Be Myself! - 17. Prelude

My first week of exams was also my busiest: English, (which consisted of a writing test in the morning and reading/comprehension in the afternoon), on Monday, Chemistry on Wednesday, and Maths on Friday. After that there would be three weeks with one exam each, and in the last week I would have two tests. With one look at my schedule, my parents decided it would be better for me to spread my revisions so that in those one-exam weeks I revised for other subjects as well, mostly Physics and German. Music was set as my lowest priority, after all the only reason I had been studying viola for the last four years was because my parents thought it would be the ‘lesser evil’ of all the Arts subjects.

This busy first week also meant that I had very little contact with my friends outside of school. Hannah had a PE exam on Tuesday, and Olivia had Spanish on Thursday. Henry was having a hard time keeping up with his revision schedule because of the unfortunate side effects of his pain medicine, so he had to put an extra effort in everything he did. Helena’s plans for the next few weeks had not been shared with me, but I did not feel particularly curious about them. As far as I knew, Ariadne, Edward and Jean were also studying for their exams, though they still had a year to go before their results had a serious impact on their academic future.

What our group did manage to do, in between our two English exams, was to arrange for all the fourth years to have a study session at Henry’s on Saturday. After this first week there would be no other day in which all of us would take the same test, but we agreed that it would still be better to revise as a group, if only for the company, (and to see if it would help Henry increase his attention spam). I was a little sceptical about the efficacy of their plan, but Olivia somehow managed to convince me to go along. She also convinced me to tell my parents another set of lies to get me there.

“Are you going away again today?” My mother asked during breakfast. We were sitting alone at the table because my father was on a work trip and would not be back until Monday.

“Yes. My classmates will revise Physics and Biology and want my help.”

“Your next exam is Music though, isn’t it?” She was looking at her food, seemingly more worried about getting her fair share of nutrients than the particulars of my schedule, but I knew better.

“Yes, it is, but father told me to just keep my normal practice routine and use my energy for more important things.” He wanted me to pass Music as a matter of pride, but he had made it clear there would be no reason for me to pick up the viola again once the exams were over, unless I needed show off at family gatherings.

“Ok, that’s fine, then. Your father knows what he is doing.” Mum nodded approvingly. “Follow his advice and you will be entering Oxford in no time.”

“Yes, mum,” I agreed, though my tone was considerably less enthusiastic than it had been a week ago. After the weekend at Olivia’s I could not think of my university prospects without remembering my conversation with Ms Savage. She had not made me change my mind about anything, but it was disconcerting to think that she did not approve of my choices. Why I felt so bad about what a stranger thought about my life, though, was probably the most disconcerting question of all; one I still did not have the answer for.

“Are you going to come back home tonight?”

“Yes. I’ll be back in time for supper.”

“Good. I would hate to eat alone. It’s bad enough your father is not here; I don’t want to lose you too,” she said with her usual coldness. I nodded, but could not think of anything to say. Thankfully she soon changed the subject. “We don’t necessarily approve of you going out during exam time, you know.” Her words sent a chill down my spine; suddenly the previous topic did not seem all that uncomfortable anymore. “We’re only letting you out because you said it is still a kind of revision, but I want to make it very clear that if it turns out you are lying to us, or that your new revision method is not as effective as the schedule you father laid out for you, there will be consequences. Your father is also particularly keen on getting some proof that the unfortunate episode with the poofs has not affected your brain too much.”

I did not say anything for a while, not that mum was expecting me to. I just nodded, understanding very well what she was trying to say: my parents would not accept anything other than the best grades and would only be secure about my sexual orientation once these expected results arrived. With the extra pressure building up, I once again felt guilty for lying so much over the past two months. If I got the grades my parents expected, it would be a validation of my deceitfulness, because it would prove that I could do what my parents wanted, but not in the way they wanted me to. It was a scary thought; another step towards a world where my parents’ opinion had very little value. I did not want to walk that path, but over the past couple of months I felt like I had been dragged there by a particularly strong and uncomfortable leash.

(...)

Ms Watson was already at the door when I arrived and quickly took me to her son’s temporary room, where Olivia and Hannah had sprawled all kinds of workbooks on the floor. Henry watched them with the kind of spaced-out face I had come to associate with medically-induced drowsiness.

“Hi, Oscar! I missed you so much!” Olivia beamed, jumping over the books to greet me at the door. “That Maths exam was horrible! I thought it would never end!” She hugged me tightly as soon as she got the chance. Surprised by her impulsive gesture, I almost fell backwards.

“We are just waiting for one more person now, right?” Ms Watson asked, giving me some time to breathe between my girlfriend’s squeezes.

“Yes, it’s just Helena now.” Hannah answered. She was sitting on the floor next to Henry’s bed surrounded by four workbooks; a compilation of past papers with answers, for students to know exactly what awaited them. At this time of the year all bookshops were loaded with them. “She texted me a while ago, so she shouldn’t take long.”

“Great. Once you are all settled I will bring tea and biscuits to help your brains get going.” Ms. Watson smiled. We returned the gesture and thanked her for her hospitality.

“She thinks you’re too slim, Oscar,” Henry commented once his mother had left. Olivia laughed, though Hannah was no longer paying attention.

“Am I?” I asked my girlfriend, since she seemed so amused by the idea.

“Well, you’re the one that most resembles a stick in this room,” she nodded, looking at me up and down to prove her point. I followed her gaze and it dawned on me that she was actually right. I was the tallest in the room by a fair margin, and my body was the kind that lacked any muscle definition, (my father had tried to get me to do physical exercises, but I failed spectacularly at anything involving the minimum motor coordination, so he soon gave up and decided I was more fit to exercise my brain instead), while also lacking the ability to retain any fat. I used to be made fun of because of it in primary school, (“Sticky Boy” was almost as popular nickname choice as “Paki”), but in secondary school most of the appearance-related bullying gradually stopped, most likely because we had many classes about how racism and other kinds of discrimination based on one’s look were wrong. The school allowed parents to participate in their anti-racism program, and my parents became great enthusiasts of it, going as far as telling their story to my whole class.

“It’s not my fault. I’m not trying to be thin.” I shrugged, automatically repeating what my parents had told me to say to anyone who made fun of me back then. “Or fat, for that matter.”

“Don’t worry about it. Mum will see to it that you create a little bit of a belly until the end of summer, or at least be sugar poisoned while trying.” Henry laughed, though he seemed accepting of my answer.

“She reminds me of my grandma,” Olivia noted, making the kind of face that indicated she was mentally crossing her fingers in hopes she did not sound offensive. She relaxed only when she realised Henry was still smiling, even though he started to blush.

“I think she kind of feels like one sometimes,” Henry sighed. His eyes became even dreamier than usual. “I wonder what it will be like when she gets proper grandchildren. She’ll go crazy!”

“You want kids?” Hannah asked, lifting her head from the books for the first time since Ms Watson’s exit. Her tone was somewhere between surprised and disappointed.

“I do; more than one too. Maybe even twins!” Henry laughed, so obviously daydreaming that I had to wonder how much of it was still a side-effect of his medicine.

“Good for you.” Hannah rolled her eyes, settling her overall expression around ‘disappointed’ with an edge of annoyance. “Just don’t expect me to babysit.”

“Don’t worry; I don’t plan on needing babysitters anyway,” Henry answered, smiling widely. “I’ll take care of my children myself. I want to be the best father they could possibly have.”

“Good for you!” Olivia beamed, calling back Hannah’s words but completely changing the tone. “Have you got it all planned?”

“Somewhat.” Henry blushed even more, prompting my girlfriend to approach his side of the bed. Hannah once again turned to the books, but I felt compelled to listen to this new conversation until the end. “I want at least two children. They will be adopted because I know there are so many children out there needing loving families that I feel bad thinking about having my own. If I could, I would build a huge house and adopt an entire orphanage!” Olivia smiled. Encouraged, Henry’s tone became more enthusiastic. “I want to be a stay-at-home dad, though I know it will only be possible if my boyfriend has a good job and earns lots of money. It’s still a nice dream, though.” My girlfriend nodded, though I was stuck imagining Henry in Mr. Viñas’s apron surrounded by dozens of noisy children and still somehow managing to smile like it was the best thing in the world. “And speaking of boyfriend…”

I was forced out of my Henry-in-the-apron fantasies when the atmosphere of the room suddenly became charged with ill-disguised tension. Hannah looked up again, her brows furrowed in anticipation, and Olivia looked suddenly very worried.

“Do you mean…” My girlfriend began to ask, before being interrupted by Henry. From his dreamy state he abruptly became very serious and determined; the most incisive I had ever seen him.

“Yeah. I don’t feel guilty about imagining Jean as my partner anymore. You should call him over someday; I have some things I want to tell him as soon as possible.”

“You mean your plan to fuck?” Olivia asked. Henry nodded.

“You know he wants to be a porn star once he leaves school, right?” Hannah told us, raising an eyebrow. “He says that he doesn’t care about his grades because he’ll rise to fame and glory in the porn industry.” Henry and I did an unintentionally synchronised jaw drop, but Olivia giggled.

“Well, it does seem like a fitting career…” She noted, sounding more amused than even Hannah could have foreseen.

“He’s got all the possible qualifications already, or so he says,” Hannah added, in the kind of tone that implied Olivia should be outraged. Instead, it was Henry who spoke next, also more cheerful than he should.

“That’s for sure!” He and Olivia laughed. I was not sure how I was supposed to react until I noticed that Hannah was far from happy.

“You wouldn’t be laughing if you knew half the story behind what gave him that idea,” Hannah interrupted, sounding properly grim and effectively silencing the other two.

“What do you mean?” Henry asked, now terrified.

“Ask him. Don’t you want to get close to him with some crazy sex plan? That’s your chance.” Henry lowered his head, but said nothing. The uncomfortable silence remained until Helena arrived, a couple of minutes later.

“What happened here? Did someone die? Please tell me it was Jean!” the blond said as a way of greeting. She frowned when Hannah stomped towards her, stopping only when their faces were an inch apart. “What now?”

“Leave Jean alone!” Hannah growled, closing her hands into fists. “Henry has already forgiven him, there’s no reason you shouldn’t.”

“Apart from him making unrequested sexual advances towards his foster-brother, you mean? I don’t think Edward has forgiven him for those yet,” Helena answered nonchalantly, raising an eyebrow at Hannah’s aggressive posture. “I’m surprised someone like you can still be friends with him, actually.” For a moment we all thought Hannah was going to jump on Helena and start a fight, however Henry intervened right on time.

“Why did you turn against Jean so suddenly? You were his friend too.” he asked, managing to look confused, hurt and even cute at the same time. Helena’s expression softened a little as a result.

“Ariadne. She’s been spending lots of time with Edward and Jean because of the exams, even though they don’t share any subjects.”

“So you have been spending more time with Edward and Jean because you spend time with your girlfriend, and this somehow made you not like Jean anymore?” Olivia asked, even more puzzled by the answer than she had been by the question.

“Something along those lines. I was in Mr Smith’s house the other day, so I saw first-hand what they’re like.”

“It’s not that bad.” Hannah defended Jean. We once again feared the conflict was about to escalate. “It’s his idea of what ‘entertain the guests’ should be like.”

“Sure. Edward seemed very entertained hiding behind my girlfriend and using her boobs as a shield. It was very fun to watch too.” Sarcasm not so much dripped as poured from Helena’s words. “That guy has problems.”

“So do all of us. Mr Smith has been working very hard to help Jean; you shouldn’t dismiss his efforts like that.” As the girls argued I was suddenly engulfed by the same dreadful feeling I had when Hannah told me some of hers and Jean’s story. I sensed the ‘problems’ they were talking about were related to Hannah’s comments about Jean wanting to be a porn star. In order to avoid those feelings or being sickened by them, I tried to stop thinking about what Hannah meant by them, but somehow I knew it would not last.

“We should tell him to try harder, and to teach Jean once and for all that sexual harassment is not good under any circumstances. Whatever happened to him that made him incapable of learning it so far, shouldn’t be an excuse.”

“It’s not that easy.” Hannah finally relaxed her hands. The rest of us shared relieved grins once the worst seemed to be over. “But I can’t blame you for not understanding this; it’s not the kind of life experience you would’ve come across.” Our relief lasted as long as it took for Helena to cross her arms in front of her chest and speak in a venomous tone.

“Yes, I don’t understand it, but I don’t need to. All I need to understand is that Edward wants my girlfriend around him as often as possible so he can get away from the sex maniac that is his foster-brother. Whatever Mr Smith is trying to do, he’s not doing it right.”

“You need to give him more time. Edward knows this, he’s probably just impressed by the power Ariadne has over Jean and wants to explore it.”

Hannah and Helena would probably have carried on arguing about Jean and his problems for the rest of the afternoon if Ms Watson had not chosen that moment to enter the room with a tray of tea and biscuits. Distracted by the sugar and hot beverages, they let us change the subject of our discussions to make them centred on the exams and the things we had to revise.

By the end of the day, I had forgotten all about the argument and the bad feeling I had over Jean’s mysterious past. Exams were once again at the forefront of my mind and I thought I would be able to concentrate on my revision schedule for the rest of the week.

But then Jean called on Sunday to invite me to Emma’s birthday party, and the dreadful feeling returned and refused to leave.