6.

With a brand new fan base at their big new school, Alison flourished and Jackie, Georgina and Julia continued to cherish their roles as her trusted servants. On her first day, Alison was relieved to discover that, despite the influx of new pupils from several different primary schools, she was still, by far, the fairest of them all; which was some consolation at least for not being able to go to Belamore College. And although there were one or two definite oddities amongst the fresh new first formers, none of them came close to the weirdness of Biddy Weir.

And of course, it wasn’t long before news of the bloody weirdo in First Form spread throughout the school. As Alison’s audience increased, her popularity soared and her ego expanded accordingly. Her perfect impersonation of Biddy’s lonesome playground walks was replayed time and time again, to shrieks of delight from her old and new admirers. And her hilarious tales of Biddy’s bare bottom and her first ever ‘period’ might as well have been printed in the school magazine, for almost every pupil in the junior school soon knew the stories. And even if they didn’t find them funny, they laughed. Most of them knew it was better to laugh along than to be laughed at.

Biddy herself quickly realised that everyone at the new school knew about her weirdness. Everywhere she went she was shoved, tripped up or her path was blocked. She could hear the sneers, the sniggers and the murmurs. ‘Whoa. Watch out. It’s Bloody Weirdo.’ ‘Bloody Weirdo Alert. Bloody Weirdo Alert.’ Sometimes she longed for the simplicity of her torment at Prospect Park. At least there she knew what to expect, most of the time, anyway, and she knew where she could hide. This place was just so vast, it terrified her. It was like being in a never-ending maze with no way out; a relentless nightmare she was doomed never to awaken from. There were so many more people here who knew who and what she was. Even the walls seemed to whisper, ‘Bloody Weirdo, Bloody Weirdo, Bloody Weirdo’ as she trudged along the school corridors, head down, shoulders hunched, willing herself to be invisible from the throngs of pupils, waiting for the next big humiliation.

Weeks, months, even, could pass by without any major incident, but they were always there, her tormentors, with their comments and sneers and expressions of utter disgust. And the threat of Alison delivering one of her trademark ‘master plans’ constantly clung to her, gripping her throat like a caught breath.

 

One sunny Thursday afternoon near the end of her second year at Ballybrock Grammar, Biddy was, as usual, hovering at the back of the bus queue after school. She always waited until the unruly mob started to push and shove their way onto the bus before joining the herd at the last minute, hoping that the driver would let her stand on the middle step. Sometimes, depending on who the driver was, she got her wish. Sometimes the door would swish shut, almost trapping her face as she tried to jump on, and she would have to wait for the next bus, or walk the thirty-minute journey home. She didn’t mind the walk, but it was getting a lot more difficult now that her schoolbag was weighed down with more and more heavy textbooks. And on this particular day, it was much too hot to drag both herself and her bag up the steep Westhill Road.

‘Hey, B.W.!’ Biddy froze as Alison, Jackie, Georgina and Julia sauntered towards her, followed by two or three of the new Alison worshippers. ‘I said, hey, B.W.! Didn’t you hear me? Gone deaf or something, have you?’ Alison spat. The others sniggered. B.W. was Alison’s new abbreviated name for Biddy and they thought it was so cool.

‘So, B.W. . . .’ Alison continued, aware that some of the boys in the bus queue were looking over. Craig Black, the blond hunk from the fourth year whose attention she’d been trying to get for a week now, stood with his hands in his pockets, kicking some loose gravel onto the road. Their eyes met briefly and Alison slowly bit her bottom lip and ran her fingers through her hair before turning her attention back to Biddy. She knew that if she played this well she’d snare him. She might be just a second former, but she was almost fourteen – and knew she looked much older than her age. She also knew she’d go a hell of a lot further than most of the girls in his year would.

‘So, B.W.,’ she smiled, ‘are you gonna enter the school talent competition?’

Biddy just stared at the ground, aware that her armpits were starting to drip with sweat.

‘Eh, is that a “yes” or a “no”, then?’ Alison quipped, winking at the other girls and snatching a glance at Craig, who raised his eyebrows just enough to let her know he was watching. ‘Well, probably best if you don’t bother, B.W. After all, you wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself any more than you usually do. Pity there isn’t a category for bloody weirdos, though. You’d win that, for sure. Hands down. Just think, you could go through to represent the school at the national finals. And surely there isn’t a bloody weirdo in the whole country who’s weirder than you.’ Alison was on a roll now, and the sniggers from her expanding audience egged her on.

‘Picture it: assembly, the day after the finals . . . Mr Duncan on the stage, all the teachers lined up behind him. “I’d like you all to put your hands together for our very own Biddy Weir, the best Bloody Weirdo in the country”.’

A mock cheer went up from Alison’s audience. Biddy’s face burned as hot as the blazing sun. Her blouse was now soaked with sweat, her stomach churned with fear, and the lump in her throat was demanding release. Please stop it, please stop it, please stop it, she silently repeated, over and over.

 

But Alison was having fun.

‘Anyway, B.W., don’t be sad about not being able to enter the talent show. You’ll be there in spirit, if not in body, because you, B.W., are the inspiration for our act. Isn’t she, girls?’

‘Sure is, Alison,’ said Jackie.

‘Abso-bloody-lutely,’ laughed Georgina.

‘Want to hear it, B.W.?’ teased Alison, slyly. ‘Want to hear your song?’ Biddy swallowed hard. There was nowhere to run, and even if there were, she wouldn’t have been able to move anyway.

‘We do, we do,’ chanted some of the onlookers, enjoying this unexpected afternoon entertainment more by the minute.

‘OK, girls, ready?’ Alison dropped her bag, loosened her already loose tie, undid the third button of her shirt to expose the teensiest bit of white lacy bra, and rolled up her sleeves. The others followed suit, only Julia not going the whole way with the buttons. They took their positions, bottoms stuck out, knees slightly bent, hands flicked out at the side of their hips, Alison standing slightly in front of the other three. The four of them had been practising their little routine in secret for two days and had perfected all the moves.

‘After three,’ said Alison, clearing her throat, adrenaline rushing through her veins. This was the best thing she’d come up with since Red Paint Day, and she could tell Craig was already impressed. Just wait until he heard the song!

‘One. Two. Three . . .

 

Look out here she comes, stompin’ down the street,

She’s the bloodiest weirdo that you ever will meet.

 

Oh yes she’s a weirdo

And she freaks us all out,

She’s ugly and she’s creepy,

There ain’t no bloody doubt.

 

There she goes again talkin’ to the birds

She’s a definite nutter, she’s a total nerd.

 

Oh yes she’s a weirdo,

And she freaks us all out.

She’s ugly and she’s creepy,

There ain’t no bloody doubt . . .’

 

A roar of appreciation went up from the crowd. Alison, Jackie, Georgina and Julia bowed and curtsied, loving the attention, delighted with their performance. Alison looked over at Craig, and tossed her hair. He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, spat out his gum, and winked. Yes! She’d got him. She picked up her school bag, pushed her way past Jackie, Georgina and Julia and sashayed over to join Craig in the queue. The others, enjoying their fifteen seconds of fame, laughed and chatted with the crowd that had gathered around them.

 

Biddy stood alone, head bent, hot tears streaming down her face, snot dripping from her nose. The bus came. Everyone pushed on. Alison sat with Craig on the back seat. Jackie, Georgina and Julia were all given seats as reward for their fantastic performance. Everyone on board started singing the song as the bus pulled away from the stop, but no one noticed Biddy – still crying, still standing, head bent, at exactly the same spot. Another bus came and went. Then another, and another. But Biddy stayed where she was, rooted to the spot for over an hour, until the sun began to lose its heat and she finally found the strength to start the walk back to Stanley Street. She never took the school bus home again.