Outer Space / Carry On | Michael Clifford AU

2.

The rest of the day went exactly as should be expected: no could could stop talking about the new boy. 

It was the same when I transferred here ten months ago. At first, everyone wanted to be my best friend. Even Kaitlyn Quinn - who had made no attempt to hide her disgust at my cheap shoes - wanted me to sit with her at lunch. She was fishing, I suppose. They all were. They wanted to know who I was and what I was about, and where I'd sit on the social ladder. 

They shouldn't have worried. I wasn't here to rid anyone of their crown.

It lasted about a week, and then no one really cared about me anymore. It'd be the same with the new boy too. 

The not-so-hushed whispers followed me around school: The boy with blue hair. You mean the boy with the leather jacket. It was a nice to have a distraction. Something to think about other than the obvious. I saw him again on my way to Art, but two girls from the grade below us clearly didn't: He's insanely hot, one said. He looks like a rockstar, the other added.

He appeared between the pair of girls, his leather-clad arms around both their shoulders: A total babe, he agreed. And great in bed too. I laughed to myself, and silently thanked the new boy for making this sucky day suck less.

Dad picked me up from school in a black Mercedes, identical to at least a dozen others in the parking lot. He was wearing that over-enthusiastic smile of his. You couldn't have fixed Mum with that smile, I wanted to tell him. I often think he thought it was that simple.

"How was your day?"

"Exactly how you'd expect it to be."

"How was your chat with Charlie?" He said it like he didn't pay $150 an hour for my chats with Charlie.

"You know the drill. Charlie spoke and I listened. Then vice versa." I left out the part that I thought it was a waste of time. Dad wanted to help, really. He didn't understand that he couldn't just paint me with the same brush as Mum. He didn't understand that she was sick, and that I wasn't. 

Then for Dad's sake, to let him know that his money wasn't entirely wasted, I quoted a statistic from one of the blue and white glossy brochures that lay on the table in Charlie's waiting room: "Did you know that more males commit suicide? Three out of five suicides are males."

"I didn't know that," Dad said. Usually he finished work too late to pick me up, and so ordinarily I would't mind talking to Dad on the drive home from school. Today, however, he was talking to me like he was walking on egg shells.

"Well now you do," I said to finish the conversation. The rest of the drive home was painfully silent.

Friday night was family night which meant Dad, Joan and I sat together and ate dinner in front of a movie. Dad's a lawyer and worked late most week nights so they made a big deal about family night. This week was Dad's movie pick and he chose Star Wars. The first one, which was actually the third one, or something. All I knew was that I had no clue what was going on and I was happy when it finally ended.

I said goodnight and went into my room. Dad and Joan made a huge effort to redecorate it when I moved in. They painted the walls purple and hung fairy lights above the bed. I sat on my bed with my laptop. I did have a desk, but it was covered in paper and paints and half-finished drawings.

I logged onto Lonely Hearts Club and sure enough, everyone was already there chatting. It sounded like a bad online dating site, I know, but Lonely Hearts Club was actually a private chat website created by our tech-guru, Spanner. There's five of us: me, Ashton, Pip, Insomniac Ingrid and of course, Spanner.

We all found each other through social media. Ashton and I first bonded over Tumblr. He does the most beautiful paintings and I inadvertently became his biggest fan-slash-stalker. He and Spanner are in-real-life friends. 

Insomniac Ingrid, whose actual name might not even be Ingrid, joined our group Twitter DM when Pip - someone I met at this suicide support group Charlie recommended - accidentally added her (we're still not sure how she managed that.)

For a while we'd just communicate via Twitter or Tumblr, until Spanner created the Lonely Hearts Club page. If you're wondering about the name, Spanner is a huge Beatles fan and apparently IGetByWithALittleHelpFromMyFriends.com was already taken. 

Anyway, Charlie had no idea about this. Neither did my Dad or Joan. I didn't think they'd understand. To them, they probably thought I was just making online friends. For me - for all of us - it was like therapy. A safe space. We looked out for one another.

Spanner: *waves* alice! finally! we've been waiting for you!

Me: Sorry - family night.

Ashton: How are you?

Pip: Did today royally suck?

Me: It sucked

Me: I had to speak to Charlie this morning. He made me feel like a psychopath.

Insomniac Ingrid: I hate that guy

Spanner: *laughs* you hate everything

Insomniac Ingrid: And you're no exception

Ashton: Take your flirting somewhere else, you too

Me: How are you doing, Pip?

Pip probably understood me more than anyone else. Her brother died last year. He didn't leave a note or anything, and the police ruled it an accident but her parents made her attend a suicide support group anyway. Her Dad's the mayor of the next town over, and apparently suicide is more acceptable than drug overdose.

Pip: I'm okay. Today was okay.

Spanner: *group hugs everyone* i gotta go guys. see you tomorrow

Ashton: Wait! We haven't done the best parts of our day.

Spanner: *rolls eyes* not today man. aren't you supposed to be the sensitive one?

Me: It's okay. I don't mind

No one pushed back. That was part of the reason I loved the Lonely Hearts Club so much. We didn't make excuses for feeling or not feeling a certain way. It was okay that today sucked, but it was also okay that I didn't want to rock in a corner and cry.

Me: I'll even go first. There was a new boy at school. He made me laugh

Pip: Ooh.  My best part was getting an A on my English essay

Insomniac Ingrid: You need to get out more, Pip

Insomniac Ingrid: I got four hours of sleep last night so #winning

Ashton: Mine's that I got a lower dose of my anxiety meds and it didn't completely fuck up my day

Spanner: And mine's that I'm gonna get laid tonight ;)

I laughed. Spanner is, amongst other things, bisexual. And probably a sex-addict. When he wasn't hacking websites or playing video games, he was chatting up beautiful boy and beautiful girls, and not making any apology for his lifestyle. Good on him, I thought.

Spanner: *waves goodbye* chat to you all tomorrow

Me: I'm out too guys

Pip: You just got here!

Me: I know. I'm sorry. Just - it's been a big day.

I logged off and shut the computer down. Over at my desk, I picked up an unfinished painting. It's supposed to be a portrait of my Mum. I gave her blue hair and pink cheeks and purple lips. I wanted her to be as bright as she could be.

I'd gotten stuck on the eyes. It was a problem of mine. I could never finish my pieces. I put the painting back on my desk and turned the light off. "Goodnight Mum," I whispered into the darkness. "I love you."

i can't wait for michael to really come into this