‘Hey, Adam.’ Corey gives Adam a nudge.
It’s Adam’s first day back at school after a lifetime at home twiddling his thumbs waiting for news of Mum. In some ways, it’s a relief to have something else to focus on, even if it’s only Maths and French.
Walking through the school grounds first thing had been an ordeal. Some of the students had pointed as he passed, others pretended not to see him, and one or two even came up and said how sorry they were about his mum, that they’d seen it on the news, and if there was anything at all they could do, well, Adam just had to ask. Of course, it wasn’t that simple. If there was anything to be done to get Mum back, then Adam and Dad would’ve done it by now, wouldn’t they? It was all so redundant: the deliberately hushed voices and overacted compassion. Most of the kids approaching Adam didn’t even know Mum, hadn’t even met her. Adam thinks he might suggest to Mr Penny, the Deputy Principal, that the school introduce a new module in Creative Writing. He’d call it, Talking Trauma: Composing New Ways to Address Those Suffering Loss Without Spouting the Same Trite Platitudes You’ve Heard Your Parents Use. Adam’s heard them all. They’ve been running around and around in his head for days now, like a hamster on a treadmill:
‘Hey, Adam, everything will work itself out.’
‘I really feel for you.’
‘It’s just a matter of time.’
‘If there’s anything we can do, just ask.’
‘Something will turn up soon.’
‘Everything’s going to be fine, you’ll see.’
‘You’ve got to stay positive.’
‘She’d want you to be strong.’
‘These things happen for a reason.’
That last one made Adam’s hackles rise. Yeah, right! What reason? Name one good reason why a mother would just drop off the face of the earth. At least then they’d have a start-point for finding her! Adam had forced himself to smile gratefully, trying not to break his stride as he made for his form class. Thankfully, Kieran and Corey had hooked up with Adam by the time he’d reached the far end of the canteen, each of them flanking him and shielding him from the world with their camaraderie and their usual brand of idiocy. Kieran had fended off any further rubberneckers with a snarl and a flash of his lime green orthodontic fangs.
‘Out, out, damned spotted!’ Kieran chortled, delighted at his own pathetic joke.
‘Adam? Teacher’s talking to you, mate.’ Corey’s voice penetrates Adam’s thoughts.
‘Huh?’
Whoops. Adam is no longer in the school grounds. He’s in second period French, and Madame Hourdin and the rest of the class are staring at him.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t catch the question...?’
‘En français, s’il vous plaît, Adam,’ Madame Hourdin says deliberately. A traditional school ma’am, she insists on as much spoken French as possible in her classes.
‘Euh... bien... pourriez-vous répéter la question, Madame?’ Adam rolls out his own stock answer—could you repeat the question—a phrase he’s used regularly in French to buy himself precious time.
‘Très bien...’ With a mouth like Mick Jagger, Adam’s teacher exaggerates every sound. She could be talking to a toddler. ‘CON-ju-gez le SUB-jonc-tif du verbE se dé-TENdre...’
Adam climbs desperately through the fog in his mind to translate the teacher’s words. She wants him to conjugate the subjunctive of the verb se détendre. The verb se détendre.
To relax.
Shit.
There’s a flash in his mind, a picture of Mum, and her saying, ‘I could do with a bit of a walk. Blow away the cobwebs. So long as you keep on conjugating whatever that verb was...’
But he hadn’t carried on, had he? He’d gone straight back to his game and not given her another thought, not until hours and hours later when Dad came home and it was probably already too late. All that time he’d been working his way through Level Six, where had she been? What had happened to her? While he was battling with the Beast of Orpheus for the stupid golden sickle, was she being bundled off the street into the back of a car? While he was in the fairy palace of Celestialle, was she being tied up and dumped in a garage somewhere? When he finally terminated Morterain, was someone doing the same to her? Adam’s heart squeezes. The whole thing feels like some kind of bad joke, as if he’s being cruelly punished for not doing his French homework when he’d promised he would. As if at any moment Mum will jump out from behind the blackboard, laughing about how clever she’s been, sneaking off like that and giving him the shake-up he needs.
That’ll teach him for stuffing around.
‘Adam!’ Corey hisses. He nudges Adam again, harder this time. Adam nearly falls off his chair.
‘Perhaps you didn’t understand the question, Adam. Could you translate for Adam please, Corey?’
Corey looks down at the desktop, avoiding Adam’s eyes. Adam can’t blame him. Who wants to be mates with the loser who can’t even remember where he left his mother?
‘Er... Madame Hourdin would like you to conjugate the verb to relax,’ Corey mumbles into the desktop. Adam knows Corey hates it when Madame Hourdin calls on him in class. That’s why Corey prefers to sit at the back. But it’s not Corey the class is staring at.
Right now, their eyes are on Adam.
Waiting for his response.
Expecting him to have an answer.
Well, he doesn’t, does he? He didn’t do what was expected of him and because of it, his life is completely fucked up. Now he and Dad are suffering Morterain’s curse of chaos and despair, and all because of Adam.
‘Adam?’ Madame Hourdin asks gently. ‘Did you hear what Corey said?’
Tears burning his eyes, Adam snatches up his backpack and runs from the room.
Adam spends the rest of the period on the spectator stands staring out over the playing fields. Now that he’s calmed down, he feels a bit sheepish. Imagine freaking out in the middle of French. On his first day back too. Merde! Everyone will think he’s a basket case. He should probably go home, but he can’t stand the thought of more endless waiting. Besides Aunty Mandy might not’ve left yet.
It’s peaceful here with everyone inside in classes. The only sound is the chatter of a couple of boys carrying stuff back to the sports equipment room and the occasional car on the road that runs along the outer edge of the playing fields.
Kieran and Corey find him ten minutes into Interval.
‘Don’t worry about it, Adam,’ Corey says, ‘Madame Hourdin didn’t flip out. If anything, she’s upset with herself for calling on you. She said you were facing a difficult situation and needed our understanding. At least, I think that’s what she said. You know my French isn’t that hot. Anyway, she was cool. She still marked you present for the class.’
‘Enough about that,’ Kieran interrupts. ‘Did you see Felicity giving me the come on in Maths this morning? She couldn’t keep her eyes off me. Move over, Mikey, she wants this back!’ He points to his body and makes a lewd motion with his hips, causing the three girls at the opposite end of the stands to titter. Kieran does love to be the centre of attention.
‘I’m not so sure it has anything to do with concupiscence,’ Corey says, his dark eyes twinkling. ‘I think what Felicity was trying to tell you is that you still have Marmite on your face from breakfast.’
‘I don’t, do I?’ Kieran wipes around his mouth with the back of his sleeve before realising he’s been taken in. ‘Bastard!’ he says, but his eyes are full of mirth.
Adam smiles. His mates are doing their best to cheer him up.
When the bell signals the end of Interval, Adam packs up his bag and heads off too. But as soon as Kieran and Corey have turned to go to their respective classes, Adam makes his way back to the athletics stands. He doesn’t feel ready. He won’t be able to concentrate. What’s the point of school anyway? What’s the point of anything? Why bother putting in an effort when at any moment your life could be shattered by something as pathetic as milk? Instead, Adam resumes his quiet contemplation of the grass. Minutes later, a group of Year 9s converge on the soccer pitch. Dressed in their regulation hunter green PE tops and black shorts, they make a midwinter garland as they run onto the field. The PE teacher organises them into two teams, gives one team a fistful of red sashes that they slip over their shoulders, and the game begins. The red team are winning the match by two goals to nil when the Deputy Principal zigzags his way up the stands towards Adam.
‘Madame Hourdin mentioned there’d been an incident,’ Mr Penny says, seating himself diagonally one pew below Adam on the stands.
‘Why don’t you just fuck off?’ Adam says under his breath.
Unfortunately, Mr Penny isn’t deaf. ‘I’m going to ignore that last comment as being out of character, since I know things have been unusual at home just recently. However, it’s the last time. That kind of language is not acceptable.’
‘I’m not going back to class,’ Adam barks, causing a couple of the players to turn their heads in his direction. ‘What’s the point?’
‘That’s fine. I’ll excuse you from your afternoon classes, but if I’m going to do that, I’ll expect you to come with me to the sick bay.’
‘I’m not sick.’
‘Yes, I realise that, Adam,’ Mr Penny says deliberately. He and Madame Hourdin must’ve gone to the same finishing school. ‘I’d like you to speak with the school counsellor.’
‘I’m not crazy either!’ More players turn to follow Adam’s voice.
Mr Penny lowers his voice. ‘No, Adam, you’re not crazy. But you’re under a great deal of pressure and pressure can make people do crazy things. Mrs Paine is trained to support our young people through these kinds of issues. I think she can help you.’
‘Do you have a lot of kids here whose mothers go missing, then?’ Adam says sarcastically.
‘No, I’ll admit your situation is unusual, but you’d be surprised at some of the difficulties faced by students in this school. Students, like you, who are carrying on with their lives, trying to make the best of their opportunities in spite of their troubles.’
Adam grunts.
Turning his back to Adam, Mr Penny faces the playing field. He’s quiet for a minute, as if trying to decide what to say next. After a time, he says, ‘Adam, do you remember a couple of years ago a boy at this school lost several members of his family in a house fire?’ Adam draws in his breath. Everybody knows about that fire. It was in all the newspapers. Three people had died in the blaze. Afterwards, there’d been a huge blitz on installing smoke detectors in homes and some local hardware stores had run out of stock. Mr Penny goes on. ‘The boy himself was badly burned and spent several months in hospital. When he came out, his family was still struggling to cope with the tragedy and for a time he had to go into foster care. Don’t you think he asked himself what was the point of school? Like you, I imagine he felt like giving up too. Instead, he began having regular sessions with Mrs Paine. I understand he found those sessions very helpful. The young man in question is no longer at our school, but I’m pleased to say he’s recovering well, and he’s determined not to let the fire ruin his future.’
Suddenly, Adam feels enormously tired. Bone tired. He could sleep forever right here in the stands. He closes his eyes, buries his face in his hands, and blows out the breath he’s been holding.
‘So you see, you’re not the only one,’ Mr Penny goes on. ‘There are kids here from broken homes or in foster care, kids whose family members have died in car crashes or accidents or whose parents are in prison. Some of our students have been physically assaulted, not just once, but repeatedly. We’ve got one or two recovering from drug abuse...’
‘Okay.’
‘I’m sorry? What did you say?’
‘I said okay, I’ll talk to the counsellor.’ If only to shut him up. Hearing about all those other poor bastards is enough to do Adam’s head in.
‘Good fellow,’ Mr Penny says, standing up and brushing off his trousers. On the field, the PE teacher is gathering the red sashes. It’s nearly the end of third period. ‘Come along.’
‘What, now?’
‘Yes, now. I believe Mrs Paine has a free period.’
Adam hoists his backpack onto his shoulder and follows Mr Penny as he navigates his way down the stands and heads past the squash courts to K-Block. The counsellor’s office is the first on the left.
Mr Penny knocks quietly before opening the door. ‘Mrs Paine. I have Adam Creighton here to see you. I’ll speak to Adam’s teachers and make his excuses for the rest of the afternoon. Right then, in you go, Adam. I’ll leave you in Mrs Paine’s capable hands.’
The college guidance counsellor is a weight-loss advertisement—the before kind.
‘Come in, come in,’ she motions with a meaty arm. ‘Why don’t you pop your bag over there under the window and come and have a seat?’ The door closes behind Mr Penny. ‘Let me guess. Mr Penny browbeat you into coming.’
‘Pretty much.’
‘Thought so. He’s rather lovely, really.’ Adam pulls a doubtful face. ‘Just so we’re clear, Adam, you have no obligation to confide in me.’
‘I don’t really want to talk about Mum.’
‘As I said, you’re perfectly at liberty to cope with things on your own. However, if you don’t have an appointment with me, Mr Penny will expect you to attend class.’
‘That’s blackmail.’
She nods knowingly. ‘Yes, I find it quite handy at times. So, what will it be?’
‘It’s Physics, so I’ll stay.’
‘Excellent. I knew you would, of course. Students invariably choose me over Physics. It’s a strange phenomenon really. Anything else—Drama, or Art or even Classics—they tend not to stick around. But, for some reason, there’s no contest with Physics. So why don’t we make this our weekly appointment time? That doesn’t mean you can’t see me at other times. If you come by and my door is open, you’re welcome to drop in for a natter. Or fill in your name on the sign-up sheet. Naturally, everything said here is confidential. You okay with all that?’
‘Well, I’m okay with missing Physics.’ Mrs Paine smiles and Adam notices that underneath the thick layer of adipose, she’s probably quite pretty.
‘Okay, let’s get started, shall we? Firstly, are you eating?’
‘Am I eating? I thought this was going to be about my emotional state? Whether I’m cracking up or not. Given that my mum seems to have fallen off the face of the earth.’
‘I’m sure we’ll get to that, eventually. For the moment, I’d like to know if your physical health is compromised. Because if it is, then it becomes much harder for you to cope with the things that life is throwing at you. So, back to my first question: are you eating?’
‘Yes. To start with, some of the neighbours helped out with meals, one-pot dinners like cottage pie and lasagne. Not long after, my Aunty Mandy came and since then she’s been doing the cooking and helping with calls and stuff. She’s going home today. Dad and I can’t wait to see the back of her. Don’t get me wrong, she’s nice and everything, even filled the freezer for us, but something about her being there...’ He trails off.
‘Hmm. It sounds to me as if you’ve been eating fairly well. What about sleep? Have you been getting a full night’s sleep?’
‘I guess.’
Mrs Paine says nothing. Just looks at him.
‘Okay, no. Not really.’
Mrs Paine tilts her head, waiting for him to go on, to fill in the spaces. It’s a shrink thing, a Jedi Mind Trick to make you spill your guts. Adam knows she’s doing it, but he can’t seem to resist.
‘If you must know, I haven’t had a full night’s sleep since she went missing. I might’ve managed one night total.’
‘Hmm. One night total.’
‘I’ve tried to sleep, but I don’t know, it’s as if my mind won’t shut down. I can’t help it. I just lie there thinking things, going over and over stuff, trying to sort it all out, you know. Wondering where she could be. I’m that tired half the time I’ve got a monster headache and the rest of the time I’m a walking zombie.’ Mrs Paine springs up. For a big woman, she’s surprisingly light on her feet.
‘Adam, stop right there. Stand up now.’ What? What did I say? ‘I want you to march yourself over to that couch, lie yourself down and pull that blanket over you. I’ve some work to do in the room next door and in the meantime you will have a nap. I’ll check on you in an hour.’
‘Mrs Paine, I can’t. It’s daytime.’ The guidance counsellor answers him by tilting the blinds, blocking out the daylight.
‘And you desperately need some sleep, young man.’ Her hand is already on the doorknob.
‘But...’
‘Sleep, Adam.’ The way she says it brokers no argument. It’s the tone mothers use.
‘I...’
She turns. ‘Adam. Let me just ask you one thing. What were you expecting to do in Physics?’
‘Nap?’
Mrs Paine smiles. ‘Exactly.’