Chapter 6
Six
‘V. OVER HERE,’ I said, grabbing her wrist as she exited the auditorium.
‘What the—’ She jerked her arm away like I’d burned her. ‘Shannon, what are you doing? You gave me a fucking heart attack.’
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you.’
‘Guys,’ Victoria called out, bringing her companions to a stop. ‘Wait a sec.’
‘Are you OK? Do you still feel ill?’
She looked confused for a moment before rearranging her features. ‘Oh yeah, no. I’m fine. It was just like one of those twenty-four-hour things.’
‘Oh, cool. Did you get my texts? I was up near the back.’
‘Oh, no, sorry. It’s shit signal in there. That’ll be why.’
‘Yeah,’ I said, swallowing the lie.
The two guys I’d seen her with wandered over.
‘And who’s this then?’ the puckish boy said.
‘Jolly, this is Shannon,’ Victoria said, tossing her hair over one shoulder.
‘Oh my God, you’re Shannon! Hi!’ He pulled me into a hug. ‘I’m Jolly. I run the Facebook group.’ He stepped back, still gripping my elbows. ‘I’m sorry, I’m just so excited to like meet everyone, you know?’
‘Jol, leave her alone,’ Victoria said.
Jolly let go, but made a face as he did so. I liked him immediately.
Victoria’s other companion extended a hand. ‘Obi,’ he said in a deep voice. I shook it, relieved at the straightforward gesture. ‘It’s lovely to meet you.’
His palm was warm. I met his eyes. They were grey and shining. I looked away.
‘You too,’ I stammered.
I glanced at Victoria. She was staring at me, her head cocked to one side. Her eyes narrowed momentarily, flicking between Obi and me.
Sensing I’d displeased her, I crossed my arms and stepped back from him. ‘Are you guys going somewhere now?’ I asked, giving her my most placatory smile.
Her mouth twitched into a smirk. She shrugged and slouched her weight onto one hip. ‘We’re going for lunch.’
‘Oh, cool,’ I said. I waited, praying for an invitation. ‘Can – can I tag along too?’
She shrugged again. ‘It’s a free country.’ She turned and started walking towards the main door. The boys followed close behind.
AT LUNCH, THE THREE of them chatted, parrying easy words back and forth across the Formica table.
Meanwhile I sat quietly, picking through an egg and watercress sandwich and trying to make my latte last another ten minutes.
I could feel myself disappearing, becoming just another tired piece of furniture in the dim little cafe.
They talked about the school, their expectations of what was to come, rumours they’d heard, horror stories.
‘Apparently in second year they tie you naked to a tree. It’s like some sort of endurance thing.’
‘Jolly, that’s bollocks.’
‘It’s true! And the longer you’re there, the longer you can stand it, the higher your final grade.’
‘What’s that got to do with acting though?’ Obi interjected.
‘Fucked if I know. Proves you’re committed or something?’
‘OK, well Jolly’s clearly full of shit—’
‘Am not—’
‘But have you guys heard about the living history stuff?’ Victoria asked.
‘No, what’s that?’ Jolly said.
‘OK, so apparently there’s this one term where you study a period of history and then you like literally live through it.’
‘So?’
‘So, they don’t pick any old period. Last year they had people in gulags building the road of bones, and before that they had prisoners working in concentration camps.’
‘Surely not,’ Obi said, playing with the cross on his chain.
Victoria grimaced. ‘I wish I was lying. The worst part is they divide you into groups, like the oppressors and the oppressed, and then you just have to stay in character the whole time. Like if a commander feels you up or spits in your face or whatever, you just have to take it.’
‘What if you break character?’ Obi asked.
‘Lower marks, this student lacks commitment, blah blah blah. Some people take it really seriously though, like way too seriously. My friend Nadia was living with a guy who did the course a few years ago, and he stayed in character the whole time. Like he was an SS officer at home.’
‘That’s fucked,’ Jolly said.
I took another bite of my sandwich.
The conversation moved on. Soon Victoria was needling the boys for their life stories.
Obi told us about his home in Peckham, that he’d caught the acting bug at his local church theatre group, that he was the only one from his family who was bothered about the arts, that he’d lucked out with a bursary for the first year.
She moved on to Jolly. Gay and bullied for it, then one day he joined the after-school drama club where he found his people. So still gay, but bullied a bit less. At drama club, he was allowed to dress up in feathers and corsets and fat suits and pantaloons, and no one could say shit.
‘It’s like, when I was performing, no one could take the piss any more. It’s like suddenly I was untouchable.’ Jolly beamed at Victoria, then turned to me. ‘What about you, Shannon. What’s your deal?’
I opened my mouth to say something, but Victoria cut in.
‘She’s from the North, aren’t you, luv?’
I nodded. ‘Yeah—’
‘Her dad sells awnings, her mum’s a teaching assistant, she’s a virgin, and her favourite colour is green. That’s about it, isn’t it?’ She looked at me, her eyebrows raised.
Pinned by her gaze, my cheeks burning, I nodded.
‘So cute.’ She smiled at me, the picture of innocence, before returning to Jolly. ‘Have you ever done any modelling, Jol? You’re so skinny, you probably could.’
‘Oh, shush.’
‘No, seriously! You’ve got great cheekbones and a jawline most guys would kill for. I bet I can hook you up.’
My insides still churning from Victoria’s crude assessment, I took a sip of my latte. It seemed we were done with Shannon’s story, for now.