If I Wake

School - Part 1

My shoulders slump as I walk into my history class to a young substitute nervously shuffling her notes. She smiles and greets the group of girls in front of me. They give her their best, 'why are you talking to me' look and keep walking. The woman's smile slips from her face. I slide unnoticed into a seat in the middle row.

The woman's demeanour does not improve as she attempts to call the roll. There are a few students whose parents either have issues with the English language or want to draw attention to their child by giving them a unique name. The first one catches the teacher unexpectedly.

"It's Be-ung-ca," Bianca corrects her harshly. She started insisting on that pronunciation shortly after the new girl arrived at our school. The first name makes the teacher doubt the pronunciation of the next.

"Jenny-P-Ha," she guesses.

"It's pronounced Jennifer," Jennypha states.

There are several giggles. I cringe and sink into my seat. The two girls are friends, along with Tayla. The teacher manages to call her name correctly. The class goes quiet in anticipation as she reaches the final member of their group.

"La'a?" More giggles from the class.

"Ladasha," La-a explains, as if to a stupid child who should be able to pronounce a simple word. The teacher frowns at the name clearly not expecting the dash to be taken literally. She moves on.

"Lucy?" The teacher sounds hopeful my name is normal.

"Here," I reply. She looks relieved.

"Here's Lucy," the girls chime.

They giggle while I pretend to be interested in something scrawled on my desk. Ms Miller would make them stop, but this woman doesn't know what to do. It's just harmless fun, that's what everyone tells me. 'Why are you so upset, Lucy?'

Sticks and stones can break my bones, but names will never hurt me. It's a stupid rhyme. Names do hurt. The wounds just don't show.

I didn't begin High School this way. Mum got a new job as I was finishing Primary School. We moved to a nearby town. Mum said it would be a good opportunity to start fresh, as everyone I knew would be attending the closer school.

The first day arrived before Mum's pay check so I didn't have a uniform. I wore a pair of faded jeans and my best shirt. At lunch time, I was approached by a group of girls in my year level. The leader was a blonde by the name of Alicia. Her dad was army and she moved schools some months later, but while she was here, she was the person to be seen with.

A moment of joy at being noticed was replaced by queasiness at the sight of Jennypha and Tayla. I hadn't known they'd changed schools, but of course if Jennypha had, Tayla would too. I was planning my escape when it occurred to me they didn't recognise me.

I'd had an awkwardly short hair cut the year before. I tried to copy one of the celebrities from the teen magazines, blonde-haired Rachael always read, but it made me look like a boy. Thankfully my hair finally grew out over the summer holidays. I guess they didn't expect me to be here anymore than I them.

I actually believed High School would be different. It wouldn't be a repeat of the loneliness and isolation I knew at my old school. I could be anyone I wanted to be. I could be brave and bold like Lu. I'd finally be liked and find a friend. I'd be the kind of person who hangs out with Jennypha and Tayla.

Tayla said my lunch box was cute. I picked it up from a garage sale last year; I didn't tell her though. During the second week someone commented on my shirt. Alicia asked where I bought it. I opened my mouth without thinking. I'm sure it came from a popular store that would meet with their approval, but I couldn't remember the name, I admitted it was second hand. Bianca wrinkled her nose.

"I wondered what that smell was." She waved a hand in front of her face. They all laughed. For the remainder of the day, the girls held their noses whenever they were near me. I started eating lunch on my own. Sometimes I loitered in the library reading the history books, imagining I was back in the past with Will.

After that day, the girls generally ignored me. I learned not to draw attention to myself. Most people don't even notice if I'm around. That changed when the new girl arrived. Her name was Ladasha, spelt with a hyphen and she was slightly older than the rest of us. She and her family recently moved here from interstate.

La-a's father works "offshore" so they have loads of money, even more than Jennypha's family. He is away a lot, but La-a has heaps of photos of him flying in helicopters to remote places, blu-tacked to her locker. My locker door is blank.

Jennypha gravitated towards La-a, Tayla lost her best friend role to the new girl, and Bianca tried to improve her social position by picking on the unpopular girl. Me.

La-a encouraged Bianca at every opportunity. It became the group's favourite pastime to tease me. Bianca started the phrase, "Here's Lucy", it stuck and I hate it. I miss the days of being ignored.

Today the substitute teacher talks about something in the curriculum. No one tells her we studied the same thing two weeks ago. Ms Miller loves history and often gets carried away, forgetting she is meant to stick to a schedule. Her enthusiasm is infectious.

I zone out, focused on sharpening my blunt pencil. It's so short, I can barely twist it in the sharpener any more. I use it to draw in my notebook, calculating how many weeks until my sixteenth birthday. My heart rate increases just thinking about it. A year is a long time to wait for something.

The bell rings for the end of class and the students rush out as though they have somewhere better to be. The expression on the teacher's face is one I'm familiar with; the look of holding onto tears until she's alone. I put my head down and pretend I haven't noticed how close she is to losing control. I hope Ms Miller is back by next class.

A good day is one where I get through the whole day without being noticed. I make the next class without incident and slide into my seat. Someone bangs their bag against my arm as they pass, but I pretend it didn't happen and don't turn around to see who it was. It's easier that way.

Our English teacher clears her voice and the class quietens down.

"Can anyone tell me what a synonym is?" Mrs Davis asks. No one responds so she scans the classroom for her first victim, settling on me. I shift uncomfortably in my seat and avoid eye contact. "Lucy?"

"It's a word you use when you can't spell the word you first thought of," I reply.

"Interesting definition, give me an example."

My mind is still on the substitute attempting to read the attendance roll. Her look as I left the room bothers me. I didn't even smile at her. I say the first thing that pops into my head.

"Saying 'dash' instead of 'hyphen'." Someone at the back of the class snickers.

"Like Lahyphena instead of Ladasha," one of the boys calls out.

The thump of a book hitting something is followed by an 'oomph' and the class erupts into laughter. I force myself not to turn around. Something hits my back. I wait nervously for the bell to ring so I can disappear quietly. At one point during the class, the teacher passes my desk and places her hand over my tapping pen before moving on.

La-a catches me between classes, shoving me into the lockers and bruising my shoulder where I hit the lock. She gives a toss of her immaculately straight blonde locks, an action perfected in front of a mirror, and stalks off.

By the end of the day, my school bag has vanished. I hide in the toilets so no one sees me cry while I wait until everyone has gone home and I can look for my bag undisturbed. I eventually find it in a bin at the far end of the corridor. I brush it off and put my books into it, but I've missed the bus. It's a long walk home.

It takes a week for the bruise on my shoulder to fade, but I learn my lesson from that class. Even if I know an answer, I pretend I don't. I also start locking the strap of my bag in my locker, so it can't go missing again.