outcast noun: a person who is rejected
Mum tells me that bad things come in threes. She says this to me like it’s a good thing. ‘On my wedding day the car broke down, my bridesmaid got a blood nose and I ripped my dress.’
‘Get to the part that makes me feel better, Mum.’
‘Well, the day went off quite well after that. There are only a certain number of things that can go wrong.’
Mum was right when she said that bad things come in threes. She just forgot to mention that threes can happen more than once.
I flush the toilet at school today and the water just keeps rising. There are some of us out there who will admit to looking into the toilet bowl when they flush and some who won’t. As Jane says, ‘Everyone has to turn around to push the button and it’s human nature to look down.’ Anyway, I push the button and the level rises a bit. It keeps going; I’m transfixed as it rises and floods the rest of the toilets.
I run into the hallway, straight into Martin.
‘MARTIN!’ I grab his jumper and yell with the desperation of a drowning woman. ‘The toilet is flooding!’
If I’d had any sense of self-preservation I would have said it quietly, not with the same level of panic as the captain of the Titanic. There’s a little crowd gathering around me. Someone looks down and says, ‘Euhh, your shoes are wet.’
Yep. They’re wet to the power of three. And counting.
I wear wet shoes all day. I try not to think about how disgusting the bowl of that toilet looked. But I know. I always look down.
Her shoes were disgusting. Could you smell them? I thought I was going to be sick.
Her socks were wet too. She wore them all day.
Gracie Faltrain plays sport all the time. She never wears a dress. You know what I think?
She’s what? I knew it. I just knew it.
‘Who cares? Faltrain’s a mate, a good one too. How come you hate her so much, Annabelle?’
‘She doesn’t like me either, Martin. She’s not as good as you think.’
‘Just leave her alone, yeah?’
‘I’ll leave her alone when she leaves me alone. Tell her that.’
I imagine trying to tell Faltrain anything. I decide to just keep my mouth shut.
She told everyone I stunk like the toilet, I text Jane. My life is over.
Did you?
Well, yes. But I don’t think that’s the point, Jane.
Don’t listen to them, Faltrain. Just don’t bloody listen to any of them.