by Ciara Smyth
“Do you want me to go?” I said finally, unable to bear this a second longer.
Meabh looked confused.
“No. I wanted to talk to you,” Laura said tightly, as though if she said the words through gritted teeth Meabh wouldn’t hear them.
Bewildered, I shrugged. “Okay . . . ?”
Her eyes flickered over to Meabh again.
“Well, I can’t leave!” Meabh pouted. “Do you know how much effort it took me to get up here?” She shook her boot at us.
There were several games of badminton going on in the hall below us. It was cold outside. I contemplated the options and then with purpose I marched over to the supply closet, opened it, and kicked aside a basketball. With a flourish I gestured Laura into the dark cupboard and gave Meabh a mystified look as I closed the door behind me.
“What brings you to my office?” I joked. It was pitch-black and only the crack from the door frame let any light in. Someday I would look back on this part of my life as a period when I spent more time than usual in dark cupboards.
“This is good,” Laura said, her voice wavering.
“It smells like rubber and sweaty hands,” I said, “but whatever tingles your jingles.”
“No, I mean it’s dark. Then I don’t have to look you in the eye when I say this.”
She was nervous and it was making me nervous.
“Okay . . . ,” I said warily. “Spit it out.”
“I need a favor,” she said.
I closed my eyes to gather patience. My “agent” was out there hustling on my behalf again, but it was just as dark with my eyes open as closed so it didn’t work.
“Oh, for God’s sake. Did Kavi send you to me?”
“Kavi? No, I heard from my sister that you had done some kind of favor for her friend Orla, and all you wanted in return was a favor back.”
So much for being sworn to secrecy.
“Well, that was . . . you know, a favor to a friend,” I said, smudging the details. I mean, initially I had thought she was Kavi’s friend, after all. Not that I owed him any favors either, but it was only a fib.
“But it’s true?”
“Yeah, I guess,” I said uneasily. It had been an interesting week. Meabh’s drama. The break-in. It was all kind of fun and exciting. So why did I feel unsure about doing it again?
“Would you do one for me?” she asked, a pleading note in her voice.
I thought about how happy Orla had been to see me this morning. Because she’d been desperate and I fixed it. But she’d deserved help. She was really stuck.
“Depends what it is,” I said finally. There had to be limits. If I was going to do this, and it looked like I was, then I couldn’t help everyone who asked. There’d need to be some boundaries. Though I didn’t know what they were yet.
“You can’t tell anyone,” she said.
“All right.” I shrugged, though she couldn’t see it in the dark. It made no odds to me. I already hadn’t been able to tell people about my great . . . what was it? Philanthropy! My philanthropy had all been secret so far and I was good at keeping secrets for people. I’d been practicing my whole life. What was one more?
“No, I mean it,” she said, sounding very bossy for someone who wanted me to do her a favor.
“I offer a fully confidential service. Seal of the fuckin’ confessional right here,” I said. Then I thought of something else. “Unless you, like, murdered someone. I can’t be helping you move a dead body or anything. I do not have the upper-body strength. Trust me, I can’t even climb up a wall.”
“What has that got to do . . . Never mind. I didn’t murder someone.”
“Go on, then. Tell me your sins, child,” I said in my most priestly voice.
“If you’re not going to take this seriously—”
“No, I’m sorry, I am,” I apologized. I was dead serious in this room in the dark surrounded by deflated balls.
She took a deep breath. “I need you to get the morning-after pill for me.”
I waited.
That was it, apparently.
“Is that it?”
“Yes,” she said testily.
“And you’re willing to owe me a favor if I do this?” I said. One of us was getting the short end of the stick here and I needed to make sure she realized that for my own conscience. “A favor I can collect at any time.”
“That’s fine.”
“Why, though? I mean . . . okay, it’s a bit embarrassing. Like when you go in with a yeast infection and some nosy old biddie doesn’t give you space to say it privately to yer one behind the counter. But you’d get over it.”
“My dad is the chemist,” she said. “At Crossan’s.”
It was starting to make slightly more sense now.
“Well, he’s not every chemist, is he, though?”
“No, but he knows them all. It’s a small town. What if they recognize me?”
Far be it from me to question someone’s paranoia.
“Why don’t you get a friend to do it?” I asked.
“I don’t want to tell them!” she said, scandalized. “It’s awful enough as it is without everyone I know talking about it.”
“What’s so awful about you getting the ride?” I said. I hadn’t got the ride yet but I really wanted to get some practice in before I married Kristen and moved to Hawaii.
“Will you keep your voice down?” she said, though I was speaking at a perfectly low level and the only eavesdropper was a pile of gym mats covered in decades of teenage foot sweat.
“It was with my ex-boyfriend,” she went on. “They’re going to judge me for the backslide.”
“I don’t think you can get pregnant that way.”
“That’s not what that means,” she said, and I could practically feel the heat from her blush. “He broke up with me and broke my heart and then I slept with him the second he showed any interest again. I thought it meant he wanted to get back with me but it didn’t. It’s embarrassing. I should be less pathetic.”
She sounded really sad and I had an urge to hug her. I didn’t though because I was basically a stranger. I heard a sniff in the dark.
“Look,” I said in my softest voice. “You got your heart pulped. You missed someone and then you wanted to feel like they loved you again. That’s not pathetic. It’s your heart, it’s soft and mushy and it’s supposed to be and I’m sorry he thought it was okay to mess with it but that’s his mistake, not yours.”
She sniffed again. Then quite alarmingly, as I couldn’t see it coming, I felt a pair of arms flung round me. When I recovered from the surprise, I hugged her back.
I agreed to go to the chemist at lunchtime and Laura insisted on staying in the cupboard for a bit to sort herself out. Meabh gave me a curious look when I exited.
“Don’t ask,” I said.
“Another favor?” she guessed.
“I couldn’t possibly comment.”
I thought she might be nosy about it but she just nodded.
“All right, then. Trigonometry.”
Half an hour later my brain was burning. I clutched my head in my hands.
“Oh God, is this what knowledge feels like?”
“You are such a drama queen. You’re doing fine. You’re lucky you’re near the start of the unit. You didn’t miss too much.” Meabh was standing behind me, resting her forearm on my shoulder. “Don’t forget the unit of measurement or your answer means nothing.”
“Yes, miss,” I said, looking up at her. I noticed then, when she was so close to me, how long and dark her eyelashes were. At least they’d grown back after the exam stress. You’d probably look quite weird close up if you had none.
She’d have an absolute heart attack if she knew how behind I was on everything. We might have been at the start of trigonometry, but there were at least three other units I had struggled through without picking up any new knowledge. In fact, aside from Irish, trigonometry was now officially my best subject, and believe me when I say the gap
was wide. But I did manage to get through today’s homework at least, and when we closed the book, I felt this weird sense of lightness. Knowing that there was at least one class today where I wouldn’t disappoint or anger the teacher was kind of nice.
Meabh looked forlornly at her own stack of work. She sat down beside me, stretching her leg out on the bench, and it was her turn to sigh. My lightness turned to stone and I felt horribly guilty all of a sudden. She had actual important stuff to be at and I’d taken up her time with my stupid homework.
“I’m sorry,” I said, really meaning it.
“What for?” she said, surprised.
“I’m wasting your time. What’s the point of me helping you get extra time to do your work if I end up using it for myself?”
She looked taken aback, but I wasn’t sure why. Maybe she expected me to be selfish as well as stupid.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said slowly. “I offered to help you. That’s not the problem anyway. It’s just . . .” She gestured limply at the carnage of her work area.
“Can’t be fucked?” I said knowingly.
She laughed. “Kind of the opposite. There’s so much I want to do, I don’t know where to start. We have to submit a brief paper for each policy we’re proposing. They have to be approved by the staff. After last year.”
Last year the only senior who ran for student council president had attempted exactly one change to the school: a free nacho bar for the café. Needless to say his term in office was not considered a success.
“Start with the most important,” I said, thinking of my own homework strategy.
“They’re all important,” she said, rubbing her eyes.
“Hey, watch that or you’ll ruin the Disney princess eyelashes again.”
“Disney princess eyelashes?” Meabh said, sounding like she was trying to figure out where the insult was.
“How about you start with the easiest one then?” I asked.
Meabh cleared her throat. “Why the easiest one?” Her cheeks had turned slightly pink.
I didn’t think because it’s the easiest would satisfy her as well reasoned, so I thought quickly.
“Because when you finish it, you’ll feel accomplished, and then you’ll have momentum for getting the rest done.”
“That’s a good idea,” she said thoughtfully. “I could submit a simple one right away. It will show the voters that I’m serious about getting things done and I have workable plans.”
“I wouldn’t worry about the voters too much. They don’t have anyone else to vote for.”
“Thank God,” she said. Then she realized what she’d said and backtracked. “I mean, not because I don’t believe in the democratic process. I’d just hate for it to be one of those popularity things. Can you imagine Ronan running against me? He’d win because everyone hates me but his big input to the school would be, I don’t know, jelly-wrestling Wednesdays.”
She wasn’t wrong.
“Hey.” I shrugged. “I don’t care if you want to take control of the student council by force and declare yourself emperor. It makes no odds to me.”
I believed that Meabh really did want to use her power to do good things and God knows the people in our school were not smart enough to see that. It was like Holly had said, you had to tell them what they wanted to hear even if it wasn’t going to do anyone any good.
“Empress,” she corrected me immediately. She couldn’t help herself.
“So what’s the easiest one, then?” I said, ignoring her.
“I had an idea for a green initiative. It can be implemented with zero cost and zero labor. In fact it will save the school time and money. Really I’m surprised it didn’t happen years ago.”
“Go get ’em, Emperor.”
“Empress.”
I rolled my eyes.
The door to the storage cupboard creaked open and Laura emerged, looking calm and collected. Apart from the streaky mascara on her face. She gave us both a dignified nod and walked downstairs without another word, as though nothing had happened.
13.
Ronan was trying to huff the next morning. But it’s hard to really take someone’s bad mood seriously when they’re sitting on a bouncy ball with their arms folded and their bottom lip pouting.
“His mam was disgusted with him,” Holly whispered to me. “She said that next time he stepped out of line she would pull him from the Gaelic team.”
“Whoa. Just over back talk?” I said. I mean, I was pleased, but surprised she’d go for such a strong punishment.
“Well, apparently she’s super religious, so I think the whole STD thing set her off. She thinks he’s an altar boy who shouldn’t even know what that is. Jill wasn’t happy with him either.”
Every now and then I had to believe karma was real.
Ms. Devlin cleared her throat. “Friday is the last day to sign up for student council elections, and while you’d think I would be beaten down enough by your indifference at this stage, inexplicably I’m still hopeful for a volunteer.” She’d been reminding us daily and yet there were no takers. The bell rang and Ms. Devlin dismissed us with a weary hand wave. “Meabh, can you hold on a moment? I read your policy paper.”
Holly rolled her eyes at me. I pretended not to notice and gave Ms. Devlin a wave as we walked past instead. She nodded, but then her expression changed.
“Aideen,” she said sharply. “Go and wash your face, please. You know you’re not allowed to wear makeup to school.”
It was true. I hadn’t been able to sleep because Mam had come home late “from work” again and I spent most of the night thinking of insults I could casually lob at Dad if he dared show his face. Around six, puffy eyed, I gave up and put on a YouTube tutorial for something to do.
“What are you talking about?” I said with my most beamingest smile. “This is my natural face.”
“Your eyelids are rainbow colored,” she said.
“That’s one of my diseases, miss. Kind of insensitive of you to make fun of me.”
“Miss Cleary, you are wearing a full face of makeup. If I dragged my finger down your face there’d be a groove in your cheek.”
I sighed dramatically.
“Okay, I’m going to level with you,” I said conspiratorially. “I am wearing some makeup. But you and I both know that you don’t really give a fuck so let’s pretend you didn’t see me this morning and we’ll both go about our day.”
Ms. Devlin’s eyes bugged. “I am going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”
“Exactly, Eileen,” I said, and I winked.
“That’s not what . . . My name isn’t Eileen.” She threw her hands up and waved me away, clearly having given up the fight. Meabh was waiting impatiently by her side, desperate to hear what Ms. D thought of her paper. I slowed down as we walked out of the hall, hoping to hear some of the feedback, and Holly trailed behind with me. As we reached the door, Ms. Devlin’s voice echoed across the hall.
“Your paper was beautifully written, Meabh, succinct and persuasive. Making the school paper digital would save money and energy.”
Making the paper digital. My brain practically shrugged from lack of interest. Then it hit me. Just as the words hit Holly too. Without thinking I threw both arms around her waist and dragged her out of the hall, letting the fire doors slam behind us. She struggled against me.
“Let. Me. Go.”
I dragged her down to the girls’ locker rooms. She screeched the whole way like she was being murdered and I could only assume Ms. Devlin didn’t have it in her to come and investigate a murder. I only let Holly go when we were safe inside the locker room. Then, panting and sweaty, I blocked the door.
Holly stood in front of me, eyes on fire.
“Let me out. Now,” she said, sounding dangerous.
I shook my head. “I can’t do that.”
“She wants to make my paper dig-i-tal.” Holly enunciated each syllable as though it were some disgusting creature she was inspect
ing.
“I heard.” I held both hands up, the way you do when you’re faced with a wild animal. Totally useless gesture, but based on the misguided instinct to reason with it. “But if you go out there now and start screaming about it, that isn’t going to help. You’ll only piss off Ms. D. She won’t take you seriously.”
Holly snorted and folded her arms. She began pacing the locker room with quick, aggressive steps. It took a full minute for her to slow down. After a second she let out a shriek of frustration so sudden it made me jump.
I’d only ever heard one other person over the age of two make a noise like that, and weirdly it was in the exact same room. I made a mental note that if I ever wanted to try some therapeutic screaming, the acoustics in here were great.
“You’re right,” she said finally, although it came out resentful rather than grateful.
I sighed with relief and sat down to let my heart return to its normal rhythm.
“How on earth did you manage to drag me down here?” Holly asked, and she laughed. I was bent over and sucking in deep breaths. When I surfaced, I said, “Adrenaline. Like those mams who lift cars off their babies.”
“Am I the car or the baby?” she asked, and although she was smiling, there was a hint of sarcasm I didn’t understand.
“You’re my baby, baby,” I said, giving her a light punch on the arm.
The door to the locker room swung open then and fifteen first years barreled in, giving us dirty looks. I ignored them.
“So what are you going to do?” I tried not to sound too nervous.
“I can’t reason with the likes of Meabh,” she said. “I’m going to have to beat her at her own game.”
“What do you mean?” I asked warily. But Holly had already swept past me and out the door. I cursed myself for letting my guard down too quickly as I tried to keep up with her long, quick strides.
We reached the door to the sports hall. She closed her eyes and took one more deep, calming breath. When she opened them she had a perfectly neutral expression. The kind serial killers probably used when they wanted to look “normal.”