The Red Slayer

Chapter Thirteen – The Inevitable

Tara is waiting for me at the school gates the next morning. Still high on the realisation I can like boys and girls at the same time, I pull her into a hug as if I haven’t seen her in years. Squeezing her waist against mine until she pulls herself free.

‘You’re going to break my ribs one day,’ she remarks.

‘Sorry,’ I say, flicking my hair from my face. I put an arm around her and we walk towards the school. ‘And how’s my lovely girlfriend doing today?’

Her arm, which was securely stretched across my shoulders, slackens. She stops walking, making me stumble. When I look back, I meet her incredulous face.

‘Iorwen,’ she hisses.

‘What?’

‘Don’t use that word in public.’

‘Why not? We don’t live in Russia.’

She purses her lips and looks around. Other pupils pass us, but they’re wrapped up in their own lives to notice a couple of Year Tens having a spat. Regardless, Tara’s cheeks flush red, and I realise.

‘I thought you were comfortable with it,’ I say, hushing my voice. ‘It’s been almost four months.’

’It’s one thing to say we’re girlfriends in front of a bunch of actors who’re mostly gay themselves. It’s another to have these people know when you have to be around them most of the time.’

I’d disagree, but at that moment a gang of Year Sevens pass by, laughing at one boy eating a fake dog turd.

‘So, if someone asked you, what would you say? Would you lie?’

She doesn’t answer.

‘Why are you so afraid of embracing your identity, Tara.’

‘Just because you’re on such good terms with yourself, it doesn’t mean the rest of us are. Nothing comes easy to people like me.’

She must have excellent timing as the bell rings that moment. Tara storms past me, leaving me hanging. She doesn’t look at me during registration and strides ahead down the corridor to our first lesson. I’m too annoyed to leave and head straight for the library, drawing those black hearts and vines in the back of my history workbook.

It’s a cold shoulder on both fronts during English. Not that I could have talked to her during that lesson anyway when we were doing timed essays as exam prep.

Who is in the wrong on this one? If I was an idiot, I’d simply conclude Tara was jealous. But it’s not that simple. She only got into Olivier’s through a scholarship which only one in two hundred applicants receive. Plus Dad is more supportive than her mother, father and brother combined. She must not have come out to them yet, dreading the consequences.

***

I find Tara in the library the next morning. She doesn’t know I’m there until I’m sat opposite her and placing a gentle hand on her book until she lowers it.

She frowns. ‘What do you want?’

‘Are you worried about your family?’

‘What?’

‘You know, what they’ll think if you come out. Are you worried?’

Her shoulders sink until she slumps over the table. Her book snaps shut, hopefully she hasn’t lost her place. She draws the longest sigh and mutters ‘Yeah’ so quietly, I barely hear it.

‘Mum got a new boyfriend.’

I roll my eyes. ‘Another one?’

‘She changes them every few months. But this one…’ She clenches her teeth.

‘Has he done anything to you?’

‘No, no. He’s been shoving presents at us. Tons of her boyfriends have done that. They get aggressive if we don’t immediately like them. For some reason, they always give me a teddy bear with a heart on its lap. I have like ten of them. The other night, Kyle said he wanted longer hair, but this guy told him men would beat him up for being feminine. If he finds out about us, he might force me into conversion therapy.’

‘Aren’t those illegal?’

‘Even if it is, there’re probably some people that’ll do it. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had those sorts of connections.’

I square my shoulders. ‘If he tries anything, I’ll sort him out.’

She smiles faintly. ‘Don’t worry, he’ll be gone in a few months, they always are. I’ll just lay low until then. You can come out if you want. I wish I could have your self-confidence.’

I resist the urge to snort. She knows I have anxiety, right? Or am I a better actress than I give myself credit for?

***

Tara and I get through Wednesday and Thursday without another argument. In fact, we’re laughing about it. After four months, it’s spectacular we haven’t had a fight yet. And when an omnivore dates a vegan, there should be fights from day one. She could have called me out for wearing leather or I could have said cutting out honey is going too far. How have we avoided it until now?

Then comes Friday. I notice Tara looks exhausted. When I go to hug her, she practically falls against me and yawns.

‘What’s up?’

‘Mum’s boyfriend dragged me and Kyle to Thorpe Park when we got back from school yesterday. He was trying to make us like him, but mark my words, he’ll be gone by autumn.’

I pat her softly on the back as we walk inside. ‘Doesn’t your mum learn from these relationships?’

She laughs sharply. ’No. She keeps thinking that her life can be just like a romantic comedy. Her ringtone is When You Say Nothing at All for goodness sake.’

I shudder, recalling a distant memory of having to watch Notting Hill with my aunt while Michael took their kids to Thorpe Park. I tuned out and pretended I was anywhere else.

At lunchtime, I lean across the table and out my hand on hers. My long hair covers the gesture like a curtain. ‘You know,’ I say, ‘The store closet in our form room is never locked.’

Tara giggles. ‘Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?’

‘It’ll be like when we kissed in my dressing room. I finished all my homework for the weekend so I’ve got nothing to do for the next hour.’

She hides her giggles behind her hand so they sound like violent hiccups. ‘Okay. But only if you promise we won’t get caught.’

‘We won’t. No one will know we’re there.’

We curl up inside the cupboard, barely cushioning ourselves by putting our blazers on the hard-concrete floor. We kiss once before Tara mumbles something about just wanting to sit with me. I let her lean against my chest. She falls asleep within seconds.

It’s not too bad. I remind myself to keep thinking from her perspective. She’s tired and anxious. Not that Dad ever would date a homophobe, but I have dreaded the idea of a wicked stepmother since I started living with him again. Thankfully, it never happened.

The silence breaks with the classroom door slamming open and chairs scraping along the floor. It’s another half-hour until the bell. What’s going on?

I hear Whitman’s voice and it becomes clear. He coaches the boys’ basketball team and they have a match this afternoon. Their last-minute tactics briefing should be exciting, but Whitman could read the St Crispin’s Day speech and make it sound boring. I feel myself slipping and try readjusting my body before my legs go to sleep.

It’s that movement, followed by one of the boys dropping their basketball, which startles Tara. She squeals in shock before I can stop her. My hand is still over her mouth as Whitman snaps, ‘What was that?’

His shoes clack across the floor. My heart thuds against my chest, wishing he would forget about it or we might teleport away at the last second.

I know we’re dead before he approaches the door.

© Alice of Sherwood, December 2019