A Quiet Kind of Thunder(23)
‘I’m not sure . . .’ I trail off. The words just run out.
Jane, attuned to my vocal patterns, looks up and puts her pencil down. ‘Go ahead,’ she says encouragingly.
I take a breath. ‘I’m not sure that will help me right now.’
She nods. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘Well, I think if I feel like I have to do it, it’ll worry me more. When I spoke in Maths, it was totally unplanned, and even though it made me feel bad, that was only afterwards, not before. You know?’ My voice picks up speed and comes out a little garbled, but I manage.
‘That’s a good point,’ Jane says. ‘And it’s really good that you picked up on that. What would you like to work on instead?’ She points to the sheet and smiles. ‘You know I like to use my sheets.’
‘The going-into-town one was good because it was, like, active?’ I say carefully. ‘So . . . I don’t know what that means. But . . . you know?’
Jane nods again. ‘I do know. It’s more helpful for you to be doing something that could involve talking, rather than simply knowing you have to talk.’
‘Yeah . . . I think so.’
She thinks for a moment. ‘How are you getting on outside of your classes when you’re at school?’
‘OK . . .’ I say cautiously.
‘Where do you go during your break-times?’
She’s caught me. Dammit. ‘Um.’ I actually consider lying, but give in. ‘The library. Or, like, a bench outside.’
‘That’s not ideal now it’s getting colder,’ Jane says, as if that’s the problem. ‘Have you tried to go back into the common room?’
‘Yes,’ I say triumphantly. ‘I’ve gone in with Rhys. Twice.’
‘Well, that’s certainly a good start. How would you feel about working on that? Try to go into the common room at least once a day over the next week or two. It doesn’t have to be by yourself, but that would be an even bigger step.’
‘OK,’ I say. The thought makes me feel ill, but not as ill as having to call out in class. And I can take Rhys with me.
‘Excellent,’ Jane says, looking pleased. She slides the worksheet and pencil across the table to me. ‘Shall we get started?’
It takes me the whole of the next morning to work myself up into walking into the common room. At first I intend to just pop in during the first break-time, but when the time comes I can’t even bear to walk into the block, let alone the room. I dawdle outside, find a bench and pretend to text for the entire twenty minutes.
But then as soon as I get to English the self-hatred begins. It starts quietly – all you had to do was walk in. You didn’t even have to stay there – but I find myself spiralling rapidly until I’m basically attacking myself inside my own head. Pathetic, Steffi. You are pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.
‘Steffi?’ I look up, dazed, to see Mrs Baxter looking at me. I blink at her. ‘You haven’t turned a page in five minutes,’ she says. ‘Are you here with us?’
There’s a soft laugh from my classmates and I swallow down a guttural sob that’s building from nowhere and turn a page of the book.
‘Page fifty-seven,’ Mrs Baxter says. Her voice is kind, and my rational side knows that the laugh from my classmates wasn’t meant to be mean, but I’m not feeling very rational right now.
Look at everyone else being normal, Steffi. And look at you. You can’t even keep up with everyone reading a book. You can’t even say ‘Yes’ to a simple question. Why are you even here? Why do you even bother?
When the lunch bell rings, I don’t even give myself time to think. I bolt out of the classroom, down the corridor, shortcut through the science block and finally find myself outside the common-room door. Even though lunchtime has barely started, I can already hear the noise from inside.
‘Hey, Steffi,’ a voice says from behind me. It’s Cassidy King, one of the clever but nice bunch. She’s walking past me, swinging the door open and holding it behind her for me to walk through.
‘Hey,’ I reply. She smiles at me and heads off towards her friends, who are clustered together in the corner. I’m already imagining how I will write this down on my worksheet.
Walked into the room. Said hello – out loud! – to Cassidy King.
Right. What next? I should do something before I leave again. I can’t just stand here awkwardly. I walk casually – oh so casually – over to the noticeboard and start scanning it thoughtfully.
LIKE NETBALL? MS ILLOVIC IS LOOKING FOR VOLUNTEERS TO HELP WITH THE YEAR 7 AND 8 NETBALL TEAMS!
EMAIL [email protected]
FOR SALE – THIRD GENERATION IPAD ￡500
￡500?! Fuck off you joker!
FEMINIST SOCIETY — MEET IN COMMON ROOM WEDNESDAYS AT 6 P.M.! NO MEN ALLOWED!
Isn’t that sexist to men?
REVERSE SEXISM IS NOT A THING
Yeah but what about male feminists?
FUCK OFF ETHAN I KNOW THAT’S YOU
So this is what I’m missing. I stand there for a full minute, trying to psych myself up to making a lap of the common room before escaping, when there’s a tap on my shoulder. I turn to see Rhys’s smiling face.
Hi! he says.
I’m so happy to see him I almost hug him. Hi! I reply. I gesture to the noticeboard. I’m thinking of joining the Feminist Society.