Unbelievable, Chapter Four

Chapter Four: Discovery

I think it was safe to say that I had lost my anonymity at school. The tide of bodies flowed around me, leaving a clear space, as if madness were catching and I was the walking infected. Funnily enough, the story had not come out. He’d kept his mouth shut, it seemed. So why provoke me in the first place? On top of the extremes of emotion I was experiencing as if for the first time, confusion reigned supreme.

This was my third attempt at returning. Monday had been overwhelming, a flood; Tuesday was better, drier; by Wednesday, I felt that the world was level once more and I wasn’t likely to break down into tears if anyone spoke to me. Now it was Thursday, and here I was, the noise of school a relief from the silence that had only served to cushion my thoughts, not smother them. Maths and Biology passed in jollity; none of my ‘friends’ mentioned either my snap or my absence since. But then, I supposed they hadn’t witnessed it. They just got on with it, absorbing me into the middle of the group, protecting me; it seemed, from the hearsay spread by the hostile, curious and eye-rolling majority.

I had to wait until Friday to face my English class again. I had fewer acquaintances here; only Elyssa and the boy-with-no-name to protect me. I arrived early, hoping to escape the inevitable making of an entrance to a full class. I would lurk at the back and wait, marking my ownership of the room and the situation.

I was foiled, again.

He was waiting at the back of the classroom, lounging insouciantly in his usual seat. He grinned at me as I approached, rather like the Jabberwocky. I wished I had remembered to bring my vorpal sword as his eyes of flame studied me with curiosity.

‘She lives!’ he mocked, as I slid into the seat beside him, my back stiffening as he again draped his arm along the back of my chair. ‘I feel I owe an apology. Forgive me; I had no idea that your reaction would be so distressing.’

‘Distressing for you or me?’ I sought clarification.

‘Both. It was painful to watch, knowing that I was the cause. It was sly of me, and I regret my actions.’

He sat quietly, looking abashed.

‘You sound like a politician,’ I remarked, allowing the hint of a smile to play on my face.

‘Years of practice,’ he responded, rolling his eyes. ‘Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot…’

‘Because you came in all guns blazing, hostile and cold,’ I retorted, interrupting. ‘Does my past really matter?’

‘I would have thought, from your reaction, that it mattered a great deal,’ he observed. ‘Yes, I was overbearing and boorish. You irked me, that’s all.’

‘I irked you? I irked you?’ I could feel my hackles rising.

‘Just appearing like you did, usurping Elyssa’s attention, stealing part of our back-row territory as if you had a right to it. Yes, you irked me.’

‘I wasn’t aware that it was your classroom,’ I growled. ‘And it seems to me as if Elyssa is perfectly capable of choosing for herself who she talks to, without reference to you!’

‘I am trying to start our acquaintance again on a more positive note,’ he returned.

‘By bringing up our immediate past and boshing me over the head with your ridiculous petty grievances?’ I retorted.

We stared at each other, fronting up like dogs do when they meet in the park, sizing up the fight. He crumbled first.

‘Sorry.’

I nodded my acceptance.

‘Hi, I don’t believe we’ve met,’ he altered his voice to an over-bright tone. ‘The name’s Bond, Arun Bond.’

I giggled. ‘You’re serious?’

‘Family name. Before the books were written,’ he qualified, raising an eyebrow slightly. I understood the implication.

‘I do realise that the films are only adaptations,’ I intoned, dryly.

He looked amused. ‘Most don’t. The younger generation.’

‘You sound like somebody’s father!’

The bell rang, interrupting the surprisingly normal conversation.

‘But you haven’t yet introduced yourself,’ he pointed out.

‘Oh, sorry, forgot the game. Neona White, pleased to meet you.’

I held out a solemn hand. He looked down at it, then reluctantly reached out to shake it. His hand was cold, but then, so was mine. Poor circulation, my mother used to say. Part-reptilian, was more likely. I had done my research.

Elyssa swung into the classroom, hair flying everywhere.

‘Oh sorry,’ she stopped dead in her tracks like a horse refusing a fence in the National. ‘Am I interrupting something?’

‘Neona and I have just met. Allow me to introduce you,’ Arun intoned, formally.

I laughed out loud for the first time in months.

Elyssa grinned. ‘About bloody time!’ She nodded her approval, then settled in the seat beside me in a much calmer fashion.

The rest of the class descended, and the blonde teacher bustled in, armfuls of photocopying threatening to cascade to the floor.

‘Essay instructions, people!’ she called. ‘Plus, some critical extracts to inform your wider reading and a sheet to remind you about structure and P.E.E. Neona, if you get stuck, come and see me and I’ll sort you out.’

I blushed, sliding down and sinking against the back of the hard, wooden chair, willing myself to meld into the dead tree so that nobody could see me. Almost the entire class turned around, swivelling to gaze at the freak in her seat, slavering for a repeat performance. Wolves. I hissed quietly, a provoked snake. My eyes burned into theirs, staring them down, one by one, until I was free of their jaws.

She handed out the sheets personally, checking we all had copies of the text. The bulging muscles of the naked Philoctetes were strangely symbolic. Frankenstein’s monster was powerful physically, but he had no beauty. Where were the scars?

I studied my bare, white wrists, palms held up to the fluorescent strip lights. They were nowhere to be seen.

‘Here you go,’ she appeared out of nowhere in front of us. ‘I’m sure Arun and Elyssa will help you; after all, they’re the brightest in the class.

Perhaps you could form a homework club? Hell, that sounds far too teacher-ish. I’m not trying to foist friends upon you, Neona, just want to make sure you achieve the best you’re capable of. I’m sure you’d much rather have their help than mine.’

She handed me the sheets, crisply stiff and still warm from the photocopier. I reached out a hand, absently, studying her face, older than I would have pitched her from my usual vantage point. She had fine lines forming at the edges of her eyes.

‘Ow!’ I bit my lip as a sheet of paper sliced across my finger. The tiny cut stung for a moment, then closed quickly. It took barely a second to heal, the pain disappearing instantly.

I glanced up, horrified, in case she’d seen, but she was already talking to Elyssa, handing her the sheets.

I froze as I felt Arun’s eyes bore into my profile. I dared not meet them. Authoritatively, he reached out, removed the paper gently from my hand, then took my hand to study it. He rubbed a smooth, cold thumb across the place where the tiny scar should be, then turned his attention to my wrists, again rubbing at the skin as if hoping to reveal the truth beneath a lie of glamour.

‘You slit your wrists?’ he frowned, catching my gaze, still as a stone.

I could not move. His thumb continued to make its small, smooth passes across the veins and sinews of my wrist. The blue lines throbbed with my quickening pulse; unnerved, I felt my heart race.

‘When?’ It was more of an order for information than a question. I felt the blinds draw down, the chink of light we had introduced earlier fade and stutter. Curiosity burned instead, bright and clear in the space between us. I felt exposed.

I was breathing heavily now, suppressing panic. Not again, not again, not again. The mantra thudded round my head in uneven circles, blind and desperate. Two weeks in a row and I’d be sent to yet another useless counsellor, at whom I would sit and stare for an hour as often as they made me, unable to voice what was expected.

I coughed, clearing my airway, dragging in unwilling oxygen.

‘Afterwards,’ I almost choked on the word. I swallowed dryness.

‘And the implement?’ Another demand.

‘Kitchen knife. Razor blade. Stanley knife. Piece of glass.’ I listed the attempts almost under my breath.

‘And nothing worked?’ Elyssa sounded incredulous. ‘You couldn’t even get through the skin?’

Shit.

‘Don’t panic,’ Arun squeezed my wrist more firmly. ‘She’s safe.’

‘Safe?’ I exclaimed, wincing as he pressed painfully down. ‘Safe from what?’

‘Do we strike you as the kind of people that spread other people’s secrets?’ Elyssa whispered in my ear, grasping my other wrist in a cold, iron grip and examining it minutely. I felt like a prisoner being held by armed guard. Physical restraints. Mental health.

‘No,’ I agreed, quietly. They dropped their grip. I breathed again.

‘Watch,’ she cautioned, and rising, walked across to the cupboard behind us and selected a pair of scissors from a box on top. Reclaiming her seat, glancing surreptitiously forward, ensuring privacy, she opened them wide, so that the blades almost lay flat, and then, fast as lighting, her sleeve was up, exposing her own white, bony wrist. Slowly, as if enjoying herself, she drew the blade across her skin.

I clamped a hand across my mouth to suppress any sound that might accidentally slip out, barely able to watch.

The blade made no impression whatsoever. It was as if she had drawn it across solid marble. My spine wobbled as I balled, slightly, protectively. Suddenly not the only freak in the world.

She watched me as she repeated the exercise, gauging my reaction.
‘How safe are we now?’ she smiled sweetly, closing the scissors and re-clothing her arm. She held out the scissors, handles towards me.
‘A demonstration of your own talents?’ she left the question hanging.

I reached out for the scissors, unsure. Revelation by accident is a stranger to showing by intent. But trust is a mutual bond; to form it, you must be equal. Arun reached round and took the scissors for himself. His wrist was likewise tested, and also found to be impenetrable. Two down, one to go.

But I was different.

The blade sliced cleanly as I drew it towards me in a long, straight line. Starting at the base of my hand, I parted myself up to the watch strap, drawing the familiar suicide line. My guards watched, eyes minute to the scar, as my skin settled itself back together, sealing, drawing the seeping blood back inside. I was a DVD on rewind.

Their eyes met, his boring into hers, an unspoken something passing between them, an electric current of understanding.

‘Lizards grow their tails back. They can also re-grow limbs, but it’s not an exact science. Sometimes they grow back deformed. I’ve never tried it, personally; I’m not brave enough. When I was a kid, I healed quickly, really quickly, but nothing like this. The older I get, the easier it is, the faster my body adjusts. Mum refused to talk about it, called it ‘lucky’. She never took me to the Doctor when I hurt myself. It was secretive. She was hiding me. I was her little freak.’

I stopped talking as the teacher approached.

‘Haven’t we started yet? Come on, folks!’ she chastised. ‘I want the essay planned out by the end of the lesson. At least a page of A4, alright?’

We nodded in unison, bound by revelation, hushed by secrets. The topic of our essays seemed strangely apt, so we turned to Frankenstein. I was itching to know more about my strange friends, but for now, it was enough that I was suddenly less alone.

‘Later,’ whispered Arun, as we began to write.