Chapter 24 Iris
Iris
THEN
When everyone else went back to school after the Christmas holidays, Iris stayed off for two more weeks, holing up either at her mum’s or at her dad’s.
Iris’s parents had been in touch with both the headmaster, Mr Brook, and the deputy head pastoral, Mrs Hamilton, on a regular basis and, although her parents didn’t seem satisfied with what the school was doing about the situation Iris found herself in, they’d all agreed that she’d be going back to school the following Monday. Iris was dreading it.
She’d kept up to date with her schoolwork. It was a welcome distraction. She caught up on the lessons she was missing and sent in her homework via the school’s Intranet portal. Most of her teachers had written to her directly and sent her feedback on her work.
Iris had steered clear of social media since that time she was supposed to look for evidence and had stumbled on those insulting messages.
She’d deleted the WhatsApp groups, blocked the phone numbers of people who had sent offensive texts, deactivated her social media accounts and she hadn’t opened her emails.
Until now, apart from that, she’d mainly had support from everyone around her – her parents, the staff at school, Olly and Melanie.
Even Daniel had been supportive to her face.
So she wasn’t exactly prepared for her first day back.
It all kicked off at registration. Millie sat next to her, but then sort of inched her chair a bit further away, pretending she wanted to talk to the girl at the desk next to theirs.
Then the boys sitting at the desk behind Iris and Millie’s started to stage-whisper.
It was obvious they meant for her to hear them.
‘She’s dumb, but she’s hot. I wouldn’t kick her out of bed,’ said Christian Pollard. He was this really geeky kid, with horn-rimmed glasses.
‘I’d like to bend her over and take her from behind,’ Rupert Mead chimed in. Rupert was the smallest boy in the year. Most of the girls were taller than him, too.
All the pupils within earshot of Christian and Rupert tittered.
Tears sprang to Iris’s eyes. She wanted to turn round and glare at them, but stayed eyes front. No way would she give them the satisfaction.
At break, Iris and Millie went together to the toilets, but when Iris came out, Millie had already gone.
A toilet flushed and a pupil came out of the cubicle.
The girl wasn’t in the same year or the same house and Iris didn’t know her name.
Iris gave her a tight smile in the mirror as they stood side by side washing their hands.
The girl frowned at Iris’s reflection. ‘Slag,’ she said without breaking eye contact, then she turned and walked away.
Iris went back into the toilet cubicle, bolted the door, sat on the lid of the loo and cried.
She sometimes fantasized about what superpower she would like if she was a Marvel heroine.
The ability to make herself invisible. That would be awesome.
She could sit in on all her classes, but no one would know she was there.
When the bell went, she gave herself a stern talking-to.
She couldn’t make herself invisible, but she could do the next best thing: keep a low profile.
Keep her hand down. Try not to attract attention.
So she got up and went to her English class.
It was her favourite subject and Mr Lawton was her favourite teacher.
She was the last to arrive and everything went dead silent when she walked into the classroom. Everyone turned to gape at her. Killian Morrow looked her up and down and licked his lips like he was imagining her naked. Iris froze. Had he watched her video? Had they all seen it?
The seat next to Millie – Iris’s place – was already taken.
There was a free seat next to a kid called Tom Fischer.
Tom was really popular. He usually sat next to Emiliano, the Italian exchange student.
Millie had a huge crush on Emiliano. As did a whole load of other girls in their school.
Emiliano was clearly absent today. Iris looked around. Nope, no other free seats.
‘Hurry up and sit down, Iris,’ Mr Lawton said, not unkindly.
She walked over to Tom’s desk. He removed his bag from the chair as she pulled it out to sit down.
She got her books and pencil case out. Iris was fighting to hold it together, but a tear rolled down her face and plopped onto the cover of Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca.
Tom bent down and rummaged for something in his bag.
When he straightened up, he slid a pocket packet of tissues across the desk.
She looked at him, surprised. ‘Thanks,’ she muttered, taking out a tissue.
‘For what it’s worth, I think your ex is a wanker,’ he whispered. ‘He deserves to be expelled for what he did.’
That surprised Iris even more. ‘Thanks,’ she muttered again.
‘Tom, stop talking, please,’ Mr Lawton called. ‘Unless there’s something you’d like to share with all of us?’
‘No, sir,’ Tom replied.
‘A video, maybe?’ Killian Morrow suggested. It wasn’t loud enough for Mr Lawton to hear, but Iris caught it. Clearly, a few of her classmates did too – there were giggles and snorts. Killian was such a dick. Iris knew this. But it hurt even so.
Ignore them, Tom scribbled on a piece of rough paper as soon as Mr Lawton had turned his back.
Iris nodded. But it was impossible to ignore the reactions of her fellow pupils.
Tom was the only one on her side. He thought Josh should be expelled.
She hoped he would be. Then she wouldn’t have to face him.
She was terrified of bumping into him. She was fairly sure she’d spotted him earlier – at break.
It was from a distance, but the sight of him still made a pain shoot through her tummy.
So far, Josh hadn’t even been suspended.
Mum was furious about this. She kept saying Josh would get what he deserved in the end.
Mum believed in karma. What goes around comes around and stuff like that.
She often said you got what you had coming to you.
Iris wasn’t so sure. After all, what had she done to deserve this?
And her family, too. None of them had done anything wrong and yet they were all affected.
Even Margo, who didn’t understand what had happened, but who suffered from all the stress it was causing.
Iris didn’t take in any of the lesson. She used to be one of the most active students in this class, but she didn’t put up her hand once. Mr Lawton didn’t ask her any questions either, thank God.
He kept her back after the lesson, though. ‘How are you holding up?’ he asked.
‘OK,’ Iris lied.
‘Did Tom say something nasty to you?’
‘No, sir. He was being kind.’ Iris didn’t add what she was thinking. That Tom was the only pupil who had showed her any compassion all day. This included Millie, who was supposed to be her best friend.
By lunchtime, Iris had had more than she could take.
She couldn’t concentrate in her lessons anyway.
So what was the point? She should never have agreed to come back to school.
She hid in the loos for the second time that day and rang her mum.
She was crying – again! – down the phone and couldn’t get the words out.
‘Go and see Mrs Hamilton,’ Mum said, ‘and tell her I’m on my way to pick you up and take you home.’
Mrs Hamilton and Mr Brook waited with Iris in Mr Brook’s office. When Mum got there, they told her that Iris should take as long as necessary.
‘Iris’s teachers have told me that her latest marks are good, not quite as good as usual, but still perfectly satisfactory,’ Mr Brook said. ‘Iris can continue to catch up on her lessons and send in her homework and we’ll see how she’s coping in a few weeks’ time.’
Iris was so relieved she could stay at home, even if it was only a stopgap. She’d have to go back to school properly one day.
‘Maybe we should get her away from here,’ she overheard Mum saying to Dad on the phone that evening as they discussed her failed attempt to go back to school.
Did she mean move away? Did Iris want that?
She had no friends here anymore. Even Millie was keeping her distance.
Perhaps it would do her good to start over, somewhere no one knew who she was, somewhere no one had seen the video.
The glimmer of hope she felt was quickly replaced by a pang of guilt.
Even if Mum could work anywhere, Daniel would never agree to uproot Margo and come with them.
And it wasn’t fair on Olly. And Iris couldn’t move away with Dad.
He had a good job here and he couldn’t move away from Olly and Mum because of her.
But it turned out to be another temporary solution. They meant get her away for a fortnight, not permanently. A change of scenery. They were sending her to her grandmother’s house in Cumbria. Granny Ashford had Wi-Fi and Iris could just as easily do her schoolwork there.
Granny Ashford was eighty-one and lived out in the sticks in the Lake District.
The nearest village was Hawkshead, a pretty village, but also tiny and kinda dead.
Iris felt as isolated there as she had at home.
Her gran, who was actually quite lively for her age, did her best to cheer Iris up, taking her for walks and to visit nearby tourist attractions – those that were open despite the off-season.
Iris had already visited them when she was a bit younger.
They ate variations of a ploughman’s lunch at one in the afternoon and cooked together in the evenings.
A couple of times, they went for a pub meal.
The first time Iris deliberately made herself vomit it was because she felt so sick after the first pub meal.
She’d never done it before and it took several attempts.
She pushed her forefinger and middle finger further and further down the back of her throat and retched until it worked.
Afterwards, she did it every evening after dinner.
Iris had already lost weight – she hadn’t stood on the scales to check, but she could see she’d got skinny.
It was because she’d had no appetite since she’d become a local porn star.
Now, even though she was worried she’d lose more weight, she couldn’t break what was becoming a nightly habit.
After a few nights, her gran noticed. She made Iris promise she’d stop making herself sick. Iris tried. She really did. One evening, her gran ambushed her as she came out of the bathroom after throwing up her meal.
‘I’m going to have to phone your mum and dad, Iris,’ she said.
Her parents decided to drive up that weekend to take her back to Crooked Oak Cottage, where Mum could keep an eye on her.
Iris got up the next day before her gran.
She left a note to say she’d gone for a walk and would be back soon.
She walked, like, two miles to the nearest hairdresser’s.
She’d been careful to stay off socials, but she’d looked up online how to donate her hair to make a wig for a young ‘princess’ with cancer, then she’d rung the salon about it.
She was supposed to call back and make an appointment, not just show up, but she thought she’d have more time.
The salon was over some grockle shop and you had to go up these dodgy metal steps that looked like a fire escape to get to it. It was called A Cut Above. Iris thought Curl up and Dye would be more apt for how she felt right now.
She had to wait for half an hour and it was the trainee who cut and dyed her hair.
Afterwards, Iris stared at herself in the mirror.
Her long, blonde hair was totally gone. In its place was a short, dark bob.
Iris was thrilled with the transformation.
She looked completely different. She was unrecognizable, even to herself.