by M Field
Arriving at our lockers, we quickly got ready for class. Specialist Maths was first up on a Monday. The guy who sorted our timetables was clearly a masochist. What made it a bit easier, though, was Mr Ray. He was unlike any teacher who I had ever had. He made Monday mornings bearable, even if he was a bit too hyperactive.
I slammed my locker shut and walked into the classroom. As predicted, Mr Ray stood by the whiteboard, humming a tune, dressed in a neon-coloured Hawaiian shirt. How that guy managed to find these shirts was beyond me.
“Hey, Sir, what’s up?” I yelled as I dumped my books onto my desk. Robbie wasn’t there yet, but no doubt he’d be in soon with his latest squeeze.
“Alex,” Mr Ray sung, his enthusiasm was something that never wavered, no matter what time of day it was. “Nice to see you have mastered the art of colloquial dialogue! Hopefully, you’ll master today’s lesson. Cal-cu-lus!” Clapping each syllable out, he looked around the room to try to engage us. “Exciting, isn’t it?”
I sunk back into my chair and groaned. It was too early to use my brain for that.
Students continued to stroll in as the notes began covering the board. I opened up my workbook and started writing his equations down, using this quiet time to wake up. I heard a familiar chuckle and looked up to see Robbie strolling in, his latest girl standing at the door giving him the lovey-dovey eyes.
“You might want to fix your collar, Casanova,” I teased. “Looks like you were having a very happy morning.” He adjusted his collar with one arm, while tossing his books on the desk next to mine.
“Oh, great! Robbie is here! We’ll need you to help today, too,” Mr Ray chirped. Robbie flinched, running his eyes across the bright shirt. His jaw slacked as he pretended to vomit, raising his fingers to his mouth. I nodded and laughed.
“For once,” he adjusted in his seat, “I’d like to see that man in a bad mood and a decent shirt. It’s like he’s the fifth Wiggle or something.”
“His shirts are bright enough for him to be,” I agreed. “Does he know I feel hung-over just looking at that shirt?” We heard a throat clear and looked up to see Mr Ray staring at us with a smile on his face. Straightening in our seats, we opened our books, shaking our heads. Teachers always seemed to have bionic hearing.
“Well, gents, if you’ve had enough of describing my attire we can start now. I have no plans
to join the entertainment industry when I have so much to teach you.” He clapped his hands, rubbing them together, eagerly awaiting to fill our minds. We grunted in response, and listened as he explained the equations.
By the end of class, after a few excited cheers and exuberant hand gestures from our teacher, we understood the tasks.
Walking to my next class, I turned the corner and spotted Robbie getting it on with Rachel. That’s it! His hands were gripping her arse and they had garnered an audience made up of other girls who longed to be with him. This also worked in my favour as, even though I never had to work hard for pussy, this just cut out the middle shit. I flashed a smile to the group standing near them.
“Hey girls, my friend here is busy, but these arms aren’t.” Now, most people would think that was the biggest dick thing to say, but lo and behold, two girls giggled and came over, hugging my side tightly. Mission accomplished.
“Well, girls. We’ve got class now, but let me walk you to yours first. See, I’m a gentleman, after all.”
The best part of summer was the short uniforms. Free-range perving all around. It wasn’t until I was waiting for Bea at the bus stop that I noticed a girl from her campus. We made eye contact and the hottie blonde came over to me.
“Hi.” I grinned. “You come here often?” She giggled and shook her head.
“Not every day, but I will be if I know you’re here.” She didn’t even pick up on my cheesy line, but hey, she was game.
“Well, honey, you know who I am?”
“You’re Alex, right?” She smiled.
“You spoken for?” I winked at her.
“Not anymore.”
“That’s fine by me,” I said, wrapping my arm around her shoulder. I grabbed my phone and texted Bea, letting her know to leave without me. I had someone I had to get to know.
Chapter Four
“Inflamed the minds of everyone against me;
And those who were inflamed, inflamed Augustus,
Tis all my happy honours were turned to sorrow.”
Inferno XIII lines 67–70
Trice
Late autumn, 2006
All I wanted was to make it to the library before they found me. I walked briskly towards the far building, clutching my backpack, while eating my lunch quickly with my other hand. Looking around, I noticed familiar groups of people, but had yet to spot my friends. I hated walking by myself around here.
I nearly tripped over my own feet as a figure suddenly stood in my path, blocking my view.
“Beatrice, ya wog! Got that smelly salami in ya roll again?” I sucked in a quick nervous breath as my eyes made contact with Stacey. I was trying to get away from these cows, but here they were.
“What’s that?” She leant forward, cupping her ear with her left hand. “Salami got your tongue, has it?” Peering into my sandwich, her mouth twisted up in disgust as she jeered, “A bit of fat salami like your dad’s dick? Can’t believe you eat that shit.”
I pulled my sandwich closer. It was ham and salad. No salami—I never brought salami to school. As much as I loved eating it, it wasn’t worth the hassle. That broke my mum’s heart as she and my father made it every year, and every year I would pretend I didn’t like it. Even by eating it in the safety of my own home, I had convinced myself that they would know. The shame I felt lingered
on my skin.
“She probably doesn’t understand us; she speaks wog at home. Fuckin’ wogs. Coming here and taking our jobs. Look at her; she’s fuckin' blue-eyed. She’s a faker,” Kristen joined in.
Yep, the same old derogatory sledge. We were in ’06 and they still acted like I was fresh from the boat. I was born here, yet they managed to make me feel like an outsider. They were ignorant of other cultures, especially migrants. The migrants from Italy in our hometown were dark skinned and dark haired. We were Northern Italian and, as a result, I was blue-eyed. They just expected that all Italians, Turks, and Greeks were dark haired and dark eyed. Idiots.
I clutched my bag and stepped around Stacey, with the direction of the bin in mind. I raised my arm to throw my sandwich in there, when all of a sudden, hands pushed my back and an ankle shot out in front of my legs, causing me to trip and land on my hands and knees on the asphalt. I pulled my hands up to my face and saw the instant cuts and abrasions on my palms. My knees were no better, and trails of blood began running down my legs, staining my white socks.
“Watch where you’re going, wog,” Kristen sneered as she passed me. I stood slowly, my hands shaking from my fall. Close by, I noticed a drinking tap to wash away the blood—there was no way I was going to go alone into the toilets where they could do further damage. I’d learnt that the hard way a few months back when they’d tackled me and kicked me in the ribs. As much as it pained me, I never said a word. Trinity was going to lose her mind when she saw my knees.
I washed the blood off my hands while picking the bits of asphalt out of my skin. I used a crumpled tissue from my bag to dab at my bloody knees.
“Beatrice Vera, are you all right?” Mr Niles’s harsh voice startled me, so much so that I dropped the tissue. He clucked his tongue to the roof of his mouth, folding his arms across his chest as he shook his head at me. He watched me grab the soiled tissue, all the while continuing to shake his head at my torn knees. Not one ounce of sympathy was shown on his facial features.
“Yes, sir. I just tripped, that’s all.” I darted past him, ignoring his condescending ‘tutting’, heading straight to my original destination of the library. I blocked out the hoots of laughter that I heard from the bitchy girls as I walked past
.
Late that afternoon, as I joined my dance class, I began to feel the excitement of the approaching Spring Gala. I had been waiting impatiently for this since I’d started dancing. This gala showcased our talents and tested our abilities to audition for the senior class. It was our moment to show which group we would fall into—whether we would remain in the standard dance school, or join the elite and be groomed for the academy, which was located in the city. It wasn’t the Australian Ballet, but it still gave us a dancing pathway.
Being a contemporary dancer, I didn’t have to worry about crazy diets or the size of my waistline, as we weren’t pigeonholed into the ‘one size fits all’ category like our ballet friends. We still worked hard, but we had a different outlook on dance.
While the lake and my room were my solace, dance was my refuge. Despite a few friends that I hung out with, it was no secret that I was treated like a pariah at school. I also wasn’t in the ‘cool’ group; I didn’t attend the prestigious and overly expensive dance school; I didn’t have the pirouettes and pliés that the other girls had. I did, however, have natural rhythm while being able to quickly learn any of the moves from this class and that was enough.
I was an immigrant’s daughter, so I could only afford the contemporary class. My mother didn’t have time to sew my clothes while she worked two jobs to give us a better life, and I couldn’t bring myself to ask for anything more. I was lucky they caved and let me attend this class. Study was important to my parents. They wanted success, and I guess they wanted me to have an outlet. I didn’t mind contemporary. I was too curvy for ballet, and the best part was that I knew that I excelled at it. It also meant those nasty cows wouldn’t be haunting my every move. Being here, I could block out anything that bothered me. The vice that normally gripped my chest slowly released as I moved to my own beat. Music calmed me. Expressing myself reawakened me. After the day I’d just had, I was trying desperately to forget what had happened —which was, sadly, the norm. Today’s incident had been one of many.
Gazing at my hands, I turned them slowly to inspect the cuts. They weren’t as bad as I had initially thought. I could clench and unclench them with only a little discomfort.
Click, click. “Beatrice, are you there?”
I blinked twice and focused on the fingers that were clicking in front of me. My dance teacher, Miss Ashton, was standing there with a look of sympathy on her face. She looked at my hands and I quickly pulled my long sleeves down to cover what I could of my palms. My dark tights covered my scabby kneecaps.
“Sorry, Miss, must’ve fazed out—won’t happen again.” My face felt hot as she scrutinised me.
She smiled at me sympathetically while surreptitiously glancing at my wrists. I instantly pulled them behind me.
“Not to worry, Trice. It happens to the best of us.”
I gulped and turned back to the group, walking to the position that I was dancing in. Time to block out my day. This was my time. Forget about them. They can’t take this away. I looked forward and waited for the beat of the song to begin. This was my favourite part—the anticipation of beginning and of letting the music soothe me.
“Okay girls, let’s hit it. The gala isn’t too far away, so we need to nail these pieces today. Time yourselves and mind your body placement. Feel what this song is all about.”
I was feeling all right—hurry up and press play!
As the music began, my horrible day faded and I let the light in to cloak the darkness that had shrouded my heart.
Once the class was over, I was eager to step outside, so I hurriedly packed my bags. Alex and Robbie would be picking me up and I couldn’t wait to tell Alex about the gala. He had been my biggest supporter apart from my family; however, lately he had been busy with his new yet-to-be-met-by-me-girlfriend. I loved our playful banter about me dancing holes into the floor and I missed it. I hoped I could see him and talk about what we had been learning. It felt cathartic to let loose. As I jammed my water bottle into my duffel, Miss Ashton approached me.
“Trice, can I see you for a moment?” Oh, shit. My heart thudded as I followed her to the other side of the room.
“I’m sorry to say this to you, Trice, but I couldn’t help noticing your palms. I know if I ask if you’re okay that you will say that you’re fine.” I stared at her dance shoes.
“Trice, please look up at me—I won’t bite.”
I swallowed the bile that had risen in my throat. I didn’t want to talk about it.
“I’m sorry, Miss, it won’t happen again. I just tripped at school today, that’s all.” I gripped my sleeves, tears brimming in my eyes as I begged her to believe me so that I could go. The endorphins from the lesson were wearing off and my embarrassment was sinking in.
“Now, Trice,” she said, “if you think for one moment that I will buy that rubbish, you have another thing coming.” I stiffened, biting my lower lip and avoiding her gaze.
“Trice, I know what those girls do to you. I have friends on staff there who see it. I am furious that these girls haven’t been dealt with. Does your mother know?”
Fear crept up my spine. My mum must never find out.
“Please, Miss, you cannot tell my mum. She will come in and they’ll get worse. Look, I will just hang out in the library. My friends were there today, so if I had gone there straight away none of this would have happened,” I spluttered, hurriedly explaining my dire situation. “They leave soon, so I won’t have to do my senior years with them. Please, Miss. They will make fun of my mum, and I
can’t have that. I can deal with it. This,” I said, pointing to my wrists, “is nothing.”
The burning on my wrists reignited and I realised too late that my fingers were fisted into my palms and had caused the reopening of the shallow wounds. Ouch.
“Trice, those girls need to be stopped, but I will respect your wishes just this once. If it gets worse, I am telling your mother. You are a beautiful person, Trice. I know you don’t see it, but I do. Your beauty is radiant and those jealous cows know it.” She unfolded her arms across her chest, a smile forming on her face. “Anyway, remember that Mr Stevenson is coming to the gala. I’ve told him about you. He is looking for future candidates for senior school. This can launch you into a dancing career at his academy in Melbourne, Trice. Focus on this, and ignore those bitches.”
My mouth gaped. I couldn’t believe she’d spoken so highly to Mr Stevenson about me. A scout from a major dance academy coming to our dinky country town was exciting. I closed my mouth on a gulp and stared. Wow. This could be my ticket out of here. Two years of intense training and performance, and a virtual shoo-in at major dance academies after. A wide smile broke out on my face. I couldn’t have stopped it if I’d tried.
“Thank you so much, Miss!” I squealed. Throwing my jacket on, I rushed to go tell the boys about the scout.
As I barrelled through the door, I spotted the boys in the distant car park with their backs to me. They were talking to some people I couldn’t quite make out, and Robbie’s laughter carried over to me, though I couldn’t hear what he’d said. As I strolled closer, I noticed Alex had his hands on the hips of a blonde in front of him. Must be his latest, I thought. He turned to speak to Robbie and I froze at whom I saw in front of him. Stacey. He was touching that vile, vulgar bitch. My heart stopped. My blood boiled and I felt suddenly betrayed. Neither boy had noticed me, but Stacey did. Her sardonic smile told me she was up to something. As I got nearer, I heard her snippety voice ring out.
“So guys, you going to that gala next month? There are a few people I know in it,” she asked, leaning into Alex.
I held my breath wondering what she was up to.
“Robbie, isn’t Beatrice in it? I don’t think I’ll go. I hate those types of things,” she said sweetly.
“Yeah, she is. She’s pretty excited. We have to go to support her, I guess,” Robbie replied, taking a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it.
“Speak for yourself,” Alex said.
“I don’t have to. That shit bores me to tears. All that twirling and shit … Nah, I’ll just say that I’m busy.” He squeezed Stacey’s hips tightly, moving her closer into his chest.
“Bea likes to tell me about it but I’m pretty good at tuning her out.”
My breath hitched. Stacey hooked her arms around his neck and looked over his shoulder right at me as though she were saying, ‘take that’. It was in that moment that Alex, my confidante and my friend, had broken my heart. He thought my dancing was boring? He came to all my big concerts. What for? For shits and giggles? He thought my dancing was pointless? It was then that I decided that he would neither hear about my dancing again, nor see me perform. Those encounters were gone. Fuck him and his vile bitch girlfriend.
“Hey, guys,” I croaked. I felt awkward, like an outsider. I quickly stuffed my hands into my jacket pockets to hide my palms and headed to the car. “Can we go? I have homework to do.”
“Sure thing, sis,” Robbie answered.
I looked towards Alex, who was lip locking with Stacey. Her eyes, however, were on me. Snap, crash. The friendship band unfurled again. Well, there was one way to keep me away from Alex. I sighed deeply and tried to remember what Miss Ashton had said. A scout. To see me. To give me a chance. I was going to grab this opportunity and begin my senior year on a high note. This
ticket would see me out of this town and off to a better future, away from those who’d hurt me.
Arriving home, I marched straight up to my room to get away from the boys. I needed a breather. How could he date her? Didn’t he realise? Or did he simply not give a shit? I was fuming, broken, and utterly shocked. I reached for my phone to text Trin.