Contents ( 45)
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Four months later...
- Acknowledgments
Eight
Nina and I slipped into our roles at school from a young age. We had a rhythm, a natural partnership. I did my homework in advance, she relied on me for all the times she “hadn’t quite got round to doing hers.” I was loyal. In return, she was there for me and shielded me when things felt too overwhelming.
One particular instance was during an English lesson when I’d been asked to analyze a passage out loud. I dreaded being picked. Only one sentence in, I froze. I couldn’t do it. I looked up at Mrs. Palmer. Everyone was staring. I wanted to run out of the room, slam the door and hide. A nightmare come true: I was the sole focus of hostile amusement. I anticipated chants, some kind of fist thumping on the tables. Blood rushed to my face.
Nina’s hand shot up to save me, but I could tell it was forced. She looked embarrassed. Of me.
I was asked to stay behind, which filled me with further panic. If I couldn’t find Nina in the playground afterward, I’d have to eat my lunch alone, hang out in the loos or the library, acting busy, disguising my lack of friends.
Mrs. Palmer had kind eyes, but her tone had changed to the one people use when they’ve had enough. No matter how much encouragement she gave me, I didn’t “get it.” It wasn’t that I didn’t try, it was that I found lessons a struggle. I was never able to explain all my fears articulately enough. Not to anyone.
“Marie, I’ve been wondering, are things all right at home? Is there anything in particular troubling you? Are you still seeing the school counselor?” she said.
As if I would have spoken truthfully to, or trusted, the school counselor! There was nothing wrong with me. I was only referred to her because of a misunderstanding when the PE teacher had allegedly overheard me “telling a story” that couldn’t possibly have been true and he “was concerned.” I pointed out to the counselor, quite rightly, that all anyone had to do was listen in to any conversation at break time. Everyone exaggerated. Everyone wanted to be seen in the best light, to pretend that they’d gone somewhere exotic for the school holidays or that they’d been invited to the popular parties or some exciting event. And everyone also knew that the majority of us stayed at home most nights watching TV or being nagged to do our homework. Yet, unlike most people, I was forced into my exaggerations because my mother was at her happiest when I was safely at home.
When I shook my head in answer to all Mrs. Palmer’s questions, she shared something that did actually resonate and eventually helped: no one surrounds themselves with clingy people. Apparently.
“It drives them away, Marie. Pretend you’re okay no matter how much you have to fake it. Nina can’t always be there for you. You have to learn to stand on your own two feet, however hard it is. You must learn to tough it out.”