The Art of Being Normal (9 page)

After leaving Jenny’s I miss the bus and am late for English.

‘Where have you been?’ Alicia whispers over her shoulder as I slide into my seat behind her.

‘Er, doctor’s appointment,’ I say.

She frowns.

‘For my knee,’ I add quickly, congratulating myself on my quick thinking.

‘How is the old knee?’ she asks.

‘It’s getting better actually.’

‘Glad to hear it.’

And she smiles like she really means it.

That afternoon, I’m the first to arrive in detention. I slouch into the same seat I sat in yesterday, but struggle to get comfortable. A few minutes later Harry arrives, heading straight for the back of the classroom. Then David, giving me a quick wave as he slides into his seat. I nod back. Today we’re joined by two boys from Year 8. As I try to get through the rest of
Twelfth Night,
I can feel one of
them looking at me, staring at me with his mouth open, like I’m a waxwork at Madame Tussauds or something. I turn my head sharply and fix him with a glare. His eyes widen with fright before he looks away.

I still can’t concentrate. Out of the corner of my eye, David is bent over his work, his left hand propping up his forehead. Every few seconds he lets out a sigh or groan. I watch as he rips a page out of his book and tosses it aside, his face all pink. I sit up a little straighter. I recognise the cover of the maths textbook he’s working from. It’s one I completed a few years ago.

In front of me, Mr Wilton is snoring. I look over my shoulder. Harry has his eyes closed and the two Year 8 boys are sulking. I stand up and cross the aisle, sliding into the seat next to David. He looks up in surprise. I look at his page. It’s a mess of scribbles and crossings-out.

‘You’re making this way more complicated than it needs to be,’ I say.

‘I am?’ David whispers.

‘Big-time. Once you’ve got the formula straight, simultaneous equations are really simple to solve.’

‘For geniuses like you and my friend Felix maybe,’ he says miserably.

‘Nah, I’m serious. Let me show you.’

I pick up David’s pen.

‘So, simultaneous equations are two equations with two unknowns. So the first step is to try to eliminate one of the unknowns. You with me?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘For example, here we need to work out the value of y. So we
add the two equations to eliminate the y. Like this …’

I begin to write, David leaning in to watch.

‘See, once you’ve done that it’s clear what the total value of x is. Then all you need to do is divide that by, what?’

David peers at the page.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Yes, you do. Just take your time. The answer’s there, you just need to unpick it.’

He continues to stare at the page, his face getting redder and redder.

In front of us, Mr Wilton stirs. We lower our voices.

‘Just relax,’ I whisper. ‘It’ll come.’

‘Five?’ David whispers back doubtfully.

‘Exactly. Which leaves us with the value of x.’

‘So y equals 1, and x equals three?’ he asks slowly.

‘Bingo.’

‘Really?’

‘Yep.’

‘But that’s really simple.’

‘Told you. Wanna try another?’

On Monday I’m in detention doing my geography homework when a folded-up piece of paper comes sailing through the air and lands on my desk. I glance over at David. He’s looking straight ahead although his lips are twitching as if resisting a smile. I open it up. It’s another drawing. This time it’s of a dog that looks a bit like Phil. Next to the dog is a speech bubble containing the words ‘Bow wow, bow wow, woof, woof, BARK!’ and an asterisk guiding me to a footnote in the bottom corner – ‘Doggy Translation: I aced
my maths homework!!! Mr Steele almost fainted. Thanks a trillion. David x.’

I look up. David is smiling hopefully. And even though the note is well cheesy, I can’t help smiling back.

The next day I get to English to discover Matt, the kid I usually sit next to, is off school with glandular fever.

‘We’re going to be working in pairs today, discussing the symbolism in
Twelfth Night,
’ Miss Jennings announces. She puts me into a three with Alicia and Ruby, the girl who sits next to Alicia. Ruby’s OK; a bit annoying, but OK.

I keep my cool, nodding casually as Alicia and Ruby turn their chairs round so they’re facing me. Alicia’s knee touches mine for a second.

‘God, I’ve got such a hangover,’ Ruby announces, flopping her head on the desk.

Alicia rolls her eyes. ‘You’ve always got a hangover. It’s like Tuesday, Rubes. Who gets that messed up on a school night?’

Ruby gives Alicia the finger from under her veil of bleached blonde hair. ‘Leave me alone. I am in a very delicate state right now,’ she says, her voice muffled.

Alicia just shakes her head and grins at me.

‘You don’t drink then?’ I ask.

‘Not during the week. Coming to school with a hangover is not my idea of fun.’

I wonder where Alicia drinks at the weekend, what she drinks, whether she’s got a boyfriend who buys them for her. I watch out of the corner of my eye as she opens her copy of the play, smoothing out the pages with the palm of her hand.

‘I know it’s not cool, but I really love this play,’ Alicia says.

‘Oh yeah? What do you love about it?’ I ask.

Alicia scrunches up her face to think.

‘The humour I guess. And the love story, the way everything is a big muddle, but it all comes together right at the last minute. And the way you sort of know that that’s going to happen the whole way through, but when it happens you’re still really happy about it, even though you knew it was coming. If that makes sense?’

I nod encouragingly.

‘But most of all,’ she continues, leaning forward in her chair, all excited, her eyes sparkling (and her excitement is catching because I’m leaning forward too, even though I couldn’t give a toss about the play, apart from the fact that Alicia likes it so much). ‘I love that it has a really kickass heroine. I mean Viola is just so brave and bolshie. I love that. And when you consider this was written like a gazillion years ago, it’s even more amazing.’

‘Even if her part would have been played by a bloke at the time?’ I ask, remembering what Miss Jennings told us the other day about the all-male casts back when Shakespeare was alive.

‘I reckon. I mean, the fact a character like her got written all those years ago is big enough. How confusing would that be though? A guy playing a girl pretending to be a guy?’ Alicia laughs.

‘I hadn’t thought about it like that,’ I say.

There’s a pause and I can feel Alicia’s eyes still on me, the air between us sort of thick and hazy.

‘Are you going to Becky’s party?’ she asks slowly.

‘I didn’t know she was having one,’ I reply.

This isn’t quite true. Becky Somerville is in my form and has
such a big mouth you’d have to be living on Mars not to have heard her go on about it.

‘Yeah, next Saturday,’ Alicia says, tracing her finger up and down the spine of her copy of the play.

‘Oh, right. Cool.’

‘So, now you do know about it, do you think you might go?’ Alicia asks, twirling one of her corkscrew curls round her finger.

I clear my throat and shrug. ‘I dunno. Parties aren’t really my scene.’

‘What do you mean, parties aren’t your scene?’ Alicia squeaks. ‘That’s like saying food isn’t your scene, or breathing isn’t your scene. I mean, who doesn’t like parties?’

I look down, cursing myself for saying something so weird. Alicia’s right – normal people
do
like parties.

‘I’m just not great at crowds,’ I add. I regret my words straight away because I know I’m making it worse, blowing it big-time with my weirdness.

‘That’s too bad,’ Alicia says.

‘Anyway, I’m not invited,’ I add. ‘I don’t think Becky is my biggest fan.’

Becky treats me like most of my other classmates seem to, with this mixture of fear and fascination, like I’m an exotic animal escaped from the zoo that may or may not be dangerous. Everyone apart from Alicia. Alicia doesn’t act like she’s scared of me one bit.

‘Becky just hasn’t taken the chance to get to know you yet, that’s all,’ Alicia says. ‘Cos if she did, she’d think totally differently, I know it.’

I shrug and look at my hands. There’s a long pause.

‘You know, I was the new kid once.’

‘Yeah?’ I say, looking up.

‘Yep. Back in Year 8. My parents moved up here from London halfway through the year.’

‘And how was it?’

‘Hideous.’

‘Really?’

I can’t imagine Alicia’s life being anything but golden.

‘Uh-huh. In case you haven’t noticed, Eden Park isn’t the most diverse of schools. You can count the number of black kids here on two hands. I felt like I was walking around with a flashing light on my head half the time. Plus, everyone had friends already; I was a year and a half too late. And there were all these cliques, and rules about who could sit where in the canteen, and looking around I just couldn’t work out where I was supposed to fit in. For the first few weeks I ate my lunch on the toilet and cried myself to sleep every night,’ she laughs.

‘So what changed?’ I ask.

‘Well, I forced myself to eat in the canteen for a start. Then I joined drama club and choir, smiled inanely at everyone I encountered, etcetera. And eventually I discovered there were lots of nice people, I just had to put myself out there in order to find them. Having my braces removed probably helped too. It’s kind of hard to exude confidence when you have a mouthful of metal. And I mean metal. My braces were epic.’

She laughs again.

‘And for what it’s worth, your rep around school is kind of badass,’ she adds. ‘I think I was known simply as the black mute girl for most of my first term.’

She tucks a loose curl behind her ear and grins. I like what it does to her eyes.

Alicia clears her throat.

‘Look, Becky says I can bring someone,’ she says. ‘To her party I mean.’

Heat creeps up my neck.

‘Oh yeah? Who you bringing then?’

She takes a deep breath before looking me straight in the eyes.

‘Well, no one at the moment.’

‘Oh, right,’ I say, swallowing hard.

Ruby (who I’d forgotten was even there) raises her head off the desk and rolls her bloodshot eyes.

‘For God’s sake, you two are making me die. Leo, Alicia is trying to ask you out, you utter dickhead. Just say you’ll go with her to Becky’s party, please? Before I bang your stupid heads together.’

She plonks her head back down on the desk.

I look at Alicia who is hiding behind her hands. When she lowers them, her cheeks are all flushed.

I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. What Ruby is proposing is full-on. But there’s something stopping me from talking myself out of it; something way louder and stronger that the usual voice inside my head.

‘So, what do you think?’ Alicia asks, biting her lower lip. ‘Do you want to?’

‘Er, yeah, OK then.’ I find myself saying, my steady voice fighting my motoring heartbeat and sweaty palms.

‘Cool.’ she says.

There’s a pause before she bursts into giggles. And suddenly I’m doing something I haven’t done in forever, and it’s like I’m having this weird, out-of-body experience – because I’m laughing too.

‘Congratulations,’ I say to David that afternoon, as Mr Wilton’s stopwatch beeps to signal the end of the day’s detention. ‘That’s you done, isn’t it?’

‘I guess so,’ David says. ‘It hasn’t been all that bad though, not really.’

‘Nah.’

‘Maybe I should break the rules more often,’ he adds with a grin. ‘Look, I’m sorry you’ve got another three weeks.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’

David clears his throat. ‘Leo, I was, um, thinking, wondering really, whether you’d consider tutoring me in maths. You know, properly.’

‘Can’t you ask someone else?’ I ask, frowning.

‘My friend Felix maybe, only he’s not very good at explaining things in basic terms. He sort of forgets that not everyone is a genius like him.’

‘I dunno. I’m not sure I’ll be much good at it either.’

‘Oh yes you would,’ David says. ‘You were brilliant the other
day. For the first time in ages maths actually made some kind of sense.’

‘Whatever,’ I say, rolling my eyes.

‘I’m serious.’

‘I dunno if I have the time.’

‘Go on. I’ll pay you.’

‘Don’t be stupid,’ I mutter.

‘I mean it. Please?’ David adds. ‘It would really, really help me out.’

I hesitate. The truth is, I kind of enjoyed helping David out the other day, way more than I would ever have guessed. I liked watching things click into place for him, him being all proud at being able to solve stuff by himself.

‘Just a couple of times a week,’ he adds. ‘And if it doesn’t work out we can stop any time. No pressure.’

I sigh. ‘OK, fine.’

He lets out a whoop and for a second I’m scared he’s going to hug me.

‘Thank you, thank you, thank you!’ he chants, ‘I’ll be a model pupil, I promise.’

I shake my head. ‘You’re pretty mental, you know that?’

David just beams back at me. I continue to shake my head, turning away to pack up my stuff.

‘Oh, another thing,’ David says. ‘Are you free tomorrow lunch time?’

‘Why?’ I ask over my shoulder.

‘Do you want to have lunch with me, Essie and Felix?’

‘Why?’ I repeat, turning back to face him.

‘Because. We want to get to know you better.’

‘I kind of do lunch alone,’ I say.

‘Oh, please? It’ll be fun.’

And I don’t know whether it’s because of Alicia and the party, or what, but I find myself saying yes.

The following day it’s wet outside and the canteen is crowded and stuffy. As I weave my way through the tables and chairs, I pass Harry on the middle table.

‘Psycho!’ his little blonde girlfriend spits.

If only she knew. I ignore her and keep moving.

‘You came,’ David says happily as I set down my tray.

‘I said I would, didn’t I?’ I mutter, sitting down on the seat beside him. Across from me, David’s two mates, whose names he’s told me, but I’ve totally forgotten, are watching me with wide eyes.

The girl has a mass of messy black hair. Her chin rests on clasped hands, her fingernails, stubby and bitten, painted with chipped black nail varnish. She dwarfs the boy beside her, who I recognise from advanced maths. He’s small and slight, and maybe the neatest looking kid I’ve ever seen. Seriously, he looks like the type of kid who irons his own underpants.

Suddenly the girl leaps into motion.

‘I’m Essie,’ she says, leaning across the table to shake my hand. Her voice is all husky and theatrical.

‘Felix,’ the boy adds.

‘Leo,’ I say.

‘Oh, we know who you are,’ Essie purrs. ‘You’re like the most famous boy in the school right now.’

I shrug and open my can of Coke. It fizzes over the top and I
have to slurp down the foam quickly to stop it spilling all over the table.

‘So, why did you really get expelled from Cloverdale?’ Essie says as I set my can back down.

‘Ess!’ David hisses.

‘What? That’s what we all want to know, isn’t it?’ Essie says.

‘But you don’t just come out with it!’

Essie pouts and rolls her eyes.

‘Let me apologise for my girlfriend, Leo,’ Felix says. ‘She has a tendency to get a little, how can I put it? Overexcited.’

‘You make me sound like an untrained puppy dog,’ Essie grumbles.

‘If the shoe fits, darling,’ Felix says, patting her on the hand.

‘You two go out?’ I say, not even bothering to hide my surprise.

‘Yes. Why, do we not look like a couple?’ Essie demands.

‘I dunno,’ I say, squeezing tomato ketchup on the edge of my plate. ‘What makes anyone look like a couple?’

I think of me and Alicia; how we might look walking down the corridor together, my arm slung round her shoulder, hers round my waist. The thought alone churns up a load of butterflies in my stomach.

‘They reckon women are meant to go for men who remind them of their dads,’ Essie says. ‘How messed up is that? Luckily Felix is
nothing
like my father.’

‘It’s just the whole Oedipus complex thing in reverse,’ Felix says, nibbling on what looks like a piece of cardboard. ‘According to Freud, all men want to kill their dads and shag their mums.’

‘Gross,’ I mutter, stabbing a chip into my ketchup.

‘Unless you’ve got a fit mum,’ Felix adds.

‘Felix!’ Essie and David cry in unison. Essie rips up her bread roll and starts hurling bits at Felix’s head, David quickly joining in.

‘Gluten-intolerant! Abuse, abuse!’ Felix cries, shielding his head.

They’re bonkers. Officially. All three of them.

‘You still haven’t told us why you got expelled,’ Essie says, having run out of bits of bread roll to throw.

‘What makes you think I was expelled?’ I ask carefully.

‘There! Told you so!’ Felix cries triumphantly, slapping his hand down on the table. ‘I told you that rumour was rubbish!’

‘But if you didn’t get expelled, why did you leave Cloverdale?’ David asks.

The three of them lean in towards me in unison.

I tell them the same story I told Alicia. When I’m done they slump back in their seats, disappointed.

‘How very dull,’ Essie says. ‘I much prefer the junior hacksaw thing.’

‘Sorry,’ I reply with a shrug.

‘How did you learn how to punch someone like that, then?’ David asks. ‘You were like Jason Statham or something!’

‘My dad taught me,’ I lie.

‘Jimmy?’ David says, looking pleased with himself for remembering. Hearing someone else say my dad’s name unexpectedly like that makes me feel really weird.

‘Yeah,’ I murmur. ‘Jimmy.’

Just then Essie starts hissing and I’m glad of the interruption.

‘Olsen alert!’ she says, jerking her head wildly to the left.

David immediately goes bright red.

‘What’s an Olsen?’ I ask.

‘You mean who,’ Felix says. ‘Zachary Olsen. Over there.’

David goes redder still. I follow his gaze to a tall blond boy standing in the queue. I look back at David. His eyes have gone all droopy and misty-looking.

‘You fancy him?’ I ask.

‘Try head over heels in love with him,’ Essie supplies in a noisy whisper.

‘Ess!’ David cries, his face practically purple by now.

‘Hey, it doesn’t bother me,’ I say, holding up my hands. ‘I mean, I’d already worked out you were gay if that’s what you’re worried about.’

David peers at me. His face has begun to calm down a bit.

‘And you’re OK with that?’

‘What? You think I’m some kind of homophobe? Because any boy from Cloverdale has got to be a Neanderthal, right?’

‘Of course not,’ David says, flustered. ‘You just never know …’

He lets his voice trail off.

I sigh. ‘Look, I don’t care who you fancy. It’s none of my business if you like boys.’

‘Does that mean you’re straight then, Leo?’ Essie asks.

Felix rolls his eyes towards the ceiling.

I put down my can of Coke and look her in the eyes, which are a very pale blue, and lined with crusty black eyeliner.

‘As a matter of fact, it does,’ I say. ‘You ask a lot of questions, you know that?’

‘Curiosity is one of the permanent and certain characteristics of a vigorous intellect, Leo,’ she recites.

‘Samuel Johnson,’ I reply, not missing a beat.

Essie blinks at me. ‘Sorry?’

‘The quote. It’s by Samuel Johnson, right?’

‘You know Samuel Johnson?’ Essie asks, her mouth practically hanging open.

‘Course,’ I say.

This is sort of true. It’s one of the quotes from Spike’s book that lives in the bathroom. In spite of myself I’ve started reading it while sitting on the toilet.

‘Don’t judge a book by its cover, eh?’ I say.

Essie opens her mouth then shuts it again.

‘English idiom, exact origin unknown,’ I add, popping a chip in my mouth. I can’t help glancing at David. He’s grinning like a lunatic.