Forbidden

I take a deep breath. ‘Have you ever—? Do you sometimes feel like this?’

I brace myself for another angry reaction. But instead he just gazes blankly at the opposite wall. ‘I think – I think maybe everyone does . . . now and again.’

I realize this is the closest I’m going to get to an admission and his words make my throat ache. ‘But you know – you do know you’ll never ever find yourself alone like the guy in your story, right?’ I say in a rush.

‘Yeah, yeah, of course.’ He gives a quick shrug.

‘Because, Lochan, you’ll always have someone who loves you – just you – more than anybody in the world.’

We are silent for a moment and Lochan goes back to his formulae, but the colour is still high in his cheeks and I can tell he’s not really taking anything in. I glance back down at the teacher’s scrawled message at the end.

‘So, hey – did you ever read this out in class?’ I ask brightly.

He looks up at me with a laboured sigh. ‘Maya, you know I’m crap at stuff like that.’

‘But this is so good!’

He pulls a face. ‘Thanks, but even if that were true, it wouldn’t make any difference.’

‘Oh, Lochie . . .’

Drawing up his knees, he leans back against the couch, turning his head to gaze out of the window. ‘I’ve got to give this damn presentation soon,’ he says quietly. ‘I don’t know – I really don’t know what the hell to do.’ He seems to be asking me for help.

‘Did you ask if you could hand it in as a written assignment?’

‘Yes, but it’s that crazy Aussie. I’m telling you, she’s got it in for me.’

‘From the comments and the grades she’s been giving you, it’s clear she thinks pretty highly of you,’ I point out gently.

‘It’s not that. She wants – she wants to turn me into some kind of orator.’ He gives a strained laugh.

‘Maybe it’s time you allowed yourself to be converted,’ I suggest tentatively. ‘Just a little bit. Just enough to give it a go.’

A long silence. ‘Maya, you know I can’t.’ He turns away suddenly, looking out of the window at two boys on bikes doing stunts in the street. ‘It – it feels like people are burning me with their stares. Like there’s no air left in my body. I get the stupid shakes, my heart pounds, and the words just – they just disappear. My mind goes completely blank and I can’t even make out the writing on the page. I can’t speak loud enough for people to hear me, and I know that everyone’s just waiting – waiting for me to fall apart so they can laugh. They all know – they all know I can’t do it—’ He breaks off, the laughter gone from his eyes, his breathing shallow and rapid, as if aware he has already said too much. His thumb rubs back and forth over the sore. ‘Jesus, I know it’s not normal. I know it’s something I’ve got to sort out. And – and I will, I’m sure I will. I have to. How else can I ever get a job? I’ll find a way. I’m not always going to be like this . . .’ He takes a deep breath, tugging at his hair.

‘Of course you’re not,’ I reassure him quickly. ‘Once you’re free of Belmont, the whole stupid school system—’

‘But I’ll still have to find a way to get through uni – and work, after that . . .’ His voice quavers suddenly and I see desperation in his eyes.

‘Have you talked to this English teacher about it?’ I ask. ‘She doesn’t sound too bad, you know. Maybe she could help. Give you some tips. Better than that useless counsellor they forced on you – the one who made you do breathing exercises and asked whether you were breast-fed as a baby!’

He starts laughing before I do. ‘Oh God, I’d almost forgotten about her – she really was a nutcase!’ He sobers suddenly. ‘But the thing is – the thing is, I can’t – I really can’t.’

‘You keep saying that,’ I point out gently. ‘But you massively underestimate yourself, Lochie. I know you could read something out in class. Maybe not start off with a whole presentation, but perhaps you could agree to read out one of your essays. Something shorter, a bit less personal. You know, it’s like with anything: once you take that first step, the next is a whole lot easier.’ I break off with a smile. ‘You know who first told me that?’

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. ‘No clue. Martin Luther?’

‘You, Lochie. When you were trying to teach me to swim.’

He smiles briefly at the memory, then exhales slowly. ‘OK. Maybe I could try . . .’ He shoots me a teasing grin. ‘The wise Maya has spoken.’

‘Indeed!’ I suddenly jump to my feet, deciding that on our rare day off a bit of fun is called for. ‘And in return for all this wisdom, I want you to do something for me!’

‘Uh-oh.’

I turn on the radio, tuning in to the first pop station I find. I turn to Lochan and hold out my arms. He groans, dropping his head back against the cushions. ‘Oh, Maya, please be kidding!’

‘How am I supposed to practise without a partner?’ I protest.

‘I thought you’d given up salsa dancing!’

‘Only because they moved the lunchtime club to after school. Anyway, I’ve learned loads of new moves from Francie.’ I push the coffee table out of the way, pile up the papers and books, and reach down to grab his hand. ‘On your feet, partner!’

With a dramatic show of reluctance, he obeys, muttering crossly about his unfinished homework.

‘It’ll restore the bloodflow to your brain,’ I tell him.

Trying not to look embarrassed and failing, Lochan stands in the middle of the room with his hands in his pockets. I raise the volume a couple of decibels, place one hand in his and the other on his shoulder. We begin with a few easy steps. Even though he constantly looks down at his feet, he isn’t a bad dancer. He has a good sense of rhythm and picks up new moves more quickly than I do. I show him the new steps Francie taught me. Once he’s got it, we’re on a roll. He treads on my toes a few times, but as we’re both barefoot it just makes us laugh. After a while I start to improvise. Lochan twirls me around and nearly sends me into the wall. Finding this highly amusing, he tries to do it again and again. The sun is on his face, the dust particles swirl about him in the golden light of the afternoon. Relaxed and happy, he suddenly, for a brief moment, seems at peace with the world.

Soon we are breathless, sweaty and laughing. After a while the style of the music changes – a crooner with a slow beat, but it doesn’t matter because I am too dizzy from spi

CHAPTER NINE

Lochan

The room is plunged in golden light. Maya is still smiling at me, her face bright with laughter, tawny wisps of hair hanging in her eyes and down her back, tickling my hands clasped around her waist. Her face glows like an old-fashioned streetlamp, lit from the inside, and everything else in the room disappears as if into a dark fog. We are still dancing, swaying slightly to the crooning voice, and Maya feels warm and alive in my arms. Just standing here, moving gently from side to side, I realize I don’t want this moment to end.

I find myself marvelling at how pretty she is, standing here, leaning against me in her short-sleeved blue shirt, bare arms warm and smooth against my neck. Her top buttons are undone, revealing the curve of her collarbone, the expanse of smooth white skin beneath. Her white cotton skirt stops well above her knees and I’m aware of her bare legs brushing against the thin, worn fabric of my jeans. The sun highlights her auburn hair, catches in her blue eyes. I drink in every tiny detail, from her soft breaths to the touch of each finger on the back of my neck. And I find myself filled with a mixture of excitement and euphoria so strong that I don’t want the moment to ever end . . . And then, out of nowhere, I am aware of another sensation – a tingling surge across my whole body, a familiar pressure against my groin. Abruptly I let go of her, shove her away from me, and stride over to the radio to cut the music.