Tell It to the Moon

by Siobhan Curham

  “Amen, sister!” Roxanne called from the sofa, raising her glass of green juice.

  “And not letting the patriarchy suppress us with their lies,” Margot said.

  “Right on.” Rose raised her eyebrows to Savannah. “Seriously, Mom. I think I’m gonna go to bed. It’s been a long day what with school and the patisserie and then I just had to go see a friend who’s had some bad news. I need an early night. But you guys have fun.” She grinned at them and fist-pumped the air. “Flower power!”

  As soon as Rose made it to the safety of her bedroom she threw herself onto her bed. She had so much stuff to process from today. Not her mom’s latest craze. She hoped to block that from ever entering her mind again. But everything else… She hugged a pillow to her and gazed at the hazy orange glow from the streetlight spilling in through the window. She hoped Maali was OK. When Rose had first met Maali she’d felt slightly irritated by the younger girl, but now she felt nothing but a fierce protection – the way you would for a kid sister, she guessed. She made a silent vow to make sure she was always there for her. Then she thought of what it had been like being back at school – boring but bearable. After how things had gotten last year she could definitely do boring but bearable. Then finally, saving the best till last, she felt for the rose pendant around her neck and thought of Francesca. It had been so awesome to see her again – and the news about the cake stall had been the icing on the cake, excuse the pun. Rose closed her eyes and grinned. This year could not have got off to a better start.

  Chapter Twelve

  This year could not have got off to a worse start, Sky thought to herself as she walked through the school gates doing up her grease-stained tie. In a final and pitiful act of defiance, she’d left it until the very last minute to put it on. The mood on the boat had been horrible this morning, with her and Liam tiptoeing around each other but neither of them willing to back down. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so stressed and she hated it. Being made to go to school was forcing her to become someone she wasn’t; someone she hated. It was turning her into a bitter, miserable version of herself. She was no longer Sky, she was … she was … Rain Cloud. A group of girls drew level with her, giggling and whispering. Were they laughing at her? Sky watched them sashay past. They all looked so immaculate, with their ironed-straight hair and their figure-hugging skirts. Sky looked down at her own skirt. It came to just below the knee, which in this school seemed to be about ten centimetres too long. None of the other girls wore Doc Marten boots like her either. They were all in little ballet-style pumps despite the cold. Sky scanned the grey concrete concourse leading up to the grey, concrete building. Why did her fellow students seem to go to such great lengths to look the same? She got that they all had to wear the same uniform but why didn’t people customize their uniform to make it look more uniquely them? Why did they all style their hair and make-up the same?

  She felt her phone vibrate in her blazer pocket. It was a text from Amber.

  Are you at school yet? Do you want to meet up before registration?

  Just seeing the word “registration” made Sky shudder. It was as if they were animals being rounded up to be sent to market. She put her phone back in her pocket. The truth was, she didn’t want to meet up with Amber because Amber might want to talk about Maali and her dad, and that was the very last thing Sky wanted to talk about. This made her feel like even more of a horrible person. But Maali’s news last night ended up triggering an avalanche of terrible memories about her mum.

  Sky marched into the building and made her way along the harshly lit corridor. She’d found out about her mum’s death on a bright summer’s day, which seemed to have gone against all the laws of nature. Surely world-shatteringly bad news should only be delivered on days that are grey and overcast and echo with thunder. But no, that day had been one of the brightest and sunniest of the year. She’d been playing a game of “Kiss, Marry, Kill” with her best friend, Tara, all the way back from school and had arrived home laughing and breathless. She remembered two things so clearly from that day: there was no music playing when she got home and there was always music playing, and her dad was crying and he never cried. It was as if a needle had ripped across the blissful soundtrack to her childhood and all that was left was ominous silence. Sky’s eyes began to smart. Damn. This was the last place she wanted to cry. She swallowed hard and made her way to her form room. The bell to round them up hadn’t gone yet so there was only her form tutor, Mrs Bayliss, and Vanessa in the room. Sky went and sat beside Vanessa.

  “Hello, Sky,” Mrs Bayliss called, peering at her over her large, oval glasses. She had long, greying hair and a permanently serious expression. She reminded Sky of an owl.

  “Hi,” Sky replied, deliberately not saying the obligatory “Miss”. She looked at Vanessa, who was engrossed in the red-raw skin around her fingernails again. “Hey.”

  “Hi.” Vanessa didn’t look up.

  Sky suddenly felt really tired. She didn’t have the energy to try to be friends any more.

  Sky flinched as the bell in the corridor screeched and the sound of a student stampede came thundering towards them.

  The first period was English. They were studying the First World War poets, which had given Sky the tiniest flicker of hope. Surely this class would be OK. And if there was one lesson she enjoyed, at least there’d be something to look forward to. Of course, she got lost on the way, so by the time she reached the classroom the door was shut and there was an almighty racket coming from inside. Sky’s heart sank. Maybe the teacher was off sick. The thought of being left alone as the new girl in an unsupervised class was about as appealing as being fed to the lions at London Zoo. But as she peered through the pane of glass in the door she saw a teacher standing at the front of the class. He looked very young – and very stressed.

  “Quiet, please,” he implored as Sky came into the room.

  There was a temporary hush but it seemed to have been caused by Sky’s arrival rather than the teacher’s pleadings. Once again, she felt all eyes burning into her.

  “Can I help you?” the teacher asked.

  “Yes, I’m here for English. I’ve just started here.”

  “Oh.” He looked flustered and angry, like he hadn’t been told.

  Sky felt her hackles rise. It wasn’t as if she wanted to be there either.

  “Name, please.”

  “Sky. Sky Cassidy.”

  “Sky?” said a girl with black hair and a mean, pouty mouth. “What, as in the sky?”

  Sky nodded.

  The girl smirked.

  “Sit down. Sit down,” the teacher said, gesturing at an empty space on the table across from pouty girl.

  The lesson was terrible. Sky had clearly been put in the class for people who had no interest in poetry – or at least the ones who didn’t have any interest had complete control of the class; the others just sat there quietly, staring into space. It didn’t help that the teacher appeared to be deeply unhappy too.

  When the bell finally rang for the end of class, something inside of Sky snapped. If she couldn’t even enjoy a poetry lesson at this school there was no hope. She marched out of the classroom and along the corridor, ignoring her map and timetable and heading for the nearest exit.

  Maali pushed past the crowd of tourists congregating on Brick Lane and made her way into the gift shop. She didn’t normally come out for lunch but this morning she’d been given some divine inspiration. She knew it was divine because there was no way she could have come up with something so inspired on her own. Why don’t you give him a framed copy of the photo you took of him and Mum at Christmas, her inner voice had said in Chemistry, completely out of the blue. Maali had taken the photo on Christmas morning, when her parents weren’t looking. They were standing together peeling vegetables by the kitchen sink, and her dad was looking at her mum with such an expression of pure love it had taken Maali’s breath away. If she gave him a framed copy when she visited him after school he could keep
it by his hospital bed and hopefully it would cheer him up.

  Maali bought a green frame – her dad’s favourite colour – and stepped back out on to the street. The sun had finally made an appearance, albeit a pale and diluted one. “Excuse me, please,” Maali said as she passed a guy standing in the middle of the pavement looking at his phone.

  “Hello, stranger!” the guy called after her. The sound of his voice caused her to freeze in her tracks. It couldn’t be… She turned slowly. It was. Ash was standing there, grinning at her, looking even more handsome than she remembered him in his faded jeans and scuffed leather jacket.

  “H–hello.” Maali felt completely thrown off balance.

  “How have you been?” Ash asked, walking towards her. “I’ve missed seeing you around. And not just because it made me finish The Lord of the Rings way quicker than I’d have liked to.” He laughed, causing his cuteness to climb several notches.

  Maali felt a warm glow as she remembered that day in the City Farm café and how Ash had told her that he wasn’t just pleased to see her because talking to her would make the book he was loving last longer. A soft-focus flashback came into her mind. Ash and her at the table in the corner of the café, talking and laughing. Then the flashback went from soft focus to neon glare as she remembered the arrival of Ash’s girlfriend, Sage. She cringed as she thought of the way they’d kissed – the way she’d imagined herself being kissed by Ash during the thousands of daydreams she’d had about him. “I have to go,” she said crisply. “I have to get back to school.”

  Ash looked genuinely disappointed. “Oh, that’s a shame. How did your story turn out in the end?”

  Maali looked at him blankly.

  “The one about the pig farmer.”

  Maali cringed as she remembered the lame excuse she’d come up with to go and see Ash. Telling him she needed help with a story about pigs. It seemed so immature and pathetic now. She seemed so immature and pathetic – unlike the ultra-sophisticated, swishy-haired Sage.

  “Which way are you going?” Ash asked.

  Maali gestured down the road.

  “Great. Me too. I’ll walk with you.”

  Maali couldn’t believe it. It had been bad enough seeing signs of Ash everywhere lately but making their paths actually cross like this seemed downright cruel. Lakshmi, why are you doing this to me? she silently moaned.

  “So, how’s your New Year been so far?” Ash said.

  Maali thought of her dad. “Oh, you know.”

  Ash grinned at her. “No, I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”

  Maali felt as if her heart was being crushed. It was like the two causes of her current sorrow were pressing in on her and she could hardly breathe. “I have to go,” she muttered and, spotting a gap in the traffic, she raced across the road.

  “Are you OK?” Ash called after her. He shouted something else but it was drowned out by a passing lorry.

  WHY THE CAGED BIRD CRIES

  BY SKY CASSIDY

  Maya knows why the caged bird sings

  but I know why she cries.

  She cries because she misses her wings

  and the endless open skies.

  Why does life have to be so hard?

  Why so many rules?

  Why the mortgage and the nine-to-five?

  Why the soulless schools?

  We all have the right to express ourselves,

  we all have the right to be free.

  We all long for passion and fire and dance,

  we all are as wild as the sea.

  Maya knows why the caged bird sings

  but I know why she cries.

  She cries because she misses her wings

  and the hope of the bright blue skies.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sky placed her notebook on top of her Maya Angelou anthology and took a sip of her peppermint tea. Finally, she was starting to feel like herself again. It had taken a bracing walk around St James’s Park, several cups of tea, a read of some of her favourite poems and quickly scribbling out one of her own to shed the hot and bothered, bitchy alter ego school had turned her into. She breathed a sigh of relief. And now she was back in her favourite place in all of London, the Poetry Café. She and the guy serving behind the counter were the only ones in there. Jazz was playing softly in the background and the only other sound came from the occasional ringing of the phone. It was an oasis of quiet and calm in the middle of the Covent Garden craziness. It was coming up to four-thirty – the time when she should be arriving home from school. But Liam was teaching yoga classes in Shepherd’s Bush this evening and wouldn’t be back till gone ten. She still had all the time in the world and no need to go anywhere or do anything. It was a wonderful feeling.

  Sky took her phone from her pocket and clicked on the inbox. She had three more messages from Amber, which she hadn’t been able to bring herself to reply to yet.

  Hi, I’ll meet you at the canteen at lunch. We can go outside if you like? Wherever you’d like to go…

  Are you at school today? I’m waiting by the door.

  I take it you’re not in. Hope all is OK.

  Sky felt wracked with guilt. She’d been feeling so crappy earlier she hadn’t been thinking straight. It was so rude of her not to reply to Amber. She quickly started typing.

  I’m so sorry – had to leave after first period – wasn’t feeling well. Will explain all when I see you. S x

  She sat back in her chair, wondering what to do next. She was getting pretty hungry. Should she stay here and eat or go and grab a slice of pizza in Leicester Square and listen to the buskers?

  The door to the café flew open, bringing in a burst of cold air. A guy stood in the doorway looking around. He was about eighteen, with brown skin and afro hair twisted into mini dreadlocks. He was grinning the kind of goofy grin you’d get if you’d just won the lottery. His gaze fell on Sky and she felt a weird jolt of recognition, as if she knew him from somewhere.

  “Hey,” he said warmly, like he knew her too. “How’s it going?” He spoke with a strong London accent but his voice was soft, which took the edge off it.

  “Good,” Sky said. “How are you?” OK, this was weird. Why did he seem so familiar?

  “Great,” he said, shutting the door behind him and coming over. He was carrying a large sports bag, which he put down on the floor by her table. “This is the Poetry Café, right?”

  Sky nodded. “Yes.” She followed his gaze around the empty tables. “It’s a bit quiet at the moment but it should liven up later. They have events downstairs in the evening. Readings and things.”

  “I know.” His eyes were dark brown and they sparkled when he grinned. “I’m meant to be reading here tonight.”

  “Really?” Sky’s heart skipped a beat. A poet!

  “Yeah. Can’t you tell?” He held out his hands in front of her and made them quiver. “I’m terrified.”

  Sky laughed. “Don’t be. It’s a very friendly crowd. At least it was when I read here.”

  “You’ve read here?” He pulled out a chair then stopped. “Is it OK … if I join you?”

  “Of course. Yeah, I read here a while ago.” Sky loved being able to say this – it made her sound so worldly and interesting, so unlike a stupid, grumpy schoolgirl. “It was the first time I’d ever read one of my poems in public. I was really scared too but it was fine. It helps that it’s not that big.”

  He glanced around the narrow café and nodded before looking back at her. “I’m Leon.” He held out his hand across the table.

  “Oh.” Sky quickly took hold of it.

  There was a split second of awkward silence before he shook her hand and started to laugh. “See, I told you I was nervous. I’ve never been anywhere like this before. Do people shake hands here?”

  Sky laughed. “I don’t think so. At least, no one’s ever shaken my hand here before.”

  Leon groaned. “I’m sorry. It’s just – this is very different to the places I’m used to perfo
rming.” He looked up at the menu on the blackboard. “I mean, what the hell is quin-o-a?”

  Sky laughed. “It’s actually pronounced keen-wa and it’s pretty gross so you haven’t been missing much. Where do you normally perform, then?”

  “Oh, the youth centre on my estate. This community centre in Vauxhall where they do spoken word nights. Nuttin’ fancy.” Leon took off his jacket. His arms bulged with muscles. Sky spotted a tattoo of a word just beneath his t-shirt sleeve but she wasn’t close enough to read what it said.

  “You didn’t tell me your name.” He leaned back in his chair and grinned at her.

  Sky felt a stab of anxiety. She’d come to hate telling people her name over the past two days. “Sky,” she muttered.

  “For real? I mean, that’s not your performance name?”

  She shook her head.

  Leon whistled. “Cool. Great to meet you, Sky.”

  She grinned back at him. “Great to meet you too.”

  “I’m really worried about Sky,” Amber said, sitting down on her bed.

  Rose took off her coat and slung it over the back of Amber’s chair. “Why? What’s up?”

  “She was only in school for one lesson today. She said she wasn’t feeling well but I think it’s because she’s really hating it there.”

  Rose nodded. “Makes sense. I mean, it must be really tough to start school again at sixteen. I don’t get why her dad won’t just let her stay home.”

  “I think they might be having money problems. She said he’s having to teach more yoga classes so he’s not able to home-school her any more.”

  Rose sat down on the bed next to Amber. She was wearing a black shift dress over patterned leggings and biker boots. As always, she looked as if she’d stepped straight from the cover of an edgy fashion magazine. “I’ll text her later, make sure she’s OK. So, how’s the existential crisis?”