Numb

by Tanya Paterson

  CHAPTER 6

  ALEX

  My first two classes were a double Maths with Mr O’Neil. Bloody hell I hated maths. But as maths was a prerequisite for economics at Cambridge, I had no choice but to grin and soldier on. It was my worst subject but I was still expected to get an A, and I knew in the first five minutes of class that that wouldn’t be too difficult as I’d already covered most of the subject matter. At least I could get the hated subject over and done with. At my last school it had been the final class of each day and a struggle to stay awake, let alone pay attention.

  O’Neil was a geeky, balding man who wore a cheap short sleeved business shirt with a pair of polyester dress shorts, knee-length socks and lace-up leather shoes. He looked like he’d been at school since the 1950’s and never left, he’d just bought a larger uniform. O’Neil introduced me as the new English exchange student and I sat down at the only empty desk which was in the front row. No hiding in the front row. I could feel every set of eyes boring into the back of my head and I adjusted my collar for the umpteenth time.

  Sit up straight and pay attention Alex. Remember who you are, my mother’s voice scolded in my head. I did as I was told. It wasn’t a good idea to disobey my mother, even if she was just another voice in my head.

  As O’Neil went on about differentiation or something equally dull, my mind drifted back to the girl I’d seen this morning as I puzzled over my weird reaction to her.

  What the hell was that all about?

  I swore I still felt tiny tremor-like aftershocks. What was it about her that made me stop and stare. Ok, she was obviously different-looking – a puzzlement of styles like a pseudo-hippy-indie-goth. Nothing like I’d ever seen before. She would have been just another face in Copenhagen’s Kristiana, or Kreuzberg in Berlin; but in a small town in the middle of Nowhere Australia she was very out-of-place and unexpected. I could have been in the Amazon discovering a new species. She had presence even from across the square but presence didn’t explain the shock of emotion that hit me the moment I saw her. I’d felt something, and as a rule I didn’t feel. Anything. Ever. So to have something coursing through my body was a frigging shock, to say the least.

  An even bigger shock was that I could swear she was looking right at me.

  She knows what a screw-up you are.

  Oh God not now, I pleaded with the voice inside my head. If I let it start, it would never shut up. I’d never told anyone about my inner voice. My parents would lock me up for sure if they knew. Besides, the voice didn’t seem separate from me. Sometimes it even felt like the real me, whoever the hell he was.

  I didn’t think I could take the tirade that morning, not that day of all days as I was too close to unravelling. First period and already I was struggling to summon the strength to make it through a single class. How would I manage the rest of the day, the week, the year?

  I forced the image of the flame-haired girl out of my thoughts and spent the remainder of maths pulling myself together. The seconds dragged into minutes then into hours. I welcomed it when after each class people came up to me and introduced themselves or offered to show me around the school. I could have found my own way around as the school was by no means large and the layout was straight forward with related disciplines sharing buildings – English and business together, maths and science together – but accepting their assistance was a distraction and gave me the chance to get to know people, make friends, network as my father would say. Not that people here would have been hard to get to know as everyone had that typical Australian easy-going, friendly way about them. There was none of the British reserve, superior attitude and complex social customs I was used to. It was all too easy to make a good impression. Especially on the girls.

  The blonde who’d waved to me from across the quadrangle sidled up next to me in Economics and told me her name was Ally and that she was ‘very pleased’ to meet me. She was hot and she knew it. When she crossed her legs her short skirt eased further up her thigh to show off her long tanned legs, I got the feeling she wasn’t shy either. We hit it off immediately. After class Ally walked me to the library for my free study period before lunch.

  “I hope I’ll see you later, Alex,” she said with a coy smile.

  “You can count on it.”

  I watched her saunter away before I turned and opened the door, stepping from the bright daylight into the dreary, dark room that housed the school’s library. There was a desk for the librarian with a “library” sign hanging above it – just in case I didn’t know where I was. What was with the redundant signs? About a dozen poorly stacked shelves of dusty books in various stages of decay stood in the centre of the room. A quick glance at the titles in the Reference section next to the front desk was enough to deter me from looking at any of the other shelves. Too many titles where faded with age and looked long out of print. I would have to rely on the internet if I wanted to actually graduate.

  A line of computer terminals were lined up against the wall on the right directly under a row of high windows. Air-conditioning units hummed on either end of the long room. At least there was one consolation of being here; a reprieve from the heat. Even walking the short distances between classes meant working up a sweat. Antiperspirant was as essential as food and water in this climate.

  I found the group study desks behind the computer terminals and walked over to them, dumped my books on top and sat down to stare at the shadows. I was in no mood to study. All I wanted to do was curl up into a ball or scream. Instead I turned back to the books on the table and made do with a grimace.

  I was taking some new subjects in Australia but it wouldn’t affect my Cambridge entrance, my step-father had made sure of that. I’d provisionally been admitted as long as I had my school certificate. Hence the reason I was in this dusty room in Australia. I could have completed the year in London at the local comprehensive, but obviously my parents needed a little distance. 10,000 miles ought to do it. In the end it was decided I would take English, Maths, Economics, Business Studies, History and French. The only screw-up course-wise was that no senior languages offered were taught at this school apart from Japanese, so I had to take French on my own in the library during a free period. A whole period on my own – I didn’t know whether to be anxious or thankful.

  Loser.

  Please shut up, I begged the voice, but there was no hiding from myself in the dark. No-one watching, forcing me to put on a good show and distracting me from the complete and utter mess my life had become. I drew in a long breath and opened my French text. What the hell, study might be a good idea after all.

  French was the only subject besides English that I enjoyed. Jeremy owned a country house in Provence and we’d holidayed there every summer since he and my mother married. I knew I would pass French with flying colours. I’d been fluent for years and the grammar would be easy enough as everything was in the text in front of me. Twelve months without conversation would be a setback though. If only I could convince Charles and Maria to spend end-of-term break on one of the French colonies in the Pacific. Brush up on my pronunciation. Meet some girls. Bonjour mademoiselle, vous comme….

  “Bonjour.”

  A voice startled me out of my daydream, and I quickly turned around to see her standing next to my table with a pile of books in her arms.

  She was so close that I was stunned. Speechless. I think I even stopped breathing.

  Jesus Christ, she’s beautiful.

  Clear, green eyes sparkled as they met mine and again I felt like she could see right through me, right through to my soul. It was unsettling and thrilling at the same time.

  Say hello you idiot.

  “H-hi,” I stammered, looking away before my eyes were immediately drawn back to her face.

  “I saw your French book. Do you have a free period now?”

  I knew she’d spoken but all I remembered was her smile and her perfect, straight white teeth framed by soft rose coloured lips. Falling around her face like feathe
rs was that bright orange hair. She was a flame, dancing in the darkness, welcoming me effortlessly to her light and yet warning me to keep my distance in case I would be burned.

  What an extraordinary creature.

  She was still standing there, patiently waiting for an answer while I was dumbstruck. Shit. What the hell was wrong with me?

  “Yes,” I mumbled, finding my voice at last and hastily recalling what she’d said.

  There was another pause. Breathe, I told myself. I sucked in a quick breath and forced myself to exhale slowly. Why was I so bloody nervous?

  “Well…” she began, “I guess I’ll…”

  “Do you have a free period as well?” I managed. She seemed as surprised as I was by the sound of my voice

  “Yes, the school used to offer Legal Studies but they decided the money was better invested in new uniforms for the football team. So I take a subject externally as well. I’m Hayley by the way.”

  Hayley. Hayley. Hayley.

  Usually I could talk to anyone about anything – I’d once spent half an hour talking to the foreign secretary about how to grow broad beans – but for some reason I lost my tongue around Hayley. Why was that?

  “Are you Alex?” she prompted.

  You have got to get a grip Alex! Pull it together! For God’ sake!

  “Sorry, I don’t mean to be so rude,” I took a breath. “Yes I’m Alex Williamson. I’m on exchange from London.”

  “Nice to meet you Alex Williamson,” she smiled.

  “Nice to meet you…Hayley…?”

  “It’s Seagrove, Hayley Seagrove,” she smiled even wider then adjusted the pile of books in her arms. “Well, I’d better get started. See you later Alex.”

  God I hope so. Despite my inexplicable reaction, I wanted to see this girl again. I had to see her – Hayley – again. I only managed a feeble ‘sure’ before she walked to a nearby desk, sat down with her back to me and opened her books. I turned back to my own work and shifted so my back was angled towards her so I wouldn’t be tempted to stare. Any hope of studying was completely abandoned. There was no way I’d be able to focus. Not with her in the same room and my mind spinning with confusion as hundreds of questions competed for attention.

  First of all, what the hell was wrong with me?

  I was a great conversationalist, I was confident and articulate. I could small talk at an Olympic level. I wasn’t being egotistical – I was usually great at communicating with anyone, anywhere, anytime. After all, I’d been coached by my parents my entire life. I couldn’t recollect any other moment in my life when I’d clammed up or couldn’t think of something to say.

  But this girl…Hayley – God I liked the way her name sounded – she left me dumb-struck. She wasn’t even my type; too alternative, too unusual, too different. So, why did she have this affect on me?

  What the hell?

  Why was my stomach doing somersaults every time I saw her?

  And why was it that even though I felt nervous at the thought of speaking to her again, I was positively sick at the thought of not?

  CHAPTER 7

  HAYLEY

  The instant I walked into the library I knew something was different. The air was charged with ions and electrons as if before a storm and heavy with the promise of a cool change.

  Other than the librarian, Mrs Watkiss, the library was always empty during my free period. This was my favourite hour of the day and I looked forward to the quiet and the chance to knuckle down and study without distraction. Nobody ever came into the library, not even to escape the heat.

  Until today.

  I heard a rustle of paper and I just knew it would be him.

  Behind the stacks, at the desk next to the one I usually studied at, sat Alex, the boy I’d seen talking to Dave this morning. I knew his name just as everyone in school did. There was little else anyone could talk about. As I’d suspected Alex was Charles Sheppington’s nephew from London. Everyone was saying he started the year late because he’d suffered a sporting injury and had to recover before he could fly here.

  Alex didn’t notice me arrive so I took a couple of minutes to check him out before I sat down. His shoulders were slightly slumped over his book although he was staring up into space, lost in thought, an almost wistful smile on his face. Even when he was smiling there was something despondent about him. And damn it if this didn’t make him all the more interesting.

  Alex had unnerved me this morning: the way he’d looked at me and how I couldn’t look away. It was as if a ribbon of energy had connected us in that instant, contracting and drawing me to him and I was powerless to stop it. I’d been transported into a scene from some stupid deodorant commercial; all that was missing was a bouquet of flowers. Except that sort of thing didn’t happen in real life and it totally weirded me out.

  Because I liked it.

  I liked it a lot.

  There was obviously something very wrong with me. I wasn’t Pete. I didn’t get all hot and flustered over some guy, even a really good looking one. I was like Helen. I clamped down on those feelings before they got started. I avoided them at all costs. But there was no avoiding Alex. Not here. Not now. We were the only students in the library and I had no choice but to introduce myself, especially as I worked for his uncle.

  Just get it over and done with, I’d coaxed myself and took a deep breath.

  So I walked to the side of the desk, and again, fireworks. And humiliation. I couldn’t stop staring at him, grinning like a stupid, infatuated teenager and when he did look at me it was as if I was an exhibit at Ripley’s Believe It Or Not. Eventually, I pulled myself away and sat as far away as I could hoping I could get through the rest of the lesson by ignoring him. Not a chance.

  Behind me, I heard Alex writing in his notebook. I heard him change position. I heard him breathing. I could have probably heard his heart beating if I tried hard enough and believe me, I was trying. The softest sound pierced the silence and monopolised my attention. About half way through the period I sneaked a peek over my shoulder. He had an elbow propped on the desk and his head in his hand, his fingers lacing through hair that other guys might spend hours trying to perfect but Alex probably styled as an afterthought.

  Everything about Alex looked effortless, but at the same time felt forced.

  So many contradictions, I thought. Dark brown eyes that were friendly and yet guarded. The jaw that clenched tight even when he smiled. And the smile that never quite reached his eyes.

  Alex tapped his pen absentmindedly against the desk and my eyes were drawn to the muscles in his forearm. His skin hadn’t yet been tinted the colour of Queensland sunshine but I could tell from the faint tan mark under his watch that he’d soon be as bronzed as a surfer. Pete and the girls already infatuated with Alex would be beside themselves. I must have overheard at least a dozen girls today who were making plans to be the first to go out with him.

  I wouldn’t be one of them.

  Not if I could help it.

  Just as I was about to force my attention back to my studies, Alex twisted in his seat his collar shifted to expose his neck. Peeking above the turned-up collar of his uniform was an angry red scar that ran down the back of his neck and under his shirt. Alex lifted his hand and absentmindedly massaged the mark, as if it ached. His shorts had bunched slightly to expose a deeper, uglier scar on his right thigh. The deep gash marked his thigh with a deep indentation surrounded by thin red lines of smaller scars, some obviously from stitches.

  My breath hitched.

  This was no sporting injury. Not unless Alex was into Formula One or base-jumping.

  His injuries were brutal.

  Right then, I knew for certain there was more to Alex than met the eye and I felt an undeniable urge to know him and understand him. This boy who was beautiful and disfigured, seemingly full of life and yet…..

  The lunch bell rang loudly and shocked me back to reality. Damn it! I’d wasted an entire period. I didn’t have the time to screw aroun
d daydreaming over a boy, no matter how much I wanted to. And a boy, no less, that just looked at me as if I was a freak.

  I gathered my books in a huff as Alex stood by his desk with his books neatly tucked under his arm. He was staring at the door as if he was steeling himself before leaping through a blazing fire but then he looked at me, and smiled, and just like that I knew that the part of me I’d hidden deep-down inside for so long, was in danger of surfacing with just that one look.

  “What happens at lunch? Is there a dining room?” he asked, as if the previous non-conversation had never happened. This was a turnabout. When did he find his voice?

  “We’re not so civilised that we have a dining room,” I blurted out. “Umm, I mean, most kids bring lunch from home and sit around the quadrangle, but we do have a tuck shop and you can buy something to eat there. I should warn you though, you’ll be taking your life in your own hands as nothing is exactly edible, unless you like E-numbers, suspicious faux-meat products and lashings of grease. When my brother was at school here he tried to get the National Heart Association to close them down, but he’s a vegan and you’d expect that sort of reaction from a weirdo health nut.”

  I was rambling nervously as Alex was still smiling and staring at me and making me feel even more weird.

  “Got it. Avoid the tuck shop,” he said, his gaze still locked on me. I should have felt uncomfortable and although my heart was pounding furiously in my chest, it wasn’t from anxiety but something else.

  “It’s Monday so it shouldn’t be too dodgy. Most of it’s frozen or freeze-dried anyway and hopefully not past its use-by date.”

  I just couldn’t stop, could I? Shut up now, Hayley.

  “Are you walking that way?”

  Did he want me to walk with him? Did he actually want to be seen with me? In public?

  “Sure,” I replied. “I’ll show you where the tuck shop is. I need to drop off my books at my locker first.”