Chapter 12
Twelve
‘IT’S YOU,’ OBI SAID brightly as I pushed open the door.
‘Hi,’ I said. ‘Are your rehearsing in here?’
‘Yeah, I’m meeting Victoria in’ – he glanced down at his watch – ‘well, now apparently.’
‘Oh, me too,’ I said, confused. ‘She said she wanted me to help her learn lines.’
Obi rolled his eyes. ‘She’s double-booked us.’
‘Right.’ I laughed nervously. ‘Typical.’ I stood half in, half out of the doorway.
Noticing this, Obi waved me inside. ‘You might as well come in and wait with me. Then she can pick who she wants.’ He smiled and I felt that swell of warmth again. ‘Maybe one of us will get the evening off.’
I went over to the wall where he was slouched. I sat down and crossed my legs. I could feel his shoulder inches from mine. I pretended to stretch and, taking the opportunity, slid my rucksack into the space between us.
Although autumn had begun its slow creep through the building, I suddenly felt hot. I removed my black sweatshirt and put it to one side. Another line of defence.
‘So . . . are you OK?’ Obi asked.
‘Yeah. Just a bit tired.’
‘Yeah, me too.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Yeah.’
There was a pause.
‘Have you learned all your lines?’ he asked.
‘Oh, yeah. I’m only in like two scenes, I’ve probably got twelve lines overall.’
‘Cool.’
‘Yeah.’
I searched for something to say. I liked Obi.
There was a kind of sturdiness to him, a sureness.
But we’d never been alone together, just the two of us.
Without Victoria’s marshalling gaze, I didn’t know the protocol.
Obi drummed his fingers on his knees, tapping out an agitated beat. Neither did he, apparently.
I sat forward for something to do and stared out of the floor-length window.
I could see the winking dial of the BT Tower and, in the distance, the silvery dome of St Paul’s Cathedral.
A helicopter flew overhead, pedestrians scuttled down below, and somewhere, beyond my sight, the long spine of the Thames sliced the city in two.
Obi gave an exaggerated sigh and glanced at his watch again. ‘Where the hell is she?’
I shrugged and brought my knees up under my chin.
The radiator gurgled. I heard shouts from the corridor. Obi shifted closer, and I felt a surge of nervous energy go through me.
‘So, what do you think about all this?’ Obi said, his hands finally stilling. ‘Is it like how you imagined?’
‘Is what like how I imagined?’
‘Drama school.’
I turned the question over in my mind. ‘I don’t know.’
I paused, waiting for the inevitable interruption, the navigation on my behalf, but it never came. Obi just looked at me, his eyes shining, waiting to hear my thoughts.
‘I guess I didn’t have any expectations of what it would be like,’ I managed.
‘They call it a school, but it’s nothing like any of the schools I’ve ever been to.
’ I paused and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
‘I’m eighteen years old.’ I screwed up my forehead.
‘I thought maybe I’d be treated like a grown-up here, but half the time I feel like a naughty kid. ’
Obi nodded.
‘I thought I’d learn a bit more about myself, you know, experiment and things.
But it doesn’t feel like there’s any time for that.
’ I scratched at a scab on my wrist. ‘I don’t think they want us to experiment anyway.
I think they just want us to behave in a certain way, and if we’re not like that, if it doesn’t come naturally to behave like that, then they get angry.
’ I rested my head against the wall and stared at the ceiling.
‘I didn’t expect them to be so angry. Why are they angry at us?
’ I laughed. ‘What have they got to be angry about?’ I frowned.
‘I thought there’d be more creative expression, maybe it would be a bit more .
. .’ I searched for the word. ‘Hippy dippy, liberal. I don’t know.
I mean, I say I didn’t come with any expectations, but I guess I must’ve done.
Everyone has expectations. We wouldn’t do anything if we didn’t think there’d be a good outcome, would we?
I must’ve thought coming here would be a good thing or I wouldn’t have done it, right?
’ I stared at the wall in front of me. ‘So no, it’s not like I imagined it. No. Not at all.’
Obi was silent. After a moment, he spoke. ‘You know, I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say, Shannon.’
I felt my cheeks redden. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t apologize.’ Obi was staring at me with a peculiar expression on his face. ‘It’s a good thing.’ He was closer now, so close I could study the lines of his face.
The door was flung open and we sprang apart.
‘Shannon, I’m so sorry I’m late. I was in the library and the fucking printer wouldn’t work—’ Victoria saw the two of us bunched together on the floor and came to a halt. ‘Obi, what are you doing here?’
I got to my feet and, gabbling, answered for him: ‘Nothing. We’re not doing anything. It’s just a mix-up. Obi thought you guys were rehearsing and I thought I was rehearsing with you too, so—’
‘Oh.’ Victoria dropped her bag against the wall. ‘Shit. My mistake. Obi, I think maybe we were meant to see each other tomorrow evening instead.’
‘No worries,’ Obi said, jumping to his feet. ‘Tomorrow it is.’ He slung his rucksack over his shoulder and, without a backward glance, went towards the door. He squeezed Victoria’s arm as he brushed past her.
‘Bye, hun,’ she said, not looking up from her satchel. The door closed behind him. She turned around, put her hands on her hips and smiled at me. ‘Right. Let’s get started.’
Victoria stood in the centre of the room, her hair fanned around her shoulders, her gaze fixed ahead.
Outside, the sky darkened.
I cradled the script in my lap. My eyes felt heavy. I traced her handwriting with my finger, the sentences and scribbles, ready to jump in with the line if she needed me. But she didn’t need me, not really. The words, their soft repetition, dripped like honey from her lips.
‘If my life can ever be of any use to you, come and take it.’