Tell It to the Moon

by Siobhan Curham

  Chapter Fifteen

  It was the last lesson on Friday, which, according to Sky’s timetable, meant it was PSHE, which, according to her school planner, stood for Personal, Social and Health Education. All of the groans, Sky thought as she made her way to her form room. As long as Mrs Bayliss didn’t expect her to share anything personal, she should be OK. Just one more hour and then she’d be free again – for two days at least. Today had been way more bearable. Nothing had changed – or not on the outside. School was as depressing as ever and she still felt completely out of place, but the difference was that she no longer cared. The glow she’d felt after meeting Leon continued to surround her like an aura. Meeting him had made her realize that there was more to life than school; there was still a whole world of interesting people out there for her to get to know. Sky walked into the classroom and sat down next to Vanessa.

  “All right?” she said.

  “Hmm,” Vanessa replied.

  Sky wasn’t sure if it was a “hmm”’ in agreement. Trying to read Vanessa was like trying to read a closed book. She looked down at her own hand. Leon’s number was still there, slightly faded now. She’d stored it in her phone and written it in her notebook but she couldn’t bring herself to remove his trace from her skin.

  “So, today we’re going to be talking about anxiety,” Mrs Bayliss said, writing ANXIETY in big red letters in the centre of the white board.

  Not the greatest start, Sky thought. She should have written it in green. Everyone knew green was a more soothing colour.

  “So, what does anxiety mean to you?” Mrs Bayliss asked, looking around the class.

  Sky stared down at her lap to avoid eye contact.

  “It means when you get stressed about something, Miss,” Cara called out. “Like when you have a panic attack.”

  “Good,” Mrs Bayliss said, adding the words STRESS and PANIC ATTACK to the board. “What else?”

  “Anxiety is when you really worry about something,” another girl said.

  “Yes.” Mrs Bayliss wrote WORRY on the board. “Anything else? How does anxiety make you feel?”

  “It makes you feel really scared,” a girl sitting at the front of the class said.

  “Thank you, Prithi.” Mrs Bayliss added the word SCARED.

  “It makes you not want to eat anything,” another girl said.

  Sky watched as Mrs Bayliss wrote LOSS OF APPETITE on the board. Wow, this class was a laugh a minute.

  “It makes you not able to sleep, too,” Prithi added.

  Mrs Bayliss wrote INSOMNIA on the board. “Anything else?”

  “Alone,” Vanessa muttered.

  “What was that?” Mrs Bayliss strained to listen.

  “It makes you feel really alone,” Vanessa said, slightly louder.

  “Nah, that’s just ’cos you’ve got no friends,” a girl called Jessica called out from behind them. Vanessa’s face flushed red. Sky turned round and glared at Jessica.

  “What’s up, Sky?” Jessica spat out her name like it was an insult. Sky continued to glare.

  Mrs Bayliss finished writing ALONE and turned back to the class. “How many of you have experienced anxiety before?” About two thirds of the class put their hands up. As Mrs Bayliss looked around the room she seemed genuinely concerned. “Sadly, anxiety is affecting more and more people these days, especially young people, but the good news is, there’s lots of help available. So today we’re going to look at the different ways of treating the symptoms.”

  “What about the causes?” The question popped out of Sky’s mouth before she had time to remember to put her hand in the air. In other lessons this might have got her a telling off from the teacher, but Mrs Bayliss didn’t seem to mind. “Good question, Sky. Let’s take a moment to look at the causes of anxiety. Anyone got any suggestions?”

  “Life?” Vanessa muttered, but so quietly only Sky heard her.

  “Homework and exams,” Cara said, to a loud murmur of agreement.

  Mrs Bayliss wrote HOMEWORK AND EXAMS on the board in blue.

  “Too much pressure,” another girl called.

  “Too much pressure from what?”

  “School and parents.”

  “And the internet,” another girl called out.

  “How does the internet make you anxious, Philippa?” Mrs Bayliss asked.

  Philippa blushed and shrugged. “I don’t know. It just does.”

  “It makes you constantly compare yourself to others,” Cara said. “Like, when you see people on your social media having a great time, it can make you feel stressed about your own life – that it’s not good enough. That you’re not good enough.”

  Sky thought of Rose and what she’d gone through last year when her ex-boyfriend posted the topless photo of her on Instagram. “People are really quick to judge you on the internet too,” she said. “On social networks and things.”

  Philippa and Cara nodded and smiled at Sky.

  “Thank you, Sky.” Mrs Bayliss wrote SCHOOL, INTERNET and PARENTS on the board. “Anything else?”

  “Society,” Prithi said.

  “How does society make you anxious?” Again, Mrs Bayliss looked really concerned.

  Prithi shrugged. “I don’t know. The way it always expects so much.”

  Mrs Bayliss added SOCIETY to the board. “Right, so now we’ve looked at the causes, let’s take a look at all the ways you can get help if you’re suffering from anxiety.”

  As Mrs Bayliss started talking about breathing techniques Sky stared at the board. As she’d already realized, something was wrong here, something felt off. All of the emphasis was on treating the symptoms instead of the cause. It was like the assembly the other day when the Year Head had basically told them to go to their doctors if the exams got to be too much. No one seemed to be asking why so many people were suffering from anxiety. No one seemed to get that there had to be something seriously wrong.

  “Don’t you think we’re missing the point?” Sky said just as Mrs Bayliss was about to show them a deep-breathing technique.

  “Sorry?” Mrs Bayliss stared at her.

  “Well, shouldn’t we be trying to change the things that are making us anxious instead of trying to learn how to cope?” Be the change. Be the change. Leon’s words echoed in her mind. She looked down at his faded number on her hand and felt a rush of adrenalin.

  “Yeah,” Philippa said. “Why should all the pressure be on us to change?”

  “Well, I don’t really see how we’re going to get society to change,” Mrs Bayliss said.

  The atmosphere in the room was different. Sky could feel it. Everyone was really paying attention now. “Why not?” she asked. “People have changed society before. Loads of times. Look at Nelson Mandela – and the suffragettes.”

  “And Gandhi,” Prithi said.

  Sky felt a shiver run up her spine. The mention of Gandhi had to be a coincidence. Didn’t it?

  “I know, but real change takes a long time to achieve and you all have important exams in just a few months – and that isn’t going to change.” Mrs Bayliss looked at Sky but she didn’t seem angry, she seemed more apologetic. “So you need to learn some techniques to help you deal with any stress the exams might make you feel. Does that make sense?” There were a few nods. “OK, everyone, sit up straight and close your eyes. I’m going to count to four as you inhale and then four again as you exhale.”

  This is bullshit, Sky thought. You could always find an excuse not to make a change. She bet the suffragettes had thousands of reasons not to chain themselves to railings and be force-fed in prison but they still campaigned for the vote and they still brought about massive change. She snuck a glance around the classroom. Most of the class had their eyes closed, but Philippa and Prithi were both smiling at her. Vanessa leaned towards her. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “What for?” Sky whispered back.

  “Saying the truth.”

  * * *

  Now I know how a ghost must feel, Maali
thought as she trudged along Brick Lane on the way home from school. She felt so empty and weightless. Her dad was still in hospital. Her mum had texted at lunchtime to say there’d been no change and he would need to have more tests. Maali had never, ever doubted the existence of God. She knew that the Hindu gods and goddesses had been created to teach people different lessons, but she had never doubted that they were all aspects of the divine. Until now. Now she couldn’t shake the uncertainty that had come over her last night. And it felt horrible.

  She was passing the old warehouse next to the brewery when a sign caught her eye. Or rather, a word on the sign: PHOTOGRAPHY. She stopped to read it. There was always something going on in this warehouse; normally it was clothes-related – a vintage sale or a fashion show. But today there was a photography exhibition and, even better, it was free. Maali slipped in through the door. Her mum was at the hospital and Namir was at Auntie Sita’s – it wasn’t as if she had anything to rush home to. She climbed the narrow stone stairs and emerged into a huge open space. The brick walls were painted white and a labyrinth of exposed pipes ran across the ceiling. The room was divided into four sections, each with a theme: Power, Truth, Hope and Love.

  Maali made her way to the first section. The theme of Power was obvious in some of the photos and more subtle in others. She preferred the subtle ones. It felt so satisfying to work it out. She stared at a black and white shot of a small child leaning on a lamp post. The lamp post was leaning out of alignment so it looked as if the kid was bending it with a super-human strength.

  She made her way into the section on Truth. The photos here had a slightly edgier feel. There were pictures of foodbanks and immigrants and drug addicts. The one she liked best was of a homeless man sleeping on a sheet of cardboard in a shop doorway. The photo had been taken from street level and a pair of legs in pinstriped trousers and shiny shoes was walking past. The legs were a blur, while the homeless man was in sharp focus. That was the real truth about London – beneath the sheen of wealth and glamour there was a seam of abject poverty.

  Maali began browsing the section marked Hope. Although it was cold in the warehouse she felt herself slowly start to thaw inside. There was one picture in particular that she couldn’t peel her eyes from: a legless, shaven-headed man in a wheelchair flinging a basketball into the air. The expression on his face as he watched the ball go was one of pure joy. This was why she loved photography so much – the way a picture was able to convey so much without the need for words. She sighed as she thought of how long it had been since she’d taken a photo. In all of her obsession with Ash and then the stress over her dad, her passion for photography had been shoved to the very back of her mind. But it was still there, pulsing away like a living thing.

  She made her way into the final section, Love, feeling slightly apprehensive. Love used to be her entire reason for being. Now it felt scary, like one of those thick, dark forests from children’s fairy tales where witches and monsters lurk at every turn. The first photo was a close-up of a chubby, smiling baby. Maali’s heart softened. The next was of a large, jagged heart spray-painted on to the wall of an off-license. Maali’s favourite was of an elderly couple sitting on a bench, smiling at each other and holding hands. There was something about their gaze that reminded Maali of her parents and the loving gaze she’d captured in her photo of them. She looked closer. The skin on the man’s face was so old it hung down in folds. The woman’s face was as lined as a tortoise’s. She wondered what the couple had been through in all their years together; what each of the wrinkles represented. There were laughter lines at the sides of the woman’s mouth, but she also had a pair of frown lines between her eyes just like Maali’s mum. The couple must have been through some tough experiences together and, at their age, they must have been aware that their time together would soon be coming to an end. But they were still smiling. They were still full of love. And your parents will be too, her inner voice said. Or was it Lakshmi? Maali sighed. She still wasn’t sure what to believe but the exhibition had at least given her a glimmer of hope. To build on that glimmer she decided to set herself a photography project. She was going to start taking photos with the themes of Hope and Love and she was going to keep on taking photos until she’d found enough evidence to believe in them again.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Hi, Mom – I’m gay.

  Mom, I have something to tell you – I’m gay.

  Mom, guess who likes girls instead of boys? Me!

  Rose shook her head as she made her way along a crowded Camden High Street. She’d had enough of holding it back – tonight was the night she was going to come out to Savannah. But how? She wished she had Sky’s way with words. She could have written it all in some deeply moving poem that would blow Savannah’s mind and make her see the earth-shattering beauty in her daughter’s sexuality.

  Roses are red, violets are blue, your daughter’s gay and it’s high time you knew.

  Oh geez. She kept telling herself she shouldn’t feel so stressed. Her mom was a model, for chrissakes. The fashion industry was Gay Central. But Rose had read enough websites about coming out to know that even the most enlightened of parents can weird-out when it comes to their own kids.

  As Rose approached the cake shop she felt a fluttering in her stomach and a new troop of worries filed into her mind. What if Francesca wasn’t gay? Rose knew she was single but she’d never mentioned any previous partners. What if she was like Amber and not into guys or girls? But Amber was different. She seemed so self-sufficient and self-contained. Francesca was so passionate and full of life. It was impossible to imagine someone like her not falling in love and having desires and making out. OK, get a grip, Rose told herself as she opened the door and went into the café.

  “Rose!” Francesca cried from behind the counter. Her hair was swept back from her face with a floral bandana and her frilly apron was covered in flecks of flour. “I have been trying a new recipe – for your stall. I need you to tell me what you think.”

  Rose followed Francesca into the kitchen at the back of the shop. It was filled with the rich aromas of chocolate and hazelnut and … Rose sniffed the air … a hint of coffee.

  “I’ve created a mocha recipe,” Francesca said, pointing to a tray of freshly baked cupcakes. “But I’m not sure what flavour to use for the frosting. What do you think?” Her eyes gleamed with excitement as she looked at Rose. She looked so adorable Rose had to turn away.

  “Well, the obvious choice would be chocolate, I guess,” Rose said. “Or coffee.”

  “Yes – but we do not do the obvious,” Francesca said.

  “Very true.” Rose looked at the cakes and frowned. What went with coffee and chocolate? “How about caramel?”

  Francesca nodded. “That could work.”

  “Or caramel and orange?” Rose said.

  “Ooh yes! I like it!” Francesca went over to the fruit rack and grabbed a couple of oranges. “Let’s try a cream cheese frosting with orange.” She handed the fruit to Rose. “Could you zest these for me, please?”

  “Sure.”

  As soon as the frosting was made Francesca piped some onto one of the cakes. Then she cut a bite-sized piece and beckoned to Rose. “You try first,” she said, holding the piece of cake up to Rose’s mouth. At first, Rose was barely able to chew, let alone swallow. Being this close to Francesca had sent her body into some weird, lust-fuelled lockdown.

  “What do you think? Does it work?” Francesca asked excitedly.

  Somehow, Rose regained the use of her mouth. She closed her eyes as the cake melted and the rich, deep mocha and caramel flavours mingled with the clean, zesty orange. It tasted awesome. Relief and happiness washed over her. “Yes, I think it does,” she said, opening her eyes and grinning at Francesca.

  Francesca clapped her hands together. “Now I must try.” She popped a piece of cake into her beautiful mouth and closed her eyes. “Oh my!” she sighed. Rose watched, transfixed, as her face became a moving portrait of ple
asure. What if she came out to Francesca right now? What if she told her how she felt about her? They were so close it would only take the slightest of movements for their lips to meet. They could melt together in a mocha-orange flavoured heaven and then—

  The timer on the oven began to bleep.

  “Aha, the other cakes are ready.” Francesca ran over to the oven and pulled out a huge tray of cupcakes. “I love this combination of orange, caramel and mocha.” She put the tray on the counter and smiled at Rose. “You have such a gift for this – and we will have so much fun tomorrow. It will be just like when I was starting out with my stall in Montmartre. But now, we must get to work.” She handed Rose a piping bag.

  Rose sighed. Yet again, the moment was gone.

  As Rose made her way to the station later she spotted something in a shop window that made her stop in her tracks. It was one of those shops that was all about the tourist, crammed full of I ♥ LONDON t-shirts and tea towels emblazoned with a map of the Underground. But there in the corner of the window display was what looked like a collection of Hindu gods. They were dark gold and speckled with plastic jewels. Rose went inside and started browsing the shelves. She found the statuettes at the back. Most of them were of male gods but there was one goddess. Rose wasn’t sure if it was the one Maali was always going on about, but she looked fierce. One of her four arms was holding a sword and another one a severed head. She was wearing a garland of skulls and she looked like she was dancing. Rose took her down from the shelf and over to the counter.

  “Is this a Hindu goddess?” she asked the guy behind the counter.

  He nodded curtly. No smile. No words. Typical London customer service. It was just like New York and Rose loved it.

  “Cool. I’ll take her.”

  As she left the store she fished in her pocket for her phone and sent Maali a quick text.

  Hey Maals, hope all ok with your dad. I got you a gift. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow! Xoxo

  Just as she was about to put her phone back in her pocket it pinged with a new message. It was from Sky.