The Fragile Ordinary

by Samantha Young

  “Oy, oy!” Jimmy shouted across the room, drawing our gazes as we sat down at a table with Steph and Vicki. “The lovebirds are back!”

  Some of the people around us snickered while Steph muttered under her breath, “Not again.”

  Tobias and I shared a stoic look. We’d already decided not to engage with any of them, in the hopes that they would grow bored more quickly if we gave them no reaction. It sounded like we had a plan, that we were strong and ready to face Stevie’s order to his crew to bully us. The truth was, however, at least for me, that it was only day two and I already felt unsettled and ill at school. Dread filled me every time I had to leave the safety of a classroom and venture down the hallways. I anticipated bumping into one of them and having to endure their nastiness, and the embarrassment of knowing my peers might think some of the things Stevie’s crew were saying were true.

  I pushed the food on my plate around, nauseated at the thought of putting any of it near my stomach.

  “I bet when ye bang her, King, she’s still got a book in her hand!”

  That was from Stevie, and not only did it make me want to curl up in a corner somewhere to hide my mortification, it really hurt, because it meant Stevie was using what he knew about me against me. He’d been in my bedroom, my private space, seen my private things and heard my personal thoughts on all different subjects. And while I’d been threatened to keep my mouth shut about what I knew, he apparently had no compunction about doing to me what he didn’t want done to him.

  “She wouldnae have a book in her hand if I banged her,” Forrester boasted.

  Tobias’s knuckles turned white as he gripped his fork.

  “Remember, ignore them,” Vicki advised, the only one of us who looked unaffected and in control.

  The obscenities kept flying our way, a constant stream, and Jimmy and Forrester illustrated some of what they were shouting with lewd playacting at their table. Some people looked annoyed and uncomfortable for us, most probably because Tobias was well liked. But a lot of people snickered and laughed at what Stevie and his crew were shouting and doing.

  “Let’s no’ forget his other wee pals er there,” Jimmy yelled, smirking villainously. “They two are tasty. Gettin’ a shot at them two tae, eh, King? Got yerself a kinky wee foursome, eh?”

  “Oh God.” Steph looked like she was going to be sick.

  “Have they got nothing better to do than shout about sex?” Vicki scowled at them. “Probably because they’re not getting any.”

  “Oy, blondie, how are ye on yer knees?”

  “That’s it.” Steph stood up, her cheeks blazing. “I’m gone.”

  “Steph!” Vicki shouted after her but Steph was already hurrying out of the cafeteria, making Stevie and his lads crow with laughter. “She just gave them what they wanted.”

  “We can’t blame her.” I sighed. “If they don’t stop soon I’m going to vomit all over this table.”

  Tobias reached for my hand. “They’ll get bored,” he repeated, but he himself looked like he was hanging on by a thread.

  And then our savior stormed into the cafeteria in the form of Mrs. Penman. At her side was an older dinner lady I hadn’t seen leave the room. She pointed at Stevie’s table, and Mrs. Penman nodded at her before marching toward them. We watched as she said something to them. They clearly gave her lip back because she stiffened and said something else. And then suddenly she roared, “Move!”

  The entire cafeteria hushed as Stevie and the boys scowled at her but did as she asked, swaggering ahead of her out of the cafeteria. They flashed wicked grins at us, Jimmy winking at me, and I jerked my gaze away.

  In that moment I hated them.

  Even Stevie.

  Once they were gone, Tobias slid his arm around my shoulder and pulled me against him. “You did good.”

  “You both did,” Vicki agreed.

  I smiled at her. “You did better than any of us.”

  “Well, I was barely their target. It’s easier for me to tell you to just ignore them.” Her expression was sympathetic, concerned. “I’m sorry they’re doing this to you. And—” she glanced down at her phone and winced “—just an FYI...if I were you I’d continue to avoid all social media. They just sent out a filthy post about you on Messenger to a whole bunch of us.”

  Tobias and I shared a weary look. “This is one of those moments when being an anti-social-media introvert actually works in my favor.”

  He grinned but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Guess so.”

  * * *

  It was English last period but as soon as the bell rang Tobias had to hurry to the rugby park to see if he’d made the local boys’ rugby team. The lit mag wasn’t up and running yet so I had no extracurricular activities to stay at school for. Vicki had encouraged me to tag along with her to the school show rehearsals and Tobias had seemed relieved that I wouldn’t be walking out of school alone, so I’d agreed.

  I should have kept to the agreement but frustration and anger clouded my judgment. I attempted to tell myself that the fear Stevie’s friends were making me feel was nowhere near as bad as the cowardice I’d feel if I allowed them to make me change my routine.

  “Comet...” Vicki shook her head in concern as we stood outside English. I’d just told her I was going home instead of accompanying her to the school auditorium. “No.”

  “I can’t wait around for you to make a decision, sorry.” Steph backed away, looking anything but apologetic.

  I felt like shouting surprise, surprise after her. “I’ll be fine,” I promised Vicki instead. “I’ll text you when I get home.”

  There was little she could do to change my mind, but as I stepped out the front entrance of the school and saw them waiting at the gate I almost turned back around. I’d considered sneaking out the back entrance through the teacher’s car park, but it would mean a detour down a street Forrester lived on. His parents weren’t around a lot so I knew from Stevie that Forrester’s was the most common hangout for them. There was a possibility of running into them all no matter which entrance I left through. Trepidation moved through me in waves of nausea and quivering tremors. Knees shaky, I tried to look as casual as possible as I walked down the stairs and made my way toward the gates.

  Jimmy saw me first and hit Stevie on the shoulder. They all turned. All of them were together, including Alana and one of her friends.

  “Aw aye, here she comes,” Jimmy called out as I approached. I stared straight ahead, not giving them the satisfaction of meeting their eyes so they could see my fear. My body was in revolt against my stubbornness, desperate to take off into a sprint away from them. “Dinnae worry, Com Com, we never got suspended. Just a gentle warnin’.” They all cackled like hyenas.

  I strode through the gates, praying they wouldn’t follow.

  My prayers fell on deaf ears.

  “Such a stuck-up bitch,” Alana said as I heard their footsteps fall into rhythm behind me. “What the hell does he see in her?”

  Jimmy’s answer was so unbelievably crude I wanted to disappear. My shoulders hunched around my ears as if I could block out their comments.

  Then Stevie’s voice joined the herd, “Nah, she’s no’ givin’ it up. Thinks hers is made o’ solid 24-carat gold. She’ll just tease him til his gonads drop aff.”

  His words hurt most of all. The frightened tears I’d been holding back spilled down my cheeks, and I hurried my steps so they wouldn’t catch up and see. Everything and everyone became a blur as they cackled at my back through town, shouting obscenities.

  Their insults crashed over me, battering me with humiliation. People passed, throwing me concerned looks, but it was only as the sea came into view ahead of me that a familiar voice jerked me back into my immediate surroundings. “Oy, leave her alone!”

  I looked up to see Mrs. Cruickshank storming across the street toward me with he
r shopping bag in hand, yelling at my bullies.

  “Get lost!” Alana yelled back.

  “You filthy little buggers, leave her alone or I’ll call the police.” Mrs. Cruickshank waved her mobile phone at them.

  “Aw screw this,” Stevie huffed.

  And I glanced over my shoulder to see him giving them all a jerk of his head. They muttered insults at my neighbor but turned on their heels and began to stroll casually away. Not once did Stevie look back at me.

  My face crumpled as sobs just exploded out of me.

  “Oh dear, Comet, come here.” Mrs. Cruickshank reached my side and put her free arm around my shoulders.

  I swiped at my tears, embarrassed that I’d had to be rescued by my elderly neighbor. “Thank you,” I managed to say.

  She nodded, face etched with concern. “What was that all about?”

  I sucked back more tears.

  “Okay.” She led me onto the esplanade. “Well, you should tell someone. And by someone I mean someones. And by someones I mean your parents.”

  The thought of my parents made me cry harder, because they were the last people I could turn to with this. Instead I took Mrs. Cruickshank’s shopping bag from her. “I can’t tell them.”

  “Then in exchange for you carrying my shopping, I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

  Still shaking with adrenaline, I found the idea of taking comfort in my neighbor—a grown-up I trusted more than most—appealing, and I walked with her down the esplanade toward home. The shopping bag jerked in my hand as we were hit by a rush of cold wind.

  “Ooh, a cup of tea sounds grand right now.” Mrs. Cruickshank raised her voice to be heard over the wind.

  Anything sounded grand to me as long as it meant being away from Stevie and his crew.

  My neighbor hurried to let us into her house, and we passed through the familiar narrow hallway with its Persian-style carpet and walls cluttered with photos and artwork. Mrs. Cruickshank’s house smelled like beeswax, lavender oil and turpentine. When I was younger and lacking in diplomacy, I’d asked why it smelled the way it did and what it was. She told me it was her homemade furniture polish.

  The smell waned in the kitchen, a lovely light room that overlooked a small courtyard, much like ours. Except whereas our courtyard was overgrown and dirty from lack of use, Mrs. Cruickshank’s courtyard was bordered with flowers in the summer and had a little table and chairs where I knew she enjoyed drinking her peppermint tea and reading the newspaper.

  The courtyard looked a little bare and lonesome in the winter, but the kitchen—a far more modern kitchen than our own—was warm and inviting because of the wood-burning stove at one end near a small couch and coffee table. I put Mrs. Cruickshank’s shopping on her kitchen countertop, offered to help and was promptly told to sit down on the couch. I watched, feeling my shakes fade as my neighbor bustled around putting away her shopping. When she was done, she moved on to lighting the fire, and the kitchen became all the cozier for it.

  Finally, she settled down beside me on the couch and handed me a mug of peppermint tea, then shoved a plate of biscuits at me.

  I took a biscuit while she sat patiently, staring at me.

  Finally, I said, “One of them used to be a friend. He’s my boyfriend’s cousin.”

  Mrs. Cruickshank gave me a slow, small smile. “Boyfriend?”

  “Tobias.”

  “Is that that the handsome tall Yank you’ve been walking with?”

  I chuckled at her old-fashioned words. “Yes.”

  She nodded, seeming pleased for me. And then she sobered. “So why is this other boy now following you home with his friends, shouting rude comments at you?”

  Sadness overwhelmed me. “He’s a good person, really. He’s just...” And I found myself telling her the gist of the story, without mentioning anything to do with Stevie’s involvement with drugs.

  “So he’s angry that Tobias has moved out just when he needs him, angry that his mum is sick and also angry that Tobias wasn’t there to help him out of a fight? And he has decided to blame you for this because it’s easier than feeling powerless?”

  I nodded at her grown-up perspective, thinking that was probably true. I’d become Stevie’s emotional punching bag. “Yes. But I suppose some of it is my fault. Tobias didn’t want to hang around with the people Stevie was hanging around. They’re not a good crowd. And when he thought I might get dragged into it, he made the choice to be with me and cut out Stevie. But we asked Stevie to come with us. To stop hanging out with those bad people, too.”

  “Bad people?”

  I shook my head, unwilling to divulge more.

  Mrs. Cruickshank sighed. “Well, all I can say is that I think you did the right thing. You and Tobias. As much as Stevie might be hurting over losing his cousin’s friendship, he had other choices in front of him. Bullying you is not going to solve his problems.”

  “So what do I do?”

  My neighbor settled her empty mug on her coffee table and turned to face me fully. “I know most adults would tell you to report it, and I do think you should. But I also know that reporting it doesn’t always make it stop. My advice is to do what you think is right for everyone, Comet. Trust yourself. And keep in mind that this moment in time is just a blip on the radar of your life. Don’t twist yourself up in knots over it, when in a few years’ time it will be a distant memory.” She clasped my hand in hers. “Don’t waste your emotions on this, my dear. Give them all to the things that make you happy, here and now.”

  Like Tobias. And my poetry. And books.

  I heard her words, and I knew there was wisdom in them, but I didn’t know how easy it was going to be to follow that advice when I still felt shaky inside after what had just occurred.

  Not long later I left Mrs. Cruickshank and as I walked down my garden path, staring up at the large picture window to my mother’s studio, I found myself growing resentful that I was unable to turn to my parents for the kind of advice and comfort our neighbor had given me. With those feelings churning along with my residual fear I walked into the house and slammed the door behind me without really meaning to.

  Well, maybe subconsciously I meant to.

  It took me a moment to realize Carrie was coming out of the kitchen with a half-eaten chocolate bar and a bottle of water in her hand. I’d hardly seen her for the past week, because she was working on another private commission. She wore charcoal smudges on her temple, chin and the white artist’s smock that she had in every color. My mother. A cliché.

  An explosive anger toward her suddenly fought to be free and I shuddered to hold it in.

  Carrie cocked her head to the side, studying me. “Are you okay?”

  I’d thought, when I was hurrying down the street with taunts and sexually aggressive insults slamming into my back, that I’d never felt more alone. Yet, staring at this woman, this stranger I’d lived with my whole life, the loneliness, the fear, quadrupled. And it rushed out of me toward her. “When have you ever actually given a fuck?” I shrieked.

  Her face slackened in shock and I sped down the hall, tripping over a pair of boots in my hurry and colliding with my door. I growled in outrage and pushed it open, then threw it shut with so much rage that the doorframe shuddered as it crashed shut.

  “Oy!” Carrie banged on it.

  I immediately slid the lock into place.

  “You don’t talk to me like that, Comet!”

  I rolled my eyes, wiping my tears and snot from my nose. “Go away!”

  “Ugh!” Carrie screeched, sounding like a petulant child.

  “What on earth is going on?” I heard Dad’s voice. It sounded like he was at the bottom of the staircase.

  “We’re living with a bloody teenager, that’s what’s going on!” Carrie’s footsteps stomped away, and I heard them clobbering up the stairs.

 
A minute later I heard a gentle tap on my door. “Comet?”

  The concern in his voice caused fresh tears to spill down my cheeks, because I needed him to worry, I needed him to care, but I also knew it was only ever temporary. I’d rather have nothing from him than have him give it only to take it away again. White-hot pain lashed across my chest and I hugged myself tight, trying to stop my insides from splitting apart.

  “Comet?”

  I stifled my sobs, silently pleading with him to go away.

  “Comet...I just want to know that you’re okay.”

  Realizing he wouldn’t leave until I spoke I struggled to pull myself together.

  “Comet?”

  “I’m fine,” I croaked.

  “You don’t sound fine.”

  I fought for more composure and succeeded. Marginally. “I’m fine, Kyle,” I said, and this time my voice sounded stronger.

  He was silent a moment and then I heard him sigh. “All right. I’m...well... I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

  I do need you, I wanted to scream as I heard his footsteps fade away from my door. I always need you! But you’re never there! They’re just words! They’re not real! You don’t mean them!

  In the history of worst timing ever, Tobias called me not too long after that. I’d cried some more, my face swollen and puffy, my nose bunged up with snot, and my voice hoarse from the constriction of trying to keep my sobs locked inside my throat.

  If I didn’t answer, it would worry him after everything that had happened in the cafeteria.

  “Hey, how’d it go?” I attempted to sound normal as I answered.

  “The coach thinks I’ve got a lot of potential.” His deep, familiar voice soothed me. “He’s letting me train with them. Whether I get to play remains to be seen until we know what I can do on the field. But there are a lot of guys from our school on the team. They seem cool.” He sounded happy. I was glad for him. I was. There was nothing I wanted more than for Tobias to be happy. But his hopefulness made me feel more isolated. More vulnerable. More like the victim Stevie wanted me to be. And I knew right there and then that Mrs. Cruickshank’s advice was going to be too difficult to follow.