I was scum.
After a while, Ros left for whatever work appointment it was she had. I told Gemma I was going to get dressed.
‘You sure?’ she said.
I nodded. ‘Then I don’t mind doing some chores. I’m kind of a week behind.’
Gemma grinned. ‘Don’t worry about that today. Why don’t you get dressed while I do us some lunch. Maybe afterwards we could go outside. I bet you could do with some fresh
air.’
So I got dressed. I cleared the room up too, putting the few things Flynn had left, and the photograph he had given me, in the box where we kept our school things. And I took a long, hard look
in the mirror. I was thinner. Normally I’d have been delighted to have shed a few pounds but now all I could think was that my clothes were hanging off me, my hair was lank and straggly and
my skin was grey. But the worst thing was how dead my eyes looked.
I stared at myself. It didn’t matter how I looked. And dead was how I felt.
I went back downstairs and ate almost half the bowl of soup Gemma put in front of me for lunch. Afterwards, I went outside. I avoided the barn, walking instead across the field, past the charred
remains of the bonfire, to the apple orchard where I’d found Leo being bullied on the night of the party.
It was hard to face those reminders of that terrible night but I knew I had to. The desperation on Dad’s face last night plus the look of anxiety on Gemma’s today told me I had to
start pretending that I felt better . . . to at least look as if I was coping.
After about ten minutes wandering about in the chilly sunshine, I felt exhausted. I went up to my room and slept for an hour.
I hadn’t been awake long when Leo came back from school. He came and sat at the end of the mattress as usual, and started telling me what had happened at school. Apparently Flynn dumping
me, punching him and running away was the talk of the college.
‘Kirsty asked how you were,’ he said.
I nodded. Kirsty was still pretty much my closest friend at Norton Napier. She’d got off with some guy at the party and left early. She’d texted me a couple of times in the week. I
hadn’t texted back. I had the nagging sense, from her message, that she was really more interested in getting all the gossip than in how I was – but maybe that wasn’t fair.
I started thinking about Emmi and Grace. At first, after last Saturday, I’d been too angry to imagine ever talking to them again. But since then I’d changed. I was still certain I
would never speak to Emmi but Grace hadn’t really done anything wrong. Okay, so she’d told Emmi a secret but only because Emmi had half overheard it anyway. That was hardly
Grace’s fault. And I knew how difficult it was for Grace to lie and how pushy and persuasive Emmi could be.
Grace had called me every day this week. Unlike Kirsty, I was sure she really did care how I was. Maybe I should ring her later . . .
‘So do you want me to do that?’ Leo’s voice brought me out of my thoughts.
‘Sorry, do what?’
‘I was just saying Ms Ransome gave me some work for you to do at home. There’s a couple of essays and some
Jane Eyre
reading.’ He hesitated. ‘D’you still
want me to read it to you?’
I frowned. It struck me that Leo hadn’t actually looked me in the eye since he’d walked into the room. My heart sank. It had been so easy between us, last week, when I hadn’t
been talking.
‘I’d love you to read,’ I said, with as much feeling as I could.
He looked at me at last, his pale blue eyes shy and questioning.
‘How was today?’ I said.
He shrugged. ‘Okay, I guess. At least . . .’ He stopped.
‘At least what?’
‘Nothing.’ He looked down.
‘Hey.’ I reached over and prodded his chest. ‘I thought we were friends?’
Leo looked up.
‘So spill. What happened?’
‘I just . . . I meant that it was a quiet day. No one . . . you know, no one hassled me.’
I suddenly remembered how close Leo had come to being beaten up by those guys in the trees at the party. My whole body flooded with shame that I’d forgotten – and that Leo must think
they only knew he was gay because I’d spread the information at school.
‘Leo, I never told anyone what you told me . . . about . . . you know . . . What those guys in the orchard—’
‘Don’t.’ Leo held up his hand, his face bright red. ‘I know you didn’t say anything.’
I frowned. ‘But those guys . . .’
‘. . . thought I was gay? Yeah, I know.’
‘But how . . . ?’
Leo took in a deep breath. His chest heaved. ‘They
assumed
I was gay, just like people did in my last school. Some of them in our class have been saying stuff since the first
week, though up until the party it was just nasty comments and a bit of pushing me around. Those guys were different . . .’ He tailed off.
I couldn’t believe it. How come I’d never noticed Leo being taunted and bullied at school? Had I really been so wrapped up in Flynn that I hadn’t seen? I knew most of the
people in our class thought Leo was weird but, as far as I was aware, he’d been ignored, not picked on.
‘I had no idea,’ I gasped. ‘Oh, Leo, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you say something before?’
‘What would you have done?’ He paused. ‘If I’d told you, you’d have just asked Flynn to sort them out.’
I looked away. I wanted to deny what he said, but I knew it was true.
‘Flynn asked me back in our first week if I was okay,’ Leo said, his voice dull and flat. ‘He offered to deal with anyone who had a go at me . . . but I told him to get
lost.’
‘But wouldn’t his protection have been better than—’
‘No.’ Leo got up. ‘Look, it’s nothing personal, River, but I don’t want to talk about this right now. I’ll read to you later.’ And he walked out.
I sat back, baffled. Leo had been so open last week. Why didn’t he want to talk now?
I got up later and went downstairs for the evening meal with everyone at the commune. They all seemed pleased to see me. Ros gave me a hug while Leo’s dad, John and the
nerdy IT guy all said hello then carried on their animated conversation about the best place on the commune to use our home-grown leaf mould – with interjections from John’s wife Julia
on the state of the potatoes from the vegetable garden. I sat next to Leo and tried to eat my supper. Gemma had made vegetable lasagne, which was one of my favourites. I was sure she’d done
it specially and I tried to eat more than a few mouthfuls, but once I’d had enough to stop feeling hungry, the food tasted like slime.
Dad talked to me after dinner. He said he was pleased I was up and eager to do chores. ‘Focusing on physical and mental tasks will help give you space while you work through your
feelings,’ he said. ‘Plus they’ll give you balance: schoolwork to tire out your mind and chores to tire out your body.’
I nodded, only half listening. I was wondering if Flynn had found a job, or somewhere permanent to stay I was wondering if he was thinking about me. I was wondering if he had found someone
else.
Dad and I agreed that I should go back to school in a couple of days. He also wanted me to see a counsellor. ‘Gemma’s found someone she thinks will be helpful at the therapy centre.
You can start seeing her next week.’
I didn’t want to do it. After witnessing Flynn’s anger management session, I’d kind of lost faith in the whole idea of counselling and therapy. In the end I agreed, reluctantly
– it seemed to mean so much to Dad and Gemma.
Later, Leo read the first few chapters of
Jane Eyre
to me. He seemed tense and awkward when I tried to talk to him afterwards and soon left, saying he was tired after going back to
school.
I sat on my bed, feeling miserable. Dad and Gemma were great but I missed having a friend to talk to. So I called Grace.
She started crying when she heard my voice. Soon we were both sobbing. She kept saying she was sorry about everything that had happened. I asked her and James to come up at the weekend –
and not to tell Emmi.
The next day I helped Gemma prepare the evening meal. Then I did some of the schoolwork Leo had brought home for me. I wasn’t looking forward to going back to college tomorrow and I wanted
to be as prepared as possible. I didn’t read any more of
Jane Eyre
though. I was hoping Leo would do that. After feeling miserable that he’d been so awkward last night,
I’d realised just how important his friendship was to me.
‘I’ve got a favour to ask you,’ I said, when he got home that afternoon. ‘Can I come up to your apartment?’
Leo’s eyes widened in alarm. ‘Sure.’ He started running towards the stairs. ‘Er . . . just give me five, yeah?’
I wasn’t sure why he needed a head start but I waited five minutes then climbed the stairs and knocked on his apartment door.
He opened it, and stood back to let me in. I looked around, curious. I hadn’t been inside Leo’s flat since he and his dad moved in nearly six months ago. Well, there hadn’t
been any reason to. It was on the opposite side of the building from Dad’s place and I’d spent all my time with Flynn. But now it seemed important to come here. If Leo and I were going
to be friends, I wanted to see where he lived when he wasn’t in the communal areas.
The flat’s central living room was massive and bleak – a TV in the corner, two big sofas and a table with four chairs in the corner. There was no rug on the floor, no pictures on the
walls, and no books or ornaments on the single empty shelf. It didn’t look very different from when it had been empty.
‘Where’s your room?’ I asked.
Leo led me to one of the rooms on the right. It was completely different than the living area, with virtually every centimetre of wall space covered with posters of the sea and printouts from
websites and photos, most of which I was sure Leo had taken himself. The room itself was neat and much tidier than I was expecting. A single bed with a plain blue quilt cover and an old wooden
wardrobe stood along one wall. At the end of the room was a long, low window with a padded seat. I crossed the room and sat down. I could see right across the fields, past the oak tree and down to
the edge of the apple orchard.
I caught sight of the barn roof and looked away, a sick surge of misery bringing new tears to my eyes. I forced a smile onto my face. I’d done enough crying for a lifetime.
‘This seat is so cool,’ I said. ‘You could sit and read here for hours.’
‘I do.’ Leo was smiling but underneath I could see he felt really awkward.
My heart sank. Why was this so difficult? I looked over at the photos and pictures closest to the bed. There were several of a pretty woman with delicate features like Leo’s and the same
soft, shy eyes.
‘Is that your mum?’ I asked.
Leo nodded. ‘Dad threw out loads of stuff – he said it was too painful – but I saved some of her things.’ He took a shoebox from under his bed and offered it to me. I
took the lid off and peered inside.
There were more photos and a gold chain and a china teacup with a chip in the side. I lifted out a tube of hand cream. It was twisted and scrunched, almost empty. I opened the top and sniffed at
the cream inside – a faint scent of lily of the valley.
‘It’s how she smelled,’ Leo said.
I looked at him. ‘Do you miss her?’
He met my gaze. ‘Every day.’
I put the hand cream away and the lid back on the box. Leo placed it back under the bed and we sat in silence for a moment. Strangely Leo seemed less awkward now. I knew it was special that
he’d showed me that box – and I was glad that he had.
I glanced at the photos by his bed again. There were several of the oak tree and the apple orchard, and then a gap where it looked like a photo had been removed.
‘What went there?’ I asked.
Leo shrugged. ‘Nothing.’ He paused. ‘What did you want to ask me?’
I smiled. ‘I just wanted to ask you if you’d have lunch with me tomorrow in the cafeteria at school. I’m just feeling weird about going back. I mean, I know it sounds a bit
pathetic but . . .’
‘I’d love to.’
Leo’s face creased with such obvious relief that I laughed. ‘Jeez, what did you think I was going to ask you?’ I said.
He mumbled something incoherent and blushed again.
I rolled my eyes. ‘Look, Leo. I really like you. I don’t care if Flynn didn’t. And if you don’t want to be friends that’s fine but I’d rather you told me to
back off, instead of one minute making out like you want to talk, and then going all weird on me the next. If we’re friends you should be able to tell me what the problem is. I mean, I
don’t care if you’re gay or straight or whatever, I just want to hang out with you.’
Leo stared at me. ‘I’m not gay.’
‘Really?’ I frowned, feeling confused. Hadn’t Leo more or less
told
me he was gay? Wasn’t that why those stupid guys wanted to beat him up? ‘But before you
said . . . I don’t understand.’
Leo leaned forward, his head in his hands. ‘I did wonder if I might be gay a while ago. Not because I liked boys. But because I didn’t really like girls. Not like other guys did. And
then, well, then I realised I
did
like girls. A lot. At least, some girls.’ He looked up. ‘Sorry, I know it doesn’t make sense. You’ll probably hate me now for
being stupid . . .’
‘I don’t hate you.’ I sat back in the window seat, hugging my knees. ‘What made you know for sure that you liked girls?’
Leo gave me a long, miserable look. ‘You,’ he said.
‘Me?’ I could feel my cheeks getting hot. Was Leo saying he
liked me
? I’d had suspicions months ago – as had Flynn – but I’d
totally put them out of my head.
Leo nodded, his own face now reddening. It’s kind of ironic,’ he said. ‘For years I was bullied because I like reading and poems and I’m not into stupid team games where
the point is for one set of macho jerks to beat up another set and I’d started to think maybe I actually was gay like they said, and . . . and then I got here and I knew for sure that I
wasn’t but I couldn’t say anything.’ He paused. ‘I actually told you I thought I might be gay so that you wouldn’t stop being friends with me. How screwed up is
that?’