thanks,’ I whispered. ‘I’m not really hungry.’
‘Sure?’
‘Yeah.’
She didn’t go, though. She waited in the doorway for a minute, her hand on the handle. Then she whispered, ‘OK, love. Night.’
The next day started off like normal, like any other day. I walked into the English room and Robert said, ‘Here’s Johnny!’ in this dramatic way, though I have no idea why. I don’t think anyone else knew either. Even Katy ignored him, settling for her predictable death-stare instead.
But then, next lesson, it was Drama. We were all sitting around randomly, Alice over the other side with Avril.
‘So . . .’ Mr Webb said, wringing his hands together like the gay he is and running his eyes over us all as if this lesson was going to be the highlight of our lives, ‘. . . physical theatre.’ He’d already told us we were going to be doing physical theatre at the meeting. Apparently, we were going to put on an impromptu performance after our exams the next term. In case you’re wondering, ‘physical theatre’ is acting with your body rather than just with the words, and using your body to be the props as well, like being a tree or a cupboard or something (even though that makes it sound a bit shit, like what little kids in primary schools do).
Anyway, no one yelped with excitement, but we were all watching him. Mr Webb’s nice. He’s a bit over-enthusiastic, which is a complete understatement, but it kind of adds to how he is. Gary met him at parents’ evening and said afterwards, ‘All that man needs is a tutu and he’d be away.’ That made me laugh because I could see Mr Webb twirling round like a walrus in a tutu with his big brushy moustache and not a care in the world. ‘So . . .’ he said, looking round at us all again with big eyes, ‘Romeo and Juliet.’
Everyone groaned except Maddie King, who clapped her hands and bobbed up and down like a spaz. It’s torture for Maddie having to wait till June to get in through those exam doors and finally see her GCSE papers.
Mr Webb put us all in pairs and even though we were sitting miles apart, he said, ‘Alice, you go with Yasmin here . . .’ The way it worked was two pairs of people were given the same scene and the scene had two characters in it. One person from each pair had to act one part, concentrating on really using their body to show the meaning, and the other person had to be their voice from off-stage. Alice and me got the same scene as Maddie and Steph – the one where Juliet’s asking the Nurse what Romeo said. Mr Webb said we were Juliet and Maddie and Steph were the Nurse.
I said to Alice she should do the acting.
She looked at me for a second, then she said, ‘OK.’
Then Maddie and Steph came over and Maddie said straight off, ‘Well, obviously Alice has got to be Juliet, and I’ll be the Nurse.’ She glanced at Steph and said, ‘You and Yasmin can do the voices.’
Nice, I thought.
Steph opened her mouth like she was going to try and stand up for herself, but then looked at me and changed her mind.
When we practised it, Maddie kept stopping to have a go at Steph, saying the lines for her, to show her how she should do them, and the third time she did it Alice caught my eye with a flicker of a smile on her lips. My heart started thudding. I had to look away and pin my eyes on the text so I didn’t spontaneously combust. It made me want to do a really brilliant voice for Alice. Or rather for us – Juliet.
We were first up. I sat at the side Alice was on and Steph sat the other side for the Nurse part. And it was amazing. Really. Alice was amazing. I could see her over the top of the page – jumping up, holding her hands out as we begged the Nurse for news: ‘I pray thee, speak! Good, good nurse – speak!’ And as it went on, I can’t explain, but it was like we were so together, it really was like we were one person. Herandme. Meandher. The A Team. The AY team.
‘Oh, bravo!’ Mr Webb said when we finished, clapping, his eyes twinkling, and you could see he meant it. He was looking at me like he didn’t know I had it in me, and I wanted to tell him, Mr Webb, I don’t have it in me – it’s only because of Alice being with me, being part of me!
It felt like God had finally noticed what a shit life I was having and actually decided to do something about it. And after, when we were watching some of the other groups, I got this wild and free feeling right in my heart that made it OK not to look at her – like that all of a sudden it was easy not to look. Which was crazy, because ever since Year 7 I’d had to literally do battle with myself (the How Long Can I Go Without Looking at Alice game). But right then, I didn’t even need the game. I could just watch the scenes and relax. Because I knew something special had happened – and because I knew she knew it too. I even left the drama studio first instead of waiting behind so I could follow her, like I normally did. Then, as I was going up the corridor past the dining room, I heard her call my name.
She was sort of half-running up to me. ‘Listen,’ she said, looking round, tucking her hair behind her ear. She wanted to make sure no one was watching. She didn’t see Big Mary through the kitchen doors staring at us as she stirred the daily broth. She was too busy rummaging in her bag. Then she pulled out her sketchbook and opened it and, looking round again, handed me a piece of paper from inside it.
It was the drawing. The Manga girl. She’d cut the page out.
I didn’t take it.
‘I thought you’d like it,’ she said. She looked a bit embarrassed.
I was trying to compute what was happening. I was thinking, if I put my hand out, she’ll snatch it back and say As if, you freak! or something, only she didn’t. Katy or Sophie or Beth or anyone else would’ve done that, but she was Alice. She let me take it.
Then she glanced round again. She said, ‘It’s nothing special.’ She looked in my eyes. ‘Don’t tell anyone, OK? I just thought, after what happened, you know, with Katy . . .’ She shrugged, her cheeks going a bit pink. ‘I felt bad. Anyway, it’s nothing, ’kay?’ And then she walked off, leaving me standing there with her drawing in my hands and thinking the only explanation was that any second I was going to wake up.
I thought Alice giving me her picture must’ve happened because God was pleased with me for going to see Dad. Then I thought maybe it wasn’t God but Dad that’d made Alice like me, and I loved the idea of that so much it made my heart want to burst – like Alle-blimmin-luia burst.
I gave the Manga girl a name – Juliet – and sat on my bed that evening staring into her black eyes, re-running in my head what’d happened from the second I’d heard Alice call my name to when she’d turned the corner at the end of the corridor. Every time I saw her face again, her pale skin turning pink, I had to bite my bottom lip and close my eyes – and every time I heard her voice in my head going, ‘It’s nothing, ’kay?’ I had to laugh out loud and hold my hand over my chest to stop it from exploding. Nothing? NOTHING?! I thought. If that’s nothing, then nothing’s all I ever want, Alice! And I kissed Juliet all over.
When I got into bed, I propped her up on my bedside table. Then I snuggled down, kissing the tips of my fingers and touching them to her lips one last time before I turned my lamp off. In the dark, I closed my eyes. ‘Don’t be scared to love me,’ I whispered, hoping I’d drift off into an Alicey dream. ‘Don’t be scared to love me.’
I couldn’t get to sleep, though. I was too happy, too excited about
