Sick Bay

by Nova Weetman

  ‘Wish me luck,’ I say to them both.

  Mum manages to squeeze my hand and look at me. She smiles as her eyes focus on mine. I see her straighten her shoulders and nod. I know she’s going to be okay. She leans across and whispers in my ear, ‘You’re my girl.’

  It was something Dad used to say and it makes me take a deep breath. Although the idea that he’s sort of here is special too. Peggy must see I’m wobbly because she tousles my hair and then tells me that I’ll be wonderful and she’ll film the lot and use it to embarrass me at my twenty-first.

  I start the long walk past the tables towards the front of the gym. Cameras are flashing everywhere and parents line the back of the gym, ten deep.

  ‘You came!’ Riley darts in front of me. She’s in a blue dress and her long hair is wispy and piled on top of her head and she’s even taller than usual.

  ‘You look amazing!’

  She grabs both of my hands. ‘I’m so happy you’re here.’

  ‘Me too.’

  She grins at me and I grin back and we’re frozen in a smilefest.

  Mrs Myer finishes her speech and I hear her introduce Tom. That means we’re on in a minute and we’re still down here near the tables.

  ‘Come on!’ I tell Riley.

  ‘I like your slippers,’ she whispers as we hurry towards the stage.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I’m so glad to see you, Meg,’ whispers Ms Barber to me as we step up onto the side of the stage. Like me, she’s not wearing a dress. She’s in the same jeans she wears every day, but her hair is spiky and standing to attention. She looks great.

  I see Dash waving madly from the PA system. He’s in charge of making sure the microphones are loud enough. I’m glad he’s here. He looks different outside Sick Bay. Perhaps we all do.

  Tom’s speech is boring and predictable although it’s met with a wild round of applause. Matteo’s speech is a bit funnier although the content doesn’t change too much. I look out into the audience. The lights are so bright up here that I can’t see any faces, not even Lina’s. It’s just a blur of noise and colour.

  Riley is introduced next and I watch as she walks up to the microphone. She looks dreamy, like she’s just stepped out of a painting. She takes out a small sheet of paper from her dress pocket, clears her voice and starts to read.

  ‘Hi, I’m Riley Jackson. Tonight I’m here to talk about what this school has meant to me. I got chosen to make a speech tonight because I’m different. I’m diabetic. Nobody actually said that was why I got chosen, but we all know it. The thing is, I don’t want to talk about being diabetic. It’s really boring. But it’s what makes me different. Just like Ms Barber has lots of ear piercings, and Nick Zarro has freckles, I have diabetes.

  ‘To be honest, diabetes doesn’t stop me from being who I am, but it does mean I have to do things differently sometimes. I’ve always hated that. Now I’m working out that it’s not so bad. And that’s really thanks to meeting Meg Tower in Sick Bay.

  ‘Most of you probably visited Sick Bay once or twice in your time here. But for some of us,’ Riley looks across at Dash and then catches my eye, ‘it’s been a second home. A tiny horrible bright room with vinyl-covered furniture and an old poster on the wall, it’s become somewhere special. It was where I learned who I really am. Normal. Not normal. Just like all of you. And it was where I got to understand what friendship really means, and how to be me: Riley Jackson. Thank you.’

  Everyone starts cheering as Riley walks off the stage. When she gets to me she smiles, the spotlight overhead illuminating her face. She just made a speech about Sick Bay and she totally nailed it.

  It’s my turn next.

  When Mrs Myer calls my name, there is a smattering of laughter from the gym. Although tonight I don’t care at all. I walk on stage. The microphone is set too high and I fumble with it, trying to move it down, although instead I make it fall, causing static screeching to fill the hall. Then I realise I don’t have my speech. Ms Barber sees me drowning and realises what’s happened. She dashes onto the stage to hand me the piece of paper I gave her the other day.

  ‘Like the red hair, by the way!’ she whispers.

  ‘Thanks.’

  I wait until she’s scampered off before I lean forward and start talking. ‘I’m Margaret. Meg. Slipper Girl. Sick Bay Girl. I go by many names …’

  I look out into the lights, trying to face them.

  ‘Most of you don’t know me at all. We’ve been at school together for seven years and you don’t know the first thing about me. You think I wear slippers because I’m poor or because I’m weird. Well tonight, I wear slippers because they’re much more comfortable than high heels.’

  A few people laugh although this time I think it’s nice laughter, like they get it. I take a big breath and force my words out louder.

  ‘Primary school has not been the best years of my life. Sorry if that’s a shock, Mrs Myer. Actually, it’s often been pretty rotten. Although it has been a place I learned to read, a place I came to think and a place I came to hide.

  ‘My dad died a year and a half ago and unsurprisingly things at home have been pretty tricky since then. Sick Bay became like my home. Sarah would feed me. Dash would entertain me. And my teachers would put up with me missing from class.’

  I gulp in air and stare out into the spotlight. I realise the gym has become eerily quiet and that everyone is hanging onto my words. I can feel them sticking in my throat and I have to finish quickly, before I can’t.

  ‘Hanging out in Sick Bay, I thought I could avoid the world. But, instead, the world came to me. In the shape of a girl called Riley Jackson. Stubborn and funny, Riley has dragged me outside. And made me see what I’ve been missing. And, in the words of Anne Shirley: Kindred spirits are not so scarce as I used to think. It’s splendid to find out there are so many of them in the world.

  ‘I’m not sad to be leaving here. I’ll miss Sarah and her morning snacks. I’ll miss Ms Barber and the way she listens. And I’ll miss Sick Bay and Dash’s jokes and the fridge that hums. But the most important thing I’m taking with me when I leave …’ I look around to find Riley. I see her standing in front of Ms Barber, watching me. ‘My friend …’

  Riley runs over and hugs me. And I hug her back. On stage, with all those lights shining bright and all those people staring. In front of us, people are cheering and clapping. Loud, elated clapping, like what I said made sense.

  Riley grins at me. ‘Do you want to stay and eat burgers?’

  I think about it for a second. I’m not scared anymore. And my stomach is churning. And I want to dance with Peggy and laugh with Dash and maybe even introduce Riley to my mum and to Peggy. For once, I’m not ready to go just yet.

  ‘Let’s eat. I’m hungry.’

  ‘Yeah. Me too,’ Riley says.

  ‘I’ll be back in a second!’ I leave Riley on the stage while Mrs Myer starts thanking various parents for their help with catering and decorating. I hurry down the stairs, skirting along the side of the gym to where I left Mum and Peggy.

  ‘You’re still here,’ I say to Mum.

  ‘Great speech,’ she says, her eyes shining.

  ‘I love you,’ I tell her, thinking about how long it’s been since I’ve said it and not been afraid.

  ‘I love you too,’ she tells me and reaches out to hug me with force.

  Peggy joins in and the three of us rock together in a funny, teary circle in the back corner of the very crowded gym.

  Riley

  It’s lunchtime and for once I don’t have pumpkin and potato soup in a thermos. Mum let me make a sandwich this morning. On wholegrain bread with salad, but still, it’s a giant step for her. To be honest, she did go and write down the grams and stick them on a Post-it Note in my lunch bag, but that’s okay too.

  All around me students rush for the doors,
for the sunshine and the games. The mood at school has changed. It’s loose and silly, like we’re all counting down the final few days and any pretence at working has dropped away. This afternoon we will even get to watch a movie and eat bowls of popcorn Ms Barber will make in the staffroom microwave.

  Instead of testing near my locker like I usually do, I grab my lunch and head for the administration building. Sarah looks up and smiles as I sneak down the corridor and through the door.

  ‘You took your time,’ says Meg, already sitting in her chair.

  ‘Apparently.’

  She smiles at me and sticks out her feet, flashing her fancy sneakers. ‘I had PE.’

  ‘Did you go?’

  She nods. ‘I beat Nick in a lap of the oval. Don’t think he could believe it.’

  I laugh at her, and she brushes her red fringe from her eyes. The colour has faded a bit in the last few days but it’s still bright. I unzip my lunch bag and then stop. I have to do a test first. Meg watches as I prick the end of my finger.

  ‘Does that hurt?’

  ‘Nah. My fingertips are like sandpaper from all the times I’ve done this.’ I hold out my other hand so she can touch the ends of my fingers.

  She brushes one of them really lightly.

  ‘Can’t even feel that!’

  Meg watches as I slide the testing strip into the machine and then smear the drop of blood onto the end. The beep is sharp and I glance down, reading the screen.

  ‘What should the number be?’

  ‘Ideally somewhere between four and eight.’ I hold it up so she can see the bright blue numbers. ‘I’m a five today. Mum will be pleased!’

  Meg takes out an apple from the brown paper bag she’s holding. ‘Three more days.’

  ‘Yeah. It’s almost sad.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘As if. High school feels a long way away still,’ I tell her.

  ‘I’m so ready.’

  ‘Helps that you’ll be with me!’ I say, because we discovered we’re going to the same high school.

  ‘We can do all our homework together. And have lunch together. And walk to school together,’ says Meg.

  I laugh at that idea. ‘We might have to convince Mum of the walking part. But one day.’

  ‘Hold this,’ she tells me, handing me her apple.

  I watch as she stands up and opens one of the cupboards. She takes something out but I can’t see what it is. Then I watch as she rips open a Band-Aid that I assume is for me.

  ‘I don’t need one. My finger won’t bleed for long,’ I tell her.

  ‘I know. It’s not for you!’

  She reaches up and holds down the ripped corner of the Healthy Eating Pyramid poster that looks like it’s been on the wall of Sick Bay since the school was built. And then she covers the rip carefully with the Band-Aid.

  ‘I’ve wanted to do that since the beginning of the year,’ she says, turning around with a big grin. ‘I think our time here is done.’

  ‘Really? No more Sick Bay?’

  Meg with a ‘g’ shakes her head. ‘No. Let’s go have lunch outside.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  She packs up her stuff into her paper bag and stands staring at the seat of the chair. She reaches down to touch it. ‘Goodbye, chair.’

  ‘Goodbye, fridge,’ I say, joining her in touching the furniture.

  ‘Goodbye, Healthy Eating Pyramid poster,’ she says, waving her hand towards it.

  ‘Goodbye, germ bed,’ I say.

  ‘Goodbye, Sick Bay.’

  ‘Yeah. Goodbye, Sick Bay. And thanks.’

  Meg lets me go first. I open the door to the corridor without looking back because I know that she’s right behind me.

  Acknowledgements

  Sick Bay was a long time coming. I first had the idea for this book more than five years ago, but the guts of the story kept eluding me. It took spending a lot of time with two amazing people before Sick Bay found its shape. Brigid Potter and Siobhan McCann, thank you for your friendship, your honesty and your insights as I struggled to get my head around type 1 diabetes. Riley and her family are entirely fictional but without your generous input they would never have come to life.

  I’ve been fortunate enough to have the wonderful artist Sandra Eterovic provide original art for three of my books. The cover for Sick Bay is particularly dear to me, and I want to remember Sandra for her enormous talent, kindness and generosity.

  Writing about friendship is my happy place, and I have to thank some pretty extraordinary friends who pulled me through this tricky year. Saurenne Deleuil for always being at the end of a phone when I need her; Emily Gale for being the best early reader, emergency snack deliverer and co-conspirator a girl could have; Tina Valentine, Jo Kasch and Emma Eastman for just being there; and my weekly coffee posse of Kathryn, Bridget, Lisa, Meredith, Gabi, Amanda, Kathy, Jodie, Lynda, Bianca and Sophie for making Wednesdays so joyful. As I get older it’s pretty clear that everything is made infinitely better by the wonderful women I know, and I feel very lucky to have you all in my life.

  Thanks to publisher Kristina Schulz, senior editor Vanessa Pellatt, proofreader Catherine McCredie, designer Jo Hunt and all at UQP for your patience with this book, and for your ongoing support. And to Kristy Bushnell, thank you again for your tireless edits, your enthusiasm and your wonderful ability to care about my characters as much as I do.

  A huge thanks to Fiona Wood and Karen Foxlee for their lovely words on the cover. Thanks to Jessica Walton for her thoughts. And thanks to Lola Widmer for her honesty.

  And finally, thanks to my partner, Aidan, and our kids, Evie and Arlo, for all the love, the mess and the joy.

  First published 2019 by University of Queensland Press

  PO Box 6042, St Lucia, Queensland 4067 Australia

  uqp.com.au

  uqp@uqp.uq.edu.au

  Copyright © Nova Weetman 2019

  The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

  This book is copyright. Except for private study, research, criticism or reviews, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission. Enquiries should be made to the publisher.

  Cover design by Jo Hunt

  Cover illustration by Sandra Eterovic

  Author photograph by Aidan Fennessy

  Typeset in 13/16 pt Minion Pro by Post Pre-press Group, Brisbane

  ‘Anne of Green Gables’ and other indicia of ‘Anne’ are trademarks and Canadian official marks of the Anne of Green Gables Licensing Authority Inc.

  ‘L. M. Montgomery’ is a trademark of Heirs of L. M. Montgomery Inc.

  The University of Queensland Press is assisted by the Australian Government through the Australia Council, its arts funding and advisory body.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the National Library of Australia

  ISBN 978 0 7022 6032 2 (pbk)

  ISBN 978 0 7022 6184 8 (pdf)

  ISBN 978 0 7022 6185 5 (epub)

  ISBN 978 0 7022 6186 2 (kindle)