Sick Bay Page 9

‘Where do I start?’

  ‘Sick Bay perhaps?’

  I shrug. ‘Actually, that’s the only room I like.’

  She stops at the steps leading to the portable. There are stragglers everywhere, rushing to our grade six weekly meeting, although Riley doesn’t seem to be in the same sort of hurry. I realise suddenly that I want to slow it all down so I have her even longer, and the thought scares me.

  ‘No. There’s nothing good about Sick Bay,’ she says. Her eyes are sparkly like she’s finding this as entertaining as I am. I force away all the flashes of fear that are flooding my head.

  ‘Really? I love fluoro lighting. And picture books that have been read so many times their spines are cracked. I even love the torn Healthy Eating Pyramid poster,’ I say lightly.

  ‘Then it’s official. You are weird,’ she says.

  I must look surprised at her choice of words because she opens her mouth as if to suck them back down.

  ‘Sorry … I didn’t mean …’

  ‘That’s okay. It’s true. I wear slippers to school. And I like pretending that Sick Bay is my home. I think that probably categorises me as weird.’

  She looks down at my feet and taps her Converse into the end of my slipper. Her sneakers are pale green and the sort I’d buy if I could.

  ‘You aren’t weird, Sick Bay Girl,’ she says quietly. ‘No weirder than me anyway.’

  When Riley smiles at me, her eyes disappear. Her face crinkles into a grin.

  ‘Sick Bay Girl?’

  ‘To be honest, the whole Slipper Girl thing was my fault and I thought maybe this would be a better nickname … you know …’

  I’ve never had a nickname before. Other than Meg and that’s just an abbreviation, not a code for friendship.

  ‘Maybe …’ I tell her.

  ‘Just saying it’s sort of my thing. Giving nicknames.’

  She flushes red and we stand awkwardly as students rush to put their bags away before our meeting starts. I want to ask her what it means to give me a nickname, but then I notice Lina and the others staring at us as they head into the grade six common space. Lina is shaking her head and the others are laughing. I look away quickly.

  ‘You’d better hurry, we’re late,’ I say, dashing up the stairs alone. Perhaps talking to Riley in public was a mistake.

  It’s Monday and all of the grade six students are sitting in the common space for our weekly meeting.

  I take my usual spot and notice that Lina’s gang are sitting at a table close by. Lina is staring at me and there’s nothing kind about it. I pretend to be interested in my pen. Riley must still be at her locker because usually she’d sit with them.

  ‘Come on, everyone, sit down, please. This morning we’re discussing graduation plans,’ says Ms Barber, my favourite teacher. She’s younger than the others, and she has short hair and a row of piercings in her left ear. She also usually lets me work alone.

  While Ms Barber talks about all the different food possibilities for the graduation dinner, my tummy starts rumbling and I really hope nobody can hear the sound. For a second I wonder what it would feel like to care whether they served burgers, spaghetti or tacos. Me? I’d be happy with any of those options.

  I hear Ms Barber ask for volunteers to do the playlist and I watch as arms wave high into the air, straining wildly to get the teacher’s attention. Finally Luca, Marco and Lina get picked. Luca and I were friends once. I went to his birthday party when we were in kinder together. We haven’t spoken in over a year.

  Riley comes in, carrying her stuff, and I watch her realise there’s no spare seat at Lina’s table. She looks around to find a chair. She sees me watching and her mouth twitches like she wants to smile but knows she shouldn’t. I reach for my pocket and clutch The Bag.

  ‘Just sit anywhere for the moment, Riley,’ says Ms Barber.

  Riley drops a green pencil case on the floor, bends down to pick it up, grabs it and dumps her things at the table where her friends are sitting. Tessa shuffles across and lets Riley perch on the edge of her seat. Riley looks awkward. And I’m pretty sure it’s because of Lina that Riley’s balancing on half of an orange plastic chair. I bet Lina’s punishing her for talking to me.

  ‘I’m handing out permission forms for the graduation dinner today. You have until the end of next week to return them,’ says Ms Barber.

  I hear Riley and Lina whispering about some- thing and I’m pretty sure I hear the words ‘Slipper Girl’. Although there is a chance I’m being totally paranoid and it’s actually nothing to do with me. I risk a glance. Lina sees me looking and raises an eyebrow at Riley. I see Riley shrug one shoulder in response like she’s hanging me out to dry.

  I can’t believe I hoped this was different. Dash was right. This is Eleanora all over again. I clutch the corner of The Bag in my pocket, using it to calm me.

  ‘I want everyone to fill in their preferences for graduation dinner and decorations. Quietly,’ says Ms Barber, walking around and handing out a survey.

  All around me chairs are dragged across the floor and bumped as people move to sit with their friends. I’m in a group for one and I’m always quiet.

  Ms Barber heads over to me. ‘How’s your speech going, Meg?’

  Ms Barber’s been my home room teacher for two years. She’s tried a few times to ask if everything’s okay at home, and she’s always very understanding if I’m feeling anxious. She even lets me work in Sick Bay sometimes.

  ‘It’s nicer to think dear, pretty thoughts and keep them in one’s heart, like treasures. I don’t like to have them laughed at or wondered over.’

  She takes a second to answer me. ‘Little Women?’

  I shake my head, disappointed. I thought Ms Barber would get it.

  ‘Anne of Green Gables,’ I whisper.

  ‘Of course! Sorry,’ she says. ‘Anne with an “e”. I loved those books when I was your age.’

  Ms Barber leans close. ‘I’m pretty sure Anne would have something to say at graduation.’

  Sometimes even the very best adults are disappointing. Of course Anne would have something to say because she’s never short of words, but I’m not Anne. For a start my hair is not red, my mother is not like Marilla, and I have no kindred spirit to speak of.

  ‘Meg, I know that speaking in public is not your favourite thing, but I’d really like you to approach this as an opportunity to overcome your fears.’

  I’ve spent the last eighteen months doing everything I can to avoid people finding out about my life and now my favourite teacher wants me to stand in front of a packed gym and talk about the wonders of primary school. ‘Um … I’m not sure that what I want to say would be wanted on the night,’ I tell her.

  ‘Meg, Mrs Myer asked for you to speak for a reason.’

  Frowning, I try to understand what she’s saying although it doesn’t make sense to me. Is she telling me to be honest? It doesn’t really matter because I won’t be at the graduation dinner anyway.

  ‘And, Meg, now that she’s selected the boys, Mrs Myer wants to see you all about the speeches.’

  ‘The principal?’

  ‘Yes, the principal,’ says Ms Barber, smiling.

  I make a habit of not needing to speak to Mrs Myer. So far, I’ve managed to keep it to a few hellos and a quick chat in seven years of primary school. Why start a real conversation now?

  Ms Barber stands up and looks around the room. ‘Riley, Tom and Matteo, can you go with Meg to see Mrs Myer, please?’

  There’s a surge in my chest like an ambulance officer has just dropped those paddles onto me and is trying to restart my heart. I bet they did that with Dad. Charged the paddles and lay them on his chest. But there was nothing they could do. Just like what happened to Anne’s father figure, Matthew Cuthbert.

  I chance a look over to where Riley is still balancing on the edge of
the chair.

  ‘Now?’ I whisper.

  ‘Yes, Meg. Now.’

  The boys walk over to where I’m sitting. Tom is really tall with red hair. He’s school captain and one of those kids all the teachers love. Matteo’s a clear choice to make a speech because he’s super smart and funny. And Riley makes sense because she’s confident and into debating and public speaking. I’m the most unusual suspect in this line-up. Why did she choose me?

  Reluctantly I stand up, feeling a lurch in my stomach. Maybe if I vomit all over the carpet then I’ll escape this particular torture. I don’t want to go. I really don’t want to go. I snatch The Bag from my pocket and hold it up, making sure that Ms Barber sees it. She nods, although I can tell that it’s not going to be the insurance I need this time.

  ‘Riley, can you come here please?’ Ms Barber says.

  Panicked I look across, trying to see Riley’s reaction, but all I can take in is Lina’s cold stare. This is a bad idea.

  ‘Riley, can you make sure Meg is okay?’ says Ms Barber quietly.

  Riley nods although doesn’t look at me. It’s one thing to chat when we’re alone in Sick Bay or at the shops, but I bet she hates the idea of having to be my minder in front of everyone. It’s like walking through the school with a target on your back. My weird is contagious.

  As we start shuffling past Lina and her friends, Lina pretends to cough and hacks out the words, ‘Slipper Girl’, just loudly enough for Riley and me to hear. The others laugh, although I don’t hear Riley join in. I bet Lina won’t be happy that one of her minions didn’t respond.

  I follow the boys down the stairs. They chatter and I stumble behind, wondering if Mrs Myer will comment on the fact that I’m wearing slippers. Safely away from the rest of the class, Riley finally walks alongside me.

  ‘Well this is fun,’ she says playfully.

  I stare at her. Does she like me or not?

  ‘Yeah.’ I begin gulping air in every direction, showing that I need to slow my breath down. Riley touches my back and I feel her hand rubbing my skin through my t-shirt. I breathe faster.

  ‘It’ll be okay,’ she says.

  ‘I’m concentrating on not having a panic attack.’

  ‘Oh … right,’ she says, obviously not knowing what to do.

  ‘That’s why I have this,’ I tell her, holding up The Bag. ‘It helps if I start breathing too fast.’

  ‘Oh. And it doubles as a mushroom bag,’ she says lightly as if not being able to breathe is not worthy of serious attention.

  We walk into the office, past Sarah sitting at her desk and down the corridor past Sick Bay. I can’t help but look across, wishing I were headed there instead. There’s no sign of Dash. The room sits empty. Waiting for a witness to its crackling plastic chairs and medicine fridge. I try to veer off, but Riley’s hand is back, guiding me to walk straight.

  Tom knocks on the glass door of the principal’s office.

  ‘My speech team. In you come,’ says Mrs Myer brightly, as we loiter in her doorway. Actually, I’m not even standing in the doorway. I’m hanging on the edge, more out than in, more fleeing than participating.

  Riley stands in front of me, but she reaches back and touches my arm, like she’s checking in that I’m still there. For some reason, I don’t pull away. I let her fingers curl around my wrist, keeping me in place. Her hand feels strange on my skin.

  ‘I hope your speeches are progressing nicely. It’s totally up to you to write your speeches how you see fit, however, obviously, they are meant to mark your year’s graduation from primary school. In the past, students have spoken about their positive experiences at primary school and their friendships and how they are looking forward to the next chapter of high school.’

  I wonder if anyone else finds it interesting that we’re being told we can write what we like while actually being told what to write. Then I start wondering what would happen if I wrote a really honest speech about being excluded and having no friends.

  ‘How long should the speeches be?’ asks Tom.

  ‘No more than three minutes,’ says Mrs Myer.

  ‘And do we have to deliver them at the dinner?’ Riley asks.

  ‘Yes, that’s the plan,’ says Mrs Myer. She adds that she’d like to see a draft by the end of next week. Graduation is still a bit over three weeks away, so obviously Mrs Myer is ensuring the speeches are what she wants before we have to say them.

  ‘My door is always open for you to come and discuss your speeches. I look forward to reading them,’ she says.

  Finally we’re dismissed, and the boys race off down the corridor to return to class. I stop outside Sick Bay.

  ‘Come on, Meg. You have to go back to class,’ says Riley.

  My chair is calling to me from the corner. The hum of the fridge is inviting me in. Even the overhead light gives a welcoming flicker.

  ‘In a minute,’ I tell Riley, walking in and sitting down in my chair.

  Riley follows me. ‘You can’t stay here forever.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because …’

  ‘That’s not a reason.’ I glance across at the Healthy Eating Pyramid poster that I’ve been looking at for the last year. Every time I see it, I remember how much I want to tape down the tear across the bottom. Although I never do.

  ‘Meg … come on …’

  ‘You go,’ I tell her. ‘I’m staying here.’

  But she shakes her head at me. ‘Nope, we left together, we’re returning together. Rules of war,’ she says with a smile.

  And my heart cracks a little and I worry that she can hear the sound.

  Riley

  ‘Hair, Riley!’ Jenna yells from the bathroom I share with her on the second floor.

  It’s Saturday and I’ve been dressed for Lina’s party for a few hours now. Things have been a bit strange with my friends this week and I want to look perfect. I check myself in the bedroom mirror another couple of times and smile at my reflection. It’s okay. My faithful black overalls hide my pump and work over the new striped t-shirt Mum let me buy online. I probably won’t look as glamorous as the others, but I’m fine with that.

  ‘Up in a messy bun?’ Jenna says, playing with the brush.

  The bathroom looks like a hairdresser’s. Hair clips, ties, ribbons and a curling wand are all laid out on the bench like she’s about to operate on me.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Sit down,’ says Jenna.

  I perch on the stool from our room and watch Jenna’s reflection in the mirror. She’s analysing my head.

  ‘You don’t have nits, do you?’

  ‘As if!’ I raise an eyebrow, and she laughs at my reflection.

  ‘You excited?’

  I take a second to answer because as much as I want to go to Lina’s party, things don’t feel the same as they used to with my friends. ‘Yeah. I can’t believe Mum’s still letting me go. I just wish I could stay all night.’

  She brushes my hair, pulling hard through a patch of knots. ‘Yeah, it’s weird you’re getting picked up early.’

  Jenna sweeps my hair onto the top of my head so that you can see my neck.

  ‘Better than nothing,’ I say, trying to concentrate on the fact that I’m actually going to a party in a hotel.

  ‘And your hair will look amazing,’ says Jenna. She ties my hair up in a high ponytail and then plucks strands out so they hang down, framing my face.

  ‘Thanks for helping.’

  ‘Dad paid me,’ she says.

  ‘I knew it!’ Outraged, I try to stand. She grips my shoulders and pushes me back down.

  ‘I’m kidding!’

  I’m not used to Jenna wanting much to do with me at all, especially on a Saturday afternoon, so I’m naturally suspicious.

  ‘What happened to your weekend maths group?�
��

  She grins and starts fluffing out my ponytail with a comb. ‘It got moved to tomorrow. Aren’t you lucky?’

  ‘Do you actually learn anything?’

  She shrugs. ‘Yeah, but it’s not maths related.’

  ‘Is anything you tell Mum real?’

  I watch as Jenna winds my ponytail into a bun and picks up a row of pins from the bench. She smells sweet like grape bubblegum and roses.

  ‘She didn’t always give me freedom, Riley. I know it’s worse for you, but I had to lie to get out of here, too,’ she says, then wedges the row of pins into her mouth so she can start pushing them into my hair.

  She stands in front of me now so I can’t watch what she’s doing. I can see a line of her stomach, flat and muscled, peeping from her checked shirt that she’s knotted in the front. She’s always wearing little tops with jeans or shorts and big Doc Marten boots.

  I keep my hands on my knees, picking at the stitches in my overalls.

  ‘There … What do you think?’

  She stands to one side and meets my eyes in the mirror. I look from her face to mine, taking it all in.

  ‘I love it,’ I tell her, reaching up to touch the bun.

  She swats my hand away. ‘No touching!’

  I turn from one side to the other, trying to see the back.

  ‘Make-up?’

  I shake my head, amazed that the bun doesn’t move. ‘You’re good at this!’

  ‘Misspent youth …’ She holds up a fat pink stick. ‘Lip gloss?’

  I’ve never put anything on my face, except sunscreen. ‘To be honest, I don’t know how to put it on.’

  ‘Pucker up,’ she says, moving around in front of me. She paints the lip gloss over my mouth.

  ‘Rub your lips together,’ she says, showing me.

  They’re sticky and sweet.

  ‘You can stop now!’ she says.

  I laugh and stretch past her so I can see myself. My lips look a bit shiny and pink. Just like Lina’s do lately. I think she’s the only girl in grade six wearing make-up to school, but if she’s doing it then it won’t take long for the others to start.

  ‘Here. Take it with you,’ she tells me. ‘In case you want to reapply.’