by Sarah Ayoub
‘Guess what, boys?’ Nicole announces, spreading her arms as if she’s about to use them as wings, ‘We have a new addition to our group. Sarcastic Sophie has joined us!’
‘How do you know I’m sarcastic?’ I ask. ‘We haven’t hung out together since some random activity at Year Ten camp!’
Sue laughs. ‘In high school, everyone thinks nobody else notices them. They’ve got no idea how many people are watching, but choosing not to say anything because it’s easier that way.’
I walk into the church after them and genuflect. Thank you, God, I sigh, smiling for real for the first time in weeks. Today, I feel like there is nothing invisible about me, and that feels so damn good.
On Thursday, Sister Magdalena calls a seniors’ assembly first thing in the morning. It means we miss out on a class, so everyone’s excited and curious about the reason.
‘Seniors, earlier this year a police officer came to our school as part of an initial investigation into the Brighton Brawl and the associated retaliation that saw tens of thousands of dollars in property damage,’ Sister Magdalena says, surveying the room. ‘At that stage, the police were still piecing the puzzle together. Now they believe they have some leads that many of you may be able to help with.’
We’re all hanging on her every word, as if we’re in a movie theatre, waiting for a revelation.
‘I will meet with the officers first to see what they need to do, and we’ll discuss possible candidates for them to interview.’
People start whispering. Zayden and his friends look worried, while Vanessa and her friends are intrigued. I scan the group for Shehadie – he’s reading a book hidden in his lap, glancing up occasionally and pretending to listen. He catches my eye for a second and smiles, but I look away.
‘The police will need parental permission for the interviews, so I will be calling the parents of those students affected,’ Sister Magdalena continues. ‘Just in case you lot decide to lose the permission slip or forge a signature, I urge you to please remember that the police are on the side of justice and it’s our duty to help them in any way we can.’
She finishes off with a prayer and sends us back to class, but all day it’s the only thing anyone talks about.
At lunch, I meet up with Sue, Nicole, Jacob and Thomas, who are still debating whether or not it’s a good idea to let the police interview students.
‘No way!’ Thomas says. ‘It’s a terrible idea.’
‘And why’s that?’ Sue snaps. ‘Do you think the people who did it should go unpunished? They did something stupid and they deserve to cop the flak for it.’
‘We’re totally with you on the copping-the-flak part,’ Jacob says. ‘But why bring it into school grounds? Zayden’s on fire. No one wants to get burnt, but if they talk to the police, that’s what’ll happen.’
‘I don’t understand why he cares so much,’ Sue says. ‘Like, he must really love his cousin to be this protective of him over what happened.’
‘I reckon it also comes back to proving a point to Shehadie,’ I say. ‘Zayden wants to be the big winner in the invisible contest those two are having.’
‘Well, I say bring it on if it makes things a little more dramatic around here,’ Nicole says, her eyes sparkling. ‘I’ve been so bored lately. When did we all get so boring?’
‘Nicole, just do your homework and get on top of the HSC and worry about the excitement part later,’ Sue says. ‘Okay, sweetie?’
‘You need to stop mothering her,’ Jacob says. ‘She’s going to be stuffed when you go your separate ways at uni.’
‘Don’t you worry, Jacob,’ Nicole says. ‘I plan on following her. All the way to the US if I have to.’
‘Fiiiiiiiggggghhhhhtttttt!’
The word echoes through the quad. We all look at each other, then get up and run towards the commotion.
‘Oh my God,’ Sue yells. ‘Zayden and Shehadie are having a punch-up!’
‘Are they serious?’ I say. ‘What the hell is wrong with them?’
We ask a Year Eleven girl nearby how the fight started.
‘I dunno,’ she says. ‘I just saw the Aussie guy sitting there talking to that Abboud guy, then Zayden came up with two of his friends. He said something, and the Aussie guy didn’t like it so he stood up in Zayden’s face. Zayden said something else, and the Aussie guy just stood there with this smart-arse smirk on his face. Of course that made Zayden mad and he threw a punch.’
‘So where’s Abboud Guy now?’ Thomas asked.
I give him a look and he rolls his eyes.
‘Daniel Abboud, where is he?’
‘He went to get the teachers and never came back,’ the girl says.
‘Typical,’ Jacob says. ‘That guy spends all his time playing video games with people fighting to the death, but in real life he’s as useless as my grandma.’
By now, Zayden’s buddies have broken up the fight, and Shehadie and Zayden are standing opposite each other with a crowd around them.
‘You’re just a piece of Anglo scum!’ Zayden calls out. ‘You lot reckon we’ve ruined your country? You ain’t seen nothing yet if you want to rile us up.’
Shehadie just laughs at him. ‘Dude, I don’t even know why you’re so riled up. You’re seventeen – life’s not that bad, get over it. So an Aussie guy came to your school? Boo hoo, deal with it. There are bigger problems in the world.’
‘You don’t belong here,’ Zayden yells. ‘I don’t care what your name is. I don’t care that your mum’s dead or your dad abandoned you. Nobody wants you here.’
‘Oh, shut up, Malouf,’ Sue says. Zayden glares at her.
Shehadie shakes his head, then picks up his bag and starts to walk away.
‘Don’t listen to him, man,’ Thomas says to him.
Jacob pats Shehadie on the back, along with a bunch of other people, but he keeps moving through the crowd, tossing his bag over the school fence and climbing over after it.
Just before he leaves, he turns and stares at me, a look of pure disappointment on his face. I stand there, rooted to the spot, my eyes not moving from the fence.
Mrs Cafree reaches the edge of the crowd. ‘What’s going on here?’ she calls out.
As if on cue, everyone starts dispersing.
The Year Eleven girl seems disappointed that the drama is over. As she turns to go, Sue taps her on the shoulder.
‘Yeah?’ the girl asks.
‘His name is Shehadie,’ Sue says. ‘Not “the Aussie guy”. Shehadie. Same as your surname, right?’
She quickly walks off, embarrassed.
‘I could kiss you right now,’ I say to Sue, smiling.
‘Ooooh, please don’t,’ she says. ‘You’re not my type at all.’
‘I heard there was a fight at school today,’ Mum says at dinner that night.
Luckily, Dictator Dad is doing an extra taxi shift, so he isn’t here to suggest I should stop going to school in case I get injured there as well.
‘How do you know?’ Andrew asks.
‘How do you think?’ Angela says. ‘Lebanese-mum gossip.’ She winks at Mum.
‘One day it will be all yours, my darling,’ Mum says.
Angela makes a face and covers her ears. ‘And this will be my response to it!’
‘Good girl,’ Mum says. ‘Life is better without it. It makes you think too much.’
‘TV makes me think a lot,’ Marie says. ‘I want to know how people can film all those scary wild animals in the jungle. Or how they make movies under the sea. Sophie says I’m not allowed to put a camera in the water because it will wreck it.’
We all look at her puzzled little face and smile. And just like that, the conversation about the fight is over.
Later, Andrew comes into my room.
‘If you get called by Sister Magdalena to talk to the cops, don’t do it,’ he says. ‘All the boys are talking about how you’re friends with that Aussie guy. I don’t need cop stuff on top.’
I smirk. ‘All the boy
s? Really? Geez, I’ve never been so popular.’
‘Sophie!’ he says, frustrated. ‘I mean it.’
‘Andrew, I’m not going to lie to the police. Since when did you get so cosy with Zayden and his friends, anyway?’
‘You didn’t see George that day,’ he argues.
‘Neither did you! It was New Year’s Day, remember? We had everyone over.’
He seems startled. ‘Whatever. I saw him later and he looked bad. Those people deserved what they got.’
I roll my eyes. ‘The people who started it maybe. If we’re stretching it. But the rest of the street? No way. I’m not lying to the cops, end of story.’
‘Are you even listening to me?’ he says. ‘I don’t want any more trouble at school. I’m in Year Ten, so for two and a half years I’ll be known as the guy with that snitchy sister. Just listen to me and don’t interfere in something that’s got nothing to do with you.’
‘What’s any of this got to do with you?’ I ask. ‘So what if I help the police? I’m sick of seeing “Lebanese crime” every time I open the newspaper. The rest of us need to stand up and show that we don’t condone the crimes of the minority.’
He looks at me disapprovingly. ‘When did you get so high and mighty?’ he says, slamming the door as he leaves.
I give Leila a call to tell her about the fight at school.
‘Hi, sweetie,’ she says. ‘How’s work? How’s school? How are your new friends?’
‘Everything’s good. What about with you?’
‘Things are okay. I’m busy doing a few –’
The call-waiting signal cuts her off.
‘Oh, sorry, Soph,’ she says. ‘I need to take it. I’m sorry, I’ll call you back as soon as I can.’
An hour later, still no phone call. I go to bed once again feeling like I don’t matter.
16
I hate it when people can see right through me
The next Thursday, I dawdle out of homeroom and wander over to my locker to tidy it. I walk super slow, waiting for the corridor to clear so I’ll have enough space to spread all my crap on the floor. Mum picked up my sisters earlier, after their sports carnival, so I have a lot of time. More importantly, she’s given me rare permission to walk home.
I start pulling things out of my locker when I sense someone behind me – and it isn’t the singing cleaner with his backpack-style vacuum and unwelcome comments about the youth of today. When I turn around, Shehadie is standing there, bag on one shoulder, his usual look of nonchalance on his face.
‘Hi, Shehadie,’ I say.
‘Hey,’ he says. ‘What are you up to?’
‘Ahh, you know, decluttering.’ I’m holding a Maths test and an Economics assessment – both from Year Eleven. ‘Maybe if I sort out the physical mess in my life, all the other messes will follow suit.’
‘Is there anything you don’t like to complain about?’ he asks.
I tilt my head, close one eye and make out like I’m deep in thought. ‘Hmmm, no. A big fat N-O spells no.’
‘Righto,’ he says, laughing. ‘I’ll keep that in mind.’
‘So what’s up?’ I ask.
‘Well, I was wondering where you’ve been for the past few days. I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.’
‘I’ve been hanging around with Sue and Nicole’s group at lunch, and they sit down near the front office. And, you know,’ I shrug, ‘I’ve just been busy with everything. So many assignments, so many dramas, so little Sophie time.’
‘Fair enough,’ he says, but I can tell he doesn’t believe me. ‘It’s just that I couldn’t help noticing that you’ve been a little distant with me.’
‘Distant? How do you mean?’
‘Really, Soph?’ he says. ‘There’s no other way of saying it – it’s like you’re avoiding me. And I want to know why, because frankly I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong.’
He rubs the back of his neck and I try not to notice how hot he looks. But I really can’t handle this conversation right now.
‘I swear, it’s not you,’ I say. ‘You didn’t do anything wrong.’
I shut my locker, pick up my bag and start walking. He falls in alongside me. I can’t look at him.
‘So why are you being so distant?’ he says. ‘On Tuesday, I could’ve sworn that you did a complete turnaround to avoid running into me in the corridor. And last week – I can’t remember what day – you were coming down the stairs at lunchtime, saw me and ran.’
‘I did kind of run, I guess, but I’d just remembered I had to do something for Maths –’
‘The truth, Sophie.’ He stops and catches my arm.
‘It’s just easier this way,’ I say.
‘What do you mean, easier?’
‘Just simpler, like not having to explain anything to anyone.’
‘So easier for other people, you mean? Like Zayden? And other idiots who shouldn’t matter?’
I wonder if my brother is an idiot who shouldn’t matter. The brother I used to be so close to, so protective of. The one who’s in every childhood picture with me, holding my hand, riding a tricycle next to me, looking to me for approval. Where has my relationship with him gone? Has it become a casualty of Dad’s attitude towards men and women? Or a casualty of our own differing views?
‘It’s not like that,’ I protest, realising Shehadie is still waiting for a response. ‘I just don’t want things to be awkward. You know how it is here.’ I scuff my foot on the floor. ‘And things are already pretty hard at school as it is.’
‘Things are hard for you, are they? Really? Do you get abused at school because of your surname? Or get punches thrown at you?’
I shake my head, feeling ashamed.
‘Your friends came to my defence, but you didn’t,’ he goes on. ‘Not that I needed anyone’s help – it was just nice to know that someone was willing to speak out.’
‘It’s complicated,’ I say. ‘I already have a shitty reputation, I’ve lost my best friend and everything I do makes my brother mad. Suddenly, he’s friends with Zayden and that lot. And you know how people here see you … I didn’t want to make it worse. Plus –’
‘I know damn well what people at this school think of me, Sophie,’ he says quietly. ‘I just didn’t think that you were one of them.’
And then he walks away, leaving me even more confused about my role in this whole mess.
If there’s one thing in the world worse than a Monday morning, it’s a Monday morning that involves standing up in front of the class and making a fool of myself. And that’s exactly what I’m faced with when I get to school and Sue reminds me we’re being graded on a debate in Society and Culture. I hate public speaking more than school excursion bus rides, socks worn with sandals, and athletics carnivals combined, and my stomach starts churning as I walk along the corridor to class.
As soon as I see the topic written in huge underlined letters across the whiteboard, I know my dread was underrated.
Cedar Saints College should open its doors to students of other cultural backgrounds.
‘Oh, brother,’ Jacob says behind me. ‘I can’t deal with this kind of shit right now.’
‘What do you mean?’ Nicole says, nudging him. ‘Society and Culture has never been so exciting.’
‘Nicole, your optimism is really unnerving,’ I snap.
Shehadie walks in and stops just inside the door. ‘Oh, for the love of God,’ he mutters. ‘Can’t a guy get a break around here?’
‘Evidently not,’ Jacob replies.
The two of them make their way to the back of the room, just as Mrs Cafree rises from her seat at the front.
‘Settle down, please,’ she calls out, before leading us in a prayer. Afterwards, she motions for us to sit down. ‘Most of you have been at this school since you were infants. You’ve grown up with the people around you, you’ve formed different friendships over the years and you’ve become something like a family in the process.’
Someone grunts i
n the front row and she pauses to eyeball them.
‘The other teachers and I have often wondered how you’ll all fare in the big wide world when you leave CSC. Not because we doubt your abilities or social skills, but because we’re concerned that you have a limited understanding of what goes on beyond these walls. It’s going to be a massive adjustment when you realise you can’t inject Arabic words into English sentences with everyone you meet, or when you discover that not everyone comes from the same style of family as you do. Not everyone you meet will be a church-goer and, sadly, not everyone is going to be accepting of you in the way they are here. Which is why I’ve chosen this particular topic for our debate over the coming week. No doubt many of you will respond with a no, but in the interests of strengthening your reasoning skills ahead of your HSC, you’re going to have to present either the affirmative or negative side to the topic.’
Everyone starts whispering.
‘It will be my decision which side you’ll be on,’ Mrs Cafree continues. ‘I’m going to go around the room and give you a number. One is affirmative, two is negative. Once you have your number, the affirmatives move to the right side of the classroom and the negatives to the left. Each side is to nominate four speakers who will each have two minutes to present your arguments in the debate.’
I glance around the room. Zayden looks like he’s just won the lottery. He turns around to tease Vanessa, who’s sitting behind him, then catches sight of the miserable expression on Shehadie’s face. He sneers at Shehadie, then raises his hand in the air.
‘Yes, Zayden?’ Mrs Cafree says.
‘Miss, I think this an awesome topic –’
‘Thank you.’
‘– but I don’t think it’s going to make a difference to our attitudes.’
The class goes silent.
‘I mean, it’s nice what you’re thinking and all that,’ Zayden goes on, ‘but nothing in life is fair. Certainly not for us, anyway.’
‘Have you ever heard of the term “carrying your cross”, Mr Malouf?’ Mrs Cafree asks. ‘Nothing in life is supposed to be fair. For anyone. And to be frank, you’re in high school – you have no idea how difficult life can be.’