Another Life Altogether: A Novel - By Elaine Beale Page 0,100

saw Stan swagger across the room, take Amanda’s hand, and pull her onto the dance floor. Then, together, they shuffled about, Amanda’s arms around Stan’s neck, her head resting dozily against his shoulder while he wrapped his arms around her waist and let his hands rest on the curve of her buttocks.

I couldn’t stand to watch them, and for a moment I let myself imagine stomping across the floor, pulling Stan away, kicking him, knocking him down. But this fantasy was just as futile as all my others, and so, rather than torture myself further, I stood up and threaded my way through the dancing couples toward the cloakroom. When I stepped inside, I was surprised to find Greg Loomis sitting on one of the low benches, smoking. He rolled his eyes when he saw me. “You! Thanks to you, I still smell like a fucking booze factory. Ruined my bloody chances with the lasses, you have. I should give you a fucking good hiding. I should—”

“I didn’t think you’d be so brave without Stan Heaphy to back you up,” I said. Instead of feeling afraid, I just felt irritated. The things that were bothering me were far more significant that Greg Loomis.

“Hey, if you don’t watch it—” He began to rise from the bench.

“God,” I said, past caring, “you think you’re such a big, bloody man. And you can’t even see what’s in front of your face.”

“What you talking about?”

“My friend, that girl that was in here earlier. Tracey Grasby. She really fancies you.”

He dropped to the bench again, taken aback. “Really?”

“Yes,” I said, wanting to add that he had to be blind as well as vain and immensely stupid if he hadn’t seen it himself.

He took a thoughtful puff on his cigarette. “This your idea of a joke? Because if it is, I’ll—”

“Look, all I know is she might stop her nonstop talking about you if you just go out there and ask her to dance.”

“Oh.” He took another drag on the cigarette, held it in, frowned deeply, then blew the smoke out in a fast stream. “Well, maybe I will, then,” he said, dropping his cigarette to the floor and standing up to make his way to the door. Before he left the cloakroom, though, he stopped to look in the mirror at the end of the coat pegs. He patted his hair smooth with both hands, straightened his eyebrows with a moistened finger, and turned his face to admire his profile. “All right, Greg,” he said, smiling at his reflection. “Go out there and knock her dead.”

When he was gone, I sank to the bench, listening to the music echoing down the corridor and realizing that the outcome of this evening had been inevitable from the start. It was stupid of me to even think that I could fit in here. I was a misfit and a failure, and even when I tried my best to buy the right clothes and be like the other girls it was still obvious that I didn’t belong. Tracey hated me, Amanda was dancing with the hideous Stan, and here was I, again, pathetic and alone.

When I heard the music stop, I stood up, pulled on my coat, and pushed my way into the corridor. Staring glumly at the linoleum floor, I didn’t notice that someone had just stepped out of the door that led into the boys’ toilet until I almost bumped into him. When I looked up, I found myself face to face with Malcolm. Still flushed from all his exertions on the dance floor, his hair was damp and plastered across his forehead, and I could see tiny beads of perspiration at his temples.

“Excuse me,” I said instinctively as I started to edge around him.

“Hey.” He grabbed at my arm.

“What?”

“I just wanted to say, well, thanks for helping out earlier—you know, in there.” He gestured toward the cloakroom door.

Just then, I heard a loud peal of laughter echo down the corridor. I looked over to see Tracey marching toward us.

“That was really quick thinking, I—”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I interrupted.

“But you … I saw you.”

“I said, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I repeated, pulling my arm out of his grip.

Just then, Tracey reached us. “Out of my way, poofter boy,” she said, barging into Malcolm and pushing past him. Then, much to my delight, she leaned into me and hooked her arm through mine. “Did you see, Jesse? Did you see?” She