Heartache High

by Jon Jacks

  Flattered, too, that they want to try and help.

  I am an idiot, after all, aren’t I?

  ‘I can’t control it anymore’ I admit. ‘I know it’s crazy, just living in my imagination like this rather than getting out and enjoying myself. But it just seems so incredibly real to me. It doesn’t seem like a dream; it feels like I’m really there with him.’

  Jassy slips a friendly arm around my waist.

  ‘Don’t go beating yourself up about it girl! You’d be surprised how many people here still hold a candle for the person they’ve left behind.’

  ‘Yet we don’t think of our parents, our brother and sisters – how crazy is that, eh?’

  As soon as Dave says it, I realise he’s right; I’ve hardly spent a moment thinking of how I miss mum and dad.

  Yet when it comes to Iain – a man who never returned my love, someone who always ignored me – I can’t stop thinking of him.

  ‘It’s like it’s part of our curse,’ Jassy says. ‘Like Prometheus, having to eternally endure having his liver torn out day after day.’

  ‘And there, I think, Jassy has hit upon something.’

  Dave touches the edges of his glasses, the mark of the professor deep in thought.

  ‘Some people actually quite enjoy being here, regarding it as a punishment for their inability to secure their love. For others, it’s like a form of self-harm; you know, where someone deliberately cuts themselves, as it’s a pain they feel to be in more control of.’

  ‘I can hardly say I’m in control of my pain. It’s controlling me. And I enjoy it; that’s why I don’t want to control it.’

  ‘We all still suffer it to some extent Steph,’ Jassy confesses. ‘Our world can never be perfect, if our loved one can’t be a part of it. Therefore we can only create a semblance of the perfect world we desire in our imaginations.’

  ‘Wow,’ I chuckle, ‘trust me to make friends with Mr and Mrs Freud here, eh?’

  They smile, laugh.

  ‘Me and Jassy, we’re friends,’ Dave says. ‘Amazingly good friends; I’ve never met anyone as wonderful as Jassy. Even the girl I still pine for can’t compare to her.’

  Jassy looks at him. She nods in agreement, like she knows where he’s going with this.

  ‘But we could never be lovers, Steph,’ she says.

  ‘Let alone Mr and Mrs,’ Dave adds bleakly.

   

   

  *

   

   

  Jassy and Dave’s talk should have warned me to at least try and bring my daydreams under more control.

  But, truth is, I don’t want to.

  At last, I’m with Iain.

  Okay, okay; so I know I’m not really with him.

  But it feels like I am.

  It’s the nearest I’m ever going to get to being with him.

  I can’t give that up.

  I still love him.

  I’m an idiot.

  But when I’m dreaming of him, I’m a happy idiot.

   

   

  *

   

   

  Iain’s shocked.

  I can see it in his face.

  The way he’s embarrassed.

  He’s embarrassed for me.

  The way I’m acting.

  Coming on to him like…like, well, I don’t know how to describe it!

  This just isn’t me!

  Why am I acting like this?

  Why can’t I control the way I’m acting?

  Even in my dreams, shouldn’t I be able to say, No, that’s enough!

  Calm down Steph!

  Don’t do this!

   

   

  *

   

   

  Chapter 14

   

  Once I’ve finished my primer, I have to make copies of it to ensure it’s circulated.

  Normally, of course, that would mean running off a few extra copies on the computer printer. Or making a few by scanning it in.

  Nothing’s that simple at Heartache High, where technology has yet to find its way here.

  There’s a printing room, where all the type has to be set by hand. That means each individual letter has to be fixed into a block. All back to front too, so that when it prints, it’s the right way round.

  Then I have to mix the ink, making sure it’s the right consistency; not so thin that it runs, not so thick that it makes the type block stick to the paper.

  Using a large roller, I apply the ink to the block of type.

  Or rather, that should be blocks of type, as I’ve had to make one up for each page.

  The machine I use to press the blocks against the paper is like something out of a western movie. It has this huge lever I have to throw all my weight against to bring the block down hard enough on the paper to create a clean image.

  After I’ve got half way through printing the pages, my arms ache. My back feels like it’s never, ever going to be straight again.

  When I see the primer printed out, I realise I’ve made countless mistakes in the way I’ve set out the type.

  I move things around, put new letters in, remove ones that are in the wrong place.

  I have to do this six times before everything’s as it should be.

  ‘Hey, that was pretty quick,’ the guy in charge of the printing room says.

  I almost tear his head off when he says this, mistakenly thinking that he’s being sarcastic.

  Thankfully, he notices that I’m so cranky because I’m worn out.

  He promises me that he’ll round up some other students to help me print off the five hundred copies I’ll need for the first circulation.

  They’ll also help with binding it.

  If I’d known creating this primer was going to be so torturous, I would never have started it.

  When I circulate the first copies to the classes I’ve been attending, however, everyone’s impressed.

  ‘This is great Steph,’ Billy says. ‘Who knows, if I’d had this to read earlier, maybe I wouldn’t be here.’

  I smile.

  I feel such a fraud.

   

   

  *

   

   

  ‘I love you Steph.’

  How long have I wanted to hear Iain say that?

  Now, when he finally says it, it hurts.

  It hurts because it isn’t me he loves.

  It’s this other girl in my dreams, who isn’t me at all.

  Look, I know this is really crazy, getting upset about it in this way.

  He’s only said it, after all, in my dreams, right?

  He hasn’t really said it to me.

  But, as I’ve said, they no longer feel like dreams.

  They feel real.

  See, these aren’t like the dreams I used to have, where it’s bit like watching myself in a TV show; you know, where I’m watching myself and Iain as if I’m somebody creepy nearby making a video of it all.

  I’m seeing Iain through my eyes, as if I’m really there.

  When we touch, when we kiss; it’s as if I’m right there, inside my body.

  Yet, of course, it’s not my body.

  It’s not even my mouth; because, when I finally get to hear Iain’s long-awaited declaration of love, do you know what I do?

  I laugh.

  I say, ‘Jeez Iain; love? How pathetic!’

  At school, our positions have been perfectly reversed.

  Iain’s lacking in confidence, fumbling.

  Everyone laughs at him, the way he comes running after me as soon as I call him.

  I laugh at him, whenever he’s not around. Letting everyone else know how pathetic I think he is.

  (Sure, my dreams have so taken over my life at Heartache High that they don’t even have to involve Iain anymore for me to become completely absorbed in them.)

  Even Cherry and Mary are shocked by the way I treat him. They no longer hang around w
ith me.

  Huh, like I care!

  But the thing is, I do care!

  It’s this girl who isn’t really me who doesn’t care.

  I’ve gone from being shy and innocent to easily being the most outrageous girl in school, if not the entire district.

  If there’s any guy around, I flirt with him.

  Even if Iain’s there.

  Particularly if Iain’s there.

  If they end up in a fight over me, that’s all the better.

  Usually, Iain wins.

  Sometimes, though, he loses.

  Not that I ever go off with the other guy.

  I sneer at him.

  Let him know how pathetic I think he is, thinking he can win me by showing how macho he is.

  Iain, he’s covered in bruises.

  He’s hardly ever without a swollen black eye.

  After a fight, he’s always angry with me.

  But I hear myself whispering things to him, things I never thought I’d hear myself saying.

  ‘Hah, he always comes crawling back,’ I boast to my new and ever growing group of admiring friends afterwards.

   

   

  *

   

   

  Chapter 15

   

  ‘Maybe it’s a way of getting back at him for all the suffering he’s caused you.’

  Dave, as ever, makes an effort to understand what I’m going through.

  ‘Well, he didn’t really cause it to be honest,’ I say to Dave. ‘That’s what some of my primer deals with; how, really, we’re the ones responsible for our suffering. Because we’re not prepared to let go of even the most hopeless cause.’

  ‘True, when you sit down and reason it all out,’ Jassy says. ‘But when it comes to love, we rarely let reason get in the way, do we?’

  ‘More’s the pity,’ Dave sighs.

  ‘I’m torturing myself even now,’ I admit. ‘These dreams; they’ve become the worst form of self-torture I’ve ever put myself through.’

  ‘There’s probably some Greek myth that deals with something like this, but I can’t think of one,’ Jassy says, her eyes raised as she tries to recall anything she regards as relevant information from the vast library of her mind. ‘Morpheus; he was the god of dreams. That’s where we get the word morphine from, by the way. Then there’s the incubi of course, but they hardly apply in your case.’

  ‘Incubi?’

  ‘An incubus was a demon who appeared in your dreams as a beautiful man, as a way of drawing off your spiritual energy, or even your blood. But in your case – although I’m sure Iain is a beautiful man – he’s hardly the one in control here.’

  ‘Plus, of course,’ Dave says light-heartedly, ‘there’s the problem that incubi don’t actually exist; they’re just a myth.’

  ‘Whereas Heartache High is something that all our well known scientists had stipulated must exist somewhere in the universe.’

  ‘Touché!’ Dave says.

  I chuckle.

  ‘Thanks Jassy, but I don’t think I’m going to find any answer to my problem in Greek myth!’

  ‘Babylonian then? Aztec?’

  She laughs.

  ‘Sure Steph; only joking. I know what you mean!’

  ‘Excuse me. Are you Stephanie Johnson?’

  It’s the girl I’d seen wandering around the school when I’d first checked the list of classes pinned up in the porch.

  She still refuses to become involved in the school’s activities.

  She’s an even worse case than I am.

  She’s holding a copy of my primer.

  ‘You’re the one who wrote this, yes?’

  ‘Yes; I, er, hope you think it was okay.’

  She gives me an agonised, hopeful smile.

  ‘You say we can leave here? That we can leave Heartache High, as long as we do all this?’

  ‘I would hope so,’ I admit. ‘I would hope that if we come to terms with what we’re going through, there might be a chance of leaving.’

  ‘Thank you! Thank you so much!’

  She leans forward, kisses me on the cheek warmly.

  Then she heads out across the lawns, heading towards the school rooms.

  ‘You believe that do you?’ Dave eyes me curiously. ‘That we can leave if we only manage to bring our emotions under control?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘I think that once you’ve enrolled here, it’s too late.’

   

   

  *

   

   

  Chapter 16

   

   ‘Why do you treat me like this Steph? You know how much I love you! I don’t deserve to be treated like this!’

  Iain is pleading with me.

  I sneer at him.

  ‘Don’t you Iain?’

  ‘I deserve to suffer because I love you?’

  ‘The way you made me suffer when I loved you!’

  Iain looks surprised.

  ‘I made you suffer? How did I ever make you suffer?’

  ‘You just did, that’s all.’

  ‘Steph, believe me; I would never make you suffer. How could I, when I love you so much?’

  ‘Hah, now you love me! But how do you think it used to be for me when you used to ignore me?’

  ‘Ignore you?’ He laughs, bewildered. ‘How could I ignore someone like you? Only if I thought I was out of your league!’

  ‘Of course you’re out of my league! But I put up with you anyway.’

  Why am I saying these things?

  It’s my dream; at last he’s saying all the things I always wanted him to say.

  So why I can’t I just simply say all the things I’ve always wanted to say?

  Wouldn’t that make more sense that acting like I’m the sort of girl even I can’t stand?

  I mean, if I’m treating him like this, why’s he’s staying with me?

  Oh yeah, because it’s a dream, right?

  It’s not real, is it?

  I’ve got to keep on telling myself that.

  ‘You know, you’re not the girl I’d always imagined you to be Steph.’

  ‘Oh; just what sort of girl did you imagine me to be then Iain?’

  ‘Well, I’d always thought you’d be, well…you know. Kinder, for a start.’

  ‘Kinder?’ I laugh. ‘But if I were kinder, Iain, I wouldn’t be the girl I am, would I? I wouldn’t be the girl you’re madly, deeply in love with, would I?’

  ‘You know what, Steph? I don’t think that’s right; I’d think I’d love you even more!’

  ‘Ah, but see; you just admitted it anyway, didn’t you? You love me anyway, despite what I’m like.’

  ‘Yes, I love you; I can’t resist you. But I just wish I could change you back to who you were.’

  ‘Oh dear dear dear! You poor poor dear!’

  I stretch out a hand, caress his cheek and neck like he’s some poorly pet.

  ‘Here you are, with the most fabulous woman you’ve ever known, and you’re still not satisfied. Are you ill, do you think? Is that it? I mean, how many other boys would be glad to be seen–’

  ‘Stop it Steph! I’ve had it with all this! You don’t miss an opportunity to make a fool of me in front of the other guys! Yes, they fancy you, fancy you big time; I get that! What I don’t get is why you think you’ve got to keep on proving it!’

  ‘Why?’ I put on a lost little girl voice. ‘Why, because, deep down Iain, I’m this poor, pathetic insecure little mouse you always thought I was.’

  ‘Insecure? You? Hah!’

  I laugh. I reach out the pitying hand once more.

  ‘I think it’s you that’s insecure, isn’t it darling?’

  Darling? Since when did I use words like that?

  ‘There is a cure for it, you know.’

  ‘Cure? Cure for what?’

  ‘Why, your insecurity of course! Untreated, it’s going to tear us apart you know, can’t you see that?
Your jealously is already getting way out of control! All those silly fights!’

  ‘I don’t need a cure, I–’

  ‘Then it’s over, Iain! It’s over between us!’

  ‘Over? But I–’

  ‘But you won’t get your jealousy treated! That shows you don’t really love me!’

  ‘Huh, how can I get what I’m suffering from treated?’

  ‘There’s a woman I read about, a woman in Soho; a woman called Lamia!’

   

   

  *

   

   

  Lamia?

  Where did I get that name from?

  I mean, is it really a name?

  Perhaps I really did read about it, in a magazine or somewhere.

  Yeah, yeah; come to think of it, I think I can remember reading something about some woman in Soho who promised to…

  Promised to what?

  I can’t remember.

  Perhaps I didn’t read it anywhere after all.

  Wow, now I’m trying to put some sort of interpretation to something as trivial as a name that crops up in my dreams?

  How real was that dream though?

  I could have been there.

  I was there.

   

   

  *

   

   

  ‘I really really don’t think these are dreams anymore. I think that, somehow, they’re a contact with the real world.’

  As I say this to Jassy and Dave, they glance at each other sceptically.

  ‘Think about what you’re saying here Steph,’ Dave says. ‘Even if it were possible to form some sort of contact with the world we’ve left behind, how could it possibly be through any of us here at Heartache High? We’re here, not there.’

  ‘In my defence, I’d like to point out that when I’d first asked you both for your advice, I’d said I know this isn’t going to seem to make much sense, but…’

  ‘Sure, sure you did Steph,’ Jassy says sympathetically. ‘But Dave’s right – how could you make contact like that when you’re here?’

   ‘Yeah, I know; it was just that when this name Lamia came up I–’

  ‘Lamia? That does seem to ring a bell.’

  ‘Yeah, such an unusual name,’ Dave agrees. ‘Yet there’s something right at the back of my mind trying to scream at me that it means something.’

  ‘You’ve both heard of it? I thought so too.’

  Dave shrugs.

  ‘Could be it’s just a brand name; you know, not quite so famous we can figure out what it is, but something we’ve heard of so it sticks in the back of mind until someone mentions it. Tyres, maybe? Lamia lingerie, anybody?’

  Jassy gives him a playful shove to pay him back for his cheek.

  ‘I think I might have heard of it simply because it’s a Greek legend–’

  ‘Just how many legends did the Greeks have, eh?’ Dave sighs. ‘They seem to have a legend for anything. Is there one about someone who gets fed up hearing about legends?’

  ‘Nope, but there’s plenty about idiot men mistakenly putting their faith in their own powers of thought!’ Jassy retorts with a giggle. ‘Lamia, as I was saying, was renowned for devouring children. So I don’t think – I hope – it’s not the one Steph’s talking about. Curiously though, her children, the lamiae, were succubae, the female equivalent of the incubi I mentioned earlier whe–’