THEY CHOSE TO DO THE PAINTING on a Thursday. By then everyone knew the school had told Trish it wasn’t allowed but that only made the class get into it more. Another one of those things Sharon could almost believe had been planned. Thursday they had English last so they could get it done and then be out of there before anything happened.
The pieces of work had been chosen, seven of them all together, including Sharon’s list. Junior, who knew more than most people about tagging, had come up with the design, and they’d planned it all out on the whiteboard. It seemed so strange, seeing her own words up there amongst the patterns. No one knew they were hers because the whole class had wanted it kept that way, all the work anonymous. Sharon’s wasn’t the best one either. Everyone agreed that went to a rant about school, that was going to be painted in a big spiral, right in the middle of a white ‘Fuck You’. Sharon imagined what it must have been like for whoever had done that, sitting quietly, hearing everyone say how much it went off.
They’d spent two lessons planning it out, like it was some job Justin and Simon might have done, only this one didn’t involve getting naked for some foul old man. Everyone had something to do, a bit to paint or draw on. When the day finally arrived there was a buzz in the room, people all getting loud, high on the excitement. Trish had all the cans of paint lined up on her desk and people came forward and took the colour they needed, then crowded around Trish’s desk, waiting for their final instructions.
‘Right, we’re all go then. Junior’s been out there at lunchtime and has drawn in the outline, very faintly of course. We walk back round past the Home Ec. block so we don’t draw too much attention. I’ve already checked with the PE teachers and there won’t be any class on the courts. Remember, speed and accuracy eh? Keep it quiet, get it done, get out of there. Let’s leave our mark.’
‘Miss?’
‘Yes Jason?’
‘What say someone comes out and tells us to stop?’
‘Here’s the plan. If that happens you all stop straight away. I’ll get into an argument, they’ll suggest I take it into their office, I tell you all to go back to class, then as soon as I’m gone, you finish the painting. And don’t forget to spray on the anti-graffiti finish. We can’t have people painting over it can we?’
‘Sweet.’
They were all smiling together. Sharon half hoped they would be caught, just so she could get another chance to see Trish in action.
It wasn’t like a school thing at all. There was no one pissing around, trying to get out of doing stuff or trying to make the whole thing fall apart. Instead it went just like they’d planned. Sharon was right in the middle, spraying on the red background, using a sheet of cardboard to form the borders the way Junior had shown her. Around her she was aware of the others, all totally onto it, only looking up to check on each other, and maybe give a smile. All they needed was some loud music, pumping full on in the background, and it would have been perfect.
‘Ms Black!’
Miss Flynn’s voice was unmistakable, even at a scream. It had a way of penetrating, getting inside your head and bouncing around.
She was standing at the side of the court, hands on hips, like she was about to launch into a haka. And the look in her eyes was a look even Sharon didn’t recognise. Something more than angry, like a part of the fight was with herself.
‘We will take this to the Principal’s office now,’ she said in a voice that had been used so often, to make other people bend. Then she turned on them, the class with their spray cans and their secret instructions. She looked over them slowly, one at a time, like she was storing all their faces on a list somewhere inside her head.
‘And don’t even think of painting another thing after we’ve gone.’ As if she knew. ‘It will be a direct and willful disobeying of an express instruction and will be treated just as any other form of vandalism. I can assure you the board have already discussed this outcome and will not treat you with any sympathy whatsoever. Ms Black! The Principal’s office. Now!’
She barked the words, the ways owners do when they’ve spent too long with their dogs. Most people would have given in straight off, to a voice like that.
Not Trish though. Surely not Trish.
Sharon looked to her, they all did. They waited for her to say something. They waited for her to argue, give them a lead. But her head went straight down, like the ground was the only safe thing to stare at, and when she looked back up it was only straight ahead. Then she began to walk across the court, like she’d been told to, like some helpless little child who’d been caught sneaking in the back way late. Marched off to the Principal’s office, without an argument, without even a word. Sharon felt the whole afternoon collapsing. The same feeling she had seen on Zinny’s face last Christmas, when Kaz had decided to tell him Father Christmas wasn’t real, because there wasn’t any money left for presents. The class was left standing there, all of them trying to find some way of staying staunch, but knowing what they’d seen.
‘Fucken bitch,’ someone muttered.
‘I reckon.’
‘I hate her.’
And Sharon wasn’t sure who they were talking about, Mrs Flynn or Trish. At least Mrs Flynn was reliable. At least she didn’t go making promises she couldn’t keep. The spray cans were all on the ground and no one was picking them up. Sharon took hers and threw it hard at the wall but it went too high, bouncing off the top into the bushes on the other side.
‘My dad’d kick my arse if I get suspended,’ Ollie said, making it easier for all of them.
‘I won’t be able to play rugby.’
‘Fuck it.’
One person walked away, then another. Some of them hung around, taking a last look at what they’d started, like they were still thinking of doing something, but Sharon knew none of them would. They were soft, all of them. Just another class of wimps, jumping at the chance to pretend to be big, but full of shit in the end. Same as she was, for ever having believed it might mean something, some pathetic little English project.
• • •
Zinny had a thing for heights. He’d spend all day at the park if you let him, standing up on the slide looking down, not going anywhere. Not because he was scared of going down, just because up there was his favourite place, well away from the ground. Or he’d come running over and drag Sharon from her watching spot, under the tree with her cigarette butts for company, making her push him high on the one unsteady swing. She’d only go so far though. One chain was longer than the other and the frame wasn’t properly cemented in. Sharon didn’t understand. She couldn’t stand being halfway up a ladder. The thing with different fathers maybe. She watched him up the slide again, dangling his feet over the edge, looking up at the grey sky that couldn’t even be bothered raining on them. Another couldn’t-be-bothered day.
‘Hi.’ It was Mark, even though his voice didn’t belong in a place like this. He was wearing one of those big puffy jackets fat kids should never wear, and a woollen hat his mother had probably knitted. He brushed the ground before he sat down, and sat down before he was asked.
‘What are you doing here?’ Sharon asked. It wasn’t right, that he should know where to come looking. Kaz wouldn’t have told him.
‘Just walking past.’
‘Bullshit.’
‘I was.’
‘You never walk past here. What’s round there then, past the fence?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t remember.’
‘See? So what are you doing?’
‘Okay. I was looking for you. I wanted to talk to you.’
He blurted it out, like it was something he’d been holding onto for too long.
‘Oh no, not a chance dork.’ Sharon stood.
‘No, no,’ he held up his hands, trying to assure, trying to backtrack. ‘I just thought you might need some cheering up. You know. After all that stuff with Ms Black.’
‘What about it?’
‘You know she’s lost her job.’
‘Like it matters,’ Sharon snapped. ‘What sort of job is that anyway? Working in a school like ours.’
‘And Dad said there’ll be a hearing with the registration board now.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘She might not be able to teach again.’
‘But they can’t do that. That’s why she moved down, from Rotorua. To get work.’ Trish had told her that herself. ‘Not over that. That’s crap.’
‘No, there’s other stuff too.’ Mark sounded like he didn’t want to say it.
‘What stuff?’
‘There’s rumours, about her and students. One of the other teachers, who lives in the flats, said she’s had students there, staying the night. And she hasn’t denied it. They’re saying stuff about her.’
‘What sort of stuff?’ Sharon asked, like she couldn’t imagine.
‘It doesn’t matter. Dad says she’ll probably be de-registered.’
‘Yeah, well you can tell your Dad he’s an arsehole.’
She hauled Mark to his feet and slammed him against the tree.
‘Doesn’t matter anyway. She won’t care. She’s too good to be a teacher.’
‘No, it’s not his fault,’ Mark protested. ‘I knew you’d do this. I just, I just want to help you.’
‘Yeah, well you can’t. There’s nothing you can do to help me so why don’t you just piss off?’
Mark looked to the ground, his face not far from tears, like this hadn’t gone the way he’d planned at all.
Well welcome to the world.
‘I thought I might be able to help you. We could make a student complaint or something.’
‘You don’t know shit and you can’t help me. I’m already going to do something anyway. I’m going round to see Trish, to sort this out. Now piss off.’
‘You can’t see her.’
‘Why not?’
‘She’s already gone. They kicked her out of the flat. I heard she’s already back up in Rotorua.’
‘She wouldn’t have. Not without saying goodbye.’
‘It’s what I heard, that’s all.’
‘Well you still can’t help me.’
‘I helped you with your writing.’
‘Yeah, and look what happened to that.’
‘Well,’ Mark looked uncertain, like he didn’t know whether it was worth saying it. ‘If I ever can help you Sharon. I do want to.’
‘You can start by fucking off then. Go on.’
Sharon let him go and he hesitated for a moment, looking into her eyes like he was hoping they would tell him something different. Not a chance.
‘Sharon, I want a swing,’ Zinny called out when Mark had gone.
‘Yeah, in a minute matey. In a minute.’
Sharon sank back down against the tree and felt her own tears coming. Typical it should happen now. All her chances stripped away again, and all the shit happening to all the wrong people. She thought of Trish, who’d turned out not to be so special after all. Who hadn’t even come round to say goodbye. Just another person running out on her. And Justin and Simon, who were arseholes after all, two more people in the queue, lining up to take a kick. And the only way out, the only thing she could do, was squeeze into one of Kaz’s little black dresses, so some old rich guy could think about taking it off. Her own private Derek. Shit, she might as well be Kaz, if that was how it was going to be.
Then she was crying, and she felt Zinny beside her, his little warm cheek pressed up against hers.
‘It’s alright Sharon,’ he said. ‘It’s alright.’ And she had to smile, even though he was too young to know what he was talking about.
• • •
The jacket was gone and straight off Sharon knew who had it. She’d seen the way Derek was looking at it the day before. Same way he looked at too many things around their place, like he was planning on making an investment.
‘Where the fuck’s my jacket?’ she demanded, storming in on the two of them, lying together even though it was the middle of the afternoon. Derek didn’t stay over that much.
‘Oi, who said you could just walk in here without knocking you cheeky little bitch?’ Kaz asked, not making much of an effort to cover herself.
‘Like you never barge in on me.’
‘Not like this.’
‘That’s cos I don’t fuck him. I’m not that desperate.’
‘Piss off now girl, I’m warning you.’
Derek didn’t say a thing. Too embarrassed, or maybe his mind was some place else.
‘I’m not going till that bastard tells me what he’s done with my jacket.’
‘We sold it,’ Kaz said, looking at Derek like the two of them were parents, the sort who discussed such things over the grocery lists.
‘We? What do you mean we? He’s temporary!’
Sharon waved her finger at him, like that might be enough to make him disappear.
‘Sharon.’ Derek spoke now, trying to be the voice of reason, as if he thought she might be impressed. ‘You know and we know you didn’t get that jacket legally. You haven’t got the money.’
‘Maybe someone gave it to me,’ she replied, knowing straight off that wasn’t the point. She wasn’t in the mood to do this properly.
‘And you hardly wear it,’ Derek continued, like she hadn’t said a thing. He propped himself up on his elbows. Ageing man-breasts sagged beneath the mess of dark hair. ‘It was for your own good.’
‘How much did you get?’
‘Two-fifty.’ Kaz said.
‘So where is it?’ Like she didn’t know. ‘That’s my fucken money? Give me the fucken money.’
‘So you’d waste it on cigarettes?’ Derek said, but Sharon saw straight away what was happening.
‘You’ve spent it haven’t you? You bastard. You’ve stolen it, that’s what you’ve done. You’ve stolen my two hundred and fifty dollars! I should go to the cops.’
‘And tell them what? That the jacket you lifted’s been lifted back. Get real Sharon.’
Kaz, who could change sides soon as look at you. Sharon stared her down. Tomorrow it’d be all sweetness and sorry, soon as he was gone and Zinny needed watching. Only sorry’d be no good, if she’d already gone and spent it.
‘We were talking Sharon, about you.’ Derek again, still trying to sound like someone he wasn’t. ‘Your mother was telling me, about your trouble at school. You need to make more of an effort.’
Trying to turn it back on her, like she was doing something wrong. But if she could see it coming she could head him off too, cos she wasn’t half as thick as he’d like her to be.
‘So what?’ Sharon asked, keeping it bitchy, not giving herself away. ‘You’re saying I have to work at school now, if I want the money back?’
And he took the bait, before Kaz could stop him, because he wasn’t like them. He wasn’t smart.
‘If you can.’ And he turned to Kaz, smiling like he’d just achieved some great breakthrough.
‘I’ll do you a deal then.’ It was a simple set-up. ‘We’ve got a Maths test Tuesday. If I pass three credits you give me that money.’
‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep,’ he said, still smiling like he thought he was so special, lying there in the same bed Sharon had thrown up on so many times, when she was little.
‘You’re on you fat bastard,’ Sharon replied. ‘You’re fucken on.’
She stormed out, slamming the door after her, before Kaz could say something to make him try to take it back. Just because she didn’t go hard-out at school, it didn’t mean she was thick. Especially not Maths. Maths was easy when you tried. And just that afternoon Mark had said he wanted to help. She hated the jacket too. Sharon could already imagine the sour look on Derek’s face when he was forced to hand over the cash. It’d be the sweetest two-fifty she’d ever made.
• • •
The next day after school she went round to Mark’s place, and he didn’t look surprised to see her. He was too busy looking excited. She only had to use ‘Maths’ and ‘help’ in the same sentence and he was away, pulling out his notes and clearing a space on the little desk in his bedroom. He brought in an extra chair from another room and left her sitting there while he went off to find her a spare calculator. While he was gone Sharon checked through his drawers, not expecting to find anything, just being curious. But there wasn’t much to be curious about. No secret notes or hidden magazines, or money or old toys. Just clothes, all looking the same, newly washed and neatly folded, as safe and as tidy as the view out his bedroom window; over the neighbour’s backyard to the houses beyond, all the way up to the low line of hills that kept the other, untidy suburbs from spilling over.
When he got back he was puffing, like he’d been running hard-out the whole time he was away, like it was that important to him.
‘So what do you want help with?’ He sat down slowly, as if uncomfortable being so close, but with no choice at a desk that small.
‘Whatever’s in the test.’
‘Have you tried the revision sheet he gave us?’
‘Must’ve missed that spell.’
‘I’ve got mine here, we’ll use that.’
The time went quickly. It wasn’t that hard. Sharon knew it wouldn’t be. She knew people like Mark weren’t that bright. She saw them, she heard the stupid things they said to each other. But they always did real well, and so she knew there must have been some system they used, some way of cheating. A system she’d never been bothered finding out about. It had never been that important.
And that’s exactly what it was, a system. Mark explained it as he went. How questions got asked in tests, what things had been asked before, what hints Mr Jenkins had dropped, to students like him, students Mr Jenkins considered worth helping. There was explaining to do too, because Sharon had missed a lot of it, but Mark wasn’t too bad at that. A bit too keen maybe, so it got sort of weird sometimes, watching him getting that excited about stuff that was just a game put down on paper, and a boring game too, the sort you should grow out of. But at least he didn’t make her feel small, and at least there was no one else there, to hear the dumb questions she had to ask, while she got things sorted out.
The longer it went the easier it got, and the more excited Mark became. Even after three hours, when his mother came up and told him it was time for dinner, he wouldn’t let it go. He made her wait, while he wrote up some extra problems as homework, and a list of things she should do, to help her pass. He didn’t seem to mind at all. It was the opposite, as far as Sharon could see. It was like she was doing him some huge favour, letting him help. When it was finished he walked all the way down to the end of the driveway with her, giving last minute advice, and although she didn’t look back Sharon knew he stayed there way after she’d walked away.
Suited Sharon. With his soft help she was going to win, and that was going to make Derek look so small. Maybe then Kaz would see him properly, see what she’d brought home; another married man with ‘backdown’ written all over his face, and ‘loser’ on his t-shirt.
• • •
The next morning Sharon smoked three cigarettes on the way to school, to calm her down. Normally internal assessment didn’t mean anything at all. Last one she hadn’t even bothered doing. She was sure everyone was looking at her, wondering what she was doing, standing by herself outside the hall doors, holding her paper and calculator, and the water bottle she’d bought especially. Mark said water helped you think clearly. Probably just shit but worth a go. Anything was worth a go. She was on her second refill already. Her head was full of numbers; letters and shapes she only half remembered, that disappeared as soon as she tried to look at them. She saw Mark watching her, wanting to come over and give some last minute advice, but knowing she’d ignore him if he did. He looked as nervous as she was. It was like the time at the bridge, waiting for Simon and Justin to return. She just wanted something to happen. She wanted it to be over.
‘Year Eleven Mathematics, the five rows on the left please.’ Mr Harding, some old guy Sharon’d never had, ushered them in. She took a seat near the front and faded out while the instructions were given. Obvious stuff, about names on answers and that.
‘Alright, you may start. You have two hours.’ Two hours. More time than she needed, to kick Derek hard in the balls.
It was like one of those spelling tests they used to have at Primary, back when she could spell. She didn’t know all of it, but there was enough there that might have been written just for her. Like it must have been all the time, for people like Mark.
The water wasn’t a good idea. Sharon had to ask to go out to the toilet three times. Each time she saw them looking at her, like they thought she was trying to get away with something. Don’t have to, she wanted to say. Found me another way of cheating. She finished with 15 minutes to spare. She didn’t spend the time checking back over, the way Mark had told her. Didn’t have to.
• • •
It should’ve been so sweet. It should’ve felt the same way it felt the whole afternoon, just hanging, smoking by the bridge, having a laugh with some of the others who hadn’t bothered showing at the test. Feeling part of it, but different too. It should have felt like it was that evening, when Derek called in. Not saying anything when he asked how it was going, just smiling back, smug, knowing he’d keep. Or even what it was like ringing Mark, telling him how easy it’d been, cos she had to tell someone.
It wasn’t though. It wasn’t like any of those things. It was as if there were bits of the world that didn’t know how to be good to Sharon. Bits that would find a way of turning inside out on her, whenever she tried to ease up against them. It happened spell two the next day, when Sharon had a study. A note came round with a nervous little third former, asking her to go to Mrs Flynn’s office. Most days she would have been able to think of some reason, some little thing she’d done to piss them off, but this time Sharon was having trouble working it out.
When she walked into the office she thought she knew. Mr Jenkins was there, so it had to be Maths. He’d marked the test, that’d be it, and Mrs Flynn was going to tell Sharon how pleased they all were. Sweet.
Sharon relaxed, sat down without being asked. Then she saw the look on Mr Jenkins face, uncomfortable, nervous, the way he must’ve looked when he first started dating the pog Sharon had once seen him with.
‘I didn’t ask you to sit!’ Mrs Flynn said. Not angry, but not friendly either. Something worse. Her formal voice, the one she used to tie up decisions that wouldn’t be changed. ‘Well?’
She stared Sharon down but Sharon didn’t move. Whatever it was, she knew this time she didn’t deserve it, so there was nothing to worry about.
‘I’m sure you know why you’re here,’ Mrs Flynn continued, not being drawn.
Sharon looked at her face for clues, then back to Mr Jenkins. Nothing new. She shook her head.
‘I’ll keep this brief then. Mr Jenkins is here as a witness and because it was he who brought this to my attention. It is a matter of record that you have received three formal warnings this year, your mother has been in and you have declined the opportunity to make amends by going onto a contract. It is for this reason that the school has decided this latest incident is to lead directly to your expulsion from the school. Because of your age we are under no obligation to find you another school. You are indefinitely suspended from this time on, pending the formal board hearing. Your mother will be contacted later in the day. Goodbye Sharon. I would wish you well but really in your case I have to wonder what’s the point.’ And for a moment, just after she’d finished speaking, Sharon thought she saw a tiny bit of sadness creep up on Mrs Flynn’s face. Like this was another battle that she hadn’t won, and somewhere those losses were being added up. But then it was gone and the Deputy Principal waved her hand in a tired dismissal. There’d be others.
Sharon didn’t move. She was still trying to take it in. Getting kicked out was nothing, in some ways. She hardly went anyway and knew she’d be leaving before too long. No more of this crap, it was hardly something to get uptight about. Except it wasn’t about that. It was about Mrs Flynn, and how she thought she knew Sharon so well, just like they all did, when really they didn’t know shit. How she thought this time Sharon had gone too far, when this time she hadn’t done anything at all.
‘That will be all Sharon.’
‘What have I done?’ Sharon asked, hearing her voice catching on the words. ‘I haven’t done anything. This sucks. It’s a set-up isn’t it? What am I supposed to have done?’
‘At least have the dignity to be honest Sharon.’
Mrs Flynn looked to Mr Jenkins, as if silently checking some detail.
‘This school does not think fondly of cheats Sharon. NCEA is a formal assessment system. It is a chance for honest students to display their skills and abilities. We will not have their efforts undermined by the dishonesty of the lazy, corrupt likes of you.’
‘What? I didn’t cheat!’
Anger at Mrs Flynn turned to outrage at the entire world. Typical, that it would serve her up with this. Fucken typical.
‘How the fuck am I meant to have cheated?’
‘Sharon. Ms Hannah, who was supervising the test, tells me you left the hall three times yesterday. And Mr Jenkins tells me that you scored a merit, despite not having passed a single unit test all year. Despite what you might like to believe, we’re not stupid.’
But they were. More stupid even than the jobs they did. So stupid that they hadn’t even thought to ask whether there might have been another reason. Maybe Sharon should have tried to explain. She could have told them about the water, got Mark to tell them about the help he’d been giving them. Maybe even let on about the bet with Derek, so they’d see it wasn’t such a strange thing to be doing, trying to pass. Only that would have meant staying calm, ignoring all the anger boiling up beneath her skin. And it would have needed them not to be quite so stupid, so they could listen and understand.
That’s why Sharon stood up instead, more quickly than they were expecting, by the startled looks on both their faces. Not as startled as when she reached Flynn’s desk and tipped it forward, so the Deputy Principal had to put her hands up to stop it squashing her face, and papers went all over the floor. And Mr Jenkins, poor useless Mr Jenkins, didn’t even move, or try to help Mrs Flynn up after she’d slipped right off her chair. He just stood there, looking like an extra to a movie, who’d turned up on the set on the wrong day. He didn’t even move when she spat straight at his face, on the way out the door, for the very last time.