17 Back to school
All
of a sudden, it was that time again, finding uniforms didn't fit,
smart shoes were scuffed and tight round her toes, white knee-socks
had no elastic and that all her pencils had broken leads. Yellow HB
pencils - they were never the same as when they were new out of the
box, beautifully sharpened to an exquisite point.
Going
back to school was one of those times Elisha dreaded. She felt scared
about it, unsure - would it be the same? Would she and her friends
still get on or would something have happened over the summer to
change them? She'd have a new form teacher who maybe wouldn't be as
nice as her old one. Nervously, she combed tangles out of her hair
after her shower as she worried about things that could go wrong.
They
hadn't managed to get away anywhere all summer. It didn't really
bother her as much as she'd thought it would in the end. But her
parents seemed different somehow - the way they looked at each other
over her head. They were preoccupied with money matters, making
calculations in notebooks, looking at creditcard statements, waiting
for red bills. Her dad would spend ages each morning going through
papers looking at the job sections, ringing ads in black biro before
calling people up about them. He kept playing an old LP, singing
along to some of the songs, especially one that said he had to ‘get
back in the line’. She thought the song sounded sad, the one about
champagne and Coca-Cola was more fun and her favourite was about
being an apeman. But, strangely, it always seemed to cheer her dad
up. Her mum would sometimes sing too. She said it wasn’t so bad
when everyone was in the same boat. Elisha knew what she meant but
surely it would have been safer if not so many people were in the
boat.
Last
night, her mum had scrawled out a list of things not to forget, on a
piece of laminated yellow paper, from her pile of rough paper, the
clear back-sides of junk-mail circulars.
It
meant it was normally afternoon before they could go anywhere for a
day out. Other days he’d had to go to the employment exchange in
the next town - this seemed to take all morning too - and when he got
back he’d be in a bad mood, snapping at everyone.
Last
night, her mum had scrawled out a list of things not to forget, on a
piece of laminated yellow paper, from her pile of rough paper, the
clear back-sides of junk-mail circulars.
It
felt so weird being in school clothes again. She was in the green
checked summer uniform school dress, with a dark green v-neck sweater
over it. They were having what her mum called an 'Indian summer',
unseasonably warm and humid, sun-filled days that only turned cold in
the evenings long after she was home from school.
But
even odder was having her mum come to school with her, asking Elisha
if she
was dressed okay, worrying about make-up and perfume, and what to say
to the pupils. Although pleased she'd got the job, Elisha was in two
minds over whether it would work out. It was introducing someone from
her home realm into the school world, which she thought of as
completely separate, where she could really be a different person.
She worried about how other kids would react to her mum being there.
But she had to concede that her mum looked great, her ash-blonde hair
twisted up into a chignon, in a long, flowing dark-green maxi skirt
and cork-soled green platform sandals. She thought she must be the
best-looking mum in the world, let alone the best-looking dinner
lady.
Her
dad hadn't managed to get a proper job as yet. In the end he’d had
to take a rather menial position that he kept saying was just
temporary. He was working in a factory on the other side of town,
mainly doing night shifts so that she would sometimes hear him come
in, about 6.30 in the morning, his key rattling briefly in the
front-door Chubb lock before connecting, being very quiet, closing
the door gently behind him.
Normally
he'd be in the kitchen when she got down for breakfast, would be
starting off coffee and stuff, but looking tired and a bit defeated
despite his attempts at cheeriness. She noticed a few white hairs at
his temples and deeper lines around his eyes. As he poured her a
glass of juice one morning, his hand shook very slightly. It was one
of those unusually shaped smoky brown petrol station glasses. They
were her favourites so that she reached and took it from him in case
he dropped it.
Then
he would go to bed for a while, mid-morning to late afternoon, before
getting up and having something to eat prior to his next shift.
Her
mother too seemed weary - she frowned more frequently than before and
her voice had a slight edge to it, like she was teetering on the
brink of a crevasse. Her kind brown eyes also seemed clouded and
troubled more often.
Elisha
knew she had to try to do something to help.
The
thought of the school bell was like a death knell to the holiday.
Ominous yet at the same time triumphant. It made Elisha's heart beat
fast under her dress and sweater.
When
it came down to it, it was exciting to see her friends again though.
They rushed towards her in the playground before the bell, both
chattering at once, bursting with holiday news.
Jasmine's
hair was in beautiful cornrows, with different primary-coloured beads
strung on the ends. Apparently, it was normally very expensive but
her mum was friends with a hairdresser who did it for free. But they
were all a bit worried that the school might object to the colours.
And
Luke. He'd completely changed. For a long time he'd seemed to Elisha
like one of those balloons that had somehow survived a birthday party
and the general cruel popping at the end of the afternoon. Ever since
he'd been in a slow, sad decline, doomed to shrink a little every
day, gradually diminishing towards nothingness. Losing air,
relinquishing life.
Now
suddenly it was as if someone was blowing him up again - pumping air
back into him, plumping out his flesh, making him new once more. The
boy he'd been before.
Elisha
didn't think she could be the only one who'd noticed his
rejuvenation. His hair had grown longer and thicker, his arms were
less skinny, face less pinched - he'd kind of filled out, like those
women who used Oil of Ulay on TV. And he smiled more often and more
widely than for the last few months. Whereas before she hadn't liked
to look at him because he made her miserable, now she actually found
his face, his presence cheered her up.
Also
she wanted to ask his advice about what to do. He already knew about
(and believed in) the well and had experienced its magic. In fact, it
was as if the well had selected him and drawn him in without Elisha
saying anything. So perhaps it was all right to consult him. If she
just followed the rules on the paper, surely things would work out
fine?
She
cornered him at the morning break, finding him on a low wall by the
playground, eating a Milky Way that had partly melted from being left
in his bag in the sun by the class window all morning. The chocolate
was leaving dark-brown gloops on his fingers that he had to lick up.
He was sucking some off his right thumb when Elisha joined him.
It
was hard to talk about her family situation to an outsider. But with
Luke it seemed a bit easier - he listened without interrupting much
until she'd finished, then crumpled the chocolate wrapper into a ball
while pursing his lips and obviously thinking hard.
'So,
your dad needs a better job, swiftish?'
Was
this all it really boiled down to? She nodded.
'And
you want to know if the rules allow you to wish for it?'
'Yes,
without something bad happening by mistake.'
'Have
you got them with you?'
'Er,
no. I didn't want to lose them ... ' She really wasn't as good at
planning things as she'd thought. Her attempts to remember the verse
were not impressive and Luke's face registered this fact with a
progressively more pained and exasperated expression.
'Look,
bring it in tomorrow and we can go over it,' he finally said, cutting
her off as she mumbled, 'One good turn forgets another.'
'Sorry.
There was so much to remember this morning. And I couldn't tell my
mum to write it on the list.'
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