Another Life Altogether: A Novel - By Elaine Beale Page 0,98
me, the idea of that solidity, that confidence—knowing you were different but embracing it, occupying it, and being utterly immune to the derision or hatred of anyone else. But then, when Malcolm toppled outward, fell against another boy, and the boy shoved him away so that he staggered back and hit Dizzy, I felt that possibility fall away. No matter how carefree you might be, there was always someone on the sidelines wanting to push you around.
SHAKEN BY THE SCENE that had played out in the cloakroom and cold-shouldered by Tracey, I felt my longing for Amanda’s presence intensify. I watched the entrance of the dance hall, willing her to arrive. When she finally entered the room, she looked stunning, wearing a calf-length emerald-green dress made of a thin, silky material that draped itself in shiny folds over her frame and infallibly outlined her impressive curves. Her hair, styled so that it rippled back from her face in shiny waves, was crowned by a tiara she’d fashioned out of silver Christmas tree tinsel. Even in the dimly lit hall, her features were bright and flushed, as if she had only just come in from the cold. My stomach turned somersaults at the sight of her. The air seemed to crackle around her, as if charged. As she moved, all the eyes in the room followed her.
“God, look at the bloody state of her,” Tracey said. “She looks like a bloody Christmas tree gone wrong. Should stick some bloody ornaments on her fat backside—that’d complete the picture perfectly.”
“I think she looks fantastic,” I said.
“Fantastic? Maybe to an idiot without any fashion sense,” Tracey huffed.
I felt myself shrink, but then my heart began to race as Amanda veered away from her friends and toward us.
“Don’t bother us, Amanda,” Tracey said. “We’ve got better things to do than talk to you.”
“Didn’t come to talk to you, did I?” Amanda said. Her words slid together, and she had a glazed, loose look on her face. “Came to see Jesse.” She turned to look at me, and as she did, her dress swished around her, a glossy emerald wave. “Having a good time?” she asked, giving me a broad but slightly slack smile.
“Yes, it’s all right,” I said, barely able to get the words out.
“Good, that’s good.” She wrinkled up her nose and moved her head up and down in a jerky nod.
“Yes,” I agreed, searching desperately for something interesting or amusing to say.
“You had a dance yet, then?”
I shook my head. “I can’t really dance.”
“Can’t dance?” She furrowed her brow. “Don’t be daft!” She batted at the air with her hand, stumbling forward slightly.
“You’re drunk!” Tracey declared, flashing Amanda a contemptuous look.
“No, I’m not. And it wouldn’t be any business of yours if I was. Anyway, Stan already told me you had a go at his whiskey earlier, so don’t be such a bloody hypocrite.”
“At least I didn’t spray most of the bottle around the room.”
Amanda laughed. “Yeah, I heard about that, Jesse. Managed to piss Stan off, you did. Don’t worry, though. I told him not to get his knickers in a twist. He’s got a couple of dozen more where that bottle came from. Got them dead cheap, from a mate of his. He brought three bottles with him tonight. Stashed the rest outside near his motorbike. We’ve been having a bit of a booze-up outside. Had to come in, though. It’s bloody freezing now out there.”
I wondered if Stan had told Amanda about the rest of the happenings in the cloakroom, about his efforts to burn Ken with his cigarette or his threats to Malcolm and Dizzy. I wondered what Amanda would think if she knew. She’d been quick to jump to my defense when Tracey and the other kids at the bus stop had been tormenting me; maybe she would be angry at Stan for being a bully, too. For a moment, I considered telling her. But while I wanted nothing more than to convince her of Stan’s unworthiness, the experience in the cloakroom had left me fearful of him. He was capable of really hurting someone, and capable of enjoying it. I didn’t want to give him a reason to want to burn me with his cigarette.
Abruptly, the music changed. Apparently, the dj, whose last several records had been a series of chirpy melodies, had decided on a change of mood, and the booming bass of the Rolling Stones’ “Satisfaction” sounded out across the room.