Fragments (10 page)

“I’ll see you later. I have to go before I miss my bus.”

              When I got home, the ease I felt from training began to curl into a ball of tension. Walking up to the front door, I heard the telltale signs of another greyhound-gone-wrong night, with the sounds of my mother screaming, and ferocious shouts from my father.
I am just so tired of this shit.

As I entered the house, my father let go of my mother and pushed her back.  His nostrils flared as he stomped towards me. Growing up with this, I have learnt the signs. Tonight, his consumption had been heavier, so I knew his balance was off. I stood still and braced myself for an attack, and he didn’t disappoint.

“What’s wrong with spending time with your mother and me? What about your study? Who’s keeping you away and spending time with your ugly, worthless arse?” The countdown until he would go to the local had begun, so of course he had started on the booze early.

“Oh, maybe …” He put his hand on his chin. “… it’s that little slut neighbour you hang out with. The one who prances around?”

Up until this point, the alcohol normally didn’t make me care too much as he spun bullshit. But the foul way he referred
again
to Bea? No fucking way. I grabbed his shirt and drew him close to my face.

“Look, you piece of old, drunken shit, say what the fuck you like about me, I don’t care. But, if you ever,
ever
talk about Bea like that, I will end you. I will bury you. And not in a nice place like Pop. I will bury you in the depths of hell, where you deserve to rot.” I threw him back and headed to my room, shouting over the top of my shoulder, “Piss off to the dogs. No doubt you’ll be forgiven by Mum by the time you get home.”

I walked into my bedroom and slammed the door.

“My soul is in suspense much more with fear

Of the torments which are in the circle below,

For even now the load there weighs upon me”

Purgatorio XIII
; lines 136–139

Trice

One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.
Over and over, the movements to my solo performance ran through my head. I felt like a marionette puppet, being pulled and pushed in every direction to the beat of the song. It was only a couple of days out and I couldn’t wait.

I was robotic around my friends as the stress I felt twirled around me. If I wasn’t at the dance hall bugging my mentor after school, then I was pushing all our storage boxes to the side of the gym equipment in the garage and dancing in there. At recess and lunch, our school dance teacher let me use the theatre so I could practice. And practice I did.

This was the one time I wouldn’t allow my family to watch my dance. I didn’t want to see their eyes as I tore through this song. I was doing something different this time around.

              The gala was to take place over several hours on both Saturday and Sunday. I was lucky to be part of the first few performances on Saturday—it meant the scout would be watching with fresh eyes. The only downside was that we performed to an audience of friends and family as well.  I had decided to tell my parents that I had a simple performance while using the excuse that it was just a practice run for the real thing. I hated lying to them, but I didn’t want the added pressure.

By Friday, I was twitchy and irritable. I had put on concealer to hide the black marks under my weary eyes. I knew that once I was on stage that it would come naturally. I just hoped I could convey what my character was feeling. I had my costume sorted and Trin was an excellent advisor—she’d seen my dance and loved how I was stepping away from the norm. I just hoped the risk was worth it. 

We both had science practicum for the final double period of the day, and my palms sweated thinking about going. My tense shoulders were one thing, but the grip I held onto my books with was sure to break them. This was the subject we shared with Stacey and her Mole Patrol. We didn’t sit near each other during class, but they often ended up near us during practicals.

              Heading into class with Trin, we spotted Hazel by our table. She had been glued to her phone this week.

              “Hey, hon,” I greeted her as we approached. She looked up from her phone with a startled expression on her face and quickly put her phone away.
Interesting.
We took our seats and waited for our teacher, Mr Niles, to tell us what we were doing today. He was one of our least favourite teachers; he taught science and physical education and was a complete knob. He had a creepy vibe that I hated. A girl just didn’t feel comfortable being near him by herself.  Plus, he had no balls. Even though he had seen me being bullied numerous times, the arsehole had never done a thing.

              Today, we were doing a heart dissection. The specimens were divided into tubs for us, while also having the scalpels, forceps, probe, and a funny looking plastic tube near them.  Putting on our lab coats, we took the tubs to our workbench and began the experiment.

While we poked and prodded and wrote the findings down, we chatted aimlessly about all sorts of things. It was nice to relax a little and give my mind a rest. Trin was telling us about Theo’s latest amazing art project. Every time she spoke about his achievements, her face lit up. Today, though, she wasn’t her usual perky self. I moved closer to her and whispered, “You all right, chick?”

She stopped slicing up the heart and looked around, then muttered so only we could hear, “I think Theo has a girlfriend. I never see him much anymore.” Her lips pressed tightly together as she stared sadly at her the dissection.

I frowned and questioned her further. “What makes you think that? You spend every weekend together hanging out.”

She shrugged and continued to cut into the heart. I could tell she didn’t want to talk about it, but I nudged her arm anyway.

She huffed, but continued. “Okay! So, there’s this girl in our class, Claire, and she has been lingering around him recently, and he isn’t shy around her. In fact, he lets her look at his portfolio and then they end up talking about neo art shit for ages.”

“Trin, even if that girl was interested, does it matter? Do you have feelings?” I whispered the last part, not wanting anyone else to hear. She blinked hard and clenched the scalpel tightly.

“I don’t know, Trice,” she stumbled. “Sometimes I think we’re just mates, and then this shit happens and I get confused.”

I wanted to put my arm around her, but there was no way that I was putting my bloody gloves there. Hazel piped up softly, “I think you should ask him about her. Feel out the situation and go from there.”

Our Hazel was always the voice of reason. Trin was the voice of balls, and I, well, I just lent a shoulder if needed.

              Our class continued, and the pungent smell of blood no longer lingered under our noses. The scalpel cut smoothly into the tissue as we calmly measured and documented the chambers. It felt like we were CSI investigators or something.

“BANG!”

We turned our heads to the other side of the room. One of the groups, while blowing up their lungs, had used the scalpel to pop it, smattering blood all over their faces and the bench. Disgusting, but hilarious!

Mr Niles was not impressed, and while he marched over to deal with it, we continued to laugh our arses off. Our activity was done, so we put all of our instruments and the dissections in the tub and I took it up to the front desk. Shortly afterwards, I was in the back room after Trice and Hazel left the taps, washing away the gunk and disposing of the gloves, and I turned from the sink to dry my hands. Just as I went to grab a paper towel, my left arm was grabbed and I was pulled away sharply.

              Stacey and her two friends, Kristen and Brit, were standing in front of me, while Stacey gripped my arm. She pulled me to the side of the door where the class couldn’t see me.

“Listen here, bitch,” she hissed in my face. “Stay the fuck away from my boyfriend!”

I tried to pry my arm out of her grasp, but her hold was too strong. “What are you talking about? He’s just my neighbour.” 

She sneered at me, as Kristen slapped me hard against my right cheek.

“You’re a fuckin’ liar. We know you want him.”

I held my other hand to my cheek as tears stung my eyes.

“No, I don’t. He’s just my fucking neighbour. What is your problem?” I screeched. Looking directly at Stacey I thought,
stuff it, why not?

“Why? You feeling insecure, Stacey? Well, don’t. I wouldn’t go there anyway, even if he was interested—especially after he’s been with you.”

Kristen grabbed onto my other arm, her hold tightening, as I tried to wrestle both away from them. She looked across to Brit and said, “Keep an eye out.”

My eyes widened and my pulse quickened as I stared at the both of them holding me back. My heart raced, not knowing what they were going to do. They dragged me across to the wall and Stacey got in my face.

“You know what, slut? I knew you were friends with Alex. I was really happy that he started liking me. Sure, I thought, fuck it, let’s have some fun. But now,” she gripped tighter, “now, I’m starting to really like him. But what I fuckin’ don’t like is my man talking about hanging out with you!”

She let go of my arm and pushed me back, banging my head against the hard wall. She grabbed my left arm and pulled it towards her.

“You know what happens to bitches who don’t know how to back the fuck off?”

The tears at the back of my eyes started to cascade down my face, and I began to sob.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ have a cry, you filthy slut. Bitches like you need to learn a lesson.”

She reached her other hand into her lab coat pocket and brought out one of the compasses that we normally use in math class.

“See this?” She gestured to the point of the compass. “I’m gonna give you a reminder of what happens when you fuck with me. Maybe I’ll remind your face, then your chest, and scar you so bad no one will ever want your ugly arse.”

My skin felt clammy as sweat poured down my back.  The grip on my wrist was tight, and I couldn’t break free. In a panic, I threw my head back to let out a blood-curdling scream. 

“You bitch!” she yelled, and before I could get away, she drew the compass up to my left hand and in a sharp, quick movement, bore down on my wrist, searing a painful line halfway down it. Kristen let go of my other arm as a trail of blood began pouring out. I screamed in agony and grabbed my arm. 

Stacey stood back, and before anything else could happen, Trin and a few guys from class raced through the door.

“What’s going on? We heard screaming!” yelled Trin. She looks down at my arm and across to Stacey, and put two and two together. “What the fuck?”

Before anything else could be said, Mr Niles came barging in and took in the sight before him. Stacey and her friends stood there, looking at me menacingly, while the compass was hidden from view.

“What’s going on here, ladies?” he asked. “What’s all the noise about?” He looked at the girls and then directed his gaze to me. “You causing trouble again, Beatrice?”

The Mole Patrol sniggered, as Stacey mouthed, ‘
Beatrice.’

“Nothing, sir. Beatrice just cut herself while cleaning up. She’s a real klutz.” Kristen glared at me, challenging me to respond.  

I was frozen in fear, and didn’t know what to do next. I wanted to tell him, but I knew he wouldn’t believe me. They never did. If she was going to attack me with a compass, what else was she capable of?

“Beatrice, go and see the school nurse and have that looked at. And next time, pay attention to what you’re doing.”

I leapt forward and snatched some paper towels, embarrassed at what they did to me. I hissed as the coarse texture of the towel rubbed abrasively against the cut.

“We’re going with her, sir,” Trin said, motioning for Haze to follow us.

              I kept my head down as I left the room, ashamed of my weak behaviour and inability to stop Stacey. As I left, I heard her tell the boys what a ‘klutzy, boyfriend-stealing slut’ I was.

My heart ached. The hard realisation hit me that Alex was still with the one girl who I hated more on this earth, and I knew I could never let him get close to me again.

“Holy shit, Trice. What happened?” Hazel gasped.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Can we just get to the nurse?”

Both girls frowned as I shut them out, but for now, I just couldn’t cope. The pain from my arm was blinding, and I couldn’t believe that I’d let the Mole Patrol get close enough to do this to me.

We quickly arrived at the nurse’s station, and I dodged her questions while she looked at my arm. I watched as the nurse inspected me, and I winced as she disinfected the wound. Luckily, it was a quick attempt—the compass only left a scratch down my arm. Not enough for stitches, but deep enough to leave a scar. I welcomed the pain as the nurse cleaned my wound, as it reminded me that things needed to change. My drive to perform well and get the scout’s attention increased even more with a vengeance.