We Are Not Okay Page 15

  ‘Hey,’ I say, inching towards the chair that I always sit in.

  ‘Um, hey,’ Lee replies.

  Lily waves. Cara does her fake half smile. And Mollie just stares at Lily and Cara, wondering what her greeting should be. In the end, she does nothing, she just goes back to dunking her carrots in her hummus dip.

  My body edges into the chair but I sit forward, in case I need to stand quickly. ‘What’s going on?’ My voice sounds too high. Too weak. They’ll see right through me.

  Lily shrugs. ‘Not much.’

  ‘Anything you want to tell us?’ Cara leans into the table, closer to me.

  Here we go. ‘I suppose you’ve seen Trina’s Facebook posts and that’s what this is all about? Well, none if it is true.’

  ‘Really?’ Lily shakes her head. ‘Because there were photos of you leaving the clinic. And, well, now that she mentions it, you do look a little…a little…’

  ‘A little what?’ I snap.

  ‘Rounder,’ Mollie shrugs, a carrot dropping from her fingers onto the table. She picks it up, blows off any potential dirt from the sticky tray, then dunks it into the tub of hummus beside her.

  ‘I’m not pregnant!’

  People turn to locate the drama and immediately spot me at the centre. They shuffle closer, leaning in, straining to hear all the juicy details.

  ‘You definitely look like you’re pregnant,’ Lee says.

  My cheeks are warm and my mouth suddenly feels dry. My tongue sticks to the sides of my mouth, desperate for moisture.

  ‘If it’s not true then why were you at the Family Planning Clinic? And why didn’t you tell us? Aren’t we your best friends? Do you know what it feels like to find this out over social media?’ asks Cara.

  ‘I wasn’t at the Family Planning Clinic. Trina obviously followed me, and then took a photo of me walking past it. I was outside it – not inside it. This is all part of her tricks. She’s just playing all of you—’

  ‘Sounds like a lot of excuses, if you ask me,’ Lily mutters loudly.

  ‘Well, no one is asking you!’ I’ve had enough. I’m not sitting through one more question. I push back my chair until it hits the wall behind me. When I turn to storm out, I bump into Euan and Steve. Steve smirks at me, so I put my hands up and shove him hard. But not hard enough.

  ‘Whooa!’ he laughs, stumbling back into a chair. ‘Somebody’s hormones are out of control!’

  Euan jumps to my side and dramatically pretends to part the crowd. ‘Baby coming through, move out the way! Baby coming through!’

  A large group of people erupt in laughter, a few others cover their mouths, too shocked to respond any other way. Past the crowd, beyond the taunts, the jeers, the jibes, I see Ulana. She holds the cafeteria door open and waves me over. I see my exit. My escape. Swiping my arms, I propel myself forward towards her. She stands to the side of the doorframe, and ushers me through to safety. I hesitate at the doorway, knowing I should thank her, or at the very least apologise for talking about her behind her back, or for posting comments about her best friend online. But the words ‘I’m sorry’ get stuck in my throat, unfamiliar and foreign to me. So I push past her also and hurl my body down the hall and out the main door.

  I hear the school receptionist calling my name, asking me to come back. But I don’t turn back. I can’t. I know exactly where I’m going.

  It’s not the second bell yet. I know exactly where Trina Davis will be right now.

  I cut through the woods to loop around the building. Mud kicks up around my ankle boots, staining the yet untreated beige suede, but I don’t care. Low hanging branches scratch at my face, autumn leaves still hanging on dotted with amber flecks. A light rain falls softly around me and catches in my long hair. The cold cuts right through me. Tiny goose bumps spread all over my bare legs. My black pleated skirt lifts and flaps slightly in the wind. The trail forks, the left going up, deeper into the woods, away from prying eyes, while the right goes down the hill and spills out into the alleyway at the back of the building.

  I find her exactly where I knew she’d be. Standing in the alleyway behind the chemistry labs, cigarette in hand. She smokes beside another girl. But when she sees me, she elbows Trina and then rushes off, away from the volcano about to erupt.

  I grab Trina before she’s even turned around and shake her wildly. Her cigarette drops to the ground by her feet, and her shoulder bag slips off and catches at her wrist. I end the shaking with a heavy shove and see her collapse down on the ground. She looks different today. Gone is the short skirt, V-neck top too low. Today she wears a baggy school jumper, frayed at the sleeves, and a pair of black ripped jeans. Even her make-up is gone.

  Another girl leans against the wall, pulls out a cigarette box and slides another out. She rummages around for a lighter.

  ‘Do you want to be next?!’ I scream at her.

  The cigarette drops from her agape mouth.

  ‘Then go inside!’

  She fumbles for her bag strap, grips it in her palm, and rushes down the alleyway towards the door. I don’t need another audience. This is between me and Trina, no one else. This ends today.

  When I turn back, Trina is on her feet again, smoothing down her too-long jumper, which is now muddy and wet from the puddle where she landed.

  I run at her again and push myself into her. She wriggles out from my grasp, but doesn’t touch me. My hand grips onto her wrist as I pull myself up. My elbow collides with her ribs, and she groans and staggers back. But again she doesn’t touch me, or reach for me, or fight back in any way.

  ‘I’m not fighting you.’

  ‘Too scared?’ I say, running at her again.

  She shifts out of the way but grabs my arm to steady me so I don’t hit the wall. I shoulder her off me. Face damp from the rain and sweat, I stop to catch my breath. Why won’t she fight me? My chest heaves in and out, rising up and out then falling heavily.

  She grabs her bag and heads up the trail, deeper into the woods.

  ‘Don’t you dare walk away from me!’ I follow her, but her steps are faster than mine. ‘Hey!’ I walk faster, then start jogging a little. ‘I’m not finished yet!’

  ‘Go away!’ she yells, without slowing down or turning back.

  ‘No! I’m not going anywhere! Do you have any idea what you did to me in there?’

  ‘Nothing worse than what you’ve done to me!’

  Her steps quicken and I fumble on the path, trying to keep up.

  ‘You posted a photo of me coming out of the Family Planning Clinic! Everyone saw!’

  ‘You spread rumours about me from Lee’s party! Everyone called me a slut! You wrote my name on the toilet cubicles, you even posted a photo of me drunk from the party implying that I was asking for it!’

  ‘You were! I only told the truth!’

  She spins round, her eyes wild. ‘You don’t know anything about the truth! You have no idea what happened at that party!’

  ‘Everyone knows what happened at that party!’

  ‘You only think you know what happened. But you’re wrong. I didn’t want that to happen. I didn’t say that it was OK! I said no to him and he forced me!’

  ‘What are you saying?’ I ask, moving closer to her.

  She tucks one side of her hair behind her ear, exposing four different piercings along the lobe. One earring has a pink stone, while another is a silver bar that pops out at an awkward angle. ‘Forget it. Just forget I said anything.’ She marches ahead, leaving me to chase after her again.

  ‘You’re lying! You’re just saying that to play the victim because—’

  ‘Don’t you dare call me a victim!’ she screams behind her, tossing the words into the rain and letting them hit me. ‘You wouldn’t understand, and you certainly don’t care. All you care about is yourself.’ She turns and stands tall on a raised lip in the trail. ‘You’re a selfish, pathetic—’

  A deep groan escapes my mouth, as I grip the trunk of a tree beside me to steady my balanc
e.

  ‘Lucy?’

  My hand hurts from pressing into the bark so hard. Sharp splinters dig into my palm, but I don’t let go. It hurts too much. My chest tightens and I struggle to fill my lungs with air. Sharp pain explodes low in my belly. I grit my teeth and lean over. The pain. It’s too much.

  Trina is suddenly standing over me, her hand on my shoulder. ‘Lucy?’

  I open my mouth to tell her to leave me alone, but the words don’t flow out. They get stamped out by the scream I never felt coming.

  The pain.

  It’s too much. It’s too…

  Please stop the pain.

  ‘What should I do?’ She sounds panicked. Scared. Lost. ‘Lucy, what should I do? I don’t know what to do?’ She’s crying. Or is it me? Are those my tears?

  ‘I’m going to get help!’

  ‘No!’ I grab her wrist and pull her close to me. I’m on my knees, huddled into a ball. There’s blood. My blood. I’m bleeding. ‘Don’t…please…’ I spit and splutter with the words.

  ‘What? Tell me?’

  ‘Don’t leave me!’ I scream out, as the pain rips through my middle.

  ‘OK. OK.’ She pulls out her phone but I don’t know who she’s calling. Her words are muffled, panicked bursts of half-formed sentences and scrambled rants. She tosses her phone on the ground by my bag and drops to her knees beside me. ‘Help’s coming.’

  ‘Don’t leave me,’ I say again as I fold into her arms, still tucked into a ball.

  She cradles my head. ‘I’m not leaving, I promise.’ Her hands brush the hair from my face, and gently she strokes the strands. ‘I won’t leave you, Lucy.’

  ‘Trina, I—’

  ‘Shh. Don’t say anything. It’s OK. I’m right here.’

  It’s so hot out here. My body is on fire. Every part of me burns with searing hot pain. My eyelids are suddenly heavy. Fatigue sweeps over me like a wave and takes me in its grip. The last thing I see before darkness takes me is Trina’s face. The last thing I hear are her words, gentle and soothing.

  ULANA

  I stand, facing the toilet door.

  My body is burning inside.

  A flutter circles inside my belly and moves up to my chest, through the rib cage, up my throat, and settles in my jaw. I clench my teeth so hard they could break inside my mouth.

  I’ve never felt anger like this before. My fingers tingle. I want to hit something. I want to hit someone. No, not just anyone. I want to hit Steve.

  I snatch up my bag and hurl the toilet door open, letting it bang against the wall. Then I walk out, not even stopping to wash my hands. This needs to be said. Now.

  The words on the toilet door float fresh in my mind, hovering at the forefront, refusing to be pushed to the side. Refusing to be accepted, to be forgotten about.

  SOPHIA GREER LOVES TO POSE IN HER UNDERWEAR!

  CHECK OUT THE NUDE PICS ON FACEBOOK!!

  I push my way through the lunch crowd, and find Cara, Lily, Euan and Lee sitting at the big round table in the back. Before I can think about what to say, I put my hand on Cara’s chair, ‘Where’s Steve?’

  They all turn to face me.

  ‘Steve?’ I ask again.

  Euan shrugs and looks around the table at everyone else’s reactions.

  ‘Did he write that on the toilet door about Sophia? Or was it one of you?’

  Cara sits back in the chair, her tray of lunch untouched in front of her. ‘What are you talking about?’

  I place a hand on their table and lean in to her. ‘You know exactly what I’m talking about.’

  She shrugs and slides her salad tray away. A piece of lettuce spills out from the plastic bowl onto the red tray. ‘Well, what did it say?’ she asks.

  ‘It said…um…it—’

  ‘Aw, she can’t even say it,’ chimes in Lily, gesturing to me like I’m a piece in the game they’re playing, only they didn’t ask me first whether I wanted to join. I didn’t. I don’t like games. I don’t have time for games.

  ‘You know what it says. Who wrote it?’ I ask them again.

  Cara stands to face me, her long lithe body unfolding from the chair. Her shoulders sit taller than mine, and she knows this. ‘If you have something to say to us then just say it, Ulana.’

  I don’t move my hand. I don’t take a step back. ‘Yeah, I do actually. All this needs to stop. She doesn’t deserve this, or Trina Davis.’

  ‘Steve told us Sophia posted those photos of herself, and then changed her mind and blamed him,’ Lily says. ‘Besides, most of those comments came from Lucy so take it up with her.’

  ‘I will, but I’m taking it up with all of you. And Steve’s lying. I’m going to say this one last time, this stops or I go to the Headmaster and file a bullying report. You can kiss your Prefect badges goodbye. And then I will pay all of your parents a visit too.’

  Cara moves closer to me. She stands only inches from my face. She leans in and clenches her jaw as she speaks, ‘I’ll say this slowly, you know with the language barrier and everything—’

  Low but audible laughter erupts from her table. I feel my cheeks redden but I grit my teeth.

  ‘We didn’t write anything about Sophia, and if you go to the headmaster or our parents about this, then I’m pretty sure your parents will be just as interested in what you’ve been up to, especially when it comes to Aiden.’

  My eyes start to water as her words stab me in the chest like a deep sharp knife, catching in between my rib bones.

  ‘Your parents are quite strict, aren’t they? Muslim? How would they feel about their only daughter meeting a guy in the woods all by herself? Who knows what happens up there?’

  ‘Nothing happens up there!’

  ‘They don’t know that, do they?’

  Mollie suddenly rushes over to the table and brushes past me, as if I’m invisible. I always am.

  ‘Did you hear about Lucy?’ She finally notices me and stops talking. They all wait for me to leave.

  Tears suddenly start streaming down my face and my feet back up, away from this table, away from all of them. I turn and start pushing back through the crowd, exiting the cafeteria at the nearest door I can find. The first bell echoes down the halls. People start pouring out of the lunch room, like a flooded dam. I shift and let them pass around me. I catch Steve’s eye as he breezes past me. He walks by himself. He glances up at me, his eyes softer than usual, but he doesn’t say anything to me. He just passes me and doesn’t look back.

  When the second bell rings, I’m still standing there.

  I shuffle to my first class and take the first seat in the row. I don’t raise my hand when a question is posed by the teacher, I don’t offer to share my work, and I don’t take notes. I can’t stop thinking about their threats. I can’t stop thinking about Aiden’s parents and what they said on Sunday. I can’t stop wondering whether this is all worth it.

  When the day finally ends, I go through the usual notions of signing into the UCAS Prep after school class and standing at the back near the door. When the clock hits 3.45, I slide out the door and hurry up to the woods. Light rain hits my face as I leave the building, and mud starts to clot around my boots as I step onto the trail. Turning leaves fall and float through the air around me.

  Aiden sits on the bench waiting for me as usual. His hands cradle his iPhone, and he types frantically. I feel my phone vibrate against my hip bone from inside my bag, and know he’s messaging me.

  When he looks up towards the trail, I wave my arm.

  He waves back. Simple. Unburdened. Nothing to lose.

  Before I can say anything, his arms are around me, holding me close against his chest. ‘Are you OK? I heard about your confrontation with the girls at lunchtime. Why didn’t you text me back?’

  I pull away from him and shift to the bench. ‘Sorry, I was just so angry after. I didn’t feel like talking about it to anyone.’

  ‘I’m not anyone though,’ he says, squatting down beside me. He hugs my legs and I
want to shuffle away from him, but I don’t and I don’t know why I want that. ‘I’m sick of all this drama, and the bullying. I’m sick of Lucy Mc—’

  ‘It wasn’t even Lucy today. It was what her friends said about us today that upset me.’

  His face scrunches up and he wraps his hands around me tighter. ‘What did they say?’

  ‘They all know about us. They know we sneak up to the woods after school at this time. People at school seem to know that we’re seeing each other.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t say anything to them, or anyone.’

  ‘No, I know, but—’

  ‘And who cares if people at school know anyway?’

  I don’t know how to react to that, so I laugh but it feels uncomfortable. ‘What?’

  He pulls himself into me again. ‘I don’t care what anyone knows about us or what anyone says about us.’

  ‘Of course you don’t. You have nothing to worry about. Nothing to lose.’ My voice echoes in the woods, in the trees around us.

  His fingers drop to the ground, away from my legs. ‘Well, maybe it’s time to talk to your parents. They might understand.’

  ‘I don’t even understand this, how could they?’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Nothing.’ How can I explain to him how I’m feeling? How our relationship feels wrong? How if he were Muslim then this wouldn’t be an issue? How can I say those words?

  ‘My parents understood and I didn’t think that they would?’

  I feel the anger again. Flutter in my belly. Tingling in my fingers. Clenched jaw. ‘You think your parents were understanding of our relationship? Supportive?’

  He stands up, stretches his back and his neck. ‘You don’t?’

  ‘Forget it, it’s just going to turn into an argument.’

  ‘No, you want to say something. I can tell. So say it.’

  ‘I don’t want to say anything.’

  ‘Say it.’

  ‘OK, fine! Your parents were visibly freaked out by my appearance!’

  ‘Meaning what?’

  ‘Meaning they’re maybe not as supportive as you think.’