making him wait so long to see me. Then, when I thought I could go on, I said, ‘It’s me.’ It sounded stupid saying that but he might not’ve known. I don’t exactly look like the skinny kid he used to swing round by the ankles and give piggybacks to. I stood there in silence then, feeling him there – his eyes on me, unbelieving, taking me in bit by bit – and I felt fatter than ever. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, and then without any warning, this giant sob sort of unfolded out of me, making me fall on my knees.
When I’d recovered a bit, I traced over the word dad with my fingers. Then I ran my hands over all the gravel stuff with grass growing through it, moved the vase and climbed in. I sat with my back against the stone and my legs on the gravel and after a while I started talking.
I told him everything. I told him how I hadn’t come for so long because I didn’t want him to see what a mess I was. How I’d tried really hard to be OK in the world without him, but how everything I did after he died felt wrong or bad, and how eating was the only thing that felt good, and then how I hadn’t really noticed I was getting big until it was too late and I couldn’t stop. I told him how everyone hated me, how Katy had spat at me.
Sitting there, I remembered something the vicar said to me at the funeral. It was after the service, I think, when we were outside the church. He put his hands on my shoulders, bent down to look me in the eyes and told me, ‘Talk to him. And don’t ever stop because he’ll always be listening. It’ll help.’ I thought it was odd that I’d only remembered that then, leaning against Dad’s stone. But he was right. It did help. It was nice. I could feel Dad listening.
I told him Mum was fine and that she missed him too. I didn’t mention Gary because, even though Mum’s always saying Dad would be pleased she’d met him, I wasn’t sure that was true. I thought it was probably just easier for her to think it was true. I’m not pleased she found Gary, so why would Dad be? And Dad would never of gone off with someone new. He loved us. He would’ve gone on loving us. I didn’t tell him about you either, in case he worried about me. I thought I’d already given him enough to worry about just by turning up.
It was getting dark when I got up to go. I had to pick off about a million bits of Dad’s gravel that were stuck to the back of my legs first, because I didn’t want to take any of his gravel away from him. It wasn’t like he had much else. Then I promised him I’d come and visit again soon. I told him the next time I’d bring flowers and make his grave nice like Annie Stott’s.
Mum and Gary weren’t in when I got back from the graveyard. I remembered they’d gone out to a restaurant because it was their anniversary. I went to my room and lay on the bed and looked at the galaxy on my ceiling and thought about nothing.
I must’ve fallen asleep because the next thing I knew Mum was standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the yellow landing light.
‘You alright, Yaz?’ she whispered.
‘Yeah,’ I whispered back.
‘D’you want some curry? I brought you some back.’
‘Oh, thanks,’ I whispered. ‘I’m not really hungry.’
‘Sure?’
‘Yeah.’
She didn’t go, though. She waited in the doorway for a minute, her hand on the handle. Then she whispered, ‘OK, love. Night.’
The next day started off like normal, like any other day. I walked into the English room and Robert said, ‘Here’s Johnny!’ in this dramatic way, though I have no idea why. I don’t think anyone else knew either. Even Katy ignored him, settling for her predictable death-stare instead.
But then, next lesson, it was Drama. We were all sitting around randomly, Alice over the other side with Avril.
‘So . . .’ Mr Webb said, wringing his hands together like the gay he is and running his eyes over us all as if this lesson was going to be the highlight of our lives, ‘. . . physical theatre.’ He’d already told us we were going to be doing physical theatre at the meeting. Apparently, we were going to put on an impromptu performance after our exams the next term. In case you’re wondering, ‘physical theatre’ is acting with your body rather than just with the words, and using your body to be the props as well, like being a tree or a cupboard or something (even though that makes it sound a bit shit, like what little kids in primary schools do).
Anyway, no one yelped with excitement, but we were all watching him. Mr Webb’s nice. He’s a bit over-enthusiastic, which is a complete understatement, but it kind of adds to how he is. Gary met him at parents’ evening and said afterwards, ‘All that man needs is a tutu and he’d be away.’ That made me laugh because I could see Mr Webb twirling round like a walrus in a tutu with his big brushy moustache and not a care in the world. ‘So . . .’ he said, looking round at us all again with big eyes, ‘Romeo and Juliet.’
Everyone groaned except Maddie King, who clapped her hands and bobbed up and down like a spaz. It’s torture for Maddie having to wait till June to get in through those exam doors and finally see her GCSE papers.
Mr Webb put us all in pairs and even though we were sitting miles apart, he said, ‘Alice, you go with Yasmin here . . .’ The way it worked was two pairs of people were given the same scene and the scene had two characters in it. One person from each pair had to act one part, concentrating on really using their body to show the meaning, and the other person had to be their voice from off-stage. Alice and me got the same scene as Maddie and Steph – the one where Juliet’s asking the Nurse what Romeo said. Mr Webb said we were Juliet and Maddie and Steph were the Nurse.
I said to Alice she should do the acting.
She looked at me for a second, then she said, ‘OK.’
Then Maddie and Steph came over and Maddie said straight off, ‘Well, obviously Alice has got to be Juliet, and I’ll be the Nurse.’ She glanced at Steph and said, ‘You and Yasmin can do the voices.’
Nice, I thought.
Steph opened her mouth like she was going to try and stand up for herself, but then looked at me and changed her mind.
When we practised it, Maddie kept stopping to have a go at Steph, saying the lines for her, to show her how she should do them, and the third time she did it Alice caught my eye with a flicker of a smile on her lips. My heart started thudding. I had to look away and pin my eyes on the text so I didn’t spontaneously combust. It made me want to do a really brilliant voice for Alice. Or rather for us – Juliet.
We were first up. I sat at the side Alice was on and Steph sat the other side for the Nurse part. And it was amazing. Really. Alice was amazing. I could see her over the top of the page – jumping up, holding her hands out as we begged the Nurse for news: ‘I pray thee, speak! Good, good nurse – speak!’ And as it went on, I can’t explain, but it was like we were so together, it really was like we were one person. Herandme. Meandher. The A Team. The AY team.
‘Oh, bravo!’ Mr Webb said when we finished, clapping, his eyes twinkling, and you could see he meant it. He was looking at me like he didn’t know I had it in me, and I wanted to tell him, Mr Webb, I don’t have it in me – it’s only because of Alice being with me, being part of me!
It felt like God had finally noticed what a shit life I was having and actually decided to do something about it. And after, when we were watching some of the other groups, I got this wild and free feeling right in my heart that made it OK not to look at her – like that all of a sudden it was easy not to look. Which was crazy, because ever since Year 7 I’d had to literally do battle with myself (the How Long Can I Go Without Looking at Alice game). But right then, I didn’t even need the game. I could just watch the scenes and relax. Because I knew something special had happened – and because I knew she knew it too. I even left the drama studio first instead of waiting behind so I could follow her, like I normally did. Then, as I was going up the corridor past the dining room, I heard her call my name.
She was sort of half-running up to me. ‘Listen,’ she said, looking