The day passes without any major dramas. Poss is a little stronger and much greedier. Daphne agrees to feed her while I’m at school. My rash has pretty much gone. At breakfast Eliza says hi and smiles at me, which I guess means she doesn’t regret opening up to me last night. I’m actually feeling a lot more settled at Daphne’s place than I thought I would.
The only bad thing is the Nelson stuff. I find a ball of nerves forming in my stomach as I walk towards my locker, wondering if there will be another note there. My biggest fear is that if there is one, someone else will read it first. That would be awful. It’s not so bad when it’s only me who knows about it. I figure I can ignore it. But if my friends found out it would become a ‘thing’. Luckily, the day passes without a note appearing.
It’s a busy day. School is really full-on, plus we have another meeting at lunchtime to discuss the rally. We still can’t agree on what we should write on the banner, so we put it off until Friday because that’s the only time we’re all free. It has to be done then, no matter what. And when I get home from school there’s Poss to take care of, plus Oscar and Thomas are waiting to drag me off to play with them, even though the Wii is fixed now.
At breakfast on Wednesday morning, Eliza completely surprises me by asking if I want to go to Westland Mall that afternoon.
‘I need to get some stuff from the chemist shop,’ she says, giving me a meaningful look. ‘Wasn’t there some stuff you needed, too?’ I know she’s talking about the shaving cream for sensitive skin. I haven’t really decided if I’m going to try shaving again. But I guess it wouldn’t hurt to be prepared just in case there is a next time.
‘All right. Thanks, I’ll come,’ I say.
Eliza looks over at her mum. ‘Is that okay, Mum?’
‘Sounds like a great idea,’ says Daphne, and I can see that she’s really happy Eliza and I are getting along. ‘You’d better get a lift in the car this morning, though, Sophie,’ Daphne points out. ‘You won’t be able to take your bike on the bus to the mall.’
Even though the car is massive, it feels pretty squishy in there with all our bags and stuff. It’s bumpy in the back too, and I have to wind the window down so I don’t get sick. Much as I dislike my ugly bike, I have to say that cycling is a much nicer way to travel than being in the car.
I wasn’t planning on telling my friends about the Westland Mall trip, but Anya invites us to her mum’s place after school and I tell them why I can’t go. Anya and Leni stare in surprise when I tell them I’m going shopping with Eliza.
‘You’re friends now?’ says Anya. ‘I thought you couldn’t stand her.’
‘Yeah,’ says Leni. ‘I thought you said you had nothing in common.’
‘We don’t, really,’ I say. ‘But it’s different when you live with someone for a while. You – I guess you find out more about what they’re really like.’ I don’t want to explain about Eliza’s dad, or about the shaving stuff, so I leave it there.
Leni tilts her head. ‘I thought you weren’t allowed to go to the mall on your own?’
This is true. My parents aren’t fans of the mall anyway and they definitely wouldn’t let me go on my own. I wonder for a moment if I’m doing the wrong thing. If I shouldn’t go. But as I’m thinking it, I realise how much I really do want to go.
‘My parents aren’t here,’ I say, shrugging. After that I change the topic.
To be honest, I’m half-expecting Eliza to change her mind about going to the mall with me. But when I walk out of our classroom that afternoon, there she is, waiting for me.
‘Ready to go?’ she says. ‘The bus goes from round the corner.’
Generally when I go to the mall (which isn’t very often) it’s with my parents, who basically want to get in and out of there as quickly as possible. They spend the whole time complaining about how awful everything is. The music. The crowds. The smell of the food court. The lack of windows. It’s very different being there with someone who isn’t in a desperate hurry to get out again.
We head up to the second floor and walk past the Sport Smart store to a huge chemist shop. Eliza leads me expertly through the aisles until we stop in front of the shaving stuff. There are lots of packets of razors – disposable blue ones for men and pink ones for women, as well as cans of shaving cream and tubes of stuff for people with sensitive skin. Eliza selects a packet of pink disposable razors.
‘These have a strip of aloe vera on the top which is good for people with skin like yours,’ she says.
‘You mean weird, blotchy, rashy skin?’ I say, grinning at her.
Eliza smiles back. ‘Hey, you’ve got nice skin,’ she tells me. ‘You just have to accept it for what it is. And treat it properly.’
Eliza searches through the creams and lotions and pulls out one that’s good for people with extra-sensitive skin. ‘This is what you need,’ she says, handing it to me. ‘And a good moisturiser like this one to put on afterwards.’
I hold the bottles in my hands. They feel cool and smooth and foreign. ‘I’m not sure about this …’ I say.
I can see annoyance flickering on Eliza’s face. ‘Why? Do you want to keep getting rashes?’
‘Well, no,’ I say. I hesitate and then decide to explain what’s holding me back. Even if it makes her think I’m some weirdo hippie. ‘It’s just that this has probably all been tested on animals. They stick it in their eyes and stuff to see if it’s going to cause people any problems. It’s cruel.’
The moisturiser my mum uses comes from the co-op shop where she volunteers on Saturdays. When she runs out she takes the jar back to refill it. We get our washing-up liquid, our soap and shampoo from the same place. None of it is tested on animals.
Eliza looks at me strangely, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, she takes the bottles from my hands and returns them to the shelf. When she starts walking away, I figure she’s given up on me. But then she turns around and says, ‘Come on,’ beckoning for me to follow.
We go right to the back of the store where there is a small range of cruelty-free products. Unlike in the other section, where there were heaps of sensitive shaving creams to choose from, here there’s only one and it’s more expensive than any of the others. But I feel way better about it, knowing that it didn’t get stuck in some poor rabbit’s eyes.
Eliza examines the rest of the stuff with interest. ‘Look, there’s even make-up,’ she says, holding up an eyeliner.
I laugh and shake my head. ‘No thanks,’ I say. ‘That’s really not me.’
Eliza gives me this look then, and says, ‘Not really you? Or not really your mum?’
I don’t know what to say to that. I guess there are a lot of things I would say about myself that are also about my mum. We don’t eat meat. We don’t like cars. We think it’s cruel to experiment on animals. We don’t wear make-up. I’ve never thought about whether those things were really, genuinely me or not.
Eliza waves her hand in front of my face. ‘You’ve gone all dreamy!’ she laughs. ‘Come on. Let’s go buy this stuff.’
As we’re heading for the checkout, we run into one of Eliza’s friends – Lara.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asks. She says it to Eliza but I get the feeling that what she really means is, ‘What are you doing here with her?’
‘We’re just shopping,’ says Eliza.
‘Want to come to the food court?’ says Lara. ‘I’m meeting some of the others there. But not Nelson, don’t worry.’
I’m expecting Eliza to say a quick ‘See you later!’ to me and head off with her friend. But instead, she turns to me. ‘Want to go?’ she says.
I’m not sure what to say. It’s nice of her to invite me, but on the other hand it’s not really me, hanging out at the food court with Eliza and her friends. But even as I think this – not really me – I start to wonder. I mean, I’ve never done it, so how can I possibly know if it’s me or not? So I nod.
‘Yeah, sure. I’ll come. Thanks.’
The moment we arr
ive in the food court, though, I instantly feel like I’ve made a huge mistake. Eliza’s friends are crowded around a big table, laughing and joking together. Hazel and Edi are there too, with Archie de Souza and Leo Flynn. My stomach curls. I’m ninety per cent sure that Leo didn’t draw that awful picture of me, but maybe he’s seen it. Maybe they’ve all seen it and are laughing at me.
‘Uh, maybe I’ll just go,’ I mutter to Eliza. But she doesn’t hear me. Or maybe she chooses not to.
‘Save me a spot,’ she says. ‘I’ll go and get us something to eat.’ She heads off to one of the food counters.
I stand there feeling like a total idiot. No-one seems to even notice I’m there. Then someone calls me.
‘Soph!’
The voice seems to be floating above me. I look up. It’s Josh, coming down the escalators with a Sport Smart bag in his hand. He’s grinning like he hasn’t seen me for years, rather than just a couple of hours. But I’m grinning back because I’m really, really pleased to see his friendly face.
‘What are you doing here?’ he says as he gets off the escalator.
‘I’m shopping with Eliza,’ I say, like this is the most normal thing in the world. ‘We’ve just stopped for something to eat.’
‘Great idea,’ says Josh. ‘Mind if I sit down?’
Of course, I don’t mind at all and Josh tells the others to shove over so there’s room for us. I end up squeezed next to Leo. He smiles at me. ‘You’re Sophie, right?’ he says.
I nod.
‘You know, there’s something I’ve always wanted to tell you,’ he says.
My heart beats at double-speed. He’s got something he wants to say to me?
‘I haven’t touched anything with palm oil in it since you did that thing at assembly. My mum thinks I’m nuts because I’m always checking the labels of the stuff she buys.’
Hazel leans over. ‘Oh yeah, that presentation was so horrible. I had nightmares for weeks with all these sad orangutans in it. I got up one night and signed this online petition so I could finally go to sleep.’
‘Wow,’ I say, which I know is totally lame but I am completely shocked. I had no idea anyone was listening that day. I definitely didn’t realise it had an effect on anyone.
Eliza comes back and we all shuffle around a bit more. She hands me a drink and a wrap. She’s got one for herself too. I’m not actually hungry but I take a bite. And then I stop with my mouth full because there’s this really strong flavour in the wrap. One I don’t recognise. The texture is really strange too. Eliza sees my expression, looks down at her own wrap, then at mine, her eyes wide.
‘Stop!’ she barks. ‘I gave you the wrong one. That one’s got salami in it.’
Everyone goes quiet. I guess they’re waiting to see how I’ll react. Freak? Spit the food out? The thing is, I’m not really sure how to react. I’ve never eaten meat before.
But in the end I just swallow the food in my mouth.
Eliza laughs. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to do that!’ she says. ‘Good for you!’
‘I wasn’t expecting it either,’ says Josh. But he doesn’t add good for you.
I do feel good, though. Or at least different. It feels great to do something unpredictable. That’s probably why I take another bite, then another and another, until the entire wrap is completely gone.
Eliza and I catch the bus back to her place and although we don’t talk much, it feels like a good silence. The sort you can have when you’re friends with someone. My shaving cream and moisturiser are tucked away in my schoolbag and I’m feeling pretty good as we turn into the Mitchells’ driveway.
The door opens and Daphne appears. She has a strange expression on her face. ‘I’m so sorry, Sophie,’ she says. ‘I have some bad news.’
My insides lurch. At first I think it’s my parents, that something’s happened to them. Then I’m equally sure that it’s Poss. I never should’ve left her here by herself all day.
‘Your bike is missing,’ says Daphne. ‘Soph, I’m so sorry – I think it’s been stolen.’
‘No way,’ I say. ‘Someone stole my bike?’ It’s such a strange, crazy thing to hear that I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Having no bike means that I have to get a lift in the morning with Daphne, so I’m already feeling a little queasy when I walk into our science classroom and a terrible stink hits me in the face.
‘Pee-yew!’ says Anya, holding her nose. ‘What happened in here, Mrs Franks? Did something die in here overnight?’
Mrs Franks smiles. ‘Not quite,’ she says.
Leni suddenly stops in her tracks and starts poking me in the side with her finger.
‘What?’ I say.
She points to the front bench. Lined up across it are some smallish white boards. And pinned to these are rats. I freeze, not wanting to look but also unable not to look.
Other people arrive.
‘Hey, is it cut-up-a-rat day today?’ says one of the boys, pushing past me. ‘Cool!’
Leni looks at me with a worried face. ‘Are you okay?’ she whispers.
‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ I say automatically. Even though I’m not really sure that I am. Part of me just wants to get out of there as quickly as possible, but I’m feeling a little wobbly so I decide the best thing to do right now is sit down.
I slide into my seat just as Mrs Franks starts giving everyone the rules for the dissection. There’s a sheet for us to follow, telling us where to cut and which tools to use to do it.
‘Cutting through the rib cage can take a little more effort than you think,’ she tells us. There’s another sheet for us to mark off the rat’s internal organs as we see them. The whole thing seems surreal to me, but there are a few people actually laughing. Suddenly Mrs Franks put her hands on the table and looks around at us.
‘This is not a time for joking around,’ she warns us. ‘These animals have given up their lives so that you can learn more about how bodies work.’ Given up their lives. She makes it sound like the animals chose this fate – which of course they didn’t. Normally I’d point this out to Mrs Franks, but at the moment I’m having trouble getting any words out.
‘If I see anyone messing around with the specimens, they will not only fail this semester but they will be suspended. This is school policy,’ she adds, ‘so don’t make the mistake of thinking it’s just a hollow threat on my part.’
Everyone quietens down after that and Mrs Franks starts going through the different tools we will need. The scalpel. The surgical scissors. The tiny tweezers.
‘Right,’ she says eventually. ‘Time to start. Pair up, everybody. I’ll come around and hand out the specimens.’ Then she turns to me. ‘Sophie, I’ve got some worksheets for you to do. Do you want to take them to the library?’
Words come out of my mouth. Words that hardly feel connected to me but I know I’m saying them. ‘Actually, I think I’ll stay,’ I say. ‘I’ll just watch the dissection. If that’s okay.’
Everyone stares at me like I’ve gone mad. Maybe I have. But I guess I’ve been thinking a lot about what Eliza said. About why I do stuff, or don’t do stuff. Is it because of what my parents believe in, or because of what I believe in? It seems important to start working this out.
I know I feel bad about all these rats dying just so we can cut them up. Really bad. But what if one person in the class ends up becoming a doctor or a scientist because of what they learn today? What if they then go on and discover a cure for some horrible disease, like the kind of cancer that killed Eliza’s dad? What if my dad got sick? Wouldn’t I want someone to find a cure – even if it meant that rats had to die? The more I think about it, the more confused I get.
‘Of course it’s okay, Sophie,’ says Mrs Franks, once she’s recovered from her surprise. ‘You can watch Anya and Leni.’
The moment Mrs Franks moves away, Leni hisses, ‘What are you doing, Soph? I thought you were totally against this.’ My friends are both looking a little freaked out. It’s like I’
m suddenly not the person they thought I was. Like I’m suddenly not me. But there isn’t time right now to explain why I’ve changed my mind. And to be honest, I’m not completely sure I know the reasons myself, other than I suddenly feel like trying things I never thought I would, because I want to see how it feels.
‘Are you sure about this, Soph?’ says Anya. ‘I mean, if I had a chance not to do the dissection, I’d take it.’
‘Yes, I’m sure,’ I say, hoping that by saying it, it’ll somehow become true.
Mrs Franks brings our rat over and puts it on the table. I’m in the middle so it goes right in front of me. It’s lying on its back with its legs splayed and its head tilted up. It looks like it’s asleep, except that there are silver pins in its paws. Mrs Franks gives us some tools and Leni arranges them in front of us. She shakes her head. ‘I can’t believe we’re actually going to do this,’ she says.
The classroom has gone quiet – even the guys who were joking around before are suddenly very still. It’s like everyone is thinking what Leni just said.
Mrs Franks flicks on the board at the front of the class and a diagram of a rat comes up, with a red dotted line down its chest. ‘We’ll start off together,’ she tells us. ‘One person from each group, please take the scalpel.’
Leni and Anya look at each other.
‘So,’ says Anya, ‘who’s going to do it?’
I hear myself say, ‘I’ll do it.’ I think I’m just as surprised as Leni and Anya.
I pick up the scalpel. It’s about as thick as a pencil, but very smooth and cold and it gleams when the ceiling light catches in its surface.
‘Now, place the scalpel here,’ says Mrs Franks, pointing to where the dotted line on her rat diagram begins, ‘and cut up to here. We’ll be cutting through the skin and a layer of fat.’
Sophie Bennett Saves the Planet Page 5
