Oh, Joe. I would have given you everything. It’s taken me so long to find you. How can you be gone so quickly?
She thought of the coming days, and it seemed to her to be impossible to live through them. Why wake in the morning? Why open the curtains? Why eat? Why breathe?
I shall stay in bed in the warm and the dark until I fade into nothing. All there is left now is forgetting. There is no Joe. There is no Maddy. This girl sobbing in her bed will soon fall silent.
I want to die.
Maddy felt a rush of joy at the thought. Let it all end. No more struggle. Slip away and never come back.
Oh, Joe, I could have loved you so much.
18
Rich goes to war
On arriving at school Rich found everyone agog with the latest rumor. Mr. Pico had been sacked. Then came a counter-rumor. He had not been sacked at all, but Mr. Jury had reported him to the police. He had been caught in an indecent act. He’d been caught downloading pedophile images. The police were on their way. Mr. Pico was under arrest. He had fled the country.
No one knew exactly what was going on, but every rumor in turn was believed. All that Rich could establish for certain was that Mr. Pico had not come into school that day.
Rich flew to Mr. Pico’s defense at once. He identified the smirking attackers as his own enemies. He and his teacher were allies in adversity, under assault from the same army of conformist mediocrity.
Rich needed someone to fight, to assuage his wounded pride. He decided this was his war.
“You’re mad,” said Max. “Everyone knows Pablo’s gay.”
“So why should he be sacked?”
“How do I know? Maybe he exposed himself in the library. Just keep out of it, okay? You don’t want everyone saying you’re gay too.”
“You mean I don’t want to be called a gay loser freak?”
“No way.”
“What if I am a gay loser freak?”
“But you’re not. Jesus, I hope you’re not. Are you?”
“Might be.”
Max made a theatrical jump backwards.
“You’re not. You’re having me on. You fancy Grace Carey. You can’t be gay and fancy Grace Carey.”
“I might be bisexual.”
“What is this, Rich? You’ve gone all different.”
“Thanks, Max. You noticed. Different is good.”
“Yeah, okay. But not that different.”
“Like, not gay?”
“Absolutely definitely not gay.”
“You know what I think, Max? You’re so shit scared of gayness, I think you must be gay.”
Max went very quiet.
“Actually I was only joking,” said Rich.
“How would I know if I’m gay?” said Max, looking round nervously.
“How would you know? You either like doing it with girls or you like doing it with boys. It’s not rocket science.”
“I just like doing it,” said Max. “Or I would if I did.”
They both started to laugh. This was home territory. The reluctant virgins.
After that Rich told Max how Grace had called him a gay loser freak. His fantasy was now officially over.
“Just don’t tell me all the ways I’m better off without her, okay? She’s still the girl of my dreams.”
“Not so gay, then.”
“It’s a matter of pride. Have you ever seen a gay pride parade? It’s fantastic. They’re just so proud. You think, wow! I don’t need to be the same as everyone else. I can be different and proud.”
“So you want gay pride but without the gay bit?”
“Exactly.”
“Even so, this backing-Pablo scheme truly sucks.”
“So you’re not going to join me?”
“No way, José.”
“You’re supposed to be my friend.”
“Me? Friend? You’re a gay loser freak. I don’t even know you.”
“I am a rock. I am an island.”
Rich stole sheets of blue sugar paper and a pot of scarlet poster paint from Tiny Footsteps and made himself a sign almost a meter wide. He wrote in jagged fiery letters:
SUPPORT MR. PICO. SIGN PETITION NOW.
The petition was a blank new exercise book. Rich wrote at the top of the first page:
WE THE UNDERSIGNED DEMAND THE REINSTATEMENT OF PAUL PICO TO HIS POST AT THE BEACON ACADEMY.
He then scrawled his own slightly unconvincing signature on the line beneath.
He arrived at school carrying his rolled up sign, taking care to avoid eye contact with anyone. He calculated that word must have got round by now. Everyone would know how he had been humiliated by Grace Carey. It seemed to him from the glimpses he caught out of the corners of his eyes that people were pointing at him and exchanging amused glances. He was ready for that. He planned to give them something more to laugh about.
He unrolled his sign and pinned it to the main notice board in the Oval, obscuring the lists of teams and the announcements of forthcoming events.
SUPPORT MR. PICO. SIGN PETITION NOW.
A small crowd gathered.
“Support Mr. Pico? What for?”
“They’ve sacked him.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” said Rich.
“He must have done something.”
“He’s gay,” offered one.
“Then he should be sacked,” said another.
“Why?” said Rich. “What difference does it make if he’s gay?”
“I don’t want him groping me.”
The crowd laughed.
“Why would he grope you?” said Rich. “The straight teachers don’t grope the girls.”
“Try standing anywhere near Mr. Bolton,” said a girl.
“All right,” said Rich. “Sack all the teachers.”
The crowd was growing.
“Gays give you AIDS.”
“He’s not going to touch you, Patrick. Okay?”
“Are you gay, Rich?”
“Grow up.” Rich appealed to the crowd at large. “Any of you agree with me that Mr. Pico’s a great teacher, sign the petition.”
He saw Maddy Fisher standing at the back of the crowd with her friend Cath Freeman. They both knew about his shame. He avoided their eyes.
“Mr. Pico’s the best teacher we’ve got,” he said to the crowd. “If we all sign the petition maybe they won’t sack him.”
“How many signatures have you got?”
“I’ve only just started.”
No one came forward to sign.
“How much did Pablo pay you?”
“He doesn’t even know I’m doing this,” said Rich.
“So what’re you doing it for, Rich? For love?”
That got a big laugh. Rich soldiered on.
“Support Mr. Pico!” he cried. “Sign the petition!”
“Rich is gay!” came a voice from the back.
Another big laugh.
“Yeah, yeah,” said Rich. “Go ahead and laugh. What are you scared of?”
“I’m not scared,” cried the bold voice at the back. “I don’t care if Pablo gets sacked. But then, I’m not gay.”
Another laugh.
Then at last there was someone pushing forward, reaching out for the exercise book. It was Cath Freeman.
“I’ll sign,” she said. “I think he’s a good teacher.”
“Great,” said Rich. “Who’s next?”
No one else came forward. A silence had fallen over the crowd.
Mr. Jury was approaching.
He came to a stop before the notice board and read Rich’s sign in silence.
“Explain, please.”
“It’s to support Mr. Pico, sir,” said Rich.
“Support him in what way?”
“So he doesn’t get sacked, sir.”
“Mr. Pico has not been sacked. Only one person can sack Mr. Pico, and that is myself. So I should know, don’t you think?”
“Yes, sir.”
&nb
sp; “I have no intention of sacking Mr. Pico. So you can take down your sign and go to your classes.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m not against expressions of student opinion. There’s no censorship in this school. But next time, take the trouble to get your facts right.”
“Yes, sir.” Rich started taking down his sign. “But sir, why isn’t Mr. Pico taking classes?”
“He has requested leave of absence. For personal reasons.”
That was the end of Rich’s battle. The petition never got any more than the two names. The sign ended up in a school bin.
All through that day Rich brooded. Now, his cause collapsed, he found himself adrift. His reserves of courage were no longer required, his moment in the spotlight already the stuff of comic anecdotes. He realized that he had hoped in some way to share Mr. Pico’s martyrdom. Instead he was not to be persecuted at all: merely left to look foolish.
Unless Mr. Jury was lying.
Rich seized on this thought as soon as it surfaced in his mind. Perhaps the enemy was alive and well but playing a deeper game. Why would Mr. Pico request leave of absence? Surely it was more likely he had been put in an impossible position. Might it even be a euphemism for being sacked?
The only way to find out was to talk to Mr. Pico himself. But where was he? All at once Rich realized he wanted very much to find Mr. Pico. He wanted to learn why he had left the school. More than that, he wanted to talk to him. He wanted to talk about poetry and love and loss and loneliness. The things he cared about. Who else was there who had ever come anywhere near understanding?
19
Eating yum-yums
On his way home after school Rich stopped at the doll’s house shop. This was his sister Kitty’s favorite shop in the world. It was strange being here without her. Kitty’s passionate delight in the small domestic items and her dismay at their enormous prices always charged their visits with intense emotion. Rich pretended to be impatient at her endless changes of mind, her struggles to choose between a miniature bowl of fruit or a miniature shelf of books, but secretly he too entered into the dilemma. The fruit bowl should go in the kitchen, but the kitchen was already over-furnished. The books could go in the dining room, which really should be turned into a study. But the fruit was so pretty, so colorful, and would look so right on the kitchen table.
He asked about doll’s house lights. The price shocked him. There followed a brief struggle, at the end of which he bought lights for three rooms, together with the kit for connecting them to the mains. The other rooms would have to wait.
Coming out onto East Street with his purchases in a paper bag, he met Maddy Fisher. She too was holding a paper bag.
“Hello, Rich,” she said. “What are you doing?”
“Buying doll’s house lights,” said Rich.
“I’ve got a yum-yum,” said Maddy.
Rich immediately wanted one. The bakery that sold yum-yums was close by. He took out his remaining change to see if he could afford it.
“I’m going to get one too,” he said.
Maddy waited outside. When he came out they set off down East Street together.
“When are you going to eat yours?” Maddy said.
“Now.”
“Where?”
“In the park, maybe.”
“How about by the river?”
“Okay.”
She never asked him if he wanted to eat his yum-yum with her. The river was out of his way. But he was glad of the company.
They sat down side by side on the riverbank and took out their yum-yums. For a moment, both following the same instinct, they held the sugary pastries before their eyes and did not eat.
“I’ve been wanting this all day,” said Maddy.
“The thing about a yum-yum,” said Rich, “is it’s always as good as you expect it to be.”
“Better.”
They ate in silence, pausing only to lick the sugar crumbs off their lips and fingers. Maddy finished first.
“I can understand why people get obese,” she said. “However bad things get, eating makes you feel good.”
“I’m beginning to like mine less.”
“The first bite’s the best. Really I shouldn’t have finished it.”
“I shouldn’t finish mine. But I’m going to.”
She watched him force down the last mouthfuls.
“Do you wish you hadn’t now?”
“Yes,” he said.
There was something easy and companionable about sitting here with Maddy, sharing greed and remorse.
“Sorry I didn’t sign your petition,” she said.
“Doesn’t matter. Apparently Pablo’s not been sacked after all. So I end up looking stupid as usual.”
“You didn’t look stupid. You looked defiant. And brave.”
“To be honest with you, Maddy, I don’t care how I look. I’ve given up.”
“I’ve had a bit of a hard time too. I’ve made a real fool of myself.”
“I bet you haven’t advertised it to the whole school.”
“No.”
“That’s how dumb I am.”
“It wasn’t dumb. It was your way of saying, ‘Look, I’m still standing. You’ve not knocked me down.’ ”
Rich looked at her in surprise.
“Yes,” he said. “That’s right.”
“Me, I’m knocked down. I’m no good at fighting back.”
“So what happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. Sorry. Do you mind?”
“I don’t mind. But I’ll tell you what. I bet no one called you a gay loser freak.”
“No. But I’m a loser all right.”
“So that makes two of us. We should start a club. We could have a T-shirt.”
Maddy smiled at that.
“Why were you buying doll’s house lights?”
“For Kitty’s doll’s house. My sister.”
“A doll’s house with lights! Wow! Like, little bulbs hanging from the ceilings?”
Rich took out the packet and showed her.
“I wish I had a brother to do things like that for me. All I’ve got is a sister, and she never does anything for anybody except herself.”
“I’ve been telling Kitty I’d do it for ages. Funny how making a total mess of your life and feeling like a total loser finally gets you to do things.”
“I don’t think it’s funny. It makes a lot of sense to me. Being hurt makes you sensitive. You start thinking about the way other people might be hurting.”
“Plus you want to feel you’re not entirely useless.”
“So when are you going to do the doll’s house lights?”
“Soon as I get home. I have to do something or I’ll start brooding.”
“I brood.”
“I’m going to play all my Beach Boys albums one after the other and pretend I’m surfing in California in the 1960s.”
“Why?”
“I think it’s called escapism.”
“Oh, escapism. I want to escape. Could I come and watch? Just for a bit.”
“Sure.”
“I don’t feel like going home quite yet. My sister and I had this argument. I don’t want her starting in on me again.”
Maddy phoned her mother to say she’d be back later. Then she and Rich walked through the tree-lined residential streets to Rich’s house. There, as promised, Rich played the Beach Boys on the hi-fi system in his room while he lay on his stomach on the landing outside fitting the tiny lights into the doll’s house.
Kitty and Mrs. Ross were out. Gran was asleep. Mr. Ross was working in his study. He appeared once to ask Rich to turn the volume down, and was introduced to Maddy, and retreated again.
“He’s writing about Sparta,” said Rich.
The light fitting was fiddly and difficult work and demanded Rich’s total concentration. What with that and the Beach Boys there was little opportunity for conversation. Maddy was content to sit cross-legged on the floor, her back
against the banisters, and drift away on the harmonies of a simpler sunnier world.
Wouldn’t it be nice to live together
In the kind of world where we belong …
Rich found Maddy so easy to be with that he almost forgot she was there. The lighting connections were trickier than he had expected. There was a metal tape that had to be stuck to the back of the doll’s house, and little sockets that had to be hammered through the tape, and tiny holes that had to be drilled for the connecting wires to pass from the room lights to the sockets.
Kitty and Mrs. Ross came back and he was still far from finished. Kitty went wild with joy.
“I love you, I love you, I love you!” she cried, kissing him as he lay on the landing. “You’re the best brother I’ve ever had!”
“I’m Maddy,” said Maddy. Rich hadn’t thought to introduce her. “Rich said I could come and watch.”
“I want to watch too,” said Kitty. “Except I’ve been swimming and now I’m starving.”
When the doll’s house lights were working at last the whole family gathered to admire. Gran was summoned from her room where she’d fallen asleep in front of the television. Harry Ross came from Sparta. Kitty was given the honor of pressing the switch.
In the kitchen of the doll’s house and in the master bedroom and in the children’s bedroom the lights came on. The watching family gasped and broke into applause. The tiny lights transformed the rooms. Suddenly it seemed as if the house was inhabited by real living people, who might come back in the door at any moment and start making themselves cups of tea.
“I love it!” cried Kitty. “I love it so much I want to die!”
“Very very,” said Gran.
Maddy too was enchanted.
“Now you have to do the other rooms, Rich.”
“I ran out of money.”
“Give him the money, Mum, give him the money,” cried Kitty. “We have to do the other rooms. We have to or I’ll die.”
“Too much dying round here,” said her father. “Moderate your desires, Kitty.”
“I can’t,” said Kitty. “I’m too happy.”
Rich caught Maddy’s eye and knew she was thinking what he was thinking: how good it would be to be so easily overjoyed.