On Tuesday I have English. Alicia isn’t in class because of rehearsals for Oh! What A Lovely War. The sight of her empty chair is still enough to make my insides twist though.
On Wednesday I eat lunch with David, Essie and Felix in the canteen. Harry comes over to our table and calls us ‘the mutant, the geek, and the two super freaks’ and asks us whether we’ve thought about opening our own travelling carnival. Essie tells him to ‘curl up and die’. I go to stand up. David grabs hold of my wrist and pulls me back down. Harry saunters off, smirking.
On Thursday Becky keeps calling me Megan during form room. I don’t bite and keep staring straight ahead until the bell rings and I can escape.
Later that morning, I’m walking down the corridor alone when some sixth former stops me and asks if I’d be interested in joining the Maths Challenge team. At first I assume it’s a weird trick and he’s about to follow up with some nasty insult, but he doesn’t, handing me a flyer instead.
‘We need some new blood,’ he says, ‘and Mr Steele gave me your name. Think about it?’
I find myself promising I will.
On Friday I make it down the corridor without anyone saying anything nasty. It’s only a small triumph but one I’m prepared to take.
The bottom line is, I survive the week. And if I can survive one week, I can survive more.
When I get home from school Mam summons Amber and me to the lounge. At first she doesn’t say anything, chain smoking as she fiddles with her hoop earrings and not looking us in the eye. Eventually though, she sets her fags and lighter down, takes a deep breath and starts to talk.
And finally we get to hear everything, right from the very beginning with no gaps – Mam’s story in her own words.
42
Four weeks later
It’s the last Friday of term before the Christmas holidays and Essie and Felix have been acting weird all week; lots of urgent whispering when they think I’m not looking, and fixed smiles when they think I am. At first I put it down to boyfriend/girlfriend stuff but something tells me it’s more than that.
Today is definitely the pinnacle of their weirdness. In history Essie is totally manic, babbling non-stop. Even Felix seems on edge.
‘What’s going on, guys?’ I ask, for at least the one-hundredth time this week.
‘Nothing,’ they reply in unison.
‘We’re still on for tonight, aren’t we?’ I ask.
‘Of course we are,’ Essie replies. ‘Why wouldn’t we be?’
‘Just checking,’ I murmur.
For the first time ever we’ve decided to boycott the Christmas Ball. Instead we’re going to hang out at mine, gorge on pizza (Essie and I anyway, Felix will be bringing his own cauliflower-crust alternative) and watch Christmas films. And although I know we’ll have fun and everything, and even though the Christmas Ball has proved the most disappointing night of the year every year for the past three, I can’t help but feel a small ache of regret that tonight it’s going ahead without me.
The final lesson before lunch is maths. Mr Steele hosts a maths quiz. I’m pretty sure ‘quiz’ is just a slightly friendlier word for test, but I surprise myself by actually doing OK, not good enough for a prize, but OK. After the lesson I head to the canteen. I’m unloading my tray when I sense someone by my side. I look up. It’s Leo.
Upon his return to school following our weekend in Tripton, the teachers quickly figured out what was going on and a series of special assemblies was arranged, explaining Leo’s situation and what being transgender means, and making it clear that anyone found guilty of bullying would face a harsh punishment. Although the name-calling and cruel whispers haven’t stopped altogether, they’ve certainly died down.
Leo and I have steadily been hanging out more. We’ve been to the cinema a couple of times, sometimes to McDonald’s or Nando’s afterwards. He’s been over to my house a few times too, and charmed the pants off my mum and, to my surprise, Livvy. A couple of times a week he eats lunch with Essie, Felix and me. He never says a lot; just listens and occasionally chips in with a sarcastic comment. Earlier in the week, the four of us went to see the drama club’s production of Oh! What a Lovely War in the school hall. Alicia was in it. She looked very beautiful and sang two solos. While she was singing Leo’s eyes looked all dreamy and sad.
He emailed his therapist, Jenny, about me, and she gave him the details of some support groups to pass on to me that might be helpful while I’m waiting for my referral to the specialist clinic in London to be accepted. Leo promises he’ll come with me in the New Year, although I’m not sure he will when the time comes. He avoids the subject of his gender whenever possible, even with me.
‘Hey,’ I say, opening my can of Coke.
I notice Leo’s lack of food.
‘Don’t tell me you weren’t tempted by the driest turkey in the land,’ I say, presenting my plate as if it’s the top prize in a game show.
‘I can’t stay,’ he replies. ‘I just came by to give you this.’
He hands me a note.
I frown and open it, immediately recognising Essie’s spidery handwriting.
If anyone asks, you don’t know where we are. See you at yours tonight. E & F x
I look up at Leo.
‘You know what’s going on?’ I ask.
‘No idea. They just asked me to make sure you got this. Why, what does it say?’
‘That they’re bunking,’ I say. ‘But they never bunk.’
For all Essie’s claims to be a rebel, she never misses school unless she’s close to dying.
Leo shrugs. ‘I dunno. Like I said, they didn’t say anything else.’
He stands up and turns to go.
‘Hey,’ I call after him. ‘Are you going to the ball tonight?’
‘What do you think?’
‘Me, Essie and Felix are hanging out at my house if you fancy it?’
‘Thanks for the offer, but I reckon I’m just going to stay in tonight.’
I can’t help but feel disappointed.
‘That’s too bad. In that case, I guess I won’t see you until next term?’
‘I suppose not.’
‘Merry Christmas then.’
He smiles.
‘Yeah, Merry Christmas.’
I watch him leave.
That afternoon, usual lessons are cancelled and replaced by DVDs or games, which makes Essie and Felix’s disappearing act even more puzzling.
On the way home, Mum plays Christmas songs in the car.
In the back seat Livvy jigs up and down.
‘Excited about your first ball then, Liv?’ I ask over my shoulder.
‘Duh?’ she replies. ‘Of course I am. It’s going to be epic. Mum, did I tell you there’s going to be an actual snow machine?’
‘You did, darling,’ Mum says, winking at me.
‘Ten of us are going to Cressy’s to get ready. Cressy’s mum has hired a limo and everything, a white one.’
‘Sounds great,’ I murmur.
‘Not just great, epic,’ Livvy says dreamily.
After an initial freak-out, Livvy has taken the news of what my parents are referring to as my ‘gender issues’ far better than expected, the blow possibly softened by my parents’ promise to coincide my first clinic appointment in London with a trip to see Wicked afterwards. I often sense Livvy looking at me though, through narrowed eyes, as if she’s trying to figure me out by telepathy or some other cosmic means, rather than just coming out and asking me.
‘Did you get ice cream in for tonight?’ I ask Mum.
‘Of course.’
‘What flavours?’
‘Oh, you know, a variety,’ she says vaguely.
‘And did you get the non-dairy stuff for Felix?’
‘I think so …’
We pull into the driveway. As I’m climbing out of the car I’m certain I see the curtain twitch, which is weird as Dad doesn’t normally get home from work until at least five-thirty, if not later.
/> Mum opens the door, nudging me through it first, to reveal Essie and Felix in a tableau on the stairs, Essie with her arms outstretched, Felix crouching beside her.
‘Surprise!’ they yell.
I notice Essie is wearing a pair of fairy wings and has glitter smeared on her cheeks, and Felix is sporting plastic mouse ears and an all-in-one garment that looks suspiciously like a silver unitard.
‘Don’t ask,’ he says.
‘What are you guys doing here?’ I ask. ‘You’re not meant to be coming over until seven.’
‘We were fibbing!’ Essie sing-songs with delight.
I turn to Mum.
‘Did you know about this?’
She just shrugs innocently and ushers Livvy into the kitchen.
Essie scampers down the stairs, followed by Felix, his hands hovering awkwardly over his crotch.
‘What’s going on?’ I ask.
‘She’s got a thing planned,’ Felix whispers.
‘Oh. OK.’
Essie produces a wand from behind her back and starts swinging it about above her head.
‘Do not fear, sweet thing, for tonight, Cinderella, you shall go to the ball!’ she cries in a theatrical voice.
She points her wand at Felix, almost poking him in the eye. He scampers up the stairs, returning a few seconds later with a shiny black box in his hands. I peer at it, realising it’s a brand new make-up kit.
‘It’s Mac,’ I say, looking up. ‘But this stuff costs a fortune.’
‘My dad’s wife works at the head office,’ Essie says with a shrug.
‘But you can’t stand her,’ I say.
‘She’s been tolerable the last few times I’ve seen her,’ Essie mutters sheepishly.
Essie waves her wand again and Felix hurtles back up the stairs. He returns with a wig on a polystyrene head.
‘Is that my wig?’ I ask. It’s been styled into soft waves and has a small tiara nestled on top.
‘Yep,’ Essie says proudly. ‘Hats off to your mum for smuggling it out of your room without you noticing.’
I peer down the hallway, but Mum has shut the kitchen door.
‘And now for the pièce de résistance!’ Essie cries.
She waves her wand a final time. Felix goes dashing up the stairs once more, emerging a few seconds later carrying a dress bag.
‘Open it,’ Essie whispers, her eyes glittering.
Slowly I unzip the dress bag to reveal just about the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen. It’s light blue with delicate shoulder straps, a full skirt and a gauzy sash round the waist.
‘It’s just like the movie star dresses in my scrapbook,’ I breathe, running my fingers over the silky fabric.
‘I know,’ Essie says excitedly.
‘It’s incredible, it really is. But I can’t wear it,’ I say, doing up the zip.
Essie’s face drops.
‘What do you mean, you can’t wear it?’ she demands.
‘Are you serious? Wear this to the ball? With a wig and make-up and stuff? Can you imagine what Harry would do? I’d be a laughing stock until the end of time. Look, I’m really touched you’ve done all this for me, I’m bowled over, but I can’t go to the ball wearing this, I’m sorry.’ I shove the dress back into Felix’s arms, tears in my eyes.
‘When Ess said “you shall go to the ball”, she didn’t specify which ball,’ Felix says gently.
‘What do you mean?’
‘We mean we’re not going to the Eden Park Christmas Ball,’ he says.
‘Then where are we going? We’re not crashing some other school’s ball are we?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘Then where are we going?’
‘You’re just going to have to trust us,’ Essie says.
I hesitate.
‘Look, just start getting ready,’ she continues. ‘All will become clear, I promise. Oh, wait, one last thing.’
She runs up into my bedroom, returning a minute later with a shoebox. I take off the lid to discover a pair of silver sequined Converse.
‘Trainers?’ I say.
She smiles mysteriously.
‘I told you; all will become clear.’
Having my mum do my make-up is probably one of the most surreal episodes in my life so far (and probably hers). It’s almost as surreal as having Felix sitting on my bed dressed as a mouse watching. Dad arrives home from work and orders us pizzas (salad for Felix) before dropping Livvy off at Cressy’s house. Things get even more surreal as I sit round the kitchen table in my bathrobe wearing full make-up, chomping on a slice of Hawaiian pizza with my parents as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.
At six-thirty I am standing alone in my bedroom staring at myself in the full-length mirror on the back of my door, not entirely sure of what to make of the person staring back at me.
There’s a knock at the door.
‘C’mon out!’ Essie calls. ‘We wanna see.’
‘Hang on,’ I yell back.
Because I want this moment to last a few seconds longer. Just me and the mirror. And me finally liking what I see in the reflection, even if it also makes me feel like I might faint or vomit or both at any second.
More knocking.
‘All right, all right, I’m coming,’ I say, taking one final look. ‘But first, close your eyes.’
‘They’re closed!’ Essie and Felix call back in unison.
I take a deep breath and cautiously step out on to the landing. Essie and Felix are poised, holding hands, their eyes screwed shut, Felix dressed in a slightly too-large tuxedo, Essie in a very short purple dress and artfully ripped fishnet tights.
‘OK, you can open them now,’ I instruct.
Essie opens hers first, gasps, hugs me and promptly bursts into tears.
‘I’m hoping they’re happy tears,’ I say as she sobs on my shoulder.
‘Of course they are!’ she wails, breaking away and clinging on to the banister as mascara pours down her cheeks.
Felix passes her a fresh toilet roll before breaking into a grin and pulling me into a hug.
‘You look amazing,’ he whispers. ‘Proper fit.’
I laugh and hug him even harder than I already was.
The doorbell goes.
‘That’ll be Leo,’ Felix says. ‘I’ll get it.’
‘Leo?’ I say.
‘Well you can’t go to the ball without a date,’ Essie says, blinking away her tears.
‘Wait,’ I begin to protest. But Felix is already bounding down the stairs. Dad beats him to the door. Essie and I hang over the banister and watch as Leo steps into the hallway, looking self-conscious in a grey suit and a blue tie.
Essie wolf-whistles. ‘Nice threads, Denton!’ she calls.
He rolls his eyes in response.
‘Aw, check out Leo’s tie,’ Essie whispers, as Dad takes Leo’s jacket and offers him a slice of leftover pizza. ‘It matches your dress!’
‘Don’t even go there,’ I warn her.
‘Why not? You’re single, he’s single …’
‘We’re just friends, Ess.’
‘But you guys would be so cute together!’
‘Ess, I mean it,’ I say firmly.
‘You’re no fun at all,’ she says. She’s smiling too though.
I kept my promise to Leo. I haven’t told Essie or Felix I was with him the weekend I went to Tripton. They suspect though, and have probably been driving themselves insane trying to figure out what we were up to down there. And maybe one day, with Leo’s permission, I’ll tell them, but for now that weekend is our secret – just Leo’s and mine.
Essie takes my hand and we head downstairs. I trip on my dress on the bottom step and Leo has to jump up to steady me, but apart from that it’s a perfectly graceful descent.
‘You totally lied to me this afternoon,’ I say lightly.
‘I’ve had a lot of practice,’ Leo replies, one eyebrow raised.
We smile at each other.
‘You look nice
,’ he says.
‘Honestly? I can’t decide whether I feel amazing or ridiculous.’
‘Go for the former.’
‘Thanks. You look nice too. It suits you. Get it?’
‘Ha ha.’
‘I do try. Hey, do you know where we’re going tonight?’
‘I might.’
‘But you’re not going to tell me, are you?’
‘Nope.’
Mum and Dad swoop in then, armed with a camera each, and make us pose for a series of photographs in the hallway. As they snap away, calling out instructions, I wonder what they’re thinking; whether they’re silently freaking out at sending their only son off to a phantom ball dressed up as girl. Whatever their feelings are, they’re keeping them well hidden, covered up with wild enthusiasm. Since telling them, their behaviour has been slightly hysterical, the two of them torn between acceptance and horror; trying to make up for the horror bit with overt support. Only the other night I heard Mum crying again, Dad soothing her, so I get the feeling we still have a long way to go. But I love them for trying so hard, so much it makes my heart ache sometimes.
As we pose for my parents I notice instead of wearing smart shoes or high heels, all four of us are wearing trainers. I’m about to ask why when there’s a loud beep from outside. Essie runs into the living room and sticks her head under the curtains.
‘The limo’s here!’ she calls.
Leo frowns. ‘A limo, Essie, are you serious? You do remember where we’re going, don’t you?’
‘Oh relax, I couldn’t resist,’ Essie says, shooing him away. ‘C’mon, everyone, time to go!’
I’m the last to leave.
‘Be safe kiddo,’ Dad says, hugging me.
‘I will.’
Mum takes me in her arms then, hugging me close.
‘You look really wonderful,’ she whispers in my ear.
‘Thank you, Mum.’
We pull apart. Her eyes are all wet.
The Art of Being Normal Page 25