Another Life Altogether: A Novel - By Elaine Beale Page 0,66

out onto acres of playing fields in the back and well-kept gardens in the front.

“Here we bloody well are,” Tracey groaned as the bus rumbled to a halt and its aisles became a heaving, jostling mess of dark uniforms, swinging satchels, and shouts.

Tracey had sat next to me during our ride—something I’d had mixed feelings about since, when the bus arrived and Amanda was making adjustments to my blazer, I’d found myself hoping that I might sit beside her. But when the doors of the bus sighed open, Amanda had simply patted me on the shoulder, saying, “See you later, Jesse,” as she headed to the back of the bus to take her place among a group of older girls. I’d watched Amanda yell enthusiastic greetings to her friends and press herself between them on the backseat, so that they were all a bright and laughing mass of waving limbs, excited eyes, and talk. For a moment, I’d imagined myself squeezing in among them, next to Amanda, tucked between the warmth of their laughter and their bodies, letting their giggles roll over me like warm waves. But there really wasn’t any room and, besides, I knew that wasn’t where I belonged. So instead I’d eased into one of the seats in front, a cold stone of fear in my chest. Amanda had abandoned me, Tracey was angry at me, and I was alone, friendless again. But then Tracey had stopped by my seat and muttered, “Shove over, then,” and I’d eased myself over to the window and she’d taken the seat beside me. During the ride, she didn’t mention the incident at the bus stop, nor did she call me by that dreadful nickname. By the time we reached the car park outside Liston Comprehensive, I realized, with profound relief, that we were still friends. When I stepped off the bus into the throng of uniformed bodies and Tracey threaded her arm through mine, I felt, for the first time, that I did not have to push my way through a seething school-day crowd alone.

“Look, look, it’s the Debbies,” Tracey said, waving toward three girls standing next to the school entrance.

“Hiya, Trace,” the tallest of the girls said as we joined their group. “God, can you believe we’re back at school already?” She smiled and knocked her hip into Tracey’s.

“Yeah, I know,” Tracey said, shoving the girl back. “And seven bloody more weeks until the half-term holiday. God, seems like forever.”

“Never mind, at least we can hang around together again. And, to tell the truth, I was bored to bloody tears after the first two weeks at home.” The girl peered around Tracey to look at me. “So, who’s this, then?” she asked. I met her look with a hopeful smile.

“This is Jesse,” Tracey said. “Jesse Bennett. She just moved to Midham.” At least she hadn’t introduced me as Jesse the Yeti. Though, from the dubious up-and-down looks the three girls gave me, she may as well have. I could see that their approval wasn’t going to come easily.

“Oh, yeah?” the tallest Debbie said, narrowing her eyes to scrutinize me further. “So, where you from, then?” She gave her hair a backward flip.

“Hull,” I answered warily, sure that she would find me wanting. Rejected from their little clique, I’d lose not only their approval but Tracey’s as well. And then I’d definitely become known as Jesse the Yeti.

“Hull, eh?” The girl put both hands on her hips.

“Oh, leave off, Debbie,” Tracey said, issuing a slap to her friend’s arm. “She’s all right, is this one. Me and her have been hanging about together over the holidays. She’s my new friend.” Miraculously, with this seal of approval from Tracey the look on all three of their faces shifted. They smiled and introduced themselves to me.

Contrary to my earlier imaginings of the Debbies as identical triplets, the three could not have been more physically different: the tallest, Debbie Frost, was blond and big-boned; the second, Debbie Green, was olive-skinned, short, and pudgy; and the third, Debbie Mason, was a petite thread of a girl with dark hair and enormous brown eyes. Nevertheless, they did seem, in a way, to be a set, with all three of them—in obvious defiance of the strict uniform regulations outlined in the letter my parents had received—wearing tartan scarves around their necks, tartan socks, and huge white platform shoes that added at least three and a half inches to their height, making Debbie Frost tower over everyone