Chapter 22

Crash

I keep thinking about snails. We are moving at a snail’s pace, Aliya and me. Inching towards some kind of acceptance of who we are. Definitely not towards normal. Happy? Maybe. It seems a long shot, but I guess even snails eventually get to where they’re going.

I ate snails once when we went to visit Grand-mère in France. A posh restaurant. Lots of garlic. And now the sound of a grindylow sucking them out of their shells is stuck in my head, polluting my actual memory.

‘What’s the grossest thing you’ve ever eaten?’ I ask.

Justin promptly replies, ‘Octopus.’

‘Geeze—no wonder you’re scared of fish.’

We’re sitting in our spot: a bench on the balcony outside the hall. Feet tucked in so the spitting rain that’s blowing in under the overhanging roof doesn’t get our trainers wet. The sky has already forgotten summer. It’s too cold to be comfortable outside, but it’s our own space.

‘It’s weird how you guys actually talk to each other,’ Padma says, throwing her apple-core at the dustbin. She misses, and Dean picks it up for her. Sweet. ‘Good-weird,’ she assures us. ‘It is sometimes nice to communicate without emojis.’

I text her an ironic goat and she snorts with laughter as she checks her phone.

She’s started hanging out with the four of us at lunch every other day. Her being with Dean is…odd, but she fits right in. I shudder with that strange sort of feeling you get when you have a fever, hot and freezing at the same time This all feels like it’s slipping away.

‘Is all this going to change?’ I ask, gesturing around at our little group, the space we’ve carved out for ourselves, the looming monstrosity of the school building behind us. Familiar things that feel as impermanent as fireworks.

I miss them already, even though they’re still right here. Dean, who picked me up out of a puddle on the first day of Junior School and wouldn’t let anyone laugh at me. Ravi, who is so generous that he almost makes me believe I can drop my guard. Justin, who doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him and pulls us all along in his mad, happy wake. And now Padma, who makes our dreary balcony feel like a theme park.

‘This time next year, we might not have any classes together anymore.’ I notice I’m wringing my hands and sit on them to keep them still.

‘No,’ agrees Ravi. ‘I don’t suppose any of you are planning to takes maths or the sciences?’

‘Which sciences?’

‘All of them, obviously.’

‘You going to be a doctor or something?’ Padma asks.

‘I was thinking more about medical research,’ Ravi says, ‘or possibly quantum theory.’

I grin, thinking of Ravi studying a complaining miniature dragon.

‘I might take A-level maths,’ I say.

‘You hate maths, Luke,’ Justin says. His face says that he thinks maths is as nasty as octopus.

‘I know, but it’s a very proper sort of subject, isn’t it? Gets you proper jobs.’

‘Jobs you’ll probably hate, too,’ Ravi tells me.

I hate that Ravi’s right. And that I still feel the pressure to study something that doesn’t suit me at all—that only suits the man society expects me to become. Down-to-Earth. A reliable breadwinner. Not a dreamer…not even when dreams feel like home.

I’m swamped by a wave of homesickness. Not my homesickness, obviously—I’ve never been away from my family for more than a few days—but Aliya’s. It burns, even now, when I’m a world away from her life. Sure, she misses her family, but I think she misses who she used to be even more, if that makes sense. I hope she learns to be at home with herself and realises that she has friends who love her for who she is now.

Justin throws a grape that bounces off my ear. ‘Penny for your thoughts?’

‘Inflation,’ I tell him, ‘I want a tenner.’ But I wouldn’t tell him my thoughts even for ten pounds. Do my friends love me for who I am? How can they, when they don’t know who that is? Should I tell them?

Expressing any emotion is tantamount to saying ‘I’m not really a boy.’ Still too scary to go there; I’ve got too much else going on to deal with rejection. My friends might not be as accepting as Aliya’s.

‘I love you guys.’

Wait, I had literally just decided not to say that. The boys are all gaping at me. Padma smiles—the sort of smile you direct at a panda in a nature documentary. It says, sorry, mate, you’re cute, but on the verge of extinction.

‘What’s wrong with saying something nice?’ I demand.

‘Oh, nothing—if you’re a girl,’ Dean sniggers.

This is why I have to come out. This is why I can’t come out.

The weight of all these secrets is crushing. My gender identity. My sister’s cancer and my family imploding into a nucleus of fear. Crazy dreams which make me either magical or mad. I have to hold on so tight, not let the wrong person out. When everything changes, I’m going to lose all my friends. Lose them sooner, if I can’t keep myself under control.

I can’t say anything because the birds are breathing all my air. Padma is having a go at Dean, but it’s just waves crashing on a beach and all my attention is absorbed in being pecked to death by seagulls. I try to bolt—I can’t let them see me like this. But the world whirls around me and I collapse back onto the bench. Looking down, I almost expect to see a boa constrictor wrapped around my chest. Please, not again. Why is this happening?

‘Luke? Are you alright, mate?’ Justin’s voice is hazy, unimportant.

‘Is it asthma?’ Ravi sounds panicky. ‘Maybe he’s been stung by a bee. He could die if we don’t find an Epi-pen!’

Then Padma is there, her hand on the back of my head, pushing it down between my knees. Knowing someone is there, I can breathe a bit easier. Her voice sounds distant, underwater. She’s saying, ‘He’s having a panic attack. Stop flapping, Ravi, you’ll only make it worse.’ Her hand is still in my hair, a lifeline pulling me to the surface. But when I come up, I’ll have to face them all.

When I raise my head, I’m surrounded by shocked faces. Well, Dean is actually glaring, but I think that’s because Padma is still stroking my hair rather than because of anything I’ve done.

They all want a reason, and I have to give them one. Choose one less secret to carry alone.

‘Lily has cancer,’ I tell them.

Yeah, I chose the easy secret, the one guaranteed to garner sympathy and support. But it does feel good to share the fear.