by Judi Curtin
Of course I didn’t think it was stupid. I knew exactly how she felt. Actually I often felt like that too.
I smiled at Melissa.
‘I don’t think that’s stupid,’ I said. ‘I think it’s brave of you to go to boarding school all on your own. Making new friends takes time, but you’ll manage in the end. I bet everything will be great by the time Christmas comes.’
While I spoke I wondered if I was trying to convince Melissa or myself.
Melissa smiled at me.
‘Thanks, Megan. Maybe you’re right.’
All of a sudden, I wondered if I should confide in Melissa.
Should I tell her that, even though I was still best friends with Alice, I had no friends in my class?
Would Melissa understand the way I felt, in a way that Alice and the others didn’t?
Or would she just laugh at me?
I decided to be brave.
‘Er, Melissa,’ I began. ‘I know how you feel. Actually I feel—’
Just then my phone rang and I answered it. It was Mum.
‘Tea’s nearly ready, Megan,’ she said. ‘It’s lovely chick-pea soup, so hurry home before Dad and Rosie eat it all up.’
‘OK,’ I said. ‘I’ll be home in ten minutes.’
I decided to try again. I turned back to Melissa.
‘You know, I—’, I began.
Once again I was interrupted, as the others came out from the changing rooms.
Suddenly Melissa didn’t look sad any more. The old proud look was back on her face. I was glad I hadn’t confided in her.
She flicked her hair over her shoulder, just missing my eye.
‘What happened to your jacket, Megan?’ she asked as I ducked.
I could feel my face going red. I had ripped my jacket the week before, but instead of buying me a new one, Mum had insisted on covering the rip with a big, flowery patch. I knew it looked stupid, but Mum insisted that I keep on wearing it.
‘Er, it got ripped,’ I said. ‘My mum sewed it for me.’
Melissa rubbed the line of stitching. Her voice was all silky and sweet, like honey in my ear.
‘Your mother is soooo good at sewing,’ she said. ‘You must be very proud of her.’
I could feel my face going even redder. I knew Melissa was mocking me. She was being totally horrible, and I couldn’t think of a single clever thing to say.
Just then Alice came over. She folded her arms and turned to face Melissa with a bright smile.
‘Pity your mother can’t sew,’ she said. ‘Then she could do us all a real big favour and sew your mouth shut.’
Grace, Louise and I giggled. Trust Alice to find the perfect put-down. For once, Melissa was speechless. She opened her mouth but no sound came out.
Then she seemed to recover. She flicked her hair one more time, and showed us her perfect white teeth.
‘This has been totally great,’ she said. ‘Shopping is my very favourite thing. But sorry guys, I won’t be able to hang out with you tomorrow. I’ve got plans. Hope you’re not too disappointed.’
Alice grinned.
‘We’re dreadfully disappointed, but we’ll try to get over it.’
Melissa didn’t seem to notice that Alice was mocking her. It was like she had a big hard shell around her that protected her from anything bad.
She gave us each a huge hug, and skipped off, flicking her hair as she went, and I went home to enjoy a giant bowl of chick-pea soup.
Lucky me.
Chapter sixteen
The next few weeks went very, very slowly. Even the days seemed long, dragging on and on forever. Sometimes I saw Alice, Grace and Louise at small break, but mostly there wasn’t time. We always had lunch together, but during lunch, time seemed to speed up, and the forty-five minute break always seemed to be over just as it was starting. Then I had to leave my friends and go back to my own class.
Even though most teachers let us sit wherever we wanted, everyone stuck to where they had been sitting in the first few days. It was like there was some unwritten rule that we were all afraid to break. That meant that, whatever classroom we were in, Jane and Lyndsay sat together at the top of the class, Kellie and her friends sat by the window, and Marcus and I sat together in the middle of the room.
By now it was clear that Marcus and I had something in common – neither of us had any other friends in our class. If it weren’t for each other, we’d have been total loners.
Most days Marcus missed at least one class. He always ended up in trouble over this, but he didn’t seem to care. After a while I began to think he even liked being in trouble. It was like a weird way of looking for attention.
Sometimes I felt like Marcus and I were almost friends. Sometimes he came in to class and smiled at me, as if he really liked me. Sometimes though, he was cross and sulky, and I was kind of afraid of him. And how can someone be your friend if you’re afraid of them?
Sometimes he was really funny. One day, during a really boring Geography class, Marcus slid his copy over to my side of the desk. He’d written something in huge letters on the open page – ‘This class is torture. Dog-breath should be taken out and punished for cruelty to teenagers.’
I grinned and carefully slid the copy back over to Marcus. Just then Mr Spillane looked down towards us.
‘Is your copy actually open, Marcus?’ he said. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve actually done some work? Why don’t you bring it up to me so I can take a look?’
I gulped.
What would Mr Spillane say if he saw what Marcus had written?
What would he say if he discovered that Marcus calls him Dog-breath?
Marcus might like being in trouble, but no one could like being in as much trouble as he was going to be in if Mr Spillane read what he had written in his copy.
I quickly put up my hand.
‘Yes, Megan, what is it?’ said Mr Spillane.
‘Er …’, I said. ‘Er … do you know what that bird outside the window is called?’
Mr Spillane made an impatient sighing noise, and looked out the window.
‘I don’t see any bird. And besides, this is meant to be Geography, not bird-watching.’
There hadn’t been any bird to see, but the distraction had been long enough for Marcus to carefully turn over the pages of his copy, hiding what he’d written. Now the copy was open on a page with a diagram on the formation of oxbow lakes.
He carried it up to Mr Spillane’s desk. Mr Spillane studied the diagram carefully.
‘Well, Marcus. I have to admit that I’m surprised. That diagram is actually very good. Maybe you’re not a lost cause yet.’
He spoke very slowly, almost like it hurt him to say the words.
I put my head down and smiled.
Maybe Mr Spillane would have felt better if he knew that I’d drawn the diagram for Marcus the week before.
Marcus walked back to his desk, winking at me as he went.
At last the class was over, and it was lunch-time. Marcus turned to me as I packed up my books.
‘Thanks, Megan,’ he said. ‘It was really nice of you to save me from Dog-breath.’
I could feel my face going red.
‘It’s OK,’ I said, reaching in to my bag for my lunch box. Then I stood up to go.
Marcus looked at my lunch-box.
‘Any nice sandwiches today?’
I smiled.
‘Probably not. But you can have them if you like.’
This was kind of like a private joke between us. Marcus ate my sandwiches most days. I didn’t mind really. I was never very hungry at lunch time, and if I was, one of my friends would share with me.
I took out my sandwiches, and handed them to Marcus. As he reached out to take them, I noticed a huge black and yellow bruise on his wrist.
‘What’s that?’ I asked, pointing.
‘What’s what?’ he asked, pulling his jumper over the mark.
‘That bruise,’ I said. ‘What happened to you?’
/> Marcus put his head down so that his long hair almost covered his face.
‘It’s nothing,’ he said. ‘Just a bruise. I can’t even remember where I got it.’
I knew he was lying. No one could forget getting a bruise like that. It must have hurt like anything. But why would he lie? Why would anyone lie about a bruise?
‘Thanks for the sandwiches,’ he said quickly. ‘See you later.’
As he walked out of the classroom, he turned and gave me a small smile. Suddenly I realised that even though Marcus often gave that small smile, he never really looked happy.
Had I ever heard him laugh?
I didn’t think so.
As Marcus stopped at the classroom door to let some of the other boys out, I noticed once again how thin and tired he looked.
Who was this strange boy? I wondered.
And what could possibly be going on in his life?
Chapter seventeen
Then, at the beginning of December the real trouble started.
It was a Monday morning, a week before the Christmas exams. Instead of doing Geography, Mr Spillane decided to give us a big, long lecture.
‘As you know,’ he said. ‘All four first year classes do the same exam, and I hope all of you in class M are going to make me proud by doing exceptionally well.’
Next to me Marcus started muttering.
‘What is that man on? What kind of crazy person would want to make Dog-breath proud? Maybe we should all deliberately fail, just to annoy him.’
I giggled, but stopped when I realised that Mr Spillane was looking straight at me.
Mr Spillane had lots more to say, all about the exams. I started to feel really bad. Once again I wished I was back in primary school. Back then exams seemed easy, and I always came near the top of my class. Secondary school was different though. There were so many subjects, and so much hard stuff to learn.
After class, Marcus didn’t seem to think the exams were so funny any more. He didn’t even get up to leave. He just sat there at his desk, blocking my way out of the classroom.
‘I’m so, so dead,’ he said. ‘I haven’t done any work for my exams. I’m going to fail everything. My dad’s going to go crazy.’
‘You’ve got a week left,’ I said. ‘If you work really hard, you could catch up.’
He shook his head.
‘No, I couldn’t.’
‘I’ll help you,’ I said suddenly, without even thinking about it.
‘How?’ asked Marcus.
I had to think. Lunch-time was my favourite part of the school day, the only time I got to see my friends. But Marcus was in trouble, and who else was going to help him? So I spoke quickly, before I had time to change my mind.
‘I’ll go over stuff at lunch-time with you,’ I said. ‘We can do a different subject every day.’
Marcus looked happy for a second, then he shook his head slowly.
‘Thanks, Megan,’ he said. ‘But that won’t work. I’ve left it too late. I’m doomed.’
Marcus gave a big moan and put his head in his hands. I could see the last straggly bits of purple that hadn’t yet grown out of his hair. There was a small graze on the back of his neck. I lifted one hand, and for one weird second I felt like stroking his back to make him feel better. Then I got sense. This was Marcus Wall, the boy my friends thought I should be afraid of.
What would they say if they heard I was sitting in an almost-empty classroom, stroking his back?
So I put my hand in my pocket and took a deep breath to try to clear my head.
‘What will happen if you do badly in your exams?’ I asked after a while.
His voice was so muffled I could barely hear him.
‘My dad will go totally ballistic,’ he said.
Poor Marcus. He didn’t talk about his dad very much – actually he didn’t talk much about anything, but whenever he did say anything about his dad, he made him sound really scary. Would he really go crazy if Marcus did badly in his exams?
Anyone could see that Marcus had heaps of problems. He always looked sick and pale and tired. He never had any school-books, or proper uniform or lunch. He was always in trouble. If he failed his exams, would his problems just get worse?
Was there anything I could do to help him?
I felt like crying.
‘Please let me help you,’ I said. ‘We could study after school. And maybe in the mornings too, before school starts. We could come in early. I could make notes for you to study at home. I could—’
Marcus sat up and rubbed his eyes. He looked old and worn-out.
‘Thanks, Megan,’ he said. ‘That’s really nice of you, but it wouldn’t work. Like I said, I’ve left it too late. And besides, I’m not as clever as you.’
Was I clever?
I used to think I was, but secondary school was so confusing I couldn’t even remember properly any more.
‘So what are you going to do?’ I asked.
Marcus smiled suddenly.
‘Don’t worry about me,’ he said. ‘I’ll survive. I’m tough.’
Just then I realised something I’d never noticed before.
‘You’re not tough,’ I said. ‘You just pretend to be.’
Now it was his turn to go red.
I knew I was right.
Marcus didn’t say anything for a minute. He just scratched the grazed patch of skin on his neck. I started to feel embarrassed.
‘So what are you going to do?’ I repeated.
Marcus stood up.
‘I don’t know yet, but I’ll think of something. Remember, Megan, there’s always a way.’
And with that strange comment he walked out of the classroom, closing the door quietly behind him.
Chapter eighteen
Marcus didn’t show up for the next few classes, and I started to get a bit worried about him.
Was he going to do something stupid?
And if he did, what could I do about it?
I was really happy when he showed up before the last class of the day started.
‘Hey, Megan,’ he said. ‘How’s it going?’
He was grinning like he was having the best day of his life.
What was going on?
Had he forgotten about our conversation?
Had he forgotten all about the exams?
‘You look very happy,’ I said.
He nodded.
‘Clever of you to notice. I am happy.’
‘So you’re not worried about the exams any more?’ I asked.
He shook his head.
‘Nope.’
‘How come? You were really worried this morning. What’s happened since then?’
He grinned again.
‘I’ve figured out a way to get all ‘A’s.’
I sighed.
‘Yeah, so have I. Work really hard.’ Marcus shook his head.
‘That’s one way. But that’s the way for losers. Like I told you this morning, there’s always another way. And I’ve found the easy way.’
Now I started to feel really worried.
There isn’t an easy way to do well in exams.
So why did Marcus think there was?
And why was he looking so pleased with himself?
The teacher was late for class, and everyone was still standing around chatting. Marcus caught my arm and pulled me into a quiet corner.
‘You know my friend, Gerry from fifth year?’ he asked.
I shrugged. If you’d asked me, I’m not sure I’d have said that Marcus had friends. Usually when I saw him at break-time, he was on his own. Sometimes, he stood around with a group of older boys – scary-looking boys who were always in trouble. They never seemed to talk much, they just stood around looking tough.
‘Anyway,’ Marcus continued, not waiting for my answer. ‘Gerry was in the secretary’s office today, waiting for Mrs Kingston to bring him to detention.’
I couldn’t help smiling. Why wasn’t I surprised that a friend of Marcus’s w
as in detention?
Marcus didn’t notice my smile as he continued to speak.
‘When Mrs Kingston came in, she spent ages talking to the secretary about photocopying the exam papers, so they’ll be ready for next week.’
Now I started to feel very worried. I could see Jane and her friend, Lyndsay, sitting at the top of the classroom testing each other on something from their maths books. Kellie and her friends were laughing at the back of the room.
So why was I stuck in a corner with a boy who was making me very nervous by talking about photocopying exam papers, and getting ‘A’s without actually doing any work?
Marcus didn’t seem to notice that I wasn’t saying anything, so he kept on talking.
‘Gerry said that Mrs Kingston told the secretary that the teachers will have all the papers in the office by Wednesday. Then she asked the secretary to have them photocopied and ready for use by Thursday lunch-time.’
He gave me a big smile and folded his arms like he was finished his story.
Had I missed something?
‘And?’ I said.
Marcus gave a big sigh.
‘The exams don’t start until Tuesday of next week, and the exam papers are going to be in the secretary’s office since this Thursday at lunch-time.’
I still didn’t understand.
‘And?’ I said again, really wishing that this conversation was over.
Marcus gave an even bigger sigh.
‘How easy do I have to make this for you? I get the exam papers. I read the exam papers. I learn the answers. I get all ‘A’s. Everyone’s happy. End of story.’
I should have been cross that he was talking to me like I was a baby, but I had too many other things to think about.
‘But …’, I began. There were so many ‘buts’ running through my head, I didn’t know which one to start with.
‘But they’ll notice if some papers are missing, won’t they?’ I said in the end.
Marcus shook his head.
‘Mrs Kingston told the secretary to do a few spares, just in case. And no one’s going to count them, unless they run out, and they won’t run out, because I’ll only get one of each paper!’