‘Yeah. It’ll piss her off more if I don’t react.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Thanks. I’m glad they gave me a smart room mate.’
I think about telling her that I’m not really that smart, but I don’t, because I like that she thinks I am.
Suddenly Charlie leaps off her bed, and clothes get flung out of her drawers as she rummages through them.
‘Come on, Libby. Let’s go for a swim.’ She jiggles a lime green bathing suit in front of me. ‘We have an hour and a half before dinner. I’m going to dive into that cold water and leave this day at the bottom of the pool.’
I shake my head.
‘Come on, it’s a great way to wash away your troubles!’
As much as I want to wash away my troubles, I don’t think there’s a pool or even an ocean big enough to contain them. I know I could disguise my bald spot with a bathing cap, but I can’t risk it coming off.
‘No. But thanks. I might just listen to some music.’ I pull my iPod from my top drawer.
‘OK, your loss.’ She grabs a towel from a hook by the wardrobe. ‘If any one feels like a swimming race,’ she yells as she walks through the dorm, ‘I’m in the mood to beat you.’
I happen to look out the window as Matron and Charlie cross paths. I can’t hear what’s being said, but Matron is doing all the talking, and has a serious look on her face. She turns away from Charlie and marches up the stairs. Charlie flips her the bird behind her back and carries on to the pool.
Half an hour passes before she comes back. Her hair is twice as long when it’s wet, and the black ringlets drip water down her tee shirt.
‘You have to come next time, Libby. This school may suck, but they do have a wicked pool.’ She flings her towel back on the hook.
By the time we’ve had dinner and been shown the study hall, the light outside is already fading. We walk back to our dormitory like a gaggle of geese.
‘God, if I wanted to be yelled at and bossed around all day, I would have signed up for the army,’ Charlie says.
‘You’re too young, Charlie. They wouldn’t take you.’
‘I know, but if I was thinking about it, this place would have put me off. I can’t wait for this day to be over.’
‘Yeah, me too,’ I lie. For me, night time arrives with a suitcase full of horrors.
Back in our cubicle I turn my back to Charlie as I undress. I’ve been to the bathroom three times tonight, and it’s been full each time. I’m forced to get into my pyjamas in our room. I pull my knickers down under my skirt and quickly pull my pyjama pants on. My pubic hair has started to grow, but as soon as it gets long enough for me to grab with my thumb and forefinger, I pull it out.
I stay turned towards the wall as I ease my pyjama top over my head without disturbing my hair. I scramble into bed and pull my duvet up around me.
‘They can’t expect to order us around all day and not get some shit thrown back at them.’ Charlie continues ranting as she strides around in her bra and knickers.
I grab a book and hold it up in front of my face. I’m embarrassed by Charlie’s half-nakedness. No one in our house walks around like her. She flicks off her bra, and I’m relieved when she puts a tee shirt on.
‘They’re just making a point. I’m sure it’ll get better.’
‘It bloody better.’ Charlie climbs into bed and lets out a huge sigh. She props a pillow up behind her, reaches into her top drawer and pulls out a notebook with a monarch butterfly on the cover. She begins to write in it. ‘This won’t take long,’ she says, sounding pissed off.
‘Is that your diary?’
‘No, it’s my book of thanks. My koro bought me my first one when I was seven. He told me that every night before I go to sleep, I should think of something about my day that I’m grateful for and then write it down.’
‘Do you always think of something?’
‘Yep. Sometimes I go on for pages. It changes even the shittiest day. I do it just before I go to sleep, so I hold onto that thought as I drift off. Today, I’m grateful to have met you. Full stop.’ She claps the book shut, and with a smile and a flick of her bedside light turns over and faces the wall.
I sit stunned in my bed. The thought that someone would be grateful to have met me seems as bizarre as the sun forgetting to get up in the morning.
The hollowness inside me rears up. Charlie offering her friendship makes me see what a fraud I am. If she gets too close she’ll find out who I really am. A crazy girl who pulls her hair out and hugs pohutukawa trees.
My scalp tingles. I pretend I can’t feel it, and squeeze my hands together. Please God, no … The feeling races around my whole body. Just one hair, my brain chants: one to release the pain. I know this road so well, and yet every time I hope that it might lead somewhere different.
Calmness like a gentle wave washes over me as I pull out the first hair. I get swept out to sea on my imaginary life raft. The sun’s rays beam down on me and warmth spreads over my entire being.
I’m not sure how much time passes before I notice an achy feeling in my fingers. I stretch them out from their claw-like position. The warmth from imagined sunshine disappears. In its place is a darkness. And a scalp that stings. I clench my teeth against the feelings that now threaten to take me under. You’re a fraud and a liar, Libby Morgan.
I look across at Charlie. Her body moves up and down in time with her snoring. Her book with the butterfly on it has slid off her bed. I creep across and pick it up. I place it on the table beside her. A tear slides down my cheek and into my mouth, leaving a salty taste behind.
Chapter Ten
Charlie’s face is squashed into her pillow and, like most people at 5 a.m., she’s fast asleep. My hands tap the duvet cover looking for my dressing gown. I grab the towelling fabric and wrap it tight around me.
The wooden floorboards are cold beneath my bare feet. My fingers search like a hunting party across my cotton sheets and duvet cover for discarded hairs. I snatch them up and shove them into my dressing gown pocket. I retrieve my toilet bag from beside my bed.
Shadows lurk in the darkness, but I force myself to move without making a sound towards the bathroom. Eyes straight ahead. Be brave. Keep moving.
The sharp light from the overhead fluorescent tubes ricochets off the porcelain basins and white floor tiles. A mirror stretches the length of one wall, with a shelf below. It’s hard for me to recognise the pale face and head of thinning hair as my own. I take a step closer and scan the eyes, shaded with dark rings. Where are you? Where have you gone?
A shiny patch of skin on my scalp reminds me where I am. I shake myself, hoping this small act might pull me together. When I part my hair, last night’s damage glares at me. Two small spots, and a few missing hairs from my eyebrows.
I tip the contents of my toilet bag onto the shelf. My hand closes around the familiar shape of my mascara. I pull the wand from its case and wipe the brown ink onto a small makeup sponge. I dab this onto my scalp, repeating the process three times, until the shiny skin changes to a dull brown.
My hand shakes as I draw on my missing eyebrows. I’m grateful for my long fringe and dark hair as I clip it all into place. I tug hard on my hair to check that the clips will hold.
Footsteps make me scurry into a toilet stall. I crouch onto the toilet lid so whoever it is can’t see my feet. Shit, I left all my stuff on the shelf, including the nut pills with ‘Libby Morgan’ written on the label. My heart pounds.
‘Hi,’ a girl calls out from the next stall.
‘Hi,’ I mumble. I flush the toilet to stop any more conversation.
The rhythm of my heart returns to normal when the toilet flushes next door and I hear receding footsteps. I race out and grab the pill bottle. The pills aren’t making me feel any better and I’m still pulling. In the stall, I wrap the hair from my pocket into toilet paper and throw it into the toilet, and tip the pills in as well. I’ve got nothing to lose; surely I can’t get any more screwed
up than I already am.
I watch as it all whirls around the bowl a few times before being washed away. I feel nervous, but there’s a rush that comes from disobeying my mother’s rules that feels good.
I shove the empty bottle back in my toilet bag and get out my shower cap. I stretch the elastic band as wide as it can go before placing it on my head, and dart into the end shower stall.
Water cascades over me. I face the wall and wash my hairless body. No underarm hair. No pubes. I turn the water off after only two minutes. The water trickles down the plug hole. I wish my shame could go with it.
After taking the shower cap off, I make one final check of my hair in the mirror.
*
Back in my cubicle I climb into bed. I have to sit up so my hair doesn’t get messed up. Pathetic and ridiculous, my brain screams at me. I’m relieved when daylight finally comes and I can concentrate on sounds rather than my thoughts.
‘Morning, Libby.’ Charlie wipes sleep from her eyes but stays snuggled up beneath her covers. ‘You look like you’ve been up already.’
I must look stupid sitting up in bed with my hair all clipped back. ‘Yeah, I got up early to avoid the rush in the bathroom.’
‘Good idea. I’d join you if I wasn’t so lazy.’ She slides her feet towards the floor and grabs her toilet bag and towel.
By the time she’s back from the showers, I’m fully dressed and adjusting the knot on my tie.
‘What a stupid bloody thing, making girls wear ties.’ Charlie tugs her uniform from its hanger, yanking the skirt so hard I think she might rip it. ‘We should protest.’ Her eyes sparkle at the thought.
We’re in the middle of textile class when I mention to Charlie that year nines don’t get to go home this first weekend.
‘That’s bullshit. Why would they make that a rule?’
‘I don’t know, probably to acclimatise us.’
‘How friggin’ ridiculous. It doesn’t matter how long you stick a fish in an aviary, it’s never going to think it’s a bird.’
‘Charlotte, is that you I can hear talking?’ Ms Wilson, our teacher, asks.
‘Yes. It is.’
‘Well, please stop it and get on with your work.’
Charlie puts her foot down hard on the treadle of her machine. Her material all bunches up and gets snagged under the needle.
‘Fuck,’ she says as she tugs at it.
‘We’re allowed a phone call tonight,’ I whisper.
‘Whoop-dee-shit.’
‘Charlotte, take this as your last warning. You will earn five demerit points if I hear your voice again.’
Charlie is unusually quiet for the rest of the period. I know that the threat of five demerit points means nothing to her. When her silence continues into the afternoon and the evening I know something’s up.
‘I’m going to the office. Do you want to come and see if they’ll let us use the phones yet?’ I ask her.
‘Nah. I’m too mad, Libby.’
‘With who?’
‘With everyone. With this stupid school that makes me feel like an inmate, but mostly with myself for agreeing to come here. It was bad enough that they made us hand our cell phones over for the week, but to keep us hostage as well, that’s just bullshit.’
‘Maybe if you spoke to someone at home, you wouldn’t feel so bad.’
‘No. It would make me feel worse. Everyone would want to talk and ask me a million questions. I’d have to lie to them all so they didn’t feel bad for me. I’ll leave it ’til I get my head straight.’
As I walk to the office, a cool breeze catches my hair and draws it upwards. I panic and jerk it back down. I’m used to being ruled by fear, but the envy I feel now is new. I’m envious of Charlie. Her big family, her confidence in sorting herself out. Even her ability to worry about other people when she’s sad. It’s not right that I got nothing.
One of the phones outside the office is free for local calls. I dial home.
‘Hello?’
My heart skips a small beat when I hear his voice.
‘Hi, Dad.’
‘Hi, Libby. I was just thinking about you.’
I imagine him in his office, reclining in his leather chair, surrounded by shelves stacked full of his books. His panelled doors closed, sealing him off from the rest of the house. He probably wasn’t thinking about me, but it feels nice to pretend that he was.
‘How’ve your first days been?’
‘Not bad. How are you and Mum?’
‘Um, good. Yeah. I’ve been really busy.’
‘How’s Toby?’
‘He’s doing a great job. He asks every day if we’ve heard from you.’
Before we get a chance to say anything more, I hear Mum’s voice in the background.
‘Is that Elizabeth you’re talking to? Why didn’t you call me?’
‘I was about to.’
‘You know I’ve been waiting to hear from her all afternoon.’
‘Actually, I didn’t know. You didn’t tell me.’
‘Hellooooooo?’ I say loud into the mouthpiece.
‘Sorry, Libby. Your Mum can’t wait to talk to you. I’ll put her on.’
‘Hello Elizabeth.’
‘Hi, Mum.’
I hear a door slam in the background.
‘How’s school?’
‘It’s good.’
‘Have you made any friends?’
‘Yeah. Charlie my room mate’s really nice.’
‘Charlie; that’s a funny name for a girl. Surely that’s not her real name.’
‘No. It’s Charlotte.’
‘That sounds better. Where does her family come from?’
‘She’s from Whāingaroa.’
‘Where’s Whāingaroa?’
‘Raglan.’
‘Well, why didn’t you say that? What does her family do?’
I twist the phone cord around my finger and leave out the bit about Charlie being Māori. ‘Her family are into fishing.’
‘Oh, a fishing business. That must be lucrative.’
‘God, Mum. I forgot to ask how much they make.’
‘Don’t be silly, Elizabeth. Anyway, have you met that girl I told you about, Mrs Ashley’s granddaughter? I’m sure I read somewhere that she was attending a girls’ private boarding school in Hamilton.’
‘There are quite a few schools in Hamilton, Mum.’
‘Yes, but Hunterview’s the best.’
‘Well, I haven’t bumped into her.’
‘Oh well, keep your eyes peeled. Connections can take you a long way.’
‘Uh huh. How’s Nan?’
‘We haven’t got there this week. Do you remember Marion and Stan?’
‘No.’ I wonder what they’ve got to do with Nan, as Mum prattles on.
‘Yes, you must remember them. They bought the old Baker place. You know, it’s about five kilometres up from us. The ugly brick house right by the road.’
‘I don’t. But anyway –’
‘Well, Stan electrocuted himself. It appears that he was installing some fancy electric fence system and he wired himself into the mains.’
‘That’s awful.’
‘Yes, and I think they’re in a bit of financial strife as well. Your dad’s taken it upon himself to help out on the farm so she can make some funeral arrangements.’
‘That’s nice of him.’
‘Yes. Very noble.’ I detect a note of sarcasm, but I don’t want to go there with her.
‘Do they have any kids?’
‘No. I can’t put my finger on it, but they both were a bit odd. Even when Meryl tried to get them to join the neighbourhood watch group, they wouldn’t let her in the house.’
‘Mum, the poor guy’s not even buried yet.’
‘I just said they’re a little odd. It’s not just me, Meryl and Jenny found her strange too.’
Jenny was another neighbour, three houses up from us. I could just imagine Mum and her two friends tripping over themselves to
be the first one to visit Marion. They would have dropped off their baking and insincere wishes and half an hour later been clustered around our dining room table trading gossip.
‘So what’s this got to do with Nan?’
‘Oh, we haven’t been to see her because we’ve been so busy. Next week.’
‘Tell her I said hi.’
Mum makes some sort of snorting noise.
‘Sorry, Mum. I have to go. Someone wants to use the phone.’
‘Oh, OK.’
‘Can I just say bye to Dad?’ I let out a long and slow breath, which until now I hadn’t known I was holding.
‘I think he must have gone out. I heard the front door close. I’ll tell him you said goodbye. Are you still taking your pills?’
‘Yep.’ I’m tempted to tell her that I threw them out and so far haven’t got any loopier than I was before, but I say nothing.
‘Good. I’ll see you next weekend. Bye.’
She didn’t hear my goodbye; all I got was a long beep in my ear. After talking to Mum I feel like I’ve been robbed, like a blood transfusion in reverse.
On my way back to the dorm I pass by a group of girls leaning on a wall by the office. I recognise one from my science class. Stella.
‘Hi,’ I mumble, but she’s too busy laughing at something to reply.
We were assigned our science lab partners on the first day, and Stella is mine. We’ve sat together all week. The only time she’s spoken to me was to mention the fact that her father is the CEO of some big appliance company.
‘Sorry, what’s your name again?’ She asked me this every day, making me feel as insignificant as the Bunsen burner on our table.
Charlie has kept me entertained all week with her theories about the girls we share the dorm with. Last night at dinner she finally sorted them all out: ‘Look over there.’
I followed her gaze to a group of six girls as they came into the dining hall.
‘They’ve selected their Queen.’
‘What?’
‘The Queen! Every group has to have one. I’ve been watching them all week. It was between her,’ Charlie nodded to an attractive girl with long blonde hair that is so straight it can’t be natural, ‘and the brunette.’
The Scent of Apples Page 10