Starting Over (7 page)

The next day, Dylan and I were at school on time, no throwing up on the way and no major disasters.
It's going to be OK,
I told myself as we went to class after assembly.
I can start over. Make it work here.

First lesson was double maths, my least favourite subject and my teacher was a strict-looking skinny lady with a scrawny neck and wiry grey hair. She was called Mrs Hunt and she had that puckering around her mouth that people who've smoked all their life sometimes have. I guess it comes from the repetition of sucking in a thousand cigarettes.
Eau de la Fag Ash by Mal B'Orough - she's definitely a smoker,
I thought as she wafted by and I caught the faint smell of stale tobacco.

I was lucky in class in that I had managed to get a desk on the back row from where I could watch everyone. I still got a
few stares as the new girl, but people settled in and soon got on with work, except for one dark-haired boy who I remembered from yesterday's register as being called Mikey. He kept turning round and grinning at me. I smiled back in a friendly way, but then he kept doing it and I wondered if I'd got a smudge on my face or something. Although he had a sweet face, he wasn't fanciable - too chubby in a way that made him look like a fifteen-year-old toddler. None of the boys in my year were boyfriend material. They all looked too young; in fact, a couple of them were tiny, about a foot smaller than I was, and looked more like Year Eights than Year Elevens, whereas some of the girls looked like they could easily pass for eighteen or older.

From my vantage point, Leela seemed to be mates with two girls. One was called Brook. I'd been behind her in the morning's assembly. I'd noticed her because of her hair - it was fab, dark and straight and cut at a sleek angle from the back to the jaw so that it was longer at the front. It looked really cool. The other was the girl I'd seen with Leela in the hall yesterday, who was called Zahrah. I could tell that they'd been talking about me because they'd fallen silent when I'd walked in and started staring at the ceiling as if there was something really interesting up there. I said hi as I made my way to the back. I had nothing to be ashamed of. I wasn't a boyfriend stealer.

As Mrs Hunt went through some equations on the board, I took advantage of my position at the back to check out my classmates further. Nicole and Ruby were on my left at the back
and were clearly thick as thieves.
Definitely a pair of princesses, but they might be fun as mates,
I thought,
but probably wouldn't want a threesome.
Leela and her two looked like a laugh, but so far, I was in their bad books. There was a bunch of geeky boys at the front. A couple of cute boys near the back who were trying to act cool and would probably be hits with the younger girls, but if they stood up, they would only come up to my shoulders. A serious-looking girl with dark hair pulled back and cool Italian black-framed glasses. A girl with ginger hair. A couple of Muslim girls in their hijabs on the left. A tall girl with brown hair, who was very pretty and had managed to get away with wearing black kohl around her eyes. A pretty black girl with her hair in braids. Nobody out of the ordinary, except maybe Ruby who had the X-factor. They were just teenagers. Most of the girls had long hair tied back. They looked OK. No daughters of Satan lurking behind their fringes. No weirdoes, least not on first glance.
Which of you will be my friend, or my friends?
I asked myself as I stared at the back of their heads.
Who would I like to hang out with? Phone after school to mull over the day with? Spend my weekends with? Share my secrets with? What do I even want from a friend? Why is Erin my friend? Because she's a laugh but she also talks sense when needed and
—

‘India Jane, India
Jane!
Are you paying attention?' barked Mrs Hunt from the front.

‘Yes, Miss.'

‘So? What is the answer?'

I had no idea what she was talking about.

‘Er . . . ynuf . . .' I blustered.

‘Not
a good start, India Jane,' Mrs Hunt huffed. ‘You have a lot of ground to cover in order to catch up and daydreaming is not the way to do it.'

Tell me about it,
I thought as everyone swivelled around to watch me turn bright pink.

In the break, I left my portfolio with Mr Bailey and then I went looking for Mia. I couldn't see her in the hall or the canteen, but just before the bell went for the next class, I saw her coming out of the girls' cloakroom.

‘Mia,' I called.

She glanced back, and as soon as she saw me, her expression clouded. I was clearly the last person she wanted to talk to, but I wasn't going to be put off.

‘I really need to speak to you about Joe,' I said.

She held up her hand as if to halt me and shook her head. ‘I don't want to hear wha—'

‘No. You
have
to listen,' I persisted. ‘Joe didn't cheat on you. Yes, I fancied him, but you
knew
that anyhow because I told you I had a crush on someone, but
he
doesn't know how I feel. Really. Nothing happened with us. Honest. You
can
trust me. I'm not the type of person who would steal someone else's boyfriend. I'm really not but I didn't know . . .'

Mia's lip tightened. ‘Exactly. You didn't know about me. He didn't tell you. And why do you think that was?'

I shrugged. ‘I don't know, but we didn't spend that much time together. Really, we didn't. He was working down in the village most days so I can count the times that we spoke on one hand.'
And repeat every line of dialogue because it's imprinted on my brain,
I thought. ‘Don't feel bad because of me, that's all I wanted to say. Joe didn't cheat on you with me or anyone else in Greece.'

Mia's face softened. ‘Actually Joe told me that nothing happened with you so I guess I overreacted a bit. Just . . . well, Joe Donahue had a reputation as player before we got together, everyone fancied him and in the beginning I never knew where I was with him, so ... I jumped to conclusions and assumed he'd gone back to being the school Casanova. Boys, huh?'

I had to smile as Joe had almost said the same thing yesterday when he'd said, ‘Girls, huh?'

‘Well, you can trust me,' I said.

Mia smiled back. ‘OK. And I am sorry. I guess you didn't need all that, it being your first day as well.'

I nodded. ‘It's day two now though. Life goes on.'

‘Exactly,' said Mia. ‘Good for you.'

‘Get to class, girls,' called Mrs Goldman from the end of the corridor. ‘The bell's already gone.'

I set off for double French feeling a lot more positive. I was sure that Mia would fill Leela and her friends in and then maybe they'd come round to letting me hang out with them sometimes.

French was a breeze as I'm good at languages, although by the end of the morning I had an almighty great headache. There were some pupils from the maths class plus about ten I hadn't seen before. As in maths, I glanced them over and they checked me out.
I guess it's to be expected,
I thought as I tried to greet their stares with a friendly expression.

When the bell went for lunch, I made a dash for outside and fresh air. As I headed out towards the playground, I bumped into Mr Bailey who was coming the opposite way.

‘Ah, India,' he said when he spotted me. ‘I've looked over your portfolio and I have to say I was most impressed, especially by your landscapes - you have a great sense of colour and perspective. I was so impressed, in fact, I'd like you to take over the scenery-painting. Think you can do it?'

‘Nu—' I started.

‘Excellent. That's settled then.'

‘No. I mean,
no
as in I don't think I can do it. I've never done anything like that before and I'm new here and —'

‘It will be a great way for you to meet people then, get involved - and there's no time like the present. You'll be fine. You can obviously draw. And there will be others who have done it before, know the ropes, and can advise. We can't have the same people being in charge every year, can we? Andrea Ward from Year Twelve has done it for the last two years so it's time for a change. Yes. New blood. The job's yours. No big hurry for your side of things as long as you have an idea for ... oh say, after half-term. In the meantime, we'll be cracking on with the casting and so on. Come to the first meeting a week on Saturday, get to know everyone on your team, meet the director, etc, etc. Introduce yourself to everyone. Plenty of time - but it would be good to get thinking about it soon. And it will look good on your CV. So that's settled.'

‘But sir . . .'

‘Excellent, carry on,' he said and he produced a pair of Ray
Ban sunglasses, put them on and burst through the doors to the playground with the air of a rock celebrity about to walk into a wall of paparazzi.

I was going to follow him when I heard someone shout down the corridor. As I listened, my heart began to race. Someone was in trouble. The shout turned to a scream. Not a fun I'm-having-a-laugh-type scream. This sounded like someone in distress. I raced along the corridor and looked inside the room from where it was coming. It was Leela who was screaming! She was crumpled down on her knees side on to me and Zahrah was standing in front of her. Zahrah was hitting her and Leela had her arms up in front of her face in defence. Zahrah lifted her arm and swiped it at Leela, who fell back with a cry.

I ran in, grabbed Zahrah's arm and wrenched her away with all my strength. ‘Hey! Get off her!'

Zahrah swivelled around in surprise. ‘What?'

‘You heard me,' I said as I pinned her arms behind her back then did the special knee lock that I had done a few days earlier on Dylan. Zahrah folded into a heap in front of me.

‘What the hell? What do you think you're doing?' she cried.

‘Getting you off Leela, you bully. I don't care what she's done but you
never
hit a mate!' I said, then turned to Leela. ‘You OK Leela?' I reached over to help her up.

Leela looked in a state of total shock. ‘No, India!' she said as she sat up. ‘What . . .'

It was at that moment I realised that Zahrah and Leela weren't
the only people in the room. Oh no. Seated at the back of the room were about a
dozen
students and a young female teacher.

‘Wha . . . what on earth are you doing?' Leela spluttered.

Some of the students had their mouths open in surprise. Others were laughing. One of the students even began to clap. I felt totally bewildered and felt my cheeks burn red.

The teacher stepped forward. ‘It's OK,' she said then she turned to the class. ‘Hush.
Hush
.' Then she turned back to me. ‘What's your name?'

‘India Jane.'

‘India Jane,' she said then added with a slight smile, ‘I'm Mrs Maris. Welcome to the lunchtime
drama
group . . .'

Ohwohwoh Gododdoddddddd,
I thought as the penny dropped.

‘We're rehearsing a scene where indeed Leela's character does get bullied by Zahrah's,' continued Mrs Maris, ‘so well done, girls. Well played. Very convincing. You managed to fool a fellow pupil. In today's lesson, India Jane, we are practising techniques for stage fighting. Would you like demonstrate again, girls?'

Zahrah didn't look too happy and threw me a filthy look as she scrambled to her feet, then she and Leela went into an impressive fake fight routine. Zahrah positioned herself so that she had her back to us, so that when she raised her arm and slapped down, we couldn't see her actually touch Leela. The moment her arm came down, Leela shrieked and fell back as if she'd been struck.

‘It's all about positioning, timing and the reaction of the person being hit,' said the teacher. ‘Next time you see a fight on
TV, everyone, you'll notice how it's done. No one ever touches anyone else, it just looks as though they do, and you'll often find that the person doing the punching or slapping has their back to the camera so that you only see the reaction of the so-called victim. Once more, girls.'

I stepped to the side so that I had a better view of the oncoming slap. It was clear. When Zahrah went to slap Leela, she stopped about five centimetres short of her face, but Leela yelped as if she'd really been hit and fell back as if she had been struck hard. And then they went into a realistic hair-pulling sequence with Leela's hand on top of Zahrah's hand on Leela's head and much squealing from Leela.

‘See, it looks authentic,' said Mrs Maris, ‘but actually Zahrah isn't pulling at all. See. It is actually Leela who is in control there, but to the audience, it looks like it is Zahrah.'

Dylan will love this,
I thought as in my mind's eye I saw us fake fighting and freaking Mum out, but my fantasy didn't last long. Zahrah was looking at me disdainfully.