Read Online Heart-Shaped Bruise by Tanya Byrne - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tanya Byrne
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boys, Monday Fitzgerald walked through the halls in her rolled-up tartan skirtand Doc Martens absolutely and unashamedly herself. And we loved her for it.
If we’d had any idea who we were, we would have done the same.
It’s funny how it took becoming someone else to realise who I am. Who I
could
be. I thought the world was split into people like Monday and people like me. I didn’t think I could walk into a room with a swing of the hips and a smile for everyone. I don’t know why; I only had to do it once and then I would have done it. But I guess if someone tells you something enough, you start to believe it. All my life, all I’d ever heard was: Emily’s so shy, Emily’s so quiet, Emily’s so clever. Thinking back on it now, I don’t know if I ever was any of those things, or if I just became shy and quiet and clever because everyone said I was.
But when I was Rose, I didn’t have to be. It was as though I could shuffle off Emily like she was a winter coat and it was too warm to wear it any more. Then I was free to say what I wanted, wear what I wanted. I listened to bands because they made me feel restless, not because someone said they were cool. In clothes shops, I began to stray towards the rails which previously I would just have gazed at, try on the clothes I thought didn’t suit me. Maybe they still didn’t suit me, but I didn’t care, and that’s the point: Rose was the girl I wanted to be but I was too scared that Dad wouldn’t approve of or who my friends would think was weird. But the truth is: I am weird. I’ve always been weird. And when I was Rose, I could be. A mismatched,red-haired Kerouacian kind of weird perfectly fitting of a girl called Rose.
And I liked it.
Then I met Grace Humm.
Grace Humm was my personal tutor. It felt strange calling her that. Everyone at St Jude’s was Miss or Sir. There were no first names. But at the College of North London we were adults, apparently, and could call teachers by their first name.
I met Grace the morning I started at the college and I spent the three weeks after that avoiding her. I’d ducked into classroom, locked myself in the toilet and once hid behind a bin in the canteen. But when I finally met her, I kind of wished I hadn’t, because if Rose allowed me to be weird, then Grace showed me how to own it. How to wallow in it. She taught me to wear weird like a feather in my hair.
If I ever grow up, I want to be Grace Humm.
But I didn’t know that back then. All I thought about was Juliet, so I didn’t want to sit with a teacher and discuss how I was getting on with my classes and what universities I wanted to apply to. I wasn’t going to university. I wasn’t even going to be at college much longer. I thought another two – maybe three – weeks and it’d be done, I’d be gone and she wouldn’t even notice. But that was my first mistake, thinking she wasn’t paying attention.
‘Rose,’ she said, walking towards me one day as Juliet and I were standing by our lockers plotting how we could get Sid to try sushi. ‘Are you avoiding me?’
Juliet and I exchanged a look and I contemplated making a run for it, but when I saw how busy the corridor was, I blew a bubble with my gum instead.
‘Hello, Miss,’ I said, tossing a book into my locker.
‘Oh, Rose. I’m so glad this isn’t awkward. I thought it would be awkward,’ she said, her forehead pinched with mock concern. ‘I was worried that I came on too strong after enrolment, calling and emailing like that. My ex-husband says I’m too needy. Was I being needy, Rose? Did I scare you off?’
I tried not to laugh as I closed my locker. ‘It’s not you, Miss, it’s me.’
‘Where are you going?’ she asked, trotting after Juliet and me, her heels clicking on the parquet floor as we began to walk away. ‘Don’t leave me, Rose! Don’t leave me like he did.’
‘I have to get to sociology.’
She checked her watch. ‘Not until eleven.’
‘Yeah, but I have to
If we’d had any idea who we were, we would have done the same.
It’s funny how it took becoming someone else to realise who I am. Who I
could
be. I thought the world was split into people like Monday and people like me. I didn’t think I could walk into a room with a swing of the hips and a smile for everyone. I don’t know why; I only had to do it once and then I would have done it. But I guess if someone tells you something enough, you start to believe it. All my life, all I’d ever heard was: Emily’s so shy, Emily’s so quiet, Emily’s so clever. Thinking back on it now, I don’t know if I ever was any of those things, or if I just became shy and quiet and clever because everyone said I was.
But when I was Rose, I didn’t have to be. It was as though I could shuffle off Emily like she was a winter coat and it was too warm to wear it any more. Then I was free to say what I wanted, wear what I wanted. I listened to bands because they made me feel restless, not because someone said they were cool. In clothes shops, I began to stray towards the rails which previously I would just have gazed at, try on the clothes I thought didn’t suit me. Maybe they still didn’t suit me, but I didn’t care, and that’s the point: Rose was the girl I wanted to be but I was too scared that Dad wouldn’t approve of or who my friends would think was weird. But the truth is: I am weird. I’ve always been weird. And when I was Rose, I could be. A mismatched,red-haired Kerouacian kind of weird perfectly fitting of a girl called Rose.
And I liked it.
Then I met Grace Humm.
Grace Humm was my personal tutor. It felt strange calling her that. Everyone at St Jude’s was Miss or Sir. There were no first names. But at the College of North London we were adults, apparently, and could call teachers by their first name.
I met Grace the morning I started at the college and I spent the three weeks after that avoiding her. I’d ducked into classroom, locked myself in the toilet and once hid behind a bin in the canteen. But when I finally met her, I kind of wished I hadn’t, because if Rose allowed me to be weird, then Grace showed me how to own it. How to wallow in it. She taught me to wear weird like a feather in my hair.
If I ever grow up, I want to be Grace Humm.
But I didn’t know that back then. All I thought about was Juliet, so I didn’t want to sit with a teacher and discuss how I was getting on with my classes and what universities I wanted to apply to. I wasn’t going to university. I wasn’t even going to be at college much longer. I thought another two – maybe three – weeks and it’d be done, I’d be gone and she wouldn’t even notice. But that was my first mistake, thinking she wasn’t paying attention.
‘Rose,’ she said, walking towards me one day as Juliet and I were standing by our lockers plotting how we could get Sid to try sushi. ‘Are you avoiding me?’
Juliet and I exchanged a look and I contemplated making a run for it, but when I saw how busy the corridor was, I blew a bubble with my gum instead.
‘Hello, Miss,’ I said, tossing a book into my locker.
‘Oh, Rose. I’m so glad this isn’t awkward. I thought it would be awkward,’ she said, her forehead pinched with mock concern. ‘I was worried that I came on too strong after enrolment, calling and emailing like that. My ex-husband says I’m too needy. Was I being needy, Rose? Did I scare you off?’
I tried not to laugh as I closed my locker. ‘It’s not you, Miss, it’s me.’
‘Where are you going?’ she asked, trotting after Juliet and me, her heels clicking on the parquet floor as we began to walk away. ‘Don’t leave me, Rose! Don’t leave me like he did.’
‘I have to get to sociology.’
She checked her watch. ‘Not until eleven.’
‘Yeah, but I have to
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