Lola Offline

by Nicola Doherty

  ‘Um, maybe we should wait for Priscilla before discussing any of this?’ Fletcher said tentatively. ‘And Tariq,’ she added.

  ‘Well … let’s not decide anything, but we can put together a list of suggestions,’ said Patrick. ‘What have you got, Fletcher?’

  Fletcher got out a thick notebook with a very impressive set of colour-coded sections. ‘Since we’re allowed to serve wine and beer, we should really serve food as well so that people don’t get drunk. I was thinking mini-pizzas and crisps?’

  ‘Hm,’ said Rose eloquently.

  ‘What do you mean, hm?’ said Patrick.

  ‘No, that sounds so lovely, but it doesn’t really go with the theme, does it?’ said Rose.

  ‘What is the theme?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s a Venetian masked ball,’ said Rose. ‘So obviously we can’t serve mini-pizzas.’

  ‘Well …’ I closed my mouth. I was way too new to point out that pizza seemed appropriate, if it was Italian.

  ‘Pizza seems appropriate, if it’s Italian,’ said Patrick.

  Tariq came in at that point. ‘I’m so sorry I’m late, guys,’ he said, pulling off his scarf.

  ‘Where’s Pris?’ said Fletcher.

  ‘I have no idea,’ said Tariq. ‘I haven’t heard from her all day, which is weird. What have I missed?’

  ‘We’ve mainly been discussing manicures. And snacks,’ said Patrick, looking long-suffering.

  ‘Ah,’ said Tariq. ‘Good. I like snacks.’

  ‘But it’s a masked ball. How can people even eat when they have their masks on?’ Rose burst out. ‘And who’s going to want to eat while they’re wearing couture?’

  Now Fletcher looked panicked. ‘I didn’t know people were wearing couture,’ she said. ‘My dress is from Zara.’

  ‘I love Zara,’ I said, to stick up for Fletcher. ‘What’s it like?’

  ‘Guys,’ Patrick said, pained. ‘Can we stay on topic?’

  Just then, Mr Gerardo appeared. I was surprised to see him, before I remembered that he was our Pastoral Head of Year.

  ‘I would not normally interrupt you all in your inner sanctum,’ he said, sitting down. ‘But I want to talk to you about the ball.’

  ‘It’s cancelled?’ breathed Fletcher.

  ‘No, no,’ said Mr Gerardo. ‘But we are concerned about the theme.’

  ‘What’s wrong with the theme?’ said Rose, looking indignant.

  ‘We just think it’s placing too much pressure on students to come up with an expensive dress or suit, and a mask. After the Winter Ball, we realised that students were spending far too much on their outfits and it was causing stress. We’ve had quite a few emails from parents also. We think the spending is getting out of hand.’

  ‘But – the masks are only a hundred euros or so,’ said Rose. ‘A good one, at least. You can get crappy ones for much less.’

  ‘That’s still rather a lot of money,’ said Mr Gerardo. ‘I think there was a linguistic misunderstanding, too. The Student Council described it in their original email as a bal costumé. And that doesn’t mean masked ball. It means fancy dress.’

  ‘Fancy dress?’ said Rose, in tones of disgust. ‘You mean, like, dressing up in as clowns?’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ said Mr Gerardo calmly. ‘You can come up with creative ideas. We just don’t want anyone buying anything new – it has to be something you already have, or that you can make.’

  There was a stunned pause.

  ‘That’s really not going to be popular,’ Tariq said reluctantly. ‘A lot of people have bought their outfits already.’

  ‘They can wear them for the Graduation Ball,’ Mr Gerardo said. ‘Let’s have a show of hands. All those in favour of changing the theme from masked ball to fancy dress?’

  Fletcher raised her hand. So did Mr Gerardo. Rose folded her arms. After a glance at her, Patrick kept his hand down too. I felt deeply relieved that I didn’t have to get involved in this.

  Mr Gerardo looked at me. ‘I don’t think I get a vote,’ I said quickly. ‘I’m not actually on the committee.’

  ‘All right,’ said Mr Gerardo. ‘Tariq?’

  Tariq raised his hand slowly, looking torn.

  ‘Great. Then it’s decided, three to two. The theme changes to fancy dress.’

  Rose sighed loudly and stabbed her notebook with her pink fluffy pen.

  ‘What kind of fancy dress, though?’ Fletcher asked. ‘We still need a theme.’

  ‘World War Two?’ suggested Patrick.

  ‘Where you all dress up as Nazis? Perhaps not,’ said Mr Gerardo.

  ‘I know!’ said Rose. ‘How about a Chinese theme?’

  ‘How do you mean?’ said Mr Gerardo.

  ‘You know – we could have our hair up with chopsticks, like those … what are they called …’ Rose indicated her own glossy dark hair. ‘Geishas!’

  ‘Geishas are Japanese,’ said Tariq.

  Rose waved a hand. ‘Well, we could make it Asian-themed.’

  There was a shiver in the room and we all instinctively turned to look at Mr Gerardo.

  ‘That’s not such a good idea,’ he said. ‘Ethnicity isn’t a theme.’

  ‘No, but if they’re minorities …’

  ‘Hmm,’ Mr Gerardo said. ‘It depends on how you look at it. If you and I went to China, wouldn’t we be minorities there?’

  ‘I suppose,’ said Rose, clearly having her mind blown by the very idea. Now it was my turn to look down. I had used the word ‘minorities’.

  My heart was beating crazily now and my palms felt clammy. This was reminding me too much of – things. I should never, ever have become involved in student politics.

  ‘Any other suggestions?’ said Mr Gerardo.

  There was an awkward silence while we all looked at each other. My mind had gone blank.

  ‘I have one,’ Fletcher said suddenly. ‘How about a party where we all come as the meaning of our name?’

  ‘How do you mean?’ said Tariq.

  ‘Well, everyone’s name has a meaning. So mine means someone who makes arrows, so I could come with a bow and arrow …’ she trailed off uncertainly. ‘I mean, not a real bow and arrow. Obviously.’

  ‘That’s a brilliant idea!’ I said excitedly. ‘Patrick, yours means a nobleman – from the Latin – so you could come in a suit with a monocle, or something.’

  ‘What does mine mean?’ said Rose.

  I caught Tariq’s eye. ‘Um – I think it just means a rose, doesn’t it?’

  ‘So I could come as a rose?’ she said, perking up.

  ‘I like that,’ said Mr Gerardo. ‘What does everyone else think? Show of hands?’

  Everyone’s hand went up. I felt weak with relief.

  ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ said Mr Gerardo. ‘Good work, Fletcher. And Lola – impressive etymology skills.’

  He smiled at us and I felt the glow of once again, briefly, being a good student. What would I wear? Delilah meant ‘delight’ or ‘temptress.’ Which had all kinds of possibilities, if I was brave enough to explore them.

  ‘What does Lola mean?’ Fletcher asked.

  I jumped in fright as I realised how close I’d come to forgetting I was Lola.

  ‘Oh,’ I frowned. ‘I – I’m not sure. No, wait, I think it’s from Dolores which means “sorrow”.’ Phew.

  ‘You could wear a little black dress – it could be really cute,’ said Fletcher.

  ‘Ooh yes!’ said Rose. ‘Or a long black dress. That would look great with your hair actually.’

  ‘Guys,’ said Patrick again. ‘Can we please?’

  The rest of the meeting went smoothly. With Rose distracted by looking up rose costumes on her phone, we managed to agree on pizzas and, instead of a mani-cam, a cheap Polaroid camera. Fletcher said she would do the social media aspect if I could take charge of making and distributing posters and flyers.

  ‘Here – thanks,’ I said as we were leaving, giving her back her pen.

  ‘No, no, you keep i
t,’ she said.

  ‘But – it looks expensive …’

  ‘Keep it! Have it! I have tons of them!’ she said.

  There was clearly no point in arguing. I walked out of the meeting feeling taller and happier than I had since I’d arrived. It was so nice to be on a committee again. But even nicer was being able to spend time with people, without having to try and make them my friends.

  ‘Great work there, Lola. How did you know what Patrick meant?’ Tariq said, catching me up.

  ‘We had a book of baby names in the house and I used to spend hours poring over it.’ I managed not to add that said book lived in the loo; that was a visual he could do without. ‘And for Rose … I just took a guess.’

  He laughed. ‘She’s a nice girl – she’s just not super bright,’ he said. He lowered his voice. ‘I was there when she discovered water polo wasn’t played with ponies.’

  I laughed.

  ‘Are you busy on Friday night?’ he said.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ I said automatically. There was no chance that I’d admit, ‘Probably not.’

  ‘The Film Club is showing Ridicule. It’s a great film – set in the court of Louis XVI. One of my favourite Louises. Hm. What do you think the plural of Louis is?’

  ‘It can’t be Louises … Probably just Louiiiis?’ I pondered this.

  ‘Anyway. You should come. We’re all going. Me, Priscilla, Patrick, Nicolas – have you met my friend Nicolas?’

  ‘Yes – sure, sounds good,’ I said, trying to conceal my excitement. It looked like I had made another friend. At least – Lola had. I had a feeling that Tariq wouldn’t have much time for Delilah at all.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  By Friday, I was feeling so much better than I had on Monday morning. I decided to give home a quick Skype call after class, just so they knew that I wasn’t permanently miserable.

  ‘I’m so pleased, darling!’ Mum said, when I told her about joining the Entertainment Committee. ‘That’s brilliant! You could even think about running for the Student Council now, couldn’t you?’

  I rubbed my forehead. This was typically overoptimistic of Mum. ‘I’ve only been at this school about five minutes.’

  ‘Listen, have a word with your brother. He’s about to go out.’ She yelled, ‘Len!’

  ‘Sup,’ he said, a minute later. I blinked. He looked older. Still no stubble but he definitely looked bigger. And was it my imagination or did his voice sound deeper?

  ‘Sup to you too,’ I said. ‘Where are you off to? Hot date?’

  After a minute he said, ‘Actually, yeah.’

  I could not believe this. Lenny had a date? My baby brother, who would say ‘Yuk’ whenever he saw a kiss on screen, and was scared of sharks in the swimming pool, and made us stop the car to catch a Jigglypuff – out on a date? Had the world gone mad?

  ‘Who with?’ I managed to say.

  ‘Holly,’ he said. ‘You don’t know her. She’s in my year group.’

  Holly! I tried to picture this ship – Len and Holly – but I couldn’t. ‘Where are you even going?’

  ‘Starbucks. She has to be home by seven-thirty because her auntie’s coming over and her mum’s making a paella.’

  I was honestly too bewildered even to tease him about it. Plus – there was the sad fact that Lenny was going on an actual date, while I was further than ever from having a boyfriend. He was totally growing up, and he didn’t need me for any of it.

  ‘Well, have fun!’ I said, heartily. ‘Stay safe!’

  It was a stupid thing to say, but to be fair, I was in shock. Lenny was becoming a proper teenager, with a girlfriend whose mum made paella. Where would it all end?

  ‘So,’ Mum said, reappearing. ‘Did Len tell you about his date?’

  ‘Yes!’ I said. ‘I can’t believe it! Have you met her?’ ‘No, but I’ve seen pictures,’ said Mum. ‘She looks about twenty-five and has better make-up than I do.’ She laughed.

  ‘But what is she like? Is she a good influence?’

  ‘She’s fine, Delilah. Perfectly nice kid. Talk to your Dad.’

  I nodded, bracing myself for another awkward encounter.

  ‘So – what’s this – you’ve joined a committee?’ Dad said, poking his head round. ‘That sounds more like the Delilah I know.’

  I smiled. He sounded more relaxed than usual – more like the dad I used to know. ‘Yeah … it’s just planning a party, but still. I think it’ll be fun.’

  I explained the theme to him, and as I’d suspected, he was disappointed that I wasn’t going as Uhura.

  ‘Dad, I can’t go as Uhura,’ I said. ‘For one thing, I think a blackface costume would not be a tactical move.’ ‘How are you going to do Delilah though?’ said Dad. ‘I hope you’re not …’ He was obviously having nightmares of me in a temptress-style bra top and harem pants.

  ‘Don’t worry, Dad,’ I said, soothingly. ‘I’m going as Lola – remember? Dolores. Sorrow.’

  ‘You’re going as Lola?’ he said, clearly as stunned as I’d been by Lenny’s date.

  Mum reappeared. ‘You’re going as Lola?’ she repeated.

  ‘Well – yeah,’ I said patiently. ‘That’s kind of the whole point of me being here, right?’

  ‘I know, but—’ They both stared at me.

  Mum said, ‘Love – Delilah – you know that this whole escape thing won’t last forever, don’t you? I mean there’s uni to think of, the whole rest of your life … You’ll have to go back to Delilah eventually.’

  I said nothing. It was impossible to picture ‘the rest of my life’. But I could easily picture the hell that my life would become, here at Jean Monet, if I was unmasked.

  ‘Can we talk about this another time?’ I said. ‘I just want to stay Lola – for now.’

  Mum and Dad exchanged their trademark worried glances again. ‘Sure, love,’ Mum said. ‘Just be careful.’

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  ‘Hey,’ said Kiyoshi on Friday at lunch time. ‘Did you hear about Priscilla?’

  Vee and I looked up from our baguettes. We were sitting on a bench in the Jardin du Luxembourg, across the road from the school. It was another sunny day, and Vee was still upset about her parents so, to cheer her up, Kiyoshi had declared a prison break. We had bought sandwiches in the Marché de l’Odéon – a beautiful, bustling place where you could buy about three hundred different cheeses, olive oils and antique books – and brought them to the park.

  The Luxembourg Garden was already one of my favourite places in Paris – especially now, with the sun getting warmer every day, and tiny green leaves beginning to appear everywhere. Kids were being led around on little Shetland ponies; old men were playing chess under the bare chestnut trees. I could only imagine how beautiful it would be in summer. Why was the weather always nicest just in time for exams?

  ‘What about Priscilla?’ Vee said. ‘Has she got a job at the UN? Leading an army perhaps?’

  ‘No, silly. Her dad’s got a new job somewhere, I’m not sure where. The Middle East maybe.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ I said. ‘Poor Tariq.’

  ‘What do you mean, poor Tariq?’ said Vee. ‘He’ll just find another adoring girlfriend.’

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ said Kiyoshi thoughtfully.

  ‘What do you mean?’ we both said, but Kiyoshi refused to say anything else.

  ‘I wonder who else will run for Student President now,’ said Vee.

  ‘I bet Hunter will run. You know, Fletcher’s boyfriend,’ Kiyoshi said, carefully pushing a piece of tomato back into his baguette. He ate as neatly as he did everything else. While Vee and I were a mess of crumbs, he was as pristine as ever.

  ‘How do you know all this?’ I asked curiously.

  ‘Kiyoshi always knows all the gossip,’ Vee said. ‘Everybody loves him and confides in him. He’s like the opposite of me.’

  Kiyoshi laughed but didn’t contradict her.

  ‘That’s so weird, that Priscilla’s just left,’ I sa
id. ‘In the middle of term. In the middle of the week, even. It’s like she’s disappeared.’ Not that I was one to talk.

  ‘It happens in a school like ours,’ Kiyoshi said. ‘Jobs change. Parents move.’

  ‘They’ll just find another clone to replace her,’ Vee said. ‘The Council will continue.’ She started doing robot arms and a robot voice. ‘Nothing … Will stop … Their march to power.’

  We all giggled, but my baguette was now sticking in my throat. I still hadn’t told them that I was on the Entertainment Committee. It was official now. I was on the email list and everything. There was also a Facebook group, but I had managed to get out of that – for now.

  ‘Why do you hate them so much?’ I asked, trying to sound casual.

  ‘Who’s them?’

  ‘You know. The Student Council.’

  ‘I don’t hate them’, said Vee. I just think they’re mindless automatons, sleepwalking into the exact same six-figure-paying jobs their parents had, ready to ruin the world in the exact same way. They’re the very definition of the one per cent.’ She balled her sandwich wrapper up into a ball.

  Oh, God. How could I possibly tell them now?

  ‘Did you hear they changed the theme of the ball?’ Kiyoshi said. ‘It’s not a Venetian ball any more. Which is such a pity. I had my opera cloak all ready.’

  ‘What’s the theme now?’ I asked, feeling like a weasel.

  ‘Come as your name,’ Kiyoshi said.

  ‘What? That’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard of,’ said Vee. ‘What does that even mean? Do I come as Queen Victoria?’

  ‘You could come as Victory … like, in a Greek toga with laurel leaves?’ I suggested.

  ‘Huh. I know,’ she said. ‘I’ll come as the Triumph of Capitalism. With pictures of children being trampled by Coke cans and tanks and things.’ She started rolling a cigarette.

  ‘That’ll get the party started,’ Kiyoshi said. ‘Ugh. What will I wear, though? Kiyoshi means pure.’ He sighed. ‘That won’t be hard. I am the poster boy of pure.’

  ‘Do you …’ I paused. Kiyoshi seemed very open in one way, but we hadn’t discussed crushes yet. ‘Is there anyone you do like? In school?’