Chapter 8
When I change schools, I hope secondary school will be much better than primary school. After all, that’s what’s happened to Ford.
In primary school, I was his only friend. And he was my only friend. But when Ford moved to secondary school, I was left alone. It was a very long year during which Ford went on and on about his new fancy friends from rugby in the winter, cricket in the summer and every class he was in.
So when September comes, I can hardly wait.
The smell of new books is exhilarating and I can’t stop fidgeting with my legs.
I bounce them up and down until Edwin kicks me and Mom tells us both to quit it.
But I can hardly control myself. I need Mom to drive faster—drop my loser twin brothers down at my old school and then finally I will be free.
I will be a new Ash in a new school with new friends and a new incredible sport made only for boys.
I start counting in my head until it’s time to get out of the car until eventually, I’m here.
New year, new Ashley.
First thing on my list: do not introduce yourself as “Ashley”. To anyone. “Ash” sounds so much cooler and I want nobody to start teasing me for being a boy with a girl’s name. I need to start new, start fresh, become a popular person that everyone wants to be friends with.
It lasts until the first class.
I choose to sit in the second row—not in the front because I don’t want to be a loser and not in the back because I quite like English and I don’t want to miss the entire lesson.
As Mr. Wilson goes through the list of names for the first time, he stops as he calls out the surname: “Andrews, Sydney.” The teacher stops. “Oh, I expected a girl.”
“Surprise.” Andrews, Sydney looks unapologetically, mahogany eyes sparkling with pride. He’s sitting in the second row as well, a few seats away from me.
“Alright. Moving on.”
It’s not long before Mr. Wilson lands on Bergman, and as I raise my hand shyly to make my presence known, the teacher reads out my first name. His eyes jump to me. “Ashley?”
“Shock, also a boy.”
The comment earns Sydney a detention, but the boy simply raises two thumbs up in my direction.
We are inseparable after that. We’re in the same class for maths, history and geography and he sits next to me for all three of them.
Sydney talks non-stop, asking me a million questions and he does not wait for my reply before he goes on to the next topic.
He does not laugh at my jokes; like when I tell him that Mr. Wilson reminds me of a Pokémon or when I pass him a pencil during maths and I whisper, “Make sure it is legible.”
I don’t really mind. I let Sydney do most of the talking and I follow him around, humming and yes-ing and wow-ing.
When I’m with Sydney, nobody at school minds me.
Nobody teases me for my name. Nobody follows me outside of school to tell me that my clothes are weird and too big for me.
I wave at Ford in the corridors when I meet him, but I spend most of my free time with Sydney and Ford spends most of his time with his sports mates.
When Sydney and I meet Darshi, she is unlike any girl in school.
She keeps her long curly hair closed in a thick braid down her back and refuses to wear the school skirt.
She sits next to me during lunch one day and waits until both Sydney and I are looking at her.
“My parents don’t want me to be friends with boys,” Darshi states.
“But we are boys,” I tell her, just in case she hasn’t noticed.
Sydney elbows my side and his eyes are locked on Darshi for the longest time. Finally, after what seems like forever, Sydney clears his voice.
“Nice to meet you?”
Without smiling, Darshi holds her hand out and tells us her complete name, but to please just call her Darshi. Sydney shakes her hand, then picks up his fork and resumes eating.
“I don’t get it. Her parents said-”
Sydney interrupts me. “That’s why she will tell her parents that her friends are Ashley and Sydney,” he explains, holding up two fingers and Darshi grins at me.
I don’t get it, still, but I don’t want to be alone. Since Ford is eating on the other side of the room with his rugby friends, without Sydney and Darshi I would be eating on my own. I pretend I understand. “Ah!”
I will get it much, much later.
The three of us are inseparable after that.
Darshi is in a set lower than Sydney and I for almost every class, so we meet her outside or during breaks.
Mostly we spend time together at lunch. Day after day, I learn more about my two new friends and with each new discovery, I forget that Ford is in the same school eating the same lunch as me.
Sydney is a wonderful storyteller. He tells us about the time he went to Cape Town in South Africa to meet his biological grandparents and all the delicious food he ate, the mighty animals he saw and the gorgeous beaches he visited.
He tells us that his mother loved Australia and that she named him after one of the biggest cities there.
He tells us that his adoptive parents Mr. and Mrs. Andrews are planning on going to Australia one day so that boy-Sydney can see city-Sydney.
I wonder if there is a city called Ashley in the world, or one named Martin or Edwin or Erik.
I don’t think there are. I wouldn’t be so lucky.
Darshi is not as good with words so she tells us about a singer named Madonna instead, and she shows us the CD that she’s gotten for her birthday.
With careful hands Darshi opens the CD and reads the song titles to us.
Some of them I heard on the radio already, and Sydney and I attempt to sing them to gain Darshi’s approval.
We don’t have to work too hard. Darshi claps her hands in excitement and promises that she will play the CD for us, later, if we want to go to her house while her parents are at work.
For months, we meet at Sydney’s house, then at Darshi’s house, then at the park by my house because Mom says that I cannot invite people to our house.
One Friday evening Sydney’s mom agrees to drive us to the cinema and Mom insists I bring along the twins.
I reply, “Fuck no,” and then Daddy pushes me against the wall.
“You will not be using that language in this house, Ashley,” Daddy spits and he bends my arm until it hurts.
I tell him to stop, to let me go, but he doesn’t until I agree: the twins can come to the cinema, too.
Martin and Edwin throw popcorn and kick the seats. They talk during the film and annoy me until I yell that I hate them, I hate them both, I wish they were never born and would just leave me alone. “I wish I didn’t have any brothers,” I tell them and I go hide in the bathroom. I miss half the film.
When we get home, the twins tell Daddy what I said and he shoves me into the door. I cry so hard I cannot breathe anymore. I hide my face in my pillow and think about Ford; think about Gregory Hale and his soft hugs.
I know it’s too late to go to his house and we haven’t spoken in months but I miss him. I miss him every day. I think about him the entire weekend and I barely leave my room.
???
When I go back to school on Monday it is November already and Sydney and Darshi treat me as if nothing has happened. They ask about my weekend and they ask me if I liked going to the cinema and they don’t mention the twins or the yelling.
I say yes, because it is quick and because I cannot tell them about Daddy or else they would stop being my friends. When lunch comes, I do not join them. My cheeks burn with embarrassment and I wish I could just disappear today.
So I disappear to the library.
I have something that I need to return and even though there is more than a week left, I go anyway.
I hurry down the corridor grasping the book in my hands.
When I finally enter, I stop with my back against the library door.
My heartbeat is loud in my ears and I’m panting for air, but here everything is quiet.
Everything smells like sweet vanilla and unread pages.
I slowly count to ten and then look around, already decided to take a seat and hang out here for a while.
I walk through the tall bookcases, passing the Classics section, the Crime section, the Fantasy section and the Language section, searching for the most comfortable chair.
Finally, I spot Science. It’s a shorter shelf, with books of every size piled on it.
I know there’s a chair because I have been here before. When I see it, I see him as well.
“Ford. What are you doing here?”
Without seeing me, Ford recognises my voice. He’s sitting with feet propped up, knees pressed against his chest and his head is resting on his knees. The look in his eyes is sad. “Hiding.”
That makes no sense to me. Ford is always out there having lunch with his friends, his friends who are loud and sporty and laugh all the time. I see Ford out there with them every day—himself loud, sporty and laughing. Right?
“What do you mean? Why are you hiding?”
He sounds so sad. Ford never sounds sad. “I don’t want to be out there.”
“Why?” I ask him again.
“I failed science.”
I notice a book that is open in front of him.
It is one of the textbooks I have seen other students carry, one that combines all science topics for the lowest classes.
What is Ford doing with a book like that?
In the highest class, where Sydney and I are, science is separated into three classes and we have a different volume for each of them.
“You failed combined science?” I wonder, because Ford is so smart and so cool and his family is perfect.
It’s the wrong question. His neck snaps up and his curls drop down his forehead messily. “I’m not smart like you, Ash.”
Ford’s voice is broken and it breaks me, too.
“What do you mean?”
This time, Ford sounds defensive when he replies, “I scored in the lowest for most of my classes, Ash. What don’t you understand? And now I even failed the test for stupid combined science. I’m so fucking stupid.”
“Ford, stop. Please.” I walk closer to him, closing the textbook before him then dropping mine on top of it.
Ford doesn’t look at me, his eyes scanning another bookshelf instead.
I push him to the side and wait until he frees a bit of space on the chair—just enough for me to squeeze next to him.
“You are smart, though. Science is stupid. You remember when you had to explain to me the difference between rugby and American football?”
That brings a smile to his face, but it doesn’t last long. “You still don’t know the difference.”
“I don’t,” I confirm somewhat proudly, nudging his shoulder. I also don’t care, but I don’t tell him that.
“That’s actually the only thing I can do. Sports and the guitar.” Guitar. I didn’t know Ford started playing the guitar.
“Seems to be quite enough if you ask me. I can’t do music, so that’s two things you are smarter than me at.”
Ford sighs, lowering his feet to the floor and picking up the book I have to return. He traces his fingers over the title and I stare at the way they bend and hang over the cover.
“I could teach you how to read notes, play some songs. It’s not hard,” he offers.
I don’t know what to offer back to someone like Ford. “I could come round and help you study science?”
Drumming his fingers on the cover of the book, Ford looks at me with hopeful eyes. Without a word, he nods and grins so aggressively that his dimples appear on both cheeks at the same time.
“I wish I didn’t need school,” he whines but every trace of sadness is gone now.
“I know, this sucks,” I agree, because I haven’t learned how to disagree with Ford yet. I love school. I love the library. I love being in the library with Ford.
We sit in silence for a while, until Ford drops my book onto the table and turns to me. “Are you still my best friend, though?” he asks.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know, Ash. You did Halloween with your new friends.” The way Ford says the word is strange. It’s almost as if he has a lemon in his mouth and he won’t spit it out.
I forgot about Halloween; about our tradition of watching Nightmare Before Christmas and going trick or treating with Gregory Hale and eating candies until we drop. I didn’t even think Ford would want to hang out with me anymore, and apparently, Ford was thinking exactly the same this entire time.
“I’m sorry I forgot. We went to the cinema with Sydney and Darshi. Those are my friends’ names.” Then, in a lower voice, I add, “Mom wanted me to take Martin and Edwin.”
“No fucking way. The twins? Not cool.” Raising his voice, Ford grows restless in the chair and I almost fall off.
“I know. It was not nice,” I say as the weekend comes back with the humiliation, the tears and the hours I spent missing my best friend.
Ford is about to add something when out of the corner, the librarian appears with a finger up and a shush on their lips. “Bergman! Hale! Quiet in the library.”