by Cat Clarke
Jacob didn’t turn up until lunchtime when Marion, the boys, and I were busy reliving yesterday’s triumph. The others were laughing and doing impressions of Mr. Lynch when Jacob walked into the cafeteria. Actually, he was limping rather than walking. He looked over, saw me watching, and his posture changed completely. He straightened up and tried to walk normally. When he reached our table, there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead and his face was pale.
“Hey, losers,” he said as he cuffed Sav on the back of the head. He sat down heavily, and I wondered if I was the only one who noticed the relief on his face.
“Where have you been?” I asked. I wanted to ask, What the heck is wrong with you?
He ignored my question while rummaging in his bag and bringing out a newspaper. “This is being delivered to newsstands as we speak!” I’d completely forgotten about it! Jacob laid the paper out in front of us and there was silence as we all took it in.
The headline was huge: Principal Doesn’t “Skirt” the Issue. They’d gone with one of the pictures where Mr. Lynch was smiling. We all made fun of Alex, who had his eyes closed in the photo. I actually looked OK in the picture too—for once. The pants were undeniably cool.
The article was great, even though it gave Lynch more credit than he deserved. When the bell rang for the end of lunch, Jacob folded up the paper and handed it to me. “This one’s yours.”
I thanked him. “Are you OK?”
“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” But his words were too bright and shiny. They didn’t match his face. He looked exhausted.
“So where were you this morning?” I asked while on our way to class. I was deliberately walking as slowly as possible.
“I was just… I was late.”
“Well, I know you were late, doofus.” I smiled and elbowed him. “I’m asking why.”
“I was…look…” He stopped in the hallway and kids streamed around on either side of us. “I was late. I’m here now. Can we just drop it?” He didn’t sound annoyed—just weary. And weird.
“Sure,” I said. Then I changed the subject as we walked down the hall, but my mind was racing.
Something was obviously wrong with Jacob. But what? And, more importantly, why didn’t he want to tell me?
Chapter 33
We were supposed to head to the ice cream parlor a couple of blocks down from Bankridge to kill time before Back-to-School Night. But Jacob said something had come up and he’d meet me back at school fifteen minutes before Mrs. McCready had asked us to be there.
I went to the ice cream parlor alone and ordered two scoops of vanilla and one of pistachio. I liked how the colors swirled together in the bowl.
The ice cream did nothing to soothe my stomach, which felt all knotted, like a snake trying to play Twister. I couldn’t stop picturing Mamma at the funeral for a man I’d never met, in a country I’d never visited. I got out my phone and sent her a quick message: Hope you’re OK. xx
And then I freaked out a little because Mamma always forgets to put her phone in silent mode, and it would be the worst thing ever if her phone made that dumb chirruping sound right in the middle of the funeral. Then I remembered that it would be late at night in Italy, so I didn’t need to worry. Not about that anyway.
I got a reply from Mamma a few minutes later: Thanks, topolino. I’ll be fine as soon as I’m home with my famiglia. xxx
My stomach got even twistier. Why did my family have to be so nice when I was busy deceiving them?
I tried reminding myself that my motives were good. I was doing the moms a favor. Usually I can convince myself of almost anything, but as I sat there watching my ice cream melt into a pale green puddle, I knew that I was in the wrong. There was no point dwelling on it, though. Mamma was in Italy and Mom was at home with Enzo. It was too late now.
=
There were teachers milling around, getting their classrooms ready for the parents, but otherwise it was empty. I wouldn’t mind Bankridge so much if it stayed like that. A whole school just for me. Then it wouldn’t matter which changing rooms I used.
I waited for Jacob in the empty science lab, sitting on my usual stool at the back. He was late again.
When he finally walked in, I could tell right away that he was walking better than he had been earlier. His face was back to normal too. It was no longer pinched and pale.
“You look weird,” I said.
“Thanks,” he said sarcastically.
“What’s with the hair?”
“Don’t you like it?” He smoothed it down with his hand, even though it definitely didn’t need any more smoothing. If you looked up the word “dorky” in the dictionary, you would see a picture of Jacob’s hair on Back-to-School Night.
“Nope.”
He smiled and said, “Me neither, but I’m trying to look respectable. Mom thought it might be a good idea, after yesterday. As if me looking like a total nerd will make the teachers forgive me.”
“I think most of them are on our side, you know. The only one we have to worry about is Mr. Lynch.”
“Who happens to be the most powerful person in the entire school,” Jacob pointed out.
“Who is not going to be fooled into liking you again just because you’ve combed your hair. Is he even here tonight anyway?”
“I have no idea. He’s probably driving around town, buying every single copy of the Gazette he can get his hands on.”
“He’ll probably use them to wallpaper his bedroom.”
Jacob laughed. “He should be thanking us, really. We made him famous.”
“I dare you to say that to him the next time you see him.”
So, of course, he double-dared me, then I triple-dared him, and it went on and on until we decided we’d get Sav to do it. That kid hadn’t turned down a dare in his entire life.
Jacob checked his watch. “What time is your mom getting here? I told my parents to come a few minutes early so they could meet her.”
“Why did you do that?”
“Um, my mom said she’d like to meet her. What’s so wrong with that?”
I closed my eyes and tried to think. I was going to have to tell him.
“Liv?” He knew something was up. I could see it in his eyes.
I slumped in my chair. “She’s not coming.”
“What do you mean she’s not coming? Wait, did she go to Italy for the funeral too?”
I could have lied to him right then. He’d given me the perfect opportunity by coming up with the perfect lie for me to serve up, but I couldn’t do it. Not to him. I took a deep breath and told him the truth. The weird thing was that it was actually harder than telling him about me being a boy.
He didn’t say anything for a moment or two. I half hoped that maybe he would call me a genius again, or at the very least say that he understood why I’d lied to my parents. When he finally looked up at me, I knew he was going to do neither of those things.
“I can’t believe you did that.” His voice was flat, stripped bare of any feeling.
“I suppose you’d be totally fine with your parents being laughed at by Jade Evans?” I felt it in my stomach first. The anger. Like a fire had been lit. If I wasn’t careful, the flames would get out of control.
“I wouldn’t care! And they wouldn’t care either. Who gives a monkey’s butt what Jade Evans thinks anyway?”
My jaw clenched and my hands tightened into fists. “Stop shouting at me!”
“I wasn’t shouting. I was just talking loudly! And stop changing the subject. You do realize how stupid you’ve been, don’t you?”
I wanted to hurt him right then. I hate being called stupid. Call me anything you like, but don’t ever, ever call me stupid. “Shut up! It’s none of your business anyway! It has nothing to do with you!”
“What’s that supposed to mean? We’re friends, aren’t we?�
��
“If you were my friend, you’d understand why I don’t want my mom to come tonight.”
“I do understand, Liv.”
The flames exploded. “You don’t! You have no idea what it’s like! No one’s going to laugh and stare and point at your parents when they walk in! YOUR PARENTS ARE NORMAL!”
Chapter 34
The words seemed to bounce off the walls of the science lab and hit me right in the face.
I couldn’t believe I’d said that.
I didn’t mean it. I didn’t.
“I…” I stopped. The words wouldn’t come.
Jacob looked as shocked as I felt. “Your moms are amazing,” he said quietly.
“I know,” I whispered.
“They’re probably the most normal people I’ve ever met. In a good way, obviously. It’s not like they’re not boring or anything.”
I felt wretched. The moms would never know what I’d said, but that didn’t matter. I knew. The words were out there. I couldn’t take them back. I couldn’t unsay them. I tried and failed to blink away the tears.
Jacob put his hand on my shoulder. “I do understand. Sort of. At least, I think I do. But friends also tell each other the truth, don’t they?”
I saw a chance then—to deflect attention from me. “Do they?”
“Of course,” said Jacob, looking confused.
“Then why didn’t you tell me why you were late this morning? And why did you bail on me this afternoon? That’s not exactly the sort of thing that friends do, is it?”
A bunch of emotions flitted across his face in a matter of seconds. First, he looked shocked, then angry, then sad, and then tired.
His shoulders slumped and he sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
That took the wind out of my sails. “What’s wrong, Jacob? You know you can tell me, right?”
He took a deep breath. “I have this…condition.” I waited, nodding in what I hoped was an encouraging way. “It’s called hypermobility.”
“That sounds like something Superman would have,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.
“I wish. It means my joints are really flexible—way too flexible. I dislocate my shoulder a couple of times a year, and my hip pops out of place at least once a week. And I have trouble with my ankles, and my wrists and, well, my whole body, pretty much.”
“So this morning…?”
“I fell, on the way to school. My ankle just gave out.” He shrugged. “It happens.”
“That really sucks.”
“I ripped a hole in my pants and had to go back home and change. And of course, Mom had to make a big deal about it, going on and on about how I should have used my walking stick.”
“You have a walking stick?” I didn’t mean to sound shocked, but the thought of someone my age having a walking stick did shock me. “Wait, that time you came into Monty’s…that was your walking stick?”
Jacob nodded, then reached into his bag and pulled it out. “I hardly ever use it. It just gives me a bit more stability when the pain’s bad.”
“You weren’t using it this morning, were you? When you fell.”
He shook his head. “You know what the kids here are like. The kind of things they’d say.”
Little things were starting to make sense. My brain was finally connecting the dots. “So that time you had the wrist brace? That was because of your hypermobility, wasn’t it? It wasn’t a skateboarding injury.”
“I’m sorry I lied.”
“Do you even go skateboarding?”
“Of course I do!” he said, indignantly. “Mom hates it, but she still lets me do it. She knows I just want to have a regular life. Anyway, it’s no big deal. Just something I have to live with, you know? But it’s no one else’s business.”
“So you hide it from everyone?” Then I realized something. “Just like I wanted to hide my moms,” I said quietly.
He nodded and half-smiled. “Yeah, I guess so.”
Suddenly everything was clear. I stood up. “But neither of us has anything to be ashamed of. Why should we hide who we are? We’re freaking awesome!”
“Speak for yourself. I can’t even walk down the street without falling over.”
“So what? You’re an amazing artist, you know almost as much about comic books as I do, you’re brave—or stupid—enough to skateboard even though there’s a good chance you’ll break yourself, and…and people actually like you!”
Jacob blushed.
“You’re a pretty good friend too,” I added quietly.
“So are you.”
“Thanks,” I said, probably blushing too. It’s way easier to give compliments than to take them.
I checked my watch. “OK, we don’t have much time.”
“Time for what?”
I handed him his walking stick and pulled my cell phone out of my bag.
“Showing them we’re not ashamed.”
“Who’s ‘them’?”
“Everyone,” I said simply.
Jacob didn’t look quite convinced.
“Come on. We can do this. We have to do this,” I said, even though I felt sick with nerves.
Jacob stared at his stick for a second or two before slowly unfolding it.
My hand was sweaty as I dialed home.
=
It wasn’t the most fun phone call I’d ever had. I jumped straight in with the truth before Mom could say anything. I told her I’d lied about Back-to-School Night, and that if she wanted to come, she had to be here in twenty minutes.
“What’s going on, Liv?”
So I repeated myself and said “I’m sorry” a lot. It would have been a lot easier explaining things to Mamma.
Mom’s sigh was like a big burst of static in my ear. “You know I’m in my pajamas, right? Do you want me to turn up in my pajamas?”
I said nothing.
Another sigh. “OK, I’ll be there. I’ll have to take Enzo to Gram’s first, but I think I should be able to make it on time. And Liv?”
“Yes?”
“You’d better have a good explanation for this.”
She hung up before I had a chance to speak.
=
Jacob and I were late meeting up with Mrs. McCready in the main hall. He used his walking stick to push the door open. Jade and Chelsea were already there, looking like mozzarella wouldn’t melt in their mouths. Maisie turned up at the same time as Jacob and me, looking as if she’d rather be anywhere else on the planet.
Mrs. McCready glanced at Jacob’s stick, but didn’t say anything. The other three stared as we ran through our jobs for the evening one last time. Then Mrs. McCready sent Maisie and Chelsea to the cafeteria to fetch the coffee and tea.
Mrs. McCready handed Jade and me a pile of maps and told us to stand just inside the main entrance. “Right. Are we all sorted? Does everyone know what they’re doing?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jade said sweetly enough to make your teeth hurt.
I just nodded.
“OK, then. Let’s get to work.” She scurried off to her classroom, leaving me and Jade—and Jacob, thankfully.
“What’s up with the stick? Is it supposed to be some kind of fashion statement?” asked Jade, but not in a mean way. She said it the same way I would have said it, like teasing a friend, because she didn’t hate Jacob liked she hated me.
Jacob smiled a confident smile. “No. I have joint hypermobility syndrome, actually.” Then he quickly turned to me and said, “Liv, why don’t you wait outside. I’ll stay here in case any early birds turn up.”
Jade was still trying to process what he’d said. Clearly, that was going to take a while. I mouthed a “thanks” at Jacob, who was looking a little stunned at just how easy it had been to tell Jade about his condition.
I headed
for the door. It would be better if I could explain things to Mom before she came inside, but Jade stepped in front of me. “I don’t see why you should get to go AWOL and leave us to do all the work.” She crossed her arms, clearly thinking that made her look more intimidating.
“Get out of my way, Jade.”
“Make me,” she said, with a sly look.
“I’m warning you.”
“What are you going to do? Punch me?” She smiled triumphantly. “Maisie told us all about what happened at your last school. Not exactly normal, is it? Punching someone, I mean. But I suppose we can’t really expect someone like you to be normal, can we?” If you pressed the mute button and just looked at her face while she talked, you’d never know that she was spewing such hatred.
Jacob hurried over and stood shoulder to shoulder with me. “Why don’t you just shut your mouth, Jade?”
Maybe he would give her a good whack with his walking stick if I asked him nicely enough? I took a deep breath through my nose. “It’s OK, Jacob. I can handle this.”
“Yeah, Jacob. Let your little freak friend fight its own battles.”
“Jade’s right.” The look on both their faces when I said that was priceless. “I can fight my own battles.”
Jade wasn’t sure what to say then, so for probably the first time in her life, she said nothing at all. A wise choice.
Jacob took a step back. Also a wise choice.
I turned to Jade and just looked at her for a few seconds. I stared at her. At first, she stared back defiantly, but then she looked away. That’s when I knew that I’d won.
“I’m going outside now. My mom’s waiting for me. In a few minutes, she’s going to come inside, and if you so much as look at her the wrong way, you will regret it. And no, I’m not going to punch you. No matter what you say or do to me, I will never punch you. Even if you really, really deserve it.” I waited for a response, but none came. “What I will do is tell Mrs. McCready. I’ll tell her every single thing you’ve ever said and done to me. People might call me a snitch, but you know what? I don’t care what people think. I never have.”