneered. I immediately looked away, wondering if this was an indication of how life would be from now on.
During the first break I went to the school toilets and ensconced myself in a cubicle. I rolled up the waist of my skirt a few times as best I could to make it the same length as those worn by the other girls. When there was no-one else in the toilet and it was safe to check myself out in the mirror, I devoted a minute or two to examining the way I looked to see whether I could possibly cut the mustard at the new school.
The procedure with the skirt had made me slightly less freaky. I had that going for me at least. But my hair was mousy and haphazard, my face was bereft of make-up, and my uniform was lumpen and shapeless. Even my shoes were all wrong. They were clunky and embarrassingly brown, instead of the black they should have been. I couldn’t see anyone cool wanting to hang out with me.
When lunchtime came I got my school dinner and took it to the end of a table at the back of the dining hall. I sat on my own, eating it glumly, occasionally raising my eyes to look around from under my overlong fringe. I soon enough identified the cool girls of my year: the three of them were sitting together a few yards from me. I was too insignificant for them to pay any attention to me, so I could spy on them without being noticed.
They wore their skirts and ties ridiculously short, and their hair and make-up were done to perfection. Seeing their made-up faces made me feel naked and inferior. What’s more, I now realised I’d gotten my tie all wrong. I’d tied it with the wide bit hanging down long to the waistline of my skirt. It should’ve been done so that it dangled about three inches below my collar. I made a mental note to fix it after lunch, and wondered whether I’d ever be able to make new friends in this vast prison of a school I found myself in.
As I shoved a forkful of shepherd’s pie into my mouth, I heard a female voice. ‘Mind if I sit here?’
‘No,’ I mumbled without looking up. ‘Go ahead.’
She sat opposite me, and I sized her up. Mousey hair like mine, a face which looked geekily intelligent, but far from attractive, and she was bespectacled and overweight. In other words, she was a disappointment to anyone seeking social acceptance in a new school.
‘I haven’t seen you before,’ she said. She had an odd accent, like a pirate. ‘Is this your first day?’
I nodded, wondering whether it was wise to get involved with this girl. It might in some ways be worse than being on my own. If she proved to be unpopular, as was likely the case, my fate would be sealed. I’d never get in with the cool crowd, or even with the semi-cools.
‘I’ve been here a couple of weeks now,’ she said. ‘My parents moved over from Cornwall.’ That explained her odd way of talking.
I nodded again. I didn’t want to give her too much encouragement. Then I thought, maybe I was taking the wrong approach. People probably saw me as a freak. I didn’t want to burn my bridges with this girl. She might be my only possibility of having a friend. ‘Why?’ I asked.
‘Because my dad got a new job. It’s meant I’ve had to get used to a new school. Neither of them thought of that.’
Having finished half my shepherd’s pie I tucked into some veg, wondering how to respond, or indeed whether to respond. After a moment’s consideration I swallowed a lump of cabbage and replied, ‘Neither of them?’
‘My mum and dad. They only ever think of themselves.’
She ate her meal in record time then another girl appeared by her side.
‘I’m going to the shop. Are you coming, Adele?’ she asked.
‘Obs,’ my new acquaintance replied.
She stood up and left me with the words, ‘Got to go. Might see you later.’
So the invitation to go to the shop wasn’t extended to me. I’d thought of Adele as a potential burden, but her friend clearly thought of me in the same way. It could mean I needed Adele more than she needed me. Maybe I was up myself and needed taking down a peg or two.
I finished my dinner and wolfed down a sponge pudding with gloopy custard. The afternoon would’ve dragged had I not been thinking about Joshua. The thought of seeing him kept me going.
When I got home my mother was cradling him in her arms. I held out my own arms hoping she’d pass him to me, but instead she turned away, clutching him tightly to her massive breast.
‘He’s my son,’ she said firmly in her coarse way. ‘And I’m going to look after him.’
She sat down in an armchair and unbuttoned the top of her crimplene blouse, exposing one of her giant tits. The sight was so disgusting I felt sick and had to turn away. Moments later Joshua was hanging from it. I stared at them both, wondering whether what was going on was altogether healthy. My mother must have read my mind, because her face darkened.
‘What are you bloody well gawping at?’ she demanded. She sounded like one of those horrible girls who’re always trying to pick fights with you.
‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘I was just wondering what you were doing.’
‘I’m nursing him,’ she explained, though it was hardly an explanation, at least not to me.
‘I didn’t know he needed nursing,’ I said, in the most faux-innocent voice I could muster. ‘When did he fall ill?’
She detected the note of sarcasm in my voice and rose up from her chair, Joshua still in her arms. ‘You cheeky little bitch,’ she said. ‘I’ll fucking well leather you.’
I took a nervous step back. My mother was a big woman and I was, and still am, slightly built, and only five foot nothing. She juggled Joshua to free her beefy right arm from its job of supporting him and used it to wallop me on the side of my head. The blow was so fierce that my ears rang for hours afterwards. Throughout the drama, Joshua never once took his mouth from the end of her tit. In fact, he gurgled away quite happily as I reeled sideways and fell sprawling onto the sofa. My mother sat down with a look of contentment on her flabby face while Joshua continued his guzzling.
As I lay there I thought of telling her my secret. I knew if I did it would pay her back for all she’d done to me. More, it would destroy her. The secret bubbled up into my mouth and struggled to get out – but I kept it in. For all of my mother’s faults, I didn’t have it in me to do that to her. My secret would just have to stay with me, eating me up inside like a colony of termites.
Once I would have burst into tears when my mother hit me, but by that age – I was sixteen at the time – I suffered in silence. I’d determined not to give her the satisfaction of knowing she could hurt me. I fled upstairs to my tiny bedroom and threw myself onto my bed. Then I shut my eyes and began to conjure up images of my Golden Age – the period when I’d gone to the Dickens Academy, Joshua didn’t exist, and my parents both loved me. But it hurt me to think of a time without Josh, so I soon gave up and did my homework.
Later, when my mum put him to bed, she said to me, ‘Keep quiet and let him get his sleep. He needs it. Don’t go pestering him. Have you got that?’
I felt tears welling up in the corners of my eyes but managed to hold them back as I nodded agreement.
When the coast was clear I sneaked into Joshua’s room, picked him up out of his cot, and carried him around. He seemed to enjoy it. But after a while he howled, so I quickly put him back down and raced into my own room before the Sasquatch thundered upstairs to comfort him.
I might have been tempted to let him suck at my own breast, but for the fact that I’d seen my mother feeding him, and the image was gross enough to put me off breastfeeding for life. I hoped Joshua would one day share my negative feelings about breastfeeding, but he never seemed to tire of my mother’s sour milk.
The next day I sat in the same place as before, at the back of the class, with only myself for company. The three cool girls were nearby. I didn’t bother looking at them. There was no point, as I had no chance of joining their group. What level of social group would I sink to, I wondered – Adele’s? It seemed I wasn�
�t wanted there. Was there one lower than hers? If so, I might be better off as a sad loner. But sad loners get picked on, especially at places like St Benedict’s. I wondered how long it would be before I attracted the bullies.
There would be a period of grace, no doubt, as I was a new girl. Once that’d ended I could expect no mercy. People were already giving me looks of the type I remembered giving myself to girls I didn’t much care for. It was only my second day, but already I felt the pressure mounting to become part of a social group, especially during breaks, when I stood out and felt more alone than ever.
It wasn’t until the afternoon that I realised there was another loner in the class – Kylie. I’d been so wrapped up in my own woes I hadn’t noticed her. Even if I had, I would’ve steered well clear – she wasn’t the type to get me accepted into any set I wanted to be a part of.
I’d heard her in the dinner queue, ‘I’d like the fish and chips, please, with parsley sauce,’ she’d said to the dinner lady.
Those few words betrayed the fact she was different to everyone else. She spoke in a plummy accent. The cool set were just behind her. One of them pulled her face into a horrid expression and repeated what Kylie had just said in a mock posh way. All three of them had laughed out loud while Kylie reddened.
By the afternoon of day three I was desperate, and ready to lower my sights. So when Kylie said, ‘Hi, how do you like your new school?’ I wondered what it would be like hanging out with her. Not good, I imagined. She’d get the piss taken out of her a lot of the time, and she didn’t seem the type to stand up for herself. As her friend I’d have to devote a good deal of energy to bolstering her spirits when she’d been picked on. She might make things worse for me, or she might make things better. It was a fifty–fifty call. I decided to take a risk on her, and was more forthcoming than I had been with Adele.
‘It’s crap,’ I whispered, ‘and full of plebs. I used to go to the Dickens Academy. That was all right.’
She leant in close to me. ‘I know what you mean. I’ve been here a week and I still haven’t made any friends.’
So we had something in common. It didn’t surprise me. Kylie would struggle to find friends here. She looked okay – she wasn’t overweight or anything – and she wasn’t dressed in hand-me-downs – her uniform was brand new. But the fact she was well-spoken and clearly from a good background made her ill-equipped for life at St Benedict’s.
After the lesson we walked together to the next class, talking quietly about our dismay at the kind of school we’d been sent to. I heard one of the cool girls behind us mocking the way Kylie talked. I turned my head and saw which one it was. Her blonde hair was clipped up in a funny sort of quiff at the front, and she had streaks. I’d seen women in their twenties doing that recently. I’d never have worn my hair that way, even if everyone else was doing it. I thought it was ridiculous.
She saw me glance at her. ‘What are you fucking looking at?’ she said.
Nice.
Me and Kylie both glanced at each other and ignored her.
The next day when we left school together, Kylie’s mum was near the school gates. ‘I’ve heard all about you,’ she said. ‘You’re Kylie’s new friend.’
‘Mum,’ said Kylie, squirming with embarrassment.
‘Would you like to come to our house to eat one evening after school?’
I thought about my own terrifying mum and my taciturn dad who said very little. While I didn’t much care for the ordeal of spending time with my parents, I wanted to go home every evening to see Joshua. After much consideration I said, ‘That would be nice.’ Then, turning to Kylie, I added, ‘If it’s all right by you.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’d love you to come to our place to eat.’
‘How about tomorrow?’ her mum said.
‘I’m looking forward to it.’
Usually I walked home, but the next day Kylie’s mum picked us both up in her car, a Volkswagen Polo, and took us back to their house, which was rather nicer than the home I was used to. It was a big semi, tastefully decorated. The kitchen table had two places set at it with fancy place mats and other decorations.
‘My mum doesn’t usually go to such lengths,’ Kylie said. ‘She’s pushed the boat out for you.’
We had home-made spaghetti bolognaise. This seemed exotic compared to the food I was used to at home, which was always chips with something. Afterwards we went upstairs to Kylie’s bedroom and listened to music. She had a sound system and TV in her room, as well as a bookshelf. I had books and little else.
It turned out she’d read a lot of the same stuff as me – The Secret Club series and The Hyde Park Abomination and so on, so we had a lot to talk about. She was also funny, but you’d never have guessed when we were at school. We became firm friends, but our friendship had a sell-by date we weren’t aware of at the time.
It wasn’t long before the cool girls started picking on us quite openly. Their ringleader with the odd hairstyle – Beth – was the worst. She was always mimicking Kylie’s posh accent. Then she’d look at me and say, ‘Isn’t it time your mum got you some clothes that fit properly?’
It was mean to pick on me because of my clothes, but that’s how some girls are.
One evening when me and Kylie were leaving school together, the cool girls were just behind us making comments and laughing. They didn’t stop till we were well beyond the school gates. They did the same thing next day.
When we were alone together in her bedroom, Kylie sat on the floor, hugged her knees, and began to cry. ‘They’ve upset me now,’ she said, sounding like a little girl only four years old. ‘They’ve upset me a lot.’
Mr Atkinson, the PE teacher, was very much in favour of girls doing the same sports the boys did, so he had us playing cricket during the games lesson. The ball came to me when someone was running between the stumps and I had to throw it hard at the stumps to get the batter out. I must have misaimed it because it hit Beth hard in the mouth. I apologised right away, but even so she cried. Her teeth didn’t look right, her mouth bled, her cheeks got all puffy, and she had to go home. Later I learnt she’d had to visit the dentist to get her teeth fixed.
But after that she stopped saying things about us. It meant we were able to relax a bit and be ourselves, and Kylie became more confident and said funny things at school as well as at home. She became popular, and a bit mean with it. We were walking past Beth one time and Kylie sucked her lips over her teeth like a toothless old crone and leered at her. I grabbed Kylie’s arm and pulled her away.
‘What did you do that for?’ she said.
‘We shouldn’t go out of our way to be nasty,’ I replied. ‘What goes around comes around.’
Little did I know we were destined to get mixed up in something nastier than either of us would ever have believed possible.
People thought I was hard because I’d thrown the cricket ball which had hit Beth in the mouth. All of a sudden we were the cool ones, and people wanted to be with us. But we were very selective. We allowed a few hangers-on to talk to us now and again, but it was really just me and Kylie, a team of two.
I suppose it was being cool which got us noticed by Seth. He had a reputation for being hard and for being the coolest boy in the school. He was good-looking in a sinister kind of way, dark hair swept to one side, an evil grin often playing on his lips. He had a gang of followers and they were pretty much feared throughout the school.
One day he was slouching against the wall at the back of the bike sheds, cigarette dangling from his thin lips. He looked like a big grinning shark with a cig in its mouth.
Me and Kylie were walking past, having a giggle.
‘Hey,’ he said.
We stopped to look at him. His friends – four other boys, and a girl – stared at us.
‘Are you the girl who threw the cricket ball?’
I nodded. ‘Yeah.’
‘Nice one. Want a smoke?’
Kylie’s eyes widened and I think she mig
ht have looked at me and shaken her head very subtly, but I said, ‘Okay.’
I’d never smoked before and knew it was meant to be bad for you, but I wanted to try it, especially if it meant I could hang around with Seth and his gang. I walked over to him as casually as I could, and Kylie, with some show of reluctance, followed me.
‘What’s the matter?’ he asked her. ‘I don’t bite.’
She gave him a wan smile. He took a packet of cigarettes from the pocket of his blazer and handed us both one. We put them in our mouths where they dangled, unfamiliar and clumsy.
‘Either of you smoked before?’
We shook our heads in unison.
‘Okay, I’ll light them, and you take a breath and suck when I do.’
He took a lighter from his pocket. It was a silver zippo with a grinning cartoon shark on the side. He flipped open the top, spun the ratchet, and a flame appeared which he waved beneath the ends of our cigarettes, first mine, then Kylie’s.
I took a draw then pulled it from my mouth and coughed my guts up. After a couple more draws my head began to spin.
‘I feel dizzy,’ I said. ‘Is that normal?’
‘It is the first time.’
Kylie struck up a pose with one arm bent across her torso, the elbow of the other resting on it while she waved her cig in the air.
‘I could get used to this,’ she said, exhaling a column of smoke skywards. She was a natural at it and she looked magnificent. It made me proud to be her friend. I did my best to finish my cigarette without too much coughing and spluttering. By the time I’d finished it I felt quite sick. Kylie seemed to enjoy hers.
‘Fancy joining us tomorrow?’ Seth asked. ‘We’re having a garage party. It’s at my uncle’s house. We’ll have fun.’
I looked at Kylie and she looked at me. An unseen message passed between us.
‘Yes,’ we both said.
‘Okay, give me your mobile numbers and I’ll text you the details.’
I didn’t have a mobile so Kylie gave him her number.
‘Best be going,’ he said, glancing at his watch. ‘See you tomorrow.’
