Paper Butterflies. Lisa Heathfield

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СКАЧАТЬ ten years old

      ‘Drink it.’ She’s holding the glass out to me. It’s so full that if she tipped her hand just a bit the water would trickle down the side. ‘Now.’

      ‘But I’m not thirsty.’ I want my voice to be big, but it’s just a whisper.

      Kathleen bends so low that her eyes are level with mine. Her eyelashes are black. The blusher on her cheeks is too red, like two little apples sitting in puddles of cream.

      ‘Drink it,’ she says again.

      My bladder is full. She hasn’t let me use the toilet since I got up this morning and I’ve already had my glass of warm milk.

      I reach out my hand. I wish I didn’t touch her cold fingers as she passes it to me.

      She watches as I bring the glass to my mouth, as I tilt it against my lips and begin to drink. My throat tries to squeeze shut. My body doesn’t want it. But the water flows down and into my stomach.

      ‘All of it.’ She’s smiling at me, the way she does. The way no one else ever sees. As though I’m a mouse caught in her trap and she is the cat and she’s got me.

      I finish the glass and my bladder is stinging.

      ‘I need the toilet,’ I say. I know she’s heard me, but she’s walking towards the sink and turning the faucet on. The glass is filling up. Maybe it’s for her. Maybe she’s thirsty.

      My stomach hurts as she comes towards me. She holds out her cold hand once again and I know what I must do.

      I try to drink it quickly, but it’s so hard. It makes me ache and it burns my bladder. I step from side to side. She takes the empty glass.

      ‘I really need the toilet,’ I say.

      ‘Come on, you’ll be late for school.’ Her voice is almost sing-song. ‘I’ll do your hair quickly.’

      I shake my head. The pain in my tummy is hurting my eyes.

      Kathleen walks quickly out of the kitchen.

      ‘Megan,’ she calls up the stairs. ‘It’s time to go.’

      Then she’s back, a red ribbon in her hands. She pulls my hair until my scalp stings. I can’t hold my bladder much longer.

      ‘Please, Momma,’ I say, trying to make my voice so sweet. Trying to sound just like Megan. ‘I’ll be quick. Please let me.’

      She turns me to look into those eyes.

      ‘I’m not your momma,’ she says.

      Megan is at the bottom of the stairs. She’s one year younger than me, but taller already. Her skin is as white as mine is black.

      ‘Quick, you’ll miss the bus.’ Kathleen bends to kiss her. ‘Have a good day.’

      I take my coat from its peg and push my arms in. I try not to think of the hot ache in my bladder. If I concentrate on doing up my buttons, picking up my bag, then I can hold it in.

      But it’s difficult to walk. Every step along the path to the pavement, I think it’ll be too late. I look up at the clouds. There’s one like an elephant. I trace the shape of its trunk with my finger. It’ll help me to forget. I can hear Megan walking beside me, but I won’t look at her. I’ll look at my elephant.

      I’m ten tomorrow, I tell it. It moves slightly and its trunk begins to separate into tiny little pieces.

      At the bus stop, there are other children. Megan goes to stand with them. She glances at me quickly.

      I move from one foot to the other. I can’t hold it in.

      The bus is coming. It turns the corner and pulls up alongside us. It’s as yellow as the sun. The sun, I tell myself, in the sky, with my elephant. Think of anything, anything but the need to go.

      I let them all push each other up the steps. The boy called Greg with the broken nose is laughing so much that I can see his tongue moving. His mouth looks wet, so I look away.

      I try to squeeze the muscles between my legs as I walk up the steps. Each movement makes my head pound.

      The bus is almost full. I have to take my bag from my shoulder and hold it by my side. There’s a seat and I must sit down, but it squashes my stomach and I know I can’t hold it.

      I scratch my arm, over and over. One two three one two three.

      My arm stings, as I feel the wet between my legs. I can’t stop it. It soaks my skin and the seat underneath me. I feel it slide its warm path towards my shoes. If I looked down, I know I’d see it on the floor.

      I sit still. I don’t move even the slightest bit. Just my eyes, which I close and wish that I was anywhere but here. That the seat I’m on would float off through the roof of the bus and take me away forever.

      Paula is next to me. She doesn’t say a word. Maybe she hasn’t noticed. Her face is still pressed tight to the window. The pain in my bladder has gone. But soon I’ll have to stand up and everyone will know.

      I could pretend that I’m sick. The bus driver would let all the other children off and he’d have to drive me home. He’d ask me why I did it. Why I didn’t use the toilet at home and I’d tell him. Everything. And he’d take me away from Kathleen and I’d never have to see her again. His wife would cry with happiness when she saw me and they’d lead me up to my own pink room, with my own desk, with colouring pencils sitting on the top.

      The bus stops.

      The children are getting out. The seats are emptying and Paula has picked up her bag and she’s ready to move.

      ‘All out,’ the bus driver calls.

      ‘Move,’ Paula says.

      She knows, as soon as I stand up. I look back at the seat and the material is soaked through.

      ‘Ugh,’ she says, loud enough for others to turn and look. I put my bag on my shoulder and walk down the aisle. The wet sticks my skirt to my legs. I know that there’ll be a big dark patch. The smell is sharp and sits on my tongue.

      I want to hold my head up, but I can’t.

      ‘Ugh. Stinks of piss,’ Ryan says. ‘Was it you, Lauren?’

      ‘No!’ she laughs, and swings her bag towards his head.

      ‘Well, someone’s pissed themselves.’ He ducks again, just in time. And he must see, because there’s a prod on my shoulder and although I don’t turn round I know it’s him.

      ‘Oi, Juniper. You’ve wet yourself.’

      ‘My name’s not Juniper,’ I say quietly as I keep walking.

      ‘You stink.’ And the girls with him laugh.

      My wet legs rub against СКАЧАТЬ