Work Text:
As I walk into my classroom, I am instantly made aware of the stifling heat, threatening to suffocate all of us if we don’t immediately vacate the premises. As expected the ‘broken radiator situation’ is causing a huge uproar throughout year 12, especially the form most affected, which, coincidentally, is my form. I suppose that reflects how uninteresting and chaotic my school really is - a hot classroom is all it takes to break all order.
Amidst the chaos, which currently consists of the boys throwing random objects around the room with their blazers off and shirts half open, I put my bag on the desk and skillfully scroll through TikTok so that no one notices and wants to see what I am watching. I am very glad that Michael would never engage in ridiculous activities like this.
I check the time. The teacher is late - unsurprising - but no teachers have shown up to a) tell us off for the noise and b) ask where the teacher is - somewhat surprising. I feel a thin sheet of sweat coating my entire body, begging me to take the blazer, which is already stuck to my skin, off so I tell my brain to shut up which, I suppose, is quite strange. Next to me someone is shouting out numbers and it takes me a minute to notice that they are in fact rating the items being chucked around from 1- boring (like the tennis ball) to 10- dangerous (like the scissors). I suppose I find it amusing that it’s the dangerous things that get the most attention and it makes me wonder how the people giving them a 10 would react if someone got hurt. I imagine they would be fairly unphased, provided the person wasn’t their best friend or incredibly popular. I don’t think people really think about things like that. Most people just want to have fun. I don’t find things like this fun but, then again, I don’t find many things fun at all anymore. I turn my phone off and rest my forehead on the desk while covering my ears. The noise is already giving me a headache.
Another few minutes pass and I start thinking about just leaving the room when a supply teacher jogs into the classroom. “Apologies for being late, year 12 - gosh, it’s hot in here. Can we open the windows? Come on, wake up!” She bangs her hand on my desk and I give her my best ‘are you serious look’ before leaning back on my chair and crossing my arms. I do my best to avoid looking into any reflective surface because I realise that my face must probably look like a tomato.
“Okay, year 12, eyes on me.” We all glare at her and her expression implies that this wasn’t the kind of attention she wants. “Apologies for the late start but now we’ve got to catch up with your work. Now, your teacher isn’t here today…” she drones on and on so I stop listening. Work in cover lessons is always fairly straight-forward anyway and my brain is too hot to focus.
“Miss, it’s way too hot in here.” some idiot says. ‘No shit’ I think to myself.
“Yes, I know, why don’t we all take off our blazers - I see some of you haven’t done that yet.” she suggests. Her eyes fall on me and I shake my head politely with a fake smile on my face. She gives me some weird pitiful look and I want to shoot her. I don’t know what she thinks is wrong with me but I’m 99% sure she’s wrong. Maybe she thinks I have anaemia? I chuckle at the thought. Not that I think anaemia is funny, it’s just not the reason I don’t take my blazer off.
As expected, the class soon figures out that this supply is new and has no clue how the school rules work. They collectively decide to make some rules up and try to convince her that they are real. Pretty soon, almost everyone is on their phones and chatting across the classroom regardless of the teachers attempts to make them behave. My brain feels like it’s about to explode and after checking the time for what feels like a thousandth time, I put my hand up.
“Yes?” the teacher answers.
“Can I go fill up my water bottle, please?” I ask - a pathetic excuse to get out of there seeing as I don’t even have a water bottle.
She thinks for a second and I almost lose hope but then she says, “Okay, but only because the radiator is broken.”
‘Yes!’ I think. I get up from my chair and all but run outside. The cool air outside feels much nicer than it should. Usually, the cold, November wind is despised but after living through hell in that classroom it is almost welcomed.
A few moments pass and my brain starts to feel slightly less like it’s on fire and I quickly realise that I don’t really know what to do with myself. I do a lap of the school while trying to decide whether or not I want to go back into that class but it only takes me a few steps to decide that I do not.
The maths teacher who’s lesson I’m missing would probably say something like ‘I care more about your A levels than you do’ or ‘you need to start actually trying to do well - I can’t help you if you don’t try’ but fuck her, she’s not even here. What she doesn’t realise, what most teachers don’t realise, is that I do try and I do get good scores on tests. I just don’t focus in class. It seems strange that I can not focus in class and also get good scores in tests and honestly, I don’t know how I do it. Stuff just sort of clicks with the ‘learning aspect’ of school. The same certainly doesn’t go for the social aspect. I am what most people, including me, would consider a total loser. That would be everyone apart from Michael and Charlie. For whatever reason, they actually seem to like me. Even Becky doesn’t really like me that much. I remember the time I realised that - let’s just say it wasn’t my finest moment.
“Skiving, are we?” a voice says, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Er- no- I was-” I look up and stop talking when I realise the voice is Michael. “Michael! I thought I was going to get a detention.”
“Well that simply would be unacceptable, would it now?”
I glare at him and hit him playfully. “What are you doing out here?” I ask him.
“Well, I could ask the same question! I saw you walking around all alone so I decided to join you.”
“How nice of you.” I snort. It comes out sounding meaner and more sarcastic than I want it to. “I had a sub and the radiator broke and the whole class was being, you know, typical Higgs kids.”
“Well, that seems like a good excuse to me!” Michael interrupts. “Do you want to go on the roof?” he asks. To most people that would sound like a completely insane question but the roof on top of the art block is my favourite hiding spot and Michael is the only person I have shared it with.
“Sure.” I reply. Conversations with me almost always rely on the other person being chatty and talking enough to fill the awkward gaps but with Michael the pauses and silences are actually quite pleasant. Soon, we’re on the roof and I let out a long sigh and lie down on my back.
“I hate it here. I wish I could just disappear.” I say. I realise that I am thinking out loud and that in fact I’m not alone - Michael can hear me. “Not like disappear, just not be, you know, here .” I tell him. I don’t actually believe what I say - I’m just comforting him. I don’t want him or the rest of my friends and family to know stuff like that. There is already a mentally ill sibling in this family and I don’t need to add to that. He nods his head philosophically and I hide the relief when I realise that he believed me.
We sit on the roof until I get cold and then we go to our next lessons. I occupy myself by obsessively thinking about what I said on the roof. Was it true? Do I really want to disappear? No - You’re doing this all for attention, Tori. Thoughts fill my mind and I know very well what this will probably lead to but I just can’t stop it.
“Tori?” Becky asks. I look around and realise I’m just outside the school gates. I can’t remember how I got here. “Are you okay? You look a bit like you want to kill yourself.” she comments. I laugh and shake my head.
It’s funny because it’s true.
“I’m fine Becky - just a bit tired.” Anyone who knows me or even a stranger that can be bothered to pay attention would know that's a lie but Becky clearly isn’t actually paying attention to my answer.
“So, how are things going with Michael?” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively and I want to throw up. I immediately make the decision of taking the bus to shorten this conversation.
“Oh, you know.” I hope she will take the hint and change subjects but she obviously doesn’t. “I guess everything is fine.”
“Oh for god’s sake Tori, have you two done it?” she demands. My face turns an embarrassing shade of red and I struggle to find the right words.
“What! No- no we haven’t why- why would you think we have?” I stutter.
She gives me an odd and very judgy look. “Maybe because you have been together for ages? Anyway, doesn’t matter. I’m not going to rush you but when you do it I need all the details.”
“Yea, okay.” She’s going to be very disappointed.
The bus quickly arrives and I all-but jump onto it. Normally, going on the bus isn’t exactly a thing I look forward to but I will do anything to avoid that conversation. I decide to get off the bus three stops early because of the growing headache I have. The cold air feels even more piercing than it did when I got on the bus but that’s probably because of how stuffy the bus was inside. I jog to my house, not even looking at the icy ground. Who cares if I slip anyway. Those damn thoughts come back to me again. Briefly, I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths before going in the house. Instantly I see a huge mess on the floor that is a pile of Charlie’s shoes, coat and bag and I know something is wrong. Charlie of all people never does things like this.
“Charlie?” I call. I get no response. I groan and kick my shoes off while hanging our coats up on the hanger. “Charlie, everything alright?” I call again. Still nothing. I make my way up the stairs and knock on his bedroom door before coming in, not caring if he said I could or not. “Hey. What’s wrong?” I ask him in a soothing tone after seeing him curled up in the corner of his bed.
“Nothing, I’m fine.” he responds quickly.
“No you’re not. Talk to me.”
“I said I’m fine.” he sneers. His raised tone makes me flinch and convinces me that he is not, in fact, okay but I also don't feel like I want to talk to him when he’s being so rude. “I’m sorry, Tori - that was rude but I am fine.” he finishes.
“Okay.” I answer. I do not believe him. I also do not know how to help. I also have my own shit to deal with. I decide to just leave it for now although I know that if anything happens to him I will feel incredibly guilty.
I trudge up to my room and peel my blazer off. I make the mistake of instantly looking into the mirror and I remind myself why I didn’t take my blazer off. My arms have red scratch marks running down them and my skin is all flared up. I let out a long sigh, walk into the bathroom and turn on the tap. The cool water soothes my sore skin and I let myself sit there for a minute before turning the water off and gently drying myself. Defeated, I flop onto my bed and turn the laptop on. I click onto blogs and try to read them but in the end my mind just goes back to what happened with Michael on the rooftop. Logically, I know that it’s silly to keep thinking about that because I am sure that to Michael it wasn't a big deal and he probably didn't think much of it. To me, however, it was a big deal and even though I didn’t want it to, my brain decided to obsess over it.
Ten minutes later, I am sitting in a heap in the corner of my bed, just like Charlie was, and I am glad I didn't put on mascara as by now it would be all over my cheeks. I tell myself to get it together and stop crying but as per usual my brain refuses to cooperate. I do not know why I am crying because I never cry. I’ve done it again, I think, I’ve made up something in my head and gotten upset over it. I squeeze my eyes shut. More tears come out and all of a sudden I feel the need to scratch my arms again. But this time it feels different. This time I want to go deeper, I want to see blood. Stop it Tori! I promised myself I would never do anything like that, not after what happened to my brother. My brain goes into autopilot and before I know what I’m doing, I’m calling Michael.
“Hello?” he says.
“Hi.” I reply shyly.
“Tori, is everything okay?” he asks, sensing the hesitation in my tone.
“Can you come over?” I whisper.
“Yep, I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He hangs up and sure enough, ten minutes later, he texts me.
Michael: I’m at the door.
Me: Come in, it’s open.
I hear the front door open and close and a few seconds later I hear his footsteps coming up the stairs and towards my room. For some reason I curl further into myself. I was the one who called him but the thought of him seeing me like this makes me embarrassed.
“Tori?” I must look ridiculous, the only part of me he can see is tufts of my black hair. He comes closer to me and I feel the mattress dip as he sits next to me. “What’s happened, hm?”
I think about my answer before replying honestly with, “I don’t know.”
“Okay, what do you need?” The question shocks me because no one ever asks that question in real life. Normally, people yell at you or tell you to get yourself together but then again most people aren't as special as Michael.
“I don’t know,” I say again, “You?” I stick my head out from under the duvet and he nods.
“Can I touch you?” he asks gently. I nod and he wraps his arms around me. I lean against him and take a few deep breaths to try to stop myself from crying again.
“I feel terrible.” I confess, my voice all wobbly and quiet. He gently strokes my hair and kisses the top of my head.
“I know, but it’s okay because I’m here now.” he soothes. I curl into him and his embrace tightens. “I’m here for you, Tori, and I’m not leaving.”
“Thank you.” I mouthe to him before closing my eyes and succumbing to my exhaustion.
I open my eyes again an hour later and I am shocked to find out that he stayed.
“You stayed?” I ask in disbelief.
“Yes, of course I did. I told you, I’m never leaving you Victoria Spring.” I blush and look up at him. His expression is so loving and his words so genuine that I actually believe him and my heart warms at the thought.
“I’m not leaving you either, Michael Holden.” I announce.
“Well that works out perfectly then.”
Just then Dad’s voice booms from downstairs.
“Dinner’s ready.” I groan and get up.
“Do you want to stay for dinner?” I ask him. He nods and I warn him, “It might take a while though.”
“That’s okay.” he answers. “As long as you’re there.” I blush and throw my pillow at him for making such a cringey comment but we both know that I liked it.
“I’m glad you’re here with me too.” I tell him.