Proud of Me Read online

  Josh is home, Archie is away.

  I know, I’m lucky.

  “Anyway, I’ve got some exciting news.”

  “Oh yes?”

  “Well, I bumped into Alex this morning…”

  I roll my eyes and pretend to yawn. “I thought you said exciting.”

  Alex is this boy in Year Eleven who Archie’s obsessed with. Archie’s always making me hang back in the corridors with him, so he can “accidentally” run into Alex. He is also one of the very few other out gay kids in the school, which Archie thinks is amazing.

  “No, stop it, don’t sigh like that, it doesn’t suit you. Anyway, I bumped into Alex—”

  “You said that already.”

  “Just listen, why don’t you? Stop interrupting.” He assumes his stern look – which never fails to make me burst out laughing. “Ready now?”

  “Okay, okay, go on then, impress me.”

  “You know the Pride group idea, right?” He waits until I nod in agreement, before carrying on. “So, Alex spoke to Ms Bryant about it before Easter, about whether we’d be allowed to set one up here…”

  “Why Ms Bryant?” I interrupt. “What’s it got to do with her?” Ms Bryant teaches us science as well as being head of Year Eight.

  Archie shrugs. “I don’t know. He just said something about how she offered to help. Anyway, that’s not the point. Alex explained to her how it would be a group for LGBTQ students and straight ones, whoever wants to support it really. She went away and read lots of stuff about it over the holidays and talked to the rest of the staff. And Alex told me this morning that she said yes.”

  Archie’s always been a bit extra, a bit over the top, someone who attracts attention. I don’t know if it’s because he’s gay or because that’s just the way he is. Whatever it is, he makes the world a more exciting place to be in. And I love it. But not everyone does. He acts like he’s not bothered by the nasty comments or sly looks he sometimes gets, but he must be, a bit. I would be. I know this group will be somewhere safe, where he doesn’t need to pretend anything, where he can relax and be himself. Not just for him, for anyone who needs it. That’s why it matters so much.

  “Really? Archie, that’s brilliant.” I am so happy for him.

  “I know.” He grins like a little kid who’s been given an ice cream. “Apparently, Ms B thinks it would be good for our personal and social development or something. And that Ofsted’ll like it. And something about St John’s having one already. I think I’m the first to know, after Alex. And now you, of course.”

  “So what happens next?”

  “I don’t know, I guess we set up our first meeting. You will be coming, won’t you? I mean, anyone can come, you don’t have to be gay. And it won’t clash with photography club, I’ll make sure of it.” He suddenly looks anxious.

  “Course I’m coming. Got to be there for my bestie.” I give his arm a squeeze. “Anyway, can you imagine what Mum and Ima would say if I didn’t support it?”

  Actually, I’m not sure what Mum and Ima would say. They were super supportive when Archie came out, but when it comes to what they want for our own family? I don’t know. Mostly I think all they want is for us to blend in, not draw attention to ourselves – to play it safe.

  Would they want me to join the group or not? Would it be too “out there” for them? Would they think me joining is all about them – even if it’s not?

  “Look,” Archie whispers suddenly, breaking into my thoughts. “Two o’clock. Who is that?” I turn to my right. Jon and Nazim are a couple of rows ahead of us, leaning back with their feet on their desks, arguing about football like they always do.

  “Not that way. I meant ten o’clock. New girl.” I peer over to the other side of the classroom. He grabs my arm. “No, don’t look like you’re looking.”

  “What? You told me to!” I carry on staring. “Anyway, she can’t see, she’s got her back to us.”

  There’s a girl in the second row who I’ve never seen before. I can’t see much of her now – just the back of her head. She’s got blonde hair, short at the back, so her neck’s just visible above the collar of her school shirt. She already stands out – most girls here wear their hair long. A small silver hoop glints at the top of her ear. She moves, as if to look round, and I feel the breath catch in my throat.

  I look away and find I can breathe normally again. “Funny time of year to start a new school,” I say to Archie.

  He leans in, voice low. “Do you think she’s been expelled from somewhere else?”

  I shrug. “Maybe her parents have split up…”

  “Or gone to prison…”

  “Or died in a tragic accident…”

  “Or just returned from a top-secret diplomatic mission…”

  “…And that’s why she’s had to come here in the middle of the year.”

  Before we can dream up any more wild theories, Mr Ross comes in, claps his hands and starts talking.

  The murmurs die down. Nazim and Jon swiftly take their feet off the desks, and everyone else hurries to find their seats. I keep snatching glances at the new girl – who is she?

  I like Mr Ross. As teachers go, he’s pretty good. He’s nice, but not a pushover, and he really does listen when you tell him things. Some teachers barely make an effort to learn your name, but with Mr Ross, you feel that he actually likes each one of us, and that makes everyone like him.

  He rattles through registration, and then turns to the new girl at the front. “Everyone, this is Carli,” he says. “Carli’s joining us this term, the newest member of 8R. I’m sure you’ll make her very welcome.”

  He casts his eyes around the classroom. “Now…Serena, would you be able to keep an eye out for Carli, show her around, make sure she knows what’s going on, that kind of thing?” Serena – studious, reliable and a little bit dull – always gets picked for jobs like this. Normally, I wouldn’t be bothered. Today, I wish it was me.

  The rest of the day rushes by. Josh and I are in different forms – an effort by the school to make sure we “mix” – so as usual I don’t see him much except at breaks or lunchtime. Before long everything about school feels totally normal again. It seems impossible that only yesterday we were still on holiday. Like when it’s the middle of winter and you can’t remember what summer’s like or imagine ever feeling warm again. And through everything – handing in homework, catching up on everyone’s news, queuing in the canteen, dashing from class to class – there is the new girl, shadowed by Serena. On the edge of my vision. Just out of earshot. At the back of my mind. Carli.

  The final lesson of the day is science. It’s over in the labs – an old block tucked away behind the sports hall. They keep talking about refurbishing the building, but nothing happens. So it’s been left to quietly crumble away.

  Archie and I start to make our way over, and I’m still rummaging in my bag as I walk along.

  “Argh, I haven’t got my book. I thought it was in here somewhere, but…”

  “Oh, Becks, are you sure? What if it’s crushed underneath something else in that enormous sack of yours?”

  “No, it’s really not.” I shove all the loose papers that I’ve dislodged back into my bag. “I’ll just dash back to my locker. I’ll only be a second – less, a nanosecond. Wait for me – no, actually, don’t wait, go and grab us a seat at the back. I’ll see you over there.”

  Ms Bryant won’t be happy even if I’m only a couple of minutes late, especially as it’s the first day of term. I run back, nipping quickly through the corridors, slowing down only when I pass a classroom door. I flick open my locker and grab the book from the top. I spin round – and Carli is standing quietly right behind me.

  I’m so surprised to see someone there that I drop the book. It feels like I’ve magically made her appear just by thinking about her.

  “What the…” I stutter. “I mean, what are you…?”

  “Sorry,” she says, picking up the book from the floor and handing it back to
me. In my confusion, I shove the book quickly back in my locker and slam the door shut.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Carli. I saw you in homeroom earlier. It’s just, I’m looking for the science lab. They gave me this map here,” she continues, holding out a piece of paper covered in different coloured splodges connected by dotted lines, “but it makes no sense.”

  “It’s okay, I’ve got science too. You’d better follow me – that map looks next to useless. What happened to Serena?”

  “Ah, she had a violin lesson or something.” She shrugs. “Whatever, I lost her.”

  “Hey…” I’ve suddenly realized what’s different about Carli. “You’re American.”

  “Ten out of ten,” she says wearily. “And before you ask – no, I haven’t met the president and I don’t know any Hollywood stars. Okay?”

  “Who’s asking anything?”

  “Sorry, it’s just been a long day, y’know.” She smiles. I would have sworn no one could have teeth that white. “The moment anyone hears my accent they ask me the same old questions. It’s like no one’s ever met a real live American before, just seen them on TV.”

  “Not everyone’s like that,” I say, biting back my own stream of questions.

  “I guess people back home would be just the same.” She deliberately makes her accent sound stronger. “‘Have y’all met the royal family?’ and ‘What cute little cars you have – are those really for driving?’”

  I burst out laughing. “Actually, I have met the queen,” I reply.

  “No way!”

  “Well, not met exactly. But I have seen her. From a distance.”

  Carli raises her eyebrows. “Go on…”

  “She opened a new wing at the hospital where my mum works, like ten years ago. We all went along to watch. I was in the crowd, up on…” I hesitate, never sure when to explain to new people that I’ve got two mums. “…On my mum’s shoulders.”

  “Wow, wait till I tell my friends back home about that – I reckon if I say I’m your friend, then I’m practically on the guest list for Buckingham Palace. Right?”

  “Right,” I say, smiling.

  “But I don’t even know your name yet.”

  “Oh, sorry, it’s Becky.”

  “Well, Becky, can you show me where the science labs are? I don’t want to get into trouble, not on my first day anyway.”

  I’ve been so focused on Carli that I’d totally forgotten the time.

  “Oh no, we’re so going to have to run.”

  I grab my bag. One good thing about being this late is that at least there’s no one else in the corridors to get in our way.

  “Don’t worry,” Carli says in my ear just as we approach the closed lab door. “I’ll take the blame for this one.”

  There’s no way we can sneak in unnoticed. The benches all face the door, which is heavy and old and creaks loudly however gently you try to open it. Archie looks at me and opens his hands in a Where have you been? gesture. But before Ms Bryant has a chance to say anything, Carli starts explaining.

  “I’m really sorry we’re so late. Today’s my first day. I got kinda lost, Becky was helping me out.” She smiles her winning smile. Serena, in the front row with an empty seat next to her, looks sheepish.

  “Well, take a seat quickly now, both of you. Welcome to Larkhall, Carli, I’m sure you’ll get the hang of things soon. Now, everyone, there’s nothing to talk about, back to page seventy-one.”

  I slide into my seat next to Archie and reach in my bag for my book. Not there. Archie sees me rummaging, sighs, and moves his book so it’s resting between us.

  I shuffle into the kitchen, shake the last two slices of bread out of the bag and shove them in the toaster. Breakfast? Lunch? The clock says just after midday, so it could be either.

  It’s the first Saturday after the start of term, so I deserve a lie-in. There’s a scribbled note from Ima on the side, saying when she’ll be back from shul – synagogue – with a reminder to put the dishwasher on and a little smiley face at the bottom.

  In the weeks before our bar and bat mitzvah – the ceremony that’s supposed to mark the start of our adult lives – we had to go to shul every Saturday morning. But that was back last autumn. Since then I’ve not always been so great at getting out of bed in time. Ima doesn’t nag us about it, because she says she doesn’t want to turn into her mother, but if we miss more than a week, she does start making comments. Not that we know what Ima’s mum is like. Or her dad. We’ve never met our grandparents on her side. Ima says that we are all the family she needs.

  If I’m honest, it’s not just the early start that puts me off. I can get up when I really need to, however much Becky teases me about being lazy. It’s weird, I thought marking my bar mitzvah was mostly about making Ima and Mum happy. Oh, and the cake and the presents. But, I don’t know, standing up there in front of everyone, reading the Hebrew and knowing that people have done this for hundreds, maybe even thousands of years, passing the traditions from one generation to another…well, it freaked me out a bit.

  It’s that bit in the service where the scroll is handed from parent to child. When Mum and Ima stepped up to the front, smiling proudly, to pass the heavy scroll to Becky and me for our readings, it felt different from every other bar mitzvah I’ve been to. Our friends and family were there – Uncle Noah with Mum and Ima in the front row, next to Grandma and Grandpa even though they never normally come to synagogue. Ima’s parents weren’t there, but that’s nothing unusual. Yet something, someone, was missing. I’ve always felt it, that gap, but this was different. It suddenly felt screamingly, blindingly obvious who was missing: my dad. The ceremony is supposed to be all about becoming an adult – but how can I ever hope to do that without first knowing who I really am?

  “Morning!” shouts Becky cheerily from the living room, interrupting my thoughts. There’s a pause. “Or is it afternoon?” she continues.

  “Shut up,” I reply. “It’s the weekend, in case you hadn’t noticed. There’s no need to be up at the crack of dawn every Saturday, is there?”

  Becky was up before me, but not early enough to go to shul either. She’s still in her pyjamas, sprawled on the sofa and eating a bowl of cereal.

  “Anyway,” I grumble, “you can talk.”

  She grins at me, then pretends to look surprised. “Oh yes, so I can! Thanks for pointing it out.”

  Becky enjoys teasing me in the mornings. When we were little and shared a room – our beds each against opposite walls – she used to pull the covers off me in the mornings or tickle my feet to wake me up. I’d get my own back though, making spooky noises after Mum or Ima turned out our light, just when she was trying to get to sleep.

  It sounds mean, but it wasn’t, not really. It’s just that, because we know each other so well, we also know exactly how to wind each other up. And when to stop. Sometimes it feels like Becky knows what I’m thinking before I even know myself. No one else knows me like that – not even Ima, not even Mum.

  Right now, she’s got the TV on while she reads a magazine and scrolls through messages on her phone. Her maths book is on the sofa, a ruler marking her place, and pens are scattered everywhere. Her empty cereal bowl is balanced on the arm of the sofa. I move her junk out of the way and flop down beside her.

  “Started homework already?” I ask, balancing my plate on her maths book like it’s a tray.

  She shrugs. “Yeah, well, might as well get it done. There’s not much. Archie’s coming round later and—”

  “Really? Archie? Come on…it’s supposed to be a day of rest.”

  “I wouldn’t worry,” she fires back, “it looks like you’ve rested enough for one day already.”

  I eat my toast while Becky plays with her spoon – first using it to scrape non-existent crumbs out of her empty bowl, and then twirling it between her fingers. She always fiddles with something when she’s thinking about what to say.

  “Josh, have you spoken to the new girl yet? What
do you think of her?” she says, all casual.

  “What, the one with blonde hair? In your form?”

  She nods. “How many new girls are there in Year Eight?”

  “Haven’t really seen much of her. I haven’t had any classes with her yet. Jayden Andrews thinks she’s hot though. He’s been going on and on about how he’s going to ask her out. How her lucky day is coming soon.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, you know what he’s like. He’s just saying it. Don’t think he’s even spoken to her yet.”

  “Jayden? Really?”

  She sounds upset.

  “What’s the big deal, Becks?” I look up at her. I can always tell when Becky’s hiding something from me. “Hey, it’s not that you fancy Jayden, is it?”

  “Jayden? Eurgh, no.” She screws up her face in disgust, like when Mum “forgets” that Becky hates mushrooms and hides them in the pasta sauce.

  “Cos I can put in a word for you if you like…”

  “I’m not interested in Jayden,” she snaps. “Or any of your friends. I don’t even know why you hang out with him.”

  “Chill. I’m just trying to help. Anyway, what about the new girl?” I ask. “What’s she like?”

  Becky flicks over another page in her magazine. “Hmm…what?” she says vaguely.

  “The new girl.” I sigh. “Carli – what’s she like?”

  “Oh, nice enough, I guess. Did you know she’s American?”

  “That’s cool. So what’s she doing here?”

  Becky shrugs, like she’s lost interest in the conversation. The conversation which she started.

  Whatever. I can’t be bothered with Becky’s moods right now. I’ve got other things to worry about.

  Mum’s at work and Ima will be at shul for ages, catching up on everyone’s news. Just enough time for my investigations.

  I’ve been working out the best places to look. I know all the usual places they keep stuff, but there’s a few I can rule out straight away.

  It’s not going to be stuck on the fridge, where Mum and Ima keep things like money-off vouchers or letters from school or bills to pay – that’s too public. Or at the bottom of Ima’s wardrobe, even though that’s the classic place to hide birthday presents.