The Fragile Ordinary. Samantha Young

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СКАЧАТЬ sight of my friend weaving through the crowds heading out of school.

      For some weird reason, Vicki looked unsure. “Why?”

      I knew the girls liked hanging out at my place because my parents never bothered us and because I was right on the beach. But I was feeling unexplainably prickly toward Carrie today and really didn’t want to breathe the same air as her. “This morning Carrie either pretended to or genuinely forgot that I’m sixteen years old and have been for a while.”

      “What?” Vicki wrinkled her nose. “Babe, she gave you a birthday card. With money in it.”

      “No, apparently, Kyle gave me a card with money in it and signed Carrie’s name.”

      “That’s rubbish. I’m sorry.” She wrapped an arm around my shoulder and gave me a squeeze. “Okay. Come to mine, then. I’m sure Mum won’t mind, because today was her day off.”

      Vicki’s mum was a general practitioner at the local doctor’s surgery but ever since Vicki’s younger brother, Ben, was born she’d worked part-time. Ben had been a surprise—a happy one—arriving nine years after his big sister.

      “Well, if you’re sure.” I wasn’t going to argue.

      Vicki’s house was on the way to mine, about a ten-minute walk from school and just a few blocks from the main street in Portobello.

      Portobello, or Porty as it was known locally, sat on the east coast of Edinburgh, about a twenty-five-minute car journey from the city center. It used to be a beach resort with fun fairs and rides, but now it was more about volleyball, kayaking, sunbathing, swimming, dog walking and the arts. Years ago, as part of an art event, a steel tidal octopus sculpture had been installed on the beach. During low tide he was completely visible, but during high tide you could see only a tentacle or two.

      We had independent stores, cafés and restaurants in Porty, and a Victorian swimming pool with an original Aerotone and Turkish baths. It was a village with identity and personality, and it had a laid-back vibe with a socioeconomic mix of low-to-mid income and mid-to-high income families. There were people who spoke with a more anglicized Scottish accent, like me and my friends, and those like Stevie who spoke in thick Scots. It was a mishmash, and for the most part I loved that.

      But that came with problems. I knew some kids who were bullied for having less money than other kids, and kids like me who were bullied for being posh and a swot—a geek, a brainiac, a nerd. Our school had its “good” kids, its overachievers, and then it had the “bad” kids, the disrespectful kids, the troublemakers and the underachievers. Overall, I didn’t interact much with the “bad” kids, as I wasn’t part of their circles, and I liked living in Porty.

      That didn’t mean I didn’t have every intention of getting as far away from here as possible when I went to university. And I meant far. My dream university was in the US of A. The University of Virginia. It was really well-known for writing, for its literary magazines, poetry workshops and for its Pulitzer Prize–winning graduates. If that wasn’t enough, the awesome Tina Fey graduated from there! Yes. If it took my blood, sweat and tears, I would become a proud alumna of UVA and no one, not anyone, was going to get in my way of seeing that dream come true.

      “You’re quiet,” Vicki mused as we strolled in silence toward her parents’ house.

      I shrugged. “Just first day blues, I guess.”

      “Or...” She nudged me and grinned. “I saw you checking out the new guy.”

      I blushed crimson and shook my head frantically.

      “Fine.” She turned stone-faced. “Keep your secrets.”

      Frustration gnawed at me. Vicki took it personally when I kept things to myself, but it wasn’t personal. I just wasn’t a sharer. Not wanting to hurt her feelings, however, I sighed. “Fine. He’s good-looking. That’s a fact. Nothing more.”

      “Really?” She beamed at me. “Because I thought I saw your tongue roll out of your mouth when he walked into Spanish.”

      “Yeah, well, he ruined any illusions I might have had over his crush-worthiness when he nearly knocked me off my feet in the school corridor and then walked away.”

      “He didn’t apologize?”

      “Well, yeah, but it was like—” I grabbed her arms to demonstrate. “Sorry,” I said indifferently, let her go and strode away quickly. Stopping I looked back at her. “I may as well have been a traffic cone.”

      She burst out laughing at my dry tone and hurried to thread her arm through my elbow. “I bet that’s not true. You’re really pretty, Comet. It’s just this uniform does nothing for you. For any of us.”

      “Well you always look amazing.”

      “He needs to see you as the real Comet.” She squeezed my arm, grinning at me. “He won’t be able to take his eyes off you then.”

      It was sweet of her to try to reassure me, but I was over it. “It doesn’t matter. Did you see who he’s hanging out with?” I wrinkled my nose in disdain. “Stevie Macdonald and those idiots. Ugh. No thanks.”

      “Stevie’s not so bad,” Vicki disagreed.

      “He’s disrespectful to teachers,” I argued.

      “God forbid.”

      I frowned at her sarcasm. “Your dad is a teacher, Vicki. It should bug you, too.”

      “It would bug me if Stevie was disrespectful to my dad or to any of the teachers that give a crap, but I’ve only seen him wind up the ones that clearly are just there to pick up a payslip.”

      Realizing we disagreed entirely on the matter, I stayed silent.

      She laughed. “Not all of us are afraid of authority figures, babe.”

      I wasn’t afraid of authority figures. I just... I respected the adults in our lives who made time to talk to us, teach us things.

      God... “I’m such a geek,” I groaned.

      Vicki started to shake with laughter, setting off my own, and we giggled all the way to her house.

      When we stepped inside the whitewashed bungalow, Mrs. Brown kissed her daughter on the cheek in greeting and then turned to me. “It’s lovely to see you, Comet.” She engulfed me in a hug, one that I soaked up.

      I could hear sounds of cartoons coming from the living room, and I could smell something amazing cooking in the kitchen.

      Mrs. Brown let me go and smiled at me, taking me in. “You get prettier every day, Comet.”

      I blushed furiously, unused to such compliments, and she reminded me of Vicki as she laughed at my reaction. Vicki was a gorgeous blend of her mixed heritage. Where her mum was Caucasian with light hazel eyes and golden-brown hair, her dad was British Black Caribbean with dark umber skin, dark brown eyes and dark hair he always wore close-shaven in a fade.

      “Can Comet stay for dinner, Mum?” Vicki asked, and I was surprised how tentative she sounded.

      It had never been a problem СКАЧАТЬ