Steal My Sunshine Part 7

*Why are you smiling then? It's how I always used to deal with people who rubbed me up the wrong way.'

*What, you chopped them into little pieces?' As soon as I said the words, Sophie's face popped into my head and the fun of the moment vanished.

*I mean I'd just imagine something unpleasant for them.' The mood had s.h.i.+fted. *You'd better be off.'

*Okay, but we hardly talked about your stuff, Essie. I want to, you know I do, right?'

She said we would next time, and without thinking it through, I promised I'd bring Chloe.

The whole school was talking about Sophie. Tess Edwards said she knew someone who knew her. Of course it would be Tess; she was born for that role. Before first bell went, she had a steady stream of girls crowding around her to hear her give the same information over and over. No one cared how random it was and she strung it out like a pro.

Tess's cousin's friend had played in an amateur tennis compet.i.tion against Sophie, and Sophie had won. She was an amazing athlete a" fast and strong and really smart, too. Everyone seemed to feel better after hearing this. Tess glowed every time she told the story. She added more detail as the day went on a" Sophie's tennis outfit, how she wore her hair or about a particular shot she'd pulled off. I wanted to scream at them. This isn't The Hunger Games. She'll still be dead. The more certain they all claimed to be that nothing bad had happened to her, the more any shadow of hope I'd had faded away.

We walked to the big hall where Drama lessons took place, clutching our scripts. My line was highlighted in neon green. I was in some of the songs, too, but only as background noise. While we filed in, I remembered that at the end of last year when Mr Inglewood had a.s.signed our parts I'd still managed to work myself into a state about saying that single word on stage. The feeling was back now.

Mr Inglewood held the door open for us. His clothes didn't make sense a" a shabby tweed jacket with a white t-s.h.i.+rt, black trackies, no socks and black slip-on shoes. And his hair looked even more messed up than usual. He must really have the hots for himself that he'd dress so badly on purpose. I tried to ignore him as I pa.s.sed, but when my phone made a noise inside my bag, he said, *London calling.'

*What's that?'

*A song. Doesn't matter, carry on.' He waved me forward. I was dying to see who the message was from but there was no time because Mr Inglewood was suddenly at my side, calling everyone into the middle of the room.

*Right, drama exercises today: voice projection, improv, and so on. Rehearsals next time. Any questions?' He looked at me and my face grew instantly hot. There was no hiding in this cla.s.s and my insides were twisting up from nerves. So far my plan was to look at my shoes for the next fifty minutes.

Chloe sauntered in. She looked tired and moody, and stood next to me without saying a word.

*I'll take you in small groups,' continued Mr Inglewood. *Unless I call your name, get on with reading through your lines or whatever job you've been a.s.signed for the production.'

Chloe was on props, mainly as a punishment for saying the f-word on the first night of Chicago last year. Apparently they didn't buy it when she claimed it was said *in character'.

*Okay, I'll take the cowboys first. Over this way.' He must have seen the look on my face because he shrugged a phony apology. It was weird, it felt like he was singling me out all of a sudden. I thought about telling Chloe but knew she'd say I was being paranoid.

*I want you four to stand in a circle,' he said. *That's it, about an arm's length from each other.'

I was still a good few metres away from the group. Every moment longer that I could avoid the unholy embarra.s.sment that was about to take place would be worth it.

*Come on, Hannah Moon, we won't bite.'

The others laughed. Rachel, Maria and Justine a" shy girls like me. We'd been friends in Year 6 but hardly spoke now. No doubt I was still in their bad books for thinking I could escape the layer of school society they inhabited a" the quiet, una.s.suming group that didn't excel at anything or flunk anything either. It wasn't as if I'd never felt bad for drifting away from them, or that I thought I was more interesting than them. I just hoped I was.

*Now, I want you to say your names a" your full names a" into the circle, one after another,' Mr Inglewood said.

*What for?' said Maria.

*It's an exercise. Trust me.'

I was just about in the circle now and my heart was thudding.

*We'll go round once and I want you to speak loudly and clearly. Just your names, right? Then we'll vary it a bit a" accents, volume, emotion. Clear?' Mr Inglewood took off his jacket and chucked it to the side of the room. The others didn't look bothered about his instructions, but to me it was a nightmare. I couldn't explain why, I just felt consumed by it. It felt huge. And it didn't matter that I knew how ridiculous it was to get worked up about a meaningless drama exercise; the rest of me was treating this as everything. Why did we all have to go through the same thing as if we were all cut out for the exact same life? Why the h.e.l.l had I let Chloe persuade me to take Drama?

Mr Inglewood pointed at Rachel.

*Rachel Bennett!' she said and giggled, as did the others. The rest of the cla.s.s had started to close in, spectating, sn.i.g.g.e.ring. Mr Inglewood half-heartedly flapped them away but they paid no attention. Some of the b.i.t.c.hy girls crossed their arms and stared straight at me. Chloe looked on from the stage, standing with her hands on her hips. She could do this in a heartbeat; I should have been the one on props.

*Maria Sartori.'

Blood pulsed in my ears. I was trapped. They had names you could say out loud. I rehea.r.s.ed mine in my head: Hannah Moon, Hannah Moon, Hannah Moon. He pointed again.

*Justine Hamidou.'

Then he pointed at me.

*Hannah Moon.' My voice slid out, softly. But I'd done it. Mr Inglewood looked at me for too many seconds and I had that paranoid feeling again. This was fun for him a" humiliating us. I hated him, stupid show-off guy thinking the whole school was in love with him.

*Now take three giant strides out,' he said, *and say your name much louder.' He looked my way again. *I mean really belt it out. Be strong.'

The four of us stepped back and I glanced at the clock. I swear it was stuck.

*Joe Inglewood!' His voice came from deep within his chest, the girls twittering predictably. The volume of his voice had made my cheeks burn. I willed Rachel or Maria to take a stand against this pointless game but they all seemed willing.

And too quickly it came around to me again. This time I stayed quiet. I didn't have a plan; I just didn't have a voice. Nothing would come out. For the first time in my life I started to walk out of cla.s.s. I didn't hear a word of what was said as I left, I was so focused on getting out of there, breaking into a run as the door slammed behind me, my ears blocked from the laughter and calls of *What's she making such a big deal for?'.

I knew it was pathetic; I didn't need them to tell me that.

I walked outside and, without thinking, went straight onto the tennis courts. Great, a dead end. I stopped at a corner where the fence separated the school from a patch of scrubland, holding the scrub nettles back as they tried to reach through the diamond s.p.a.ces. This was hopeless a" I should have walked right out of school, pleaded temporary insanity because of *problems at home' like everyone else did. Or I should I have just said my name a" really belted it out a" and not been such a wuss. Why had that seemed so hard? It was my name.

*Hannah?'

I turned round and looped a finger into the fence for something to hold on to.

*At least come to the net,' he said. I couldn't look at him but I walked forward slowly. I focused on his hands, gripping the top of the net. He had a thick vein on each one, surfer's skin with tiny blond hairs on his fingers.

Enough time had pa.s.sed for me to realise he was waiting for me to speak, and from somewhere unknown came a surge of annoyance that cancelled out how shy I usually felt when I was in front of a teacher. *I just can't do things like that and I don't see the point.'

*Sorry, Hannah, but I don't believe you.'

On impulse I looked up. *You don't believe me? I don't really care. I'm telling you it's true. I can't do it. And, yes, there is such a thing as can't.'

*How did you know that was going to be my next point?' He smiled.

*It's not funny.' But the side of my mouth was twitching. I bit the inside of it to stop a smile from coming. I wanted to stay angry. *Some people just can't do certain things. Like, my dad can't cook a" I'm serious, he's hopeless.' I wished I hadn't mentioned Dad; now I felt even more vulnerable. I kept going. *I can't fly or hang-glide either, so I don't, right? I mean, what's the big deal?'

*You could learn.'

*To hang-glide? I don't want to. I bet you hang-glide. I'm right, aren't I?' This felt more like talking to Sam than a teacher. I couldn't help enjoying how confident I felt all of a sudden.

*You reckon?'

*Yep. You're one of those extreme sport junkies. Which is the bigger kick a" jumping off a building or humiliating us on a Friday morning?' I blushed, feeling like I'd gone too far.

He looked surprised, stammered a bit and said, *Hannah, I'm honestly not trying to humiliate you. I'm sorry you think that. I just think there's a lot more in there than you let everyone see. I mean, look at you now. You're quite scary, to be honest.'

My smile escaped before I could stop it. I couldn't believe Chloe and everyone else had missed this conversation, but then again that was probably why I'd felt this way. That and something in him that made me feel alert and self-conscious. He was a guy called Joe as well as a teacher called Mr Inglewood; a hybrid and a puzzle. And he thought I was something.

*If you think I'm so wonderful, why did you make me Cowboy 3?' I felt childish but a barrier had started to come down between us.

*You didn't put up your hand.' He shrugged. My eyes rested on the curve of his neck and a dark mole that appeared and disappeared into his white t-s.h.i.+rt as he moved his shoulders. *You try to hide. I wanted to show you what happens when you're not honest about who you want to be.' His face was full of concern, but I felt a surge of anger again. What a load of bull. He wasn't the expert on me.

*Thanks for the advice,' I said, sarcastically. I walked away from him and made my way to the library to hide out until cla.s.s was over. He didn't follow me a second time.

The other girls hadn't said a word about what had happened in Drama. It was either too boring to stay on their radar or Chloe had threatened them. At that point I didn't care which, I just wanted the week to be over.

*Can I hang out with you tonight?' I asked Chloe. We were packing up our books for the day, and there was no way I was ready to go home.

*I thought you didn't fit in with the gang.'

*Okay, fine, I won't.'

*Oh stop. Course you can. But I've got detention, so go to my place first and someone will buzz you in.'

*What? No! I'm not doing that.'

Chloe rolled her eyes. *Fine. Wait in the library, Miss Special Needs. For G.o.d's sake, it's just my place. There's always someone there.'

Maybe I could do it. Either Evan or their dad would answer, or one of their friends and I'd met most of them before. If I could speak up for myself with Mr Inglewood, maybe I could handle this too. The thought of seeing Evan made my skin tingle. What if I hid myself away for good and only ever imagined what love felt like from a distance instead of getting the real, magnified version?

*Okay, you're right.' I tried to sound casual and for once it seemed to work. *By the way, what was wrong earlier? You seemed down when you came to Drama.'

*No big deal. How's home stuff?'

I shrugged. *You know.'

*But how's everyone doing? Your mum and everyone.'

This was definitely the most air-time my family had ever gotten without an off remark about our boring lives. It felt nice even if the topic wasn't. *They're pretty screwed up. Mum's been smoking weed.'

*What? That's hilarious! I might come over.'

*Seriously, don't. It's embarra.s.sing. I can't stand the atmosphere there.'

*Well, don't worry, we'll look after you.' She slung her bag over her shoulder.

*What did you get detention for this time?'

Chloe ignored the question and kissed me goodbye like always. As she left the cla.s.s she called back loudly, *I called my German teacher Frau f.u.c.k.'

I laughed to myself as everyone filed out of the form room slowly, wis.h.i.+ng I'd planned ahead and brought something to change into. At least I had a hairbrush and a bit of make-up in my bag. I locked myself in a toilet cubicle and used my phone screen as a mirror to put on lip-gloss, eyeliner and mascara. I took in big lungfuls of air and imagined being able to tell Essie the next day about seeing Evan and being a normal teenager who didn't always hide under a rock.

The walk to Chloe's seemed sharp and bright; St Kilda intoxicated on the sun and Friday afternoon bliss. I felt like I was absorbing every drop and my head was just noise.

Then I saw Dad coming out of our favourite fish-and-chip shop, wearing the same stupid pants as when he'd walked out of our house a few days ago. I almost ran in the other direction. But I stayed there, stunned. What was he doing around here, where we used to live? He had hot chips and looked happy. I wanted to smack the whole lot out of his hands and scream at him in the street, but all of that anger stayed bunched up in my middle like something wild while I stood still and held my breath, waiting for him to see me.

The moment our eyes locked I wanted to cry.

*Hannah! Oh, sweetheart, it's so great to see you.' Dad's face lit up. He chucked the chips in the nearest bin before putting his arms around me. As much as the feel and smell of him hit me full-on, like finding something important that you'd be tearing the place apart for, my body stiffened and I tried to break free. The way he'd thrown those chips away looked like I'd caught him out. To me they said having a good time, not thinking about his abandoned, screwed-up family.

*Yes, I'm still alive, thanks, Dad.'

He looked stung. *Hannah, it's really so good to see you.'

*Really? Did you forget how to get in touch? I think you know where I live, what my phone number is. Right, Dad?' Warm tears coursed steadily down my cheeks and the rest of St Kilda was a blur around the sharpness of my dad. He looked awkward and sheepish. I was scared of what he was going to tell me but in a way it was a relief to cry. I'd always been able to do that in front of him more easily than with Mum.

*I'm sorry,' he said. His face was long and serious, as if he'd only just realised what he'd done.

*Is that it?'

He just shrugged and his eyes flicked around, only catching mine for a couple of seconds at a time. *This is difficult,' he finally said. For a while it was silent between us but noisy all around. A pa.s.serby clipped Dad's arm but he acted like he didn't notice. *I don't know what to say to make it easier,' he said. *You know I love you.'

*I don't know anything. Someone even said you might be gay and I didn't even know what to think a" you just left.'

*I'm not gay, Hannah. Who said that?'

*Doesn't matter.' It wasn't the first time I'd blurted out something I'd heard from Chloe and then covered up her ident.i.ty from my parents, who'd marked her as suspicious from day one.

*Well, it's not that. Look, how are you and Sam doing?'

*You didn't even call me.' The flow of tears was choking me, and I hated drawing attention to us. *I don't even know where you live now. It was such a shock, Dad.'

*Christ, Han, I'm sorry. I've handled it badly. I've been in bits myself. Here, I'm in a motel near our old place a" take this.' He handed me a card from his pocket. Bayside, heart of the action, breakfast included, the perfect choice for exploring this great city. It was like he was on holiday.

*Right, well, I'm still at 48 Mary Street and it's all still s.h.i.+t if you even care. And Mum hates me and so does Sam.'

He held me then and I let him, sobbing against his chest. I stayed there until I felt all cried out, and then I wanted to get as far away from him as possible. *I'm going now,' I said, looking down.

*I'll call you. We'll talk it all through.'

I wiped my nose on the back of my hand and pictured my face streaked with mascara.

*Look at me, Han. C'mon, where's my girl?' He tugged the sleeve of my uniform. *Have you got your map on you?'

I gave him a hard look. *I don't need your maps.' Our arms grazed as I pa.s.sed him and I didn't look back.

Chloe's street was half in shadow but the block she lived in was hot vanilla in the last of the sun. Friday night bar noise gradually faded behind me the closer I got. Just as I was about to press the buzzer, the main door opened and a brown dog trotted past me, followed by a scruffy bearded guy in shorts. He smiled, sleepy-eyed, held the door open for me and then took off after his dog.

For a moment I hesitated about whether to head straight up to their place or go back outside to buzz from the main door. I imagined Chloe standing next to me. Just go up, she'd say. Do I have to hold your hand for every little thing?

Everything echoed in the concrete stairwell a" my footsteps, a door slamming somewhere further up. I was breathing heavily with nerves. The journey up might be stark but Chloe's apartment was like a den that always set off every one of my senses. It smelled earthy and full of spice. Even if I tried to remember what it was like in there, it still took me by surprise compared to the white surfaces and lemony smell of home.

Although I had a clear mental picture of it, I'd never be able to recreate the amount of stuff in there. It was packed with strange belongings that Mum would call junk. There was a bicycle hanging on the wall in the kitchen and a scruffy chaise longue in the bathroom, draped in towels, instead of a rail. They had varnished upturned crates for tables and there was never anywhere to put things down a" every surface was occupied with cups, ashtrays, books and lanterns.