Читать книгу All That Glitters - Holly Smale, Холли Смейл - Страница 27

y oneself. Excluded. On your tod.

It’s a good thing I brought my thesaurus with me, because I have plenty of quality me time to expand my vocabulary over the rest of the day.

For the next four hours, I am completely unescorted.

I am solo as I eat my sandwich in the corner of the common room and drop it down my top, companionless as I mess up a rat dissection in biology because nobody wants to pair with me and lonesome when an experiment in chemistry goes wrong because I can’t hold both the test tubes at the same time.

I even try to make myself feel better by replacing these words with positive synonyms: I independently stare out of the window, I chew my nails unaided and unassisted.

But it doesn’t matter how many different words I use, they all boil down to the same thing.

It’s my first day back at school.

And I am completely alone.

“Anyway …” I say as I wait for the final school bell to ring. I’m now sitting on the little wall next to the playing field, kicking my duck pumps on and off at the heels.

The caretaker picks sheets of tissue off the ground and throws them in a black plastic bag.

“He doesn’t even know me,” I say quietly. “He’s just so rude.”

“Can I borrow some toilet rolls, she says,” the caretaker mutters, picking up another few bits. “Just a few, she says. And next thing I know every roll in the school is all over the grass and nobody’s got anything to wipe their bottoms with for the rest of the week.”

“Exactly!” I say triumphantly. “Or almost exactly, anyway. That’s nearly the same thing.”

I kick my feet against the wall despondently.

At least I’ve found somebody who will talk to me. I hadn’t expected my first kindred spirit in sixth form to be a fifty-seven-year-old man in dungarees and a tool belt, but beggars can’t be choosers.

Plus he spends a lot of his time under tables and in cupboards, so we actually have a surprising amount in common.

Steve bends down again. “I’m supposed to be practising my spinning tonight, not cleaning up after hours. That hippy can bring in her own supplies next time.”

I shake my head in empathy. Then I hop off the wall so I can pick up a few bits of tissue and pop them in the bag. I like to spin round too: maybe he has a special office twirly chair like Dad?

We work industriously together in companionable silence for a few minutes, and then I clear my throat and say: “I’ve got a miniature game of Scrabble in my satchel – would you like to play it with me tomorrow?”

There’s a thoughtful pause while Steve considers this.

“Hang on … Chicken wire? Did you say the statue is made out of chicken wire? I knew I was missing a roll. That little blighter.”

“Isn’t he just the most horrible, unpleasant—”

“Quack quack,” a familiar voice says and I immediately stop moving with my hand still clutching a bit of tissue: bent double, with my bottom firmly poking in the air.

I can’t help feeling as if I’m not as well protected as I could be.

Slowly, I straighten up and turn to look at Alexa.

She’s standing a few metres away with her hands on her hips. Ananya and Liv are at either side, and India is standing just behind them.

Huh. That was fast.

I guess she’s picked her team already.

I look at the wad of crumpled tissue in my hand, then at the black bin bag. Then at the middle-aged man I’m chatting to. On my own. Voluntarily, when I could just go home.

There’s a piece of loo roll stuck to my knee, and another attached to the toe of my shoe. Tuna is still coating my front, and I smell of a day’s worth of embarrassed dry sweat.

In the meantime, Alexa is noticing exactly the same things.

“You’re hanging out with the staff now? Like, people who are actually paid to be here all day?”

“Actually, Steve’s …” only part-time, I’m about to say, and then change my mind.

“So where are your little sidekicks now, Harriet? Where’s Team Geek?” Alexa elaborately looks around her. “I can’t see them. Are they hiding?” She picks up a bit of loo roll and pretends to look under it. “Helloooo? Geeks? Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

“Nat’s gone to fashion college,” I say as firmly as I can, even though Alexa already knows this. “And Toby’s really, really busy with something super important.”

“Oh yes,” she says, narrowing her eyes and putting the paper back down again. “That’s right. You’re totally on your own now, aren’t you?”

Alexa has always known how to find the rusty nail and smack it straight on the head.

My eyes start prickling.

“No,” I say with as much dignity as I can muster. “I’m not alone. I have …” Steve, I’m about to say, and then change my mind for the second time.

“This is pathetic, even for you.” Alexa sounds genuinely cross. “Where’s the fun, Harriet Manners? Where’s the challenge? You’ve ruined everything.” She clicks her fingers and turns away. “She’s not worth it, guys. We’ve got better things to do.”

As if I’m one of the fabric mice we give Victor and he’s chewed all the catnip out of it, rendering it useless and of no interest any more.

The bell rings and Alexa starts marching towards the front gates with her Underlings behind her. India looks at me with disdain for a few seconds, then turns and follows them.

My eyes are smarting, my vision is starting to wobble and my throat feels like there’s a sofa cushion stuck in it.

Then my phone beeps.

How was your first day?? Tell me tell me! Nat xxx

How am I supposed to answer that with any self-respect?

A-maz-ing!! SO MUCH FUN!! Couldn’t have gone better!!! Can’t wait for two more whole years of this!!!! Hxx

With a lie, that’s how.

I put my phone away, hiding my face behind my hair so Steve can’t see my chin starting to crumple.

“It’s all right, love,” he says, giving me an awkward pat on the back as I head towards the school gates. “Those nasty little minxes will get what’s coming to them.”

“Sure they will,” I say over my shoulder, even though I know they obviously won’t.

Because Alexa’s right.

There’s a big difference between not-popular and unpopular, and I hadn’t even noticed that until I was on the other side. I may have spent years struggling to make friends at school, but this is the first time since I was five that I’ve had none.

And of the two options, I can’t decide which is worse:

a) being brought down a peg or two every school day of your life for eleven years

or

b) finally being so far at the bottom that there’s nowhere left to go.