Solitaire. Alice Oseman
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After a while, I put my laptop by my side and lie down. I think about all the other people who were at the restaurant who are probably now pissed and getting off with each other on Lauren’s parents’ sofas. At some point I fall asleep, but I can hear all these creaky noises coming from outside and something in my brain decides that there is definitely some kind of giant and/or demon stomping around in the road so I get up and close the window just to make sure that whatever it is cannot get inside.
When I get back into bed, every single thing that you could possibly think about in one day decides to come to me all at once and suddenly there’s a small lightning storm inside my head. I think about Solitaire, and then I think about Michael Holden and why he said we should be friends and what he was really like when he was at Truham. Then I remember Lucas and how embarrassed he was, and I wonder why he made all that effort trying to find me. Then I remember his Hawaiian shirt which still enormously irritates me because I hate to think that he’s become some indie band wannabe. So I open my eyes and wander around the Internet to take my mind off it all, and, once I feel relatively okay again, I fall asleep with the glare of my blog home page warming my face and the hum of my laptop soothing my mind like crickets at a campsite.
WE DIDN’T EXPECT anything more from Solitaire. We thought the one prank would be the end of it.
We were quite a way off.
On Wednesday, all the clocks magically vanished and were replaced by pieces of paper reading ‘Tempus Fugit’. It was funny at first, but after a few hours when you’re midway through a lesson and you can’t check your phone and you have no way of finding out what the time is – well, it pretty much makes you want to scratch out your eyeballs.
On the same day, there was hysteria in school assembly when the tannoy started playing Justin Timberlake’s ‘SexyBack’, the most well-received song of the Year 8 Higgs-Truham disco, as Kent walked up the hall stage stairs and the word ‘SWAG’ appeared on the projector screen.
On Thursday, we turned up to find that two cats had been let loose within the school. Apparently, the caretakers managed to get one of them out, but the other cat – an underfed, ginger thing with massive eyes – evaded capture all day, strolling in and out of lessons and through corridors. I quite like cats, and I saw it for the first time at lunch in the cafeteria. I almost felt like I’d made a new friend, the way it hopped on to a chair and sat with Our Lot as if it wanted to join in our gossip and offer its views about celebrity Twitter rows and the current political climate. I noted to myself that I should probably start collecting cats, seeing as they are very likely to be my sole companions in ten years’ time.
“My spirit animal would so be a cat,” said Becky.
Lauren nodded. “Cats are Britain’s national animal.”
“My boyfriend has a cat called Steve,” said Evelyn. “Isn’t that an excellent name for a cat? Steve.”
Becky rolled her eyes. “Evelyn. Dude. When are you going to tell us who your boyfriend is?”
But Evelyn just smiled and pretended to be embarrassed.
I peered into the dark eyes of the cat. It met my gaze thoughtfully. “Do you remember when some lady got caught on camera dumping a cat into a brown bin and it made national news?”
Every single prank so far has been photographed and displayed on the Solitaire blog.
Anyway.
Today is Friday. People are beginning to find it less funny as Madonna’s ‘Material Girl’ has been stuck on repeat all day over the tannoy. I used to have a small obsession with this song, and I am coming extremely close to slitting my wrists with my scissors and it’s only 10.45am. I’m still not quite sure how Solitaire is managing to do all this as Zelda and her prefects have been patrolling the school ever since Wednesday’s clocks fiasco.
I’m sitting at a table playing chess on my phone during a free period, iPod blasting some Radiohead song into my ears to block out the vomit-inducing music. The common room has only a scattering of people, mostly Year 13s revising for January retakes. Miss Strasser is overseeing the room because, during lesson times, the common room is reserved for people revising and silence is mandatory. This is why I like this room. Except today. Strasser’s hung a spare school jumper over the tannoy speaker, but it’s not doing much.
In the corner of the common room, Becky and Ben are sitting together. They are not doing any work, and they are both smiling. Becky keeps tucking her hair behind her ears. Ben takes Becky’s hand and starts to draw on it. I look away. So long, Jack.
Someone taps me on the shoulder, so suddenly that I have a miniature spasm. I take my headphones out of my ears and swivel round.
Lucas stands before me. Every time we passed in the corridors this week, he gave me these weird little waves. Or smiles. I don’t know, the sort of smiles where you scrunch up your face and in any other context people would wonder whether there was something wrong with you. Anyway, right now, he has his bag slung over one shoulder and in his other arm he has a pile of at least seven books.
“Hi,” he says, just above a whisper.
“Hi,” I say. There’s a short pause, before I follow up with: “Er, do you want to sit here?”
Embarrassment pours over his face, but he quickly replies, “Yeah, thanks.” He pulls out the chair next to me, dumps his bag and books on the desk and sits down.
I’ve still got my phone in my hand and I’m just kind of staring at him.
He sticks a hand into his bag and withdraws a Sprite can. He places it in front of me, like a cat would place a half-chewed mouse in front of its owner.
“I was at the shop at break,” he says, without looking me in the eye. “Is lemonade still your favourite?”
“Er …” I look down at the Sprite can, not quite sure what to make of it. I do not point out that Sprite is not real lemonade or diet. “Erm, yeah, it is. Thanks, that’s, er, really nice of you.”
Lucas nods and turns away. I open the Sprite, take a sip, replace my headphones and return to my game. After only three more moves, I have to remove my headphones again.
“You’re playing chess?” he asks. I hate questions that need not be asked.
“Erm, yes.”
“Do you remember chess club?”
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