Everything is Changed

by Nova Weetman

  Mum holds the door open for me and we walk in to the overly air-conditioned administration building. As Mum goes up to the counter to talk to the receptionist Jeanette, I take a seat on one of the red vinyl chairs. I hear Mum explaining that we have a meeting with Mrs Boyce.

  I look down at my hands. I should have washed under my fingernails. I imagine Mrs Boyce shaking my hand and seeing how dirty I am.

  As Mum comes back, the strap of her bag falls from her shoulder and the leather bag she bought herself for Christmas hits the ground. I jump up to help her scoop things up from the floor, but she sweeps it all in before I can even touch the hairbrush.

  ‘Mum,’ I whisper.

  Still crouching on the patterned carpet, she looks up and I see her blink away tears.

  ‘I promise,’ I say, hoping this time I can hold myself to it. I just need to do what Alex says. I need to move on. Somehow.

  ‘Mrs Reynolds?’

  The sound of the voice behind us makes Mum jump like she’s been caught doing something wrong. ‘It’s Ms,’ Mum says softly.

  ‘I’m Mrs Boyce,’ says the principal, barely looking at me. ‘My office is this way.’

  Mum takes off after her and I follow, Mrs Boyce’s beige heels clicking down the hallway into a large, airy office. The curtains are open and I can see the schoolyard. I hope the glass is tinted. I’d rather nobody could see me.

  I’ve never been in here before. It’s very clinical. Sort of like a doctor’s surgery. There’s no stuff. Just a couple of photo frames on the desk and a computer and a pile of papers and a few paintings hanging on the wall that look like student work. But the rest of it is as beige as Mrs Boyce’s bobbed hair and shoes.

  ‘Thanks for coming in,’ she says in her best teacher voice. ‘I’m going to get right to it. Jake has already missed seventeen days of school this term. Were you aware of this?’

  Mum looks at me and I can see the panic in her face. She had no idea. She swallows and looks back. ‘Um, yes. I know.’

  Lying obviously runs in the family.

  ‘You can imagine our concern.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So I’ve called this meeting to try and get to the bottom of it. I need to know why Jake has stopped turning up to class. He is one of our better students.’

  It’s like I’m a ghost because Mrs Boyce still hasn’t even looked at me. But Mum does. Mum stares. And I can tell all the horrible thoughts she’s thinking as she stifles a yawn.

  ‘Jake? Have you got anything to say?’ says Mum.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ It sounds pathetic even to me.

  And clearly to Mrs Boyce, who jumps in with, ‘Well, I’m pleased you’re sorry, Jake. But we take attendance very seriously, which I believe you know.’

  Now she looks at me from over the top of her glasses. And I look away.

  ‘What do you think we should do, Jake?’ she says, still watching me.

  I start picking at the dirt under my fingernails, trying to slide it out in pieces, but really just moving it from one side of the nail to another.

  ‘I’ll stop wagging,’ I say, knowing how unlikely that is.

  ‘I’m more interested in why it’s happening,’ she says.

  I shrug.

  ‘You don’t know why you’ve stopped coming to school?’ she says incredulously.

  The seconds stretch. Nobody speaks. There’s just the sound of kids outside the window, yelling, playing, and going to class like their lives are totally normal. Then Mum explodes. ‘Something’s happened. He’s changed. I don’t know what it is. He won’t tell me. But it’s something.’

  I can’t believe Mum just said that. I can’t believe she’d give me up like that. Hurt is everywhere.

  ‘Jake? Has something happened?’ says Mrs Boyce.

  Now the two of them are in on it. Pushing me for answers.

  ‘No. Nothing’s happened. Some days I just don’t want to go to school.’

  Mum coughs and the sound makes both the principal and I look over at her. ‘I’m worried that it’s something to do with his father …’

  ‘No,’ I say before I can help it.

  But Mum has turned and is talking to Mrs Boyce now. I’m no longer here.

  ‘His father is in jail …’

  ‘Yes, I’m aware of that. Has he had contact with his father recently?’

  ‘No, but maybe he should …’

  I stand up but look down. I don’t want to catch Mum’s eye.

  ‘Jake? We aren’t finished,’ says Mrs Boyce.

  ‘This has nothing to do with my father,’ I say, controlling my voice as well as I can. Mum reaches for my hand but I don’t let her have it. I can’t believe she’d drag him into this.

  ‘Okay, well, I can see that we aren’t going to come to any conclusions today. School isn’t opt in and opt out. We have a duty of care. So I’m putting you on suspension for five days. And I want you to see a psychologist.’

  I say nothing. I know if I say anything it’ll be the end. So I shut my mouth while the two of them plan my life as if I’m not even in the room.

  alex

  Today is my first official lesson in debating. Actually, to be honest, I’m not really sure what I’m doing here, but there’s all this pressure to take on extra-curricular activities and Tone said debating was a good one, although I think his idea of ‘good’ means getting to hang out with girls. I wanted to investigate the drama club but when I sussed Tone out about it, he looked at me like I was nuts. I have to find a way to make Tone get why I want to do drama. I haven’t admitted to anyone here how I feel about acting. I know it’s not really something they’re going to understand. So for the moment, I’ve joined up for debating, which Ellie laughed at when I told her.

  Tone doesn’t know yet that Ellie and I aren’t together any more, but it doesn’t actually make any difference because he never took my relationship with her seriously anyway. Kept saying it was like a family with BMWs trying to get used to driving a Ford, and it would never work in the long run. I wanted to punch him when he made that analogy but nobody ever punches Tone. Everyone at school knows he’s full of shit, but he’s the social glue in the world I now find myself in, so I’m sort of stuck with him. Also his dad is someone my dad thinks is just about the most impressive and influential person of all time. Tone’s dad is this bigwig in commercial business, and my dad is pumped I’m hanging out with his son. So whatever I think of Tone and some of his stupid ideas, I’m riding it, because I know one day he’s going to come in very handy at home.

  ‘You ready, Alex?’

  It’s Murphy, another new friend. He’s a bit more serious than Tone and he actually likes debating because he likes debating, not because he likes checking out girls.

  ‘Yeah, ready as I’ll ever be.’

  I’m nervous as hell. This is my first debate with a team from another school. All we’ve done so far is practice debates at school and that’s kind of okay because you’re debating against other kids you know. But today we’re competing against a team from a girls’ school and I really don’t want to screw it up. Murphy always delivers the concluding speech, so I’ll be second and Tone will be first. Today we’re doing a secret debate, which means we won’t know the subject until we get to the other school and then we have one hour to work out our arguments. That’s the bit that terrifies me most. What if I can’t think of something good to say? It’s fine when you can pre-prepare over weeks and learn a sort of script, but this requires fast thinking.

  We walk through the gates to the girls’ school. I haven’t been here before, so I have no idea where the small theatrette is, meaning I have to blindly follow Tone, Murphy and the others, feeling more and more like the outsider I am.

  ‘Wonder if Jasmine’s in the team,’ I hear Murphy say to Tone.

  ‘Hope so,’ laughs Tone.

  Murphy turns to me and says very seriously, ‘I hope not. She always creams us.’

  ‘Yeah, but she’s hot,’ says Tone, earning a punc
h in the shoulder from Murphy. I try to ignore them. For one crazy second I actually wish I were back at my old school with Jake. Instead I’m about to stand behind a lectern and make a seven-minute argument on a yet-to-be-disclosed subject. My head is buzzing. I try to slow my breathing and it’s working until Tone slaps me on the back, a crazy grin across his face.

  ‘This way, boys,’ says our supervising teacher, Mr Mallison, as we walk towards a row of glass doors. This school looks so similar to ours it’s no wonder it claims to be our sister school. We walk into the theatrette. It’s cool and smells decidedly nicer than ours does. Sass always jokes that all the girls in her class hate going to the boys’ school because the buildings smell like sweat and stinky feet. Maybe she’s right.

  A young female teacher suddenly materialises in front of us like she’s a ghostly spirit and hits Mr Mallison with a big friendly smile.

  ‘Even the teachers are hot,’ whispers Tone. I don’t bother responding. There’s some sort of brief welcome and then the teacher called Miss Park tells us the girls are already on stage waiting for us. By now my stomach is somersaulting wildly and I just want to run. Walking through to the stage area, I see the lectern. And the microphone. And the girls in school uniforms standing to one side. They seem to be sussing us out as much as we are them. They look just like older versions of my sister with their long hair in neat ponytails or plaits. I barely look at them and instead pretend to find the fingers on my left hand intensely interesting.

  ‘So I bet you’re all wondering what the subject is for today’s debate,’ says Miss Park. She’s met with a few nervous giggles.

  ‘Well, it’s a heavy one … it’s “That Civilisation Has Failed”.’

  ‘Groan,’ says Tone under his breath and for once I agree with him.

  ‘Obviously you can take it to mean whatever you like as long as your team has a strong cohesive argument. Let’s do scissors, paper, rock to see which team takes which argument. Can I have a boy and a girl step forward, please?’ says Miss Park. Tone steps forward automatically and that’s fine by me. Today he can take control of whatever he likes. I’m happy in the shadows. A girl with an incredibly long blonde plait steps forward for the girl’s team.

  ‘Okay, Jasmine and Anthony, ready?’

  I’m amazed that Miss Park knows Tone’s name. I guess that’s the thing with these schools – everyone knows everyone. But to hear him called Anthony is strange. Nobody calls him that at our school. Not even the teachers.

  I watch Tone smile at Jasmine as he puts out his hand and they do scissors, paper, rock. Tone makes a rock and Jasmine makes paper. The girls win.

  ‘Sorry,’ says Tone, trudging back to us like he’s lost something monumental. He hates losing.

  ‘We pick affirmative,’ says the girl.

  ‘Okay, so boys, you’re arguing for the negative,’ says Miss Park and I automatically wonder what that means I should be arguing. That civilisation hasn’t failed?

  ‘You have an hour to prepare your argument. Sarah will hand out pens and paper so you can prepare some points.’

  A girl with long red hair pulled into a slightly messy ponytail comes over to hand out the stationery.

  ‘Hey, Sarah, how’s it going?’ says Tone, taking the pens. The girl just glances across at him like he’s not even there, then turns and walks away. As Tone, Murphy and I move towards our table and chairs on one side of the stage, Tone whispers to me, ‘Her old man died last year. Some accident on the freeway. She’s been all weird ever since.’

  Tone’s words worm their way into my brain. I stop moving.

  ‘Was he an architect?’ I say, trying to make the connection without giving anything away.

  Tone shrugs and then turns to me. ‘Yeah. Think so. He worked with Bernie’s dad.’

  I don’t know who Bernie is and I don’t care. My legs have started shaking like they can’t possibly hold me up. Tone and Murphy must have sprinted to the table because they are already huddled together with Mr Mallison and there’s an empty chair waiting for me. But I don’t think I’ll make it. The red-headed girl is his daughter. The one Jake tracked down. The one who wrote the thank-you card that is still jammed under all my jocks in the drawer. And now she’s here about to argue that civilisation has failed. I reckon she’ll have some pretty good things to say about that.

  ‘Alex?’

  I can feel the vomit rushing up my throat.

  ‘I’m sick,’ I say, running from the stage and out into the foyer. Of course I can’t find the boys’ toilets anywhere so I run straight for the girls’ ones. I slam through the door and throw up in the nearest toilet.

  ‘Ew, gross,’ says a voice behind me, and I realise I haven’t even locked the cubicle. I kick it with my foot but I can hear giggling as the door swings open again and I wipe my mouth with the sleeve of my blazer. I can’t go back. I can’t watch her debate on stage and then go up against her. What if she knows who I am? What if she can just tell by looking at me that I’m responsible for ruining her life? What if she remembers my name from the funeral?

  ‘Worried you’re going to get beaten?’ says the voice again.

  I turn, trying to see who is talking, and then realise I’m still squatting on the floor.

  I jump up and see it’s that girl Jasmine from the other team. She’s putting on lipstick in the mirror and then wiping it off with a tissue so it’s barely noticeable. And once again, I can’t believe how different the rules are at these schools compared with my old one.

  ‘We always win. Don’t stress,’ she says with a sort of sarcastic grin and then brushes past me and out the door. I know that’s what they’re all going to think when I pike. That I’m chicken. That I can’t handle it. I’m sure it’ll get back to Sass too that her big brother bottled out.

  As I splash water on my face, I look at myself in the mirror, for the first time in a really long time. I don’t look any different than I did before. My eyebrows are still thick. My nose is still straight. My eyes are the same ones that Ellie used to say she loved. I look the same as I did. It’s Jake’s fault. If he’d just left it alone. Like Mum used to say to me when I picked my scabs on my knees and made them bleed over and over again until they scarred. Except our scars are invisible. And they won’t ever heal.

  ‘For shit’s sake, Alex, you look great,’ says Tone, banging into the toilets. ‘You trying to pick up?’

  ‘Nah, I’m sick,’ I say, frowning to try and make myself look as pale as I feel.

  But he just shrugs. ‘Too bad, mate. We’re up soon.’

  I shake my head. There’s no way I can do this. ‘I’m going home.’

  He laughs like I’m the joke. ‘You don’t go home from a debate. This is not some shitty high school. This is about honour. And respect. And giving it to the girls.’

  I wouldn’t take it normally, but today, Tone insulting my old school and being a complete arse is nothing compared to what will happen if I freak out and run. Or if that girl connects the dots.

  ‘It’s piss easy. Just say what we’ve written for you. Come on,’ he says, holding open the door for me. As I walk out in front of him, I try and breathe. Nobody knows. Nobody knows. Nobody knows.

  I can do this. I hear Tone explain that I’m after Jasmine and that I just have to expand on the points Murphy’s written for me, and bat down anything Jasmine says. He makes it sound so simple. I know it’s not, but I also know that if I want to survive in this new world, I have to play by Tone’s rules. And pulling out of something like a debate last minute is not going to make him think fondly of me. In fact it’ll spread around our school in seconds and pretty soon I’ll be labelled.

  I feel Tone’s hand on my shoulder as we reach the heavy doors, like he’s steering me back in.

  ‘You’ll be fine. It’s only a practice,’ says Tone in a voice I haven’t heard before. Like maybe he understands, even if he thinks it’s just nerves.

  I can do this. Nobody knows.

  I walk through the theatre an
d up onto the stage where everyone is waiting. I risk a glance at the girls’ table, just to check if Sarah has worked out who I am, and if she’s watching me, ready to pounce. Of course she isn’t. She’s concentrating on the papers in front of her. Then I look along the team and see Jasmine blowing on the lenses in her glasses, and wiping a tissue around and around to clear the smears. She sees me watching and blows me a kiss.

  Nobody knows.

  jake

  I have a new plan. This week is my ‘trying to forget’ week. This is my normal day. Where I’m just a kid at school learning about oxygen and barium and buying a day-old pie for lunch. I’ve even had a shower. And so far, so good. The two morning classes sped by without me feeling too far behind and now I’ve got a lunch meeting with Mr Cap. I’m hoping it means I’ve been accepted into the science program over the summer break that he told me to apply for. I’m glad Mum made me come to school today because it feels like it could be a good day after all. Ellie’s agreed to hang out and study together, so it’s looking up already.

  As I walk out of the cafeteria, I see Lucas and Tien watching something on a laptop. They’re huddled together so tightly their heads are touching. I can’t help it. I walk over.

  ‘Howdy,’ I say. I get a half smile from one and nothing from the other. So I sit down really close to them and try to see what they’re looking at.

  But Lucas slams the screen of his laptop shut and glares at me. ‘Haven’t seen you in a while,’ he says.

  I frown. I don’t understand what I’ve done. ‘I’ve been sick.’

  ‘Not what I heard. Heard you were wagging. Heard you’re this close,’ he holds his fingers together, ‘to being thrown out.’

  I roll my eyes. ‘As if.’

  Tien leans towards me. ‘I heard you were hanging out in the city trying to glimpse Alex in his fancy uniform.’

  This time I laugh and they loosen up a bit too. ‘I heard I was in jail,’ I say dryly.

  Lucas fixes me with a stare that he uses when he’s trying to work out who your current crush is. He’s been using it since year seven and it’s pretty pathetic. I glare back and he gives up and looks away.