Fragments (11 page)

After the wound was cleaned and a strip of gauze placed over the top, I pulled my school jumper on and pulled down the sleeves to hide it. I knew that by the time the bell rang, the rumours would be flying around, and I was feeling too raw to deal with it.

              Leaving the nurse’s station, Trin ran ahead and went into the classroom to gather our stuff. She looked directly at me and said, “Let’s get to the lockers, and by fuck, you are going to tell me what the hell happened. No more excuses.” I nodded and followed her to the lockers. The girls helped load my bag while I adjusted the bandage. Flinging my bag over my other shoulder, I pulled my sleeve down to cover it up as we made our way towards the bus stop. I did not give a shit if a teacher spotted us before the bell went.

We threw our bags under the seat, and I slumped down in defeat. The girls both sat down on the bench, their lips pursed, waiting for me to speak.

              Remembering what Stacey had said sent a trail of tears down my cheeks. I spluttered a pained explanation. “She … said that I, that I ... was stealing Alex and I had to—” gulp, “—stay away and she wanted to teach me a lesson … She was gonna do my face.”

Both girls’ eyes were wide as their mouthed gaped.

“The hell!?” Trin yelled. She gripped my uninjured forearm and leaned in closer. “You need to tell someone, Trice! Enough is enough. I don’t know what their problem is, but for years we have been targets. You, especially.”

I shook my head, as I knew what I was about to say would anger her further. “I know, but I just can’t. You saw Mr Niles—he didn’t even question Stacey. I’m an immigrant’s daughter; you know how ignorant those arseholes are. I tell my mum and she comes in? Nothing will be done. NOTHING!” I wept, covering my face with my hands. “I am so tired of them. I want to tell someone, but I don’t want the aftermath. Look!” I pointed to my wrist. “Look at what she did in just a few minutes. She’ll really hurt me if I tell on her!” I sobbed loudly and Hazel wrapped her arm around me, pulling me tightly to her chest.

“Trice,” she said softly. “Honey, you have to tell someone. I know you are under a lot of stress right now with your solo, but I will tell you now,” she moved me back so she could look directly into my eyes, “that those bitches are going to pay.” Her eyes hardened. “I know you’re scared, but enough is enough.”

Hazel rarely got fired up, but I could see the harsh determination in her gaze. I sniffed and nodded, leaning closer into her.

“Trice, I’m not happy with them, either,” declared Haze. “No more are you going to hide from those moles. We will stand by you as you tell your family, and we will stand by you at the school. Remember, Trinity’s dad’s a mean lawyer. I’m sure we can get him in on it if shit hits the fan.”

The thought of making a huge deal out of this scared me.
Foolish, I know
.              

“I know,” I whispered. “Can I just have this weekend and then we’ll work out what to do?” I shivered at the thought of telling someone.

              By the time the bell went, I was still crying soft tears. I knew that I looked like a mess, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to get home.

“Please don’t say anything …” I begged them. “Just give me until after the concert … I just need … that.” Both girls nodded. We climbed on the bus to whispers from the Mole Patrol friends, saying, “Oh my God! I heard she’s, like, suicidal or something,” while looking directly at me.

*              *              *              *              *

That night, I had somehow managed to disguise my arm by wearing a loose-fitting long-sleeved top. I knew that I could’ve made up some type of lie for my mother, but I was too drained to think of anything. I felt like the world’s weakest fool. For years, I had been kicked, shoved, and teased. Of course, it would have to be the weekend of the gala for them to hurt me. The walls of my chest felt tight as I felt tips of darkness slip in further. Would I ever be free from them? I kept hearing Hazel’s words, ‘
Those bitches are going to pay
’, on repeat in my head.

I sighed and closed my eyes. Images of Stacey grabbing me and cutting me shattered the pleasant pictures I was trying to see. The guilt I felt from not fighting back sooner—for letting them get to me—plagued me. I was tired of the façade that everything was okay. Not once did I tell my parents. Robbie and Alex knew some girls were ‘mean’, but they just thought it was typical high school bullshit.

I closed my eyes and took a few calming breaths. Focusing in on Hazel’s words, my chest relaxed as I’d had enough. They would not ruin this weekend for me. No more running; only living. I just wanted to get my motivation back to do my routine. I was going to use this moment and showcase it. My costume would have to change, and while I lamented to Trin about it on the phone, she gave me another idea that would, in fact, suit my solo perfectly.

I lay in bed, staring at my ceiling, wondering what tomorrow would bring. Would I do a good enough job for the scout? Or after all this time and practice, would I make a colossal mess and screw up any chance I had at the senior class? I wanted this so badly. I started pep talking, telling myself that I was ‘going to nail it’ and that it was ‘too late to back out’.

Staring at my ceiling, my phone beeped. I lent over and froze at the name that appeared on the screen.
Alex.
Anger pooled inside of me. If he had ignored me and kept Stacey happy, none of this would have happened. I angrily unlocked my phone and looked at the message.

Alex: Hey Bea-Bea! You still have that concert tomorrow?

Arsehole
, I thought. It was a gala. I began typing what had happened today, but decided against it. Nothing would come of it.  Clearing the message, I retyped a new one.

Me: No, I’m not doing it this year.

I knew it was childish to lie, but I didn’t want him invading my thoughts.

Alex: How come?

Me: Didn’t feel like it. It kinda bores me.  N e way, goin’ to bed. Night.

Alex: Really? Didn’t know. Okay. Night. See you Sunday.

Like hell you will
. Not a freaking chance. 

I focused on my routine in my head.
One, two, three, four, one, two three, four
, imagining my steps and how to utilise the stage. My storyline became more real to me. I felt that I no longer had to fake emotion, especially after a day like today.

I let out a deep sigh as I closed my tired eyes and thought,
what will be will be
.

*              *              *              *              *

When I woke up Saturday morning, for a moment I forgot about what had happened the day before. That was, until I stretched and felt my wound strain and sting.

“Argh!” I muttered. I looked at my wrist and inspected the gauze. I removed the bandage and left the strip that lay down across the cut. The scratch was almost ten centimetres long. I hoped it wouldn’t leave a mark.  I traced the scratch and thought of all the times Stacey and her friends had bullied me. Incidents started racing through my mind, and rather than starting to feel scared, I felt … angry. This time she had gone too far. I refused to let her ruin my big day.

              I shoved the covers back and got up to gather my clothes. A hot shower was what I needed. I looked at my alarm clock and was surprised to see it was already ten. I needed to be at the theatre by twelve. Getting a move on, I quickly showered, carefully avoiding getting my arm wet, then changed into casual yoga pants and a long-sleeved top. I packed all the essentials I needed for my performance into a large duffel bag and then made my way downstairs for breakfast.

              I was too jumpy to sit still, and once I had scoffed my food down, I called for Robbie to take me to the theatre. I wanted to avoid talking to my parents. Luckily, Mum was out and Dad must’ve been outside tending to his trees. I felt a pang of guilt for shutting them out, but this time I needed to be levelheaded. Ironically, I was using my wound to anchor me. It was at the forefront of my mind to remind me of my purpose.

              Sliding into Robbie’s car, I made sure that my wrist was covered. If he knew what had happened, there was no way we would be driving to my performance. He’d track down the Principal and lose his shit. As we drove along, I kept thinking of my routine, and a new move started to infiltrate my thoughts. The longer I thought about it, the more perfect it seemed for my finale. 

“Hey, Trice,” Robbie interrupted my thoughts. “Can I ask you something?”

I froze, wondering what he knew.

“Um, I guess …”
Please don’t tell me you know about …

“Why don’t you want Mum and Dad there today? Don’t tell me it’s no big deal, because that’s bullshit. Look, just be honest, okay?”

I looked over at him and noticed how sincere he looked. I took a deep breath. “I want this so bad, Robbie. I want to go to the senior school, and I want to leave this town and get away to Melbourne. I just want …”
What did I want?
“I just want to feel free. I don’t feel happy here. If Mum and Dad came and I didn’t get in, there’s no way I could handle their disappointment.” I sighed, relieved to get it off my chest.

“Sorry Trice, but they would support you no matter what. You’ve built all this bullshit in your head. As for leaving—well, we all want to leave sometime.” His face looked firm, and I was left wondering what my carefree brother wanted to run away from.

“I will not stop because another hears me;

And it will be well for that man if he remembers

What the true spirit disentangles for me.”

Purgatorio XIV
; lines 55–58

Trice

We arrived at the theatre. I leapt out of the car as my thunderous heart thumped against my ribs. My legs were jumpy as my warm limbs wiggled on the spot, eager and ready. I grabbed my duffle bag from the backseat and went to wave to Robbie, but instead I was surprised to see him stepping out of the car. He rounded the front of the vehicle and before I knew it, he’d pulled me to his chest in a strong embrace.

“You go out there, and get that scout’s attention,” he murmured in my ear. “I am so proud of you. I know you hate hearing it, but I am so proud.”

Tears welled up at the back of my eyes and I simply nodded, too afraid to speak. I didn’t want my resolve to break, but it felt so nice to hear those words. He let go of me and as I walked away, he yelled out, “Trice, go kick some fuckin’ arse!”

I laughed and shook my head. By the back theatre door stood my dance teacher, watching Robbie go, with a large grin on her face. She winked at me as I breathed a sigh of relief. I was ready.

              Walking into the theatre felt like entering my second home. The back door led to the hallway where the dressing rooms were, followed by the staircase that led us up onto the stage. I looked at my watch and realised I had an hour before I was set to perform. I went to the final dressing room that was cluttered with costumes, make-up, shoes, and other dance props. Surrounding the disarray were ten dancers, all primping for their solos. The back mirror in the right corner was mine, so I went over there to prepare. Getting dressed in front of peers wasn’t normally an issue, but today I felt a slight hesitation. My costume went against the norm.

              I sat down in front of the mirror and looked at my reflection. My eyes were vibrant and my smile radiant. I was excited more than nervous, but I knew that wasn’t the person I was portraying in my solo. Without further ado, I bent to the side and unzipped my duffle to retrieve my costume. Piling it onto the vanity in front of me, I began to strip and placed my day clothes away in my bag, leaving out my zip-up hoodie to add a touch of warmth while I waited.

              While the other girls around me had simple leotards with flares of colour, I had strictly chosen greys and blacks. I pulled on a pair of three-quarter leggings that I had taken a Stanley knife to, leaving jagged tears throughout. It looked as though a wild animal had attacked it. Next, over my red crop bra, I put on a grey tank top that had been severed across the midriff all the way around, followed by a tear in the back and across my chest. Over the top, I wore a meshed three quarter length sleeved top that Trinity had thoroughly enjoyed tearing into. Chunks were missing, every edge was jagged and the sleeves were the only parts that weren’t see-through. There were jagged cuts throughout, but my forearms were protected.

I studied my reflection and was pleased with what I saw. I looked like a runaway, or a victim of abuse, and that was what I was going for. The slash of red colour would come in handy throughout my performance.

Next, I took out my hair, and proceeded to pin back the top half of my hair up so it would be out of my face. Then I teased the back in sections to make it look unkempt.

              Finally, I gathered my make-up and with the eyeliner pencil, began drawing half bolts of lightning over my right eye, which I coloured in black, as well as another jagged diamond at the bottom of the left side of my chin. I kind of looked like a KISS fan, but using the palms of my hands in circular motions, I smudged the shapes I had drawn so that they looked feral. I used dark eyeliner and thick mascara on my other eye, but I left my lips bare to complete this look. I looked a mess, but it was what I wanted. For extra measure, I grabbed a deep-red lipstick and splotched it over my bandaged wrist to look like dripping blood. I knew I was taking a risk, but I was sick of playing safe all the time.