Sick Bay Page 16

  I shoot a look at Meg. Her breathing is raspy and raw beside me.

  ‘Can’t believe you chose her, R,’ she says. ‘Of all the people.’ Then she turns dramatically and storms off, her minions scurrying after her.

  ‘Why not? She’s funny, smart and loyal!’ I yell after her. I turn to Meg. ‘You okay?’

  She straightens up and her breathing changes. ‘Yep. All good.’

  I take in the size of her smile and her clear eyes. Then I notice how straight she’s standing and how relaxed her face looks. ‘But the panic attack?’

  ‘It’s fine. I’m okay now.’

  ‘Wait, were you faking?’

  ‘No. Not exactly.’

  I clench my jaw. ‘What about the other day on the oval?’

  She looks down at the ground and I know what that means.

  ‘This whole time, you’ve been faking? You don’t really have panic attacks?’ My voice is too loud and I’m aware that kids are watching us as they hurry past to their classes. But I don’t care. Right now, I’m a ticking bomb.

  ‘Mum does. I learned from her.’

  ‘But, I … I …’

  ‘Felt sorry for me?’

  ‘No. Yeah. I don’t know. You lied!’

  Meg closes her eyes and pushes her fringe out of her face. ‘Having The Bag as my friend was me just trying to get by. Panic attacks meant that Sarah fed me. That Ms Barber was kind. And it meant I got to go to Sick Bay whenever I needed.’

  ‘You hang in Sick Bay but you aren’t actually sick.’ She shrugs at me like I’ve got it all wrong but my skin is itching and I scratch at my neck and I feel angry. ‘You’re normal, Meg!’

  Her face is shocked. I just yelled at her and now I feel bad but I also feel furious.

  ‘Normal? Why? Because I don’t have diabetes? Because I don’t have asthma attacks? Because I don’t breathe into a bag? Nobody’s normal, Riley. We’re all just trying to cope.’

  She leans down, picks up her schoolbag, then turns and faces me. ‘That’s the worst of growing up, and I’m beginning to realise it. The things you wanted so much when you were a child don’t seem half so wonderful to you when you get them.’

  ‘Don’t quote Anne of something at me!’ I yell.

  Her eyes widen. ‘It’s not “Anne of something”. It’s Anne of Green Gables. Here, you should read it sometime.’

  And she slides the old book she was reading into my hands and walks past me without looking back.

  Meg

  My head is bent over the industrial-sized sink. Peggy’s fingers are working their way through my hair, washing out all the gunk.

  ‘You sure you checked with your mum?’

  ‘Yes, although she was asleep when I asked her.’

  Peggy laughs and it makes her fingers wiggle against my scalp.

  ‘How’s she going?’

  I smile into the metal, loving that Peggy always checks in. ‘She likes Margaret. Although it’s going to take a while for her to be normal again,’ I say, wondering why I chose the word that Riley tossed at me earlier today. I decide I need to clarify. ‘I mean back to who she was, not like everyone else. I don’t actually think there is a normal.’

  ‘No. I don’t either.’

  She drapes a towel across my head and tightens it around the back of my neck. ‘You dry. I’ll go and make tea.’

  I towel dry my hair roughly, desperate to see what it looks like. There’s a little mirror in the back room but I decide not to check until my hair is dry.

  I plug in the hair dryer and stand with my head upside down above the sink, fluffing my hair with the warm air. I think about Riley and how upset she was today, how much I hurt her without intending to. And I wonder how she knew where my quotes came from.

  Last night I burnt all of The Bags in the metal fire pit in the backyard. It didn’t take long. About three seconds for the whoosh of flame and then they were all turned to ash. Except for one; I left the mushroom bag in Dad’s drawer, mainly because it was the only one I’d introduced to Riley.

  My fingers snake through a pile of knots and catch in the mess. I turn off the hair dryer, hoping my hair’s dry enough so that I can see the effect.

  Peggy squeals as I skip through into the back room. ‘Whoa!’

  ‘Good whoa?’

  She nods and grins, gives me a thumbs up and hands me a mirror. I hold it up and cannot believe the face staring back at me.

  ‘Oh!’ My hair is a bright carrot red and, strangely, I look more like me than I used to. I move the mirror from one side to the other trying to see all of it.

  Peggy is behind me, clutching at my shoulders. ‘Do you like it?’

  I nod. ‘Yes. I think I do. Now I look like Anne. Anne with an “e”.’

  ‘You do. It’s the reddest of reds, Miss Anne,’ says Peggy. ‘I do believe that red hair shall be your joy.’

  I spin around and hug her. ‘That’s not the quote, Peggy, although I love it. Thank you!’

  ‘Good. I hope your mum does too. I’m a bit scared she’ll be angry with me!’

  ‘If she is then we know she’s getting better because she hasn’t cared enough about anything to be angry for a very long time.’

  Peggy spins me around in a silly circle. ‘I think I might have to go red next! I’ve been far too boring having pink hair for weeks. Now, shall we have cake?’

  ‘I’d like that very much.’

  My red hair leaves a stain on the white pillowcase, but I’m sure Peggy will know how to get it out.

  Mum wasn’t exactly angry about Peggy dying my hair, but she wasn’t very impressed either. I tried to explain that I wanted to look like Anne Shirley but she thought I should be happy looking like me.

  But I feel like I’ve changed from the old ‘me’, and red hair is a sign of that.

  Normally I’m up before Mum, although this morning I can hear her pottering around in the kitchen. She’s seeing Margaret again today. She’s going twice a week at the moment, and that means she has to leave the house. She didn’t want to go by herself, so Peggy has said she can take her to the appointments for as long as she needs.

  I don’t want to go to school today. They’ll be decorating the gym all day and everyone will be jittery and giggly and I’m not sure how Riley will react if she sees me. I can’t stop thinking about her, and how different things are since I met her. Although each time she creeps into my head, I force her out again.

  ‘You getting up, honey?’ Mum’s standing in the doorway, sipping from a mug with a badly drawn, faded face on it that I haven’t seen her use in ages. It was the mug Dad always drank from, one I made him for Father’s Day at kinder, but when she stopped working, she hid it away in the cupboard.

  ‘I thought maybe I’d stay home. I’m not sure I can cope with today,’ I tell her, as honestly as I can.

  She steps into my room and I think it might be the first time she’s done that for a while. ‘I’m sure you can.’

  ‘I’m not sure I want to then.’

  She nods. ‘Isn’t it graduation tonight? Sarah phoned to make sure we were attending. She said if it was a financial issue the school could cover it.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Do you want to go?’

  I see a flash of red hair as I shake my head.

  ‘Why not? She said you’d written a speech.’

  I can’t believe Sarah phoned Mum. I had no idea she did things like that. I wonder what else she’s been ringing her about.

  ‘Ms Barber is going to deliver it.’

  ‘Maybe you should go.’

  ‘No. I don’t think so.’

  She nods like she gets it and I’m amazed that she does. Parents in books always push their children into things they don’t want to do and I’m so relieved she isn’t doing that.

  ‘I know taking a
dvice from a mother who has barely been out of the house in the last year might seem strange, but if your speech is half as good as I’m sure it is, then I would’ve thought you’d want to deliver it yourself.’

  I roll my eyes at her and lift the pillow over my head, not caring that I’m about to stain the other side of the pillowcase too.

  ‘Is there another reason you don’t want to go to school?’ Mum asks. She sits down on the edge of my bed and tugs at the pillow, trying to lift it from my face. I let her move it down a bit, but keep my eyes scrunched closed. I’m still not really used to her wanting to be so close.

  ‘Come on, Meg. You can tell me.’

  I open my eyes, roll over and see Mum’s concerned face. She hasn’t looked at me like that for a long time.

  ‘I lied to my friend,’ I tell Mum finally.

  ‘Did you have a good reason?’

  I nod.

  ‘Then just explain it,’ she says quietly, her fingers working their way through my red hair.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really.’

  Without The Bag to keep me company in Sick Bay, I have nothing for my hands to play with. I don’t have my book either because I gave it to Riley. I’m practising one of Mum’s breathing techniques that her doctor showed her. She says they help. I’m not so sure. In the end, I wait in my corner chair and listen to the humming fridge.

  Mum and I ate breakfast together this morning. Outside in the garden where she said my hair shone like a beacon in the sunlight. We talked about Dad. Not much but a bit. And she cooked eggs. They were rubbery but they filled me up.

  I hear Dash’s voice in the hall outside Sick Bay.

  The door pushes open. Dash grins at me.

  ‘Meg, meet Riley … Riley, meet Meg …’

  Riley bangs into him and sees me in the chair. Her face changes and I realise Dash hasn’t told her I was waiting.

  ‘Hi …’ I whisper. Dash shrugs at me like he’s tried his best and then slips out past Riley and disappears down the corridor.

  From the doorway, Riley stares at me. ‘You have red hair!’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Just like Anne Shirley.’

  ‘How do you know Anne Shirley?’

  She steps forward, letting the door to Sick Bay close behind her. ‘I started reading your book. It’s pretty good. Except she’s too dramatic sometimes.’

  I swallow hard. I really don’t know what to say.

  ‘What? No quotes?’ she says, moving over to the bed and perching on the edge.

  ‘I could never express all my sorrow, no, not if I used up a whole dictionary,’ I tell her.

  ‘See, dramatic!’

  ‘Okay, I’m sorry for lying. I’m sorry I made stuff up and I’m sorry I hurt you,’ I say, looking down at the ground.

  ‘Mum said I had to forgive you. She said she liked you when she met you. Much more than she ever liked Lina. And she knew all about Anne of Green Gables,’ says Riley.

  My chest rises like I don’t have enough air, although it’s not a panicked feeling, just a hopeful one. ‘Does that mean we’re … we’re …?’

  Riley looks up at me. Then she unzips her bumbag and pulls out her jelly beans. She holds out the bag to me and I take one.

  ‘Friends? Yeah. I guess it does, Meg with a “g”,’ she says as she tosses an orange jelly bean up into the air and I catch it in my hand.

  Riley

  When I get home from school that afternoon, Mum hands me a large white shopping bag, which is pretty surprising because she always refuses bags when we buy anything. And this one is thick and glossy and definitely not something we can add to the compost. I slide my hands in and pull out something wrapped in white tissue paper with a gold embossed sticker holding the lot together.

  I rip the package open and spy the perfect blue dress I tried on so many weeks ago.

  ‘Really? You bought it?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum!’ I jump up and crush her in an awkward hug.

  ‘It’s practical. I like the pocket,’ she says, hugging me back.

  ‘And it looks nice,’ says Jenna. ‘That’s what you’re supposed to say, Mum!’

  ‘Yes, it does,’ Mum adds.

  I smile at her and then at my sister. ‘I’m not sure how long I’ll last tonight. I might just eat my burger and come home with you guys.’

  ‘It’s graduation!’ Jenna says, clearly outraged that I wouldn’t want to make the most of it.

  ‘You can go to the disco for an hour. Ms Barber’s going to be there. I’ve already spoken to her,’ says Mum.

  ‘You spoke to my teacher?’

  Mum nods. ‘Yes. I had to make sure a responsible adult would be on duty.’

  I try not to groan. ‘But … Mum …’

  ‘If you’re going to say you’re responsible, don’t. I told you this would take time, Riley.’

  Jenna holds up her hands. ‘Can we talk about this later? It’s going to take ages for me to fix Riley’s hair!’

  I nod, which encourages Jenna to grab my arm and pull me hard up the stairs.

  As Dad pulls up outside school, I see a limo stretched long and silver in front of the school gates and watch as Lina, Tessa and Elle climb out from the back seat in their matching navy dresses with sparkly gold shoes. Jenna reaches across and squeezes my hand. She’s guessed something’s up.

  ‘A limo! What are those parents thinking?’ Mum says, until Dad whispers something and causes her to stop. Usually it would frustrate me but tonight I’m sort of relieved. Mock outrage might help me survive the next few hours.

  ‘Come on, kiddo. Let’s go grab a good spot for photos,’ says Dad.

  There are groups meeting on the mini oval, posing with their friends for teary parents to snap off some memories. I get to stand with my sister and then with my mum so Dad can do the same. Then Jenna tells us all to crowd in and she holds her arm out as far as she can and clicks a crooked selfie.

  The air feels electric around us. Like we’ve waited seven years for this. And suddenly the idea of graduating doesn’t feel so stupid. It’s a chance to celebrate a place we’ve all spent time in together before we move on to the next thing. I just wish I was celebrating with friends too, but the one person I want to be here with said she wasn’t coming.

  ‘You ready, Riley?’ Mum says, smoothing my dress across my shoulders.

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘You’ll be fine. Come on.’

  She holds out her elbow so that I can hook my arm into the crook and we walk along the tatty red carpet that’s stained and dirty from the feet of hundreds of grade six kids that have graduated before us. My diabetes kit is tucked into the pocket of the dress and the material doesn’t pull across my stomach. I’m wearing lip gloss but not too much and I look just like everyone else.

  Inside, most of the kids are already seated at their tables. Mum smiles at me, unhooks her arm and follows Dad and Jenna down the back to where all the onlookers stand. My legs feel a bit shaky and my feet rub in Jenna’s old black shoes that don’t quite fit. But I’m trying to pretend that I belong.

  I see Lina, Elle and Tessa sitting at one end of a long table with an empty chair on the right. That’s mine. I guess nobody thought to move me at the last minute.

  ‘Hi,’ I say, sitting down.

  ‘You wore blue,’ says Lina, and for once I can’t read her tone.

  So I nod and hope we can just eat and not talk and I can say my speech and leave.

  ‘No Slipper Girl then?’ says Lina.

  ‘Lina, you seem to have a lot of trouble remembering her name. It’s Meg. And no, she’s not coming, but I really wish she was.’

  Lina, Tessa and Elle move their chairs closer together and I can hear them giggling and whispering.

  The burgers are carried i
n on trays and delivered to students by helping parents and teachers. Ms Barber smiles as she slides a burger down in front of me.

  ‘Your mum said you’d know how many grams, but if you don’t then I can tell you,’ she says, whispering it as close as she can so that the others can’t hear.

  And I laugh at Mum even though she can’t see me. ‘Thanks.’

  I don’t feel like eating a burger. Not sitting here with Lina and the others, waiting to speak in front of all these people, but I put in some grams for half the burger and force myself to take a few bites. Everyone else is eating and talking and laughing, and I glance around the gym at the balloons and the banners and Elle’s pompoms, which don’t seem to be stuck properly onto the wall because there are pompoms lying on the floor.

  On stage, photos flash across a big screen. It’s of all of us as babies and kids. People call out as they spy familiar faces but I just watch as one image morphs into the next. Red cheeks, brown hair, pink lips, black hair, light skin, dark skin, glasses, freckles. It’s all there.

  Suddenly the lights brighten. Mrs Myer clips onto the stage in her heels and starts speaking into the microphone, which isn’t turned on so nobody can hear her. She tries again and this time the sound distorts and muffles until it’s fixed. Finally, she starts her speech to the room of graduating students, banging on and on about primary school and what it means to be transitioning to high school. I tune out, knowing I’m on soon.

  And just at that minute I look across to the gym door and see Sick Bay Girl.

  Meg

  Mum falters as we step through the doors onto the polished wooden floor. I feel her body tense and hear Peggy whispering to her on the other side. Together, we move her into the gym where Mrs Myer is addressing the crowd.

  ‘Mum? You okay?’ I say quietly.

  She nods but focuses on her feet like it’s all she can do to keep walking. We reach the back corner and position her as far away from the other parents as we can, against the wall, with Peggy beside her.

  ‘Can our speakers for the night please make their way to the stage?’ says Mrs Myer.