The Art of Being Normal (15 page)

I step out on to what I quickly realise is the side of the pool. Above me the clouds have cleared, and the half-moon glows through the roof, which I can now see is made of glass, casting the entire space with a silvery sheen. Banks of flip-down wooden seats line the length of the pool on each side. At one end there is a three-tiered diving platform, at the other five windows, tall and narrow. I inch forwards and peek down. The pool is empty. Of course it is. And yet I can’t help but feel disappointed. I sit on the edge, dangle my legs over the side and marvel at how far down it seems to the bottom with no water distorting the depth. I take out my dying phone and shine it towards the deep end.

‘Oi!’

I drop my phone. It makes a loud clatter as it hits the floor of the pool.

This is it; I’m going to die.

‘Oi!’ the voice calls again. In my panic I can’t identify where it’s coming from immediately and it takes several seconds to trace it to a shadowy figure standing on the highest diving platform. A moment later a thin beam of torch-light hits me in the face. I stand up, squinting and shielding my eyes.

‘David?’ the voice says.

‘Leo?’

There’s an audible sigh and what sounds like a collection of about ten swear words, all strung together to make one ultimate curse, before the creak of metal as Leo descends the ladder. By the time he reaches the bottom, my heart has just about stopped threatening to burst out of my chest.

Leo strides towards me, one arm straight out in front of him, the torch aimed at my head.

‘Don’t shoot,’ I joke.

Leo doesn’t laugh.

‘How did you get here?’ he demands, his eyes flashing angrily.

‘Your sister brought me,’ I stammer. ‘Amber. Hey, how come you didn’t tell me you had a twin?’

He ignores my question.

‘She shouldn’t have brought you.’

‘It’s not her fault. I asked her where you were.’

‘Whatever,’ Leo mutters, lowering the torch.

‘This place is really cool,’ I say. ‘Terrifying but cool. Did you used to swim here? When it was still open I mean?’

Leo doesn’t answer me.

‘You shouldn’t be here, David,’ he says.

‘But I was worried about you. You haven’t been at school all week.’

‘I was ill. I am ill.’

I study his face in the faint moonlight.

‘You don’t look ill,’ I point out.

He ignores me, turning and shining the torch over the bottom of the pool.

‘You want me to get that?’ he asks, nodding downwards.

‘Sorry?’

‘Your phone.’

‘No, I can get it.’

He ignores me again and jumps down to the bottom of
the pool. He picks up the phone, tossing it to me. I surprise myself by catching it.

‘When are you coming back?’ I ask, as Leo strides back to the metal steps, his trainers squeaking against the tiles. He doesn’t answer.

‘You can’t stop tutoring me now,’ I continue. ‘I got a B on a test exam paper the other day. Can you believe that? Mr Steele almost fell off his chair he was so shocked. And it’s all down to you.’

Leo pauses and sits on the top rung of the steps, his arms hooked round the frame.

‘Who says I’m coming back?’ he mutters.

‘But you’ve got to,’ I say.

Even though Leo has only been at Eden Park for a couple of months, the thought of him not being around any more feels totally wrong.

‘According to who?’ Leo says.

‘I don’t know. Me. The authorities.’

He snorts.

I sit down next to him, my arms clasping my bent legs.

‘What happened, Leo?’ I ask. ‘Why haven’t you been at school?’

He just shakes his head.

‘Is it something to do with Alicia Baker?’

He turns sharply to face me.

‘Why? What’s she said?’

‘Nothing really. Ruby Webber and Becky Somerville were doing all the talking for her.’

‘And what did they say?’ he demands.

‘They didn’t say much either,’ I admit. ‘They reckon Alicia’s too heartbroken to tell them what happened.’

Leo exhales deeply, frowns and nods.

‘What did happen, Leo?’

‘Nothing,’ he growls, angling his head away from me.

‘It can’t be nothing. If it was nothing you wouldn’t be hiding here.’

‘I’m not hiding,’ he says, jumping back down to the bottom of the pool. I think he lands badly because he swears sharply to himself and limps round in a circle for a moment.

‘Are you OK?’ I call, clambering down the ladder after him.

‘I’m fine,’ he snaps.

‘It can’t be nothing,’ I repeat. ‘The thing with Alicia, I mean. I saw you together at the bonfire, and you were totally into one another, and now it’s all over?’

‘It’s none of your business, David.’

‘But I want to help,’ I say, glancing upwards, the sides of the pool looming high above my head.

‘Believe me, you can’t,’ Leo replies.

‘Try me,’ I say, planting myself in front of him. He looks at me for a moment before shaking his head and pushing me gently backwards.

‘Just go home, David,’ he says, his voice tired.

‘No.’

‘What?’

I take a deep breath.

‘No,’ I repeat. ‘Everyone else may have fallen for your hard-man act, but I haven’t. I’m not afraid of you, Leo, not one bit.’

Leo squares up to me, his chest all puffed out.

‘Oh really?’ he says.

‘Yes, really,’ I reply, standing up straight. ‘And I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me.’

Leo glares at me, his eyes cold and intense.

‘I’m your friend, Leo,’ I add.

He snorts again.

‘You hardly know me, David,’ he says.

But he’s wrong. I do know him. And I want to know him more. I have no idea why. I only know that I’m drawn to him in ways I can’t quite explain, and that I can’t shift the sneaking suspicion that beneath it all, he gets me, that he’s drawn to me too.

‘Yes, I do know you,’ I continue gently. ‘I know you’re kind and sweet and patient.’

Leo rolls his eyes towards the glass roof.

‘But I mean it!’ I say. ‘Please tell me what happened. I’ll support you, whatever it is, I promise I will.’

Leo lets out a laugh. ‘That’s what she said.’

‘Who?’ I ask. ‘Alicia?’

‘Forget it.’

He crouches down, his back to me. He looks small suddenly, like a little kid. I crouch down beside him. I want to fix things, make it better, but I don’t know how.

‘Leo,’ I find myself saying in a low whisper. ‘If I tell you something, a secret, something only Essie and Felix know about me, do you promise not to tell anyone?’

He shakes his head and laughs.

‘I get what you’re doing here,’ he says. ‘You tell me some
stupid secret and then expect me to tell you all my shit in return, right?’

‘No. This is something I
want
to tell you. You don’t have to tell me anything in return, honestly.’

And I mean it. Suddenly I want him to know. I want to open myself up to him, be vulnerable, with no expectations.

Leo just shrugs.

‘So, do you promise?’ I whisper.

‘Promise what?’ he says in an exaggerated whisper, making fun of me.

‘Not to repeat what I’m about to tell you?’ I say.

‘Look, David, I don’t give a toss about your stupid secret, OK?’

‘Promise?’ I repeat in a loud voice.

‘Promise,’ he mutters, rolling his eyes, not quite looking at me.

I slide on to my bottom and scoot round so I’m facing him. The floor of the pool feels cold and hard through the thin fabric of my school trousers.

‘What if I told you I wasn’t gay?’

‘But you are gay, you said so yourself. You like that Scandi kid, what’s-his-name, Olsen.’

I sigh. I need to come at this from a different angle.

‘Let me start again, remember that time after our first detention together, when you asked me why Harry calls me Freak Show?’

‘Yeah,’ Leo replies, picking at his shoelaces.

‘Well, I sort of didn’t tell you the whole truth.’

He shrugs again.

‘What did you want to be when you were little?’ I ask.

He wrinkles his nose, ‘I dunno.’

‘You must have wanted to be something.’

‘I said I dunno,’ he says irritably. ‘Look, what’s this got to do with you being gay or not?’

Despite the cold, my palms are prickling with sweat. I wipe them on my trousers, but new beads of sweat appear almost immediately. I clear my throat.

‘OK, when I was eight my class was asked to write about what we wanted to be when we grew up.’

I close my eyes and just like that, I’m back in Miss Box’s classroom, the smell of leftover school dinners and sweat and grass stains drifting across our bowed heads as we write, my tongue twitching with concentration as my pen speeds down the page, excited by the task I’ve been set, unaware of what is to come.

I open my eyes. Leo is frowning slightly.

‘After we’d finished writing,’ I continue slowly, ‘Miss Box, she was our teacher that year, went round the room in alphabetical order asking everyone to stand up and say what they wanted to be. All the other kids wanted to be footballers or actors and stuff, and I kind of got that feeling you sometimes get after an exam, when you come out and at first you’re feeling pretty confident but then everyone starts discussing their answers and it suddenly dawns on you that you’ve totally messed up. Know what I mean?’

Leo sort of nods.

‘Well, as Miss Box went round the room, it was just like that. Because I hadn’t written about wanting to be
a footballer or an actor or a doctor, like everyone else. I hadn’t written down anything like that. I just wrote what I really wanted to be,’ I can feel my face turning red. ‘What I really am.’

Leo is looking at me now. Properly. I feel lightheaded.

‘I wrote I wanted to be a girl,’ I say, my voice cracking on girl.

When Leo doesn’t say anything, I just keep talking. I tell him about my scrapbook, my box of dressing-up clothes, the endless letters to my parents I’ve written but never sent. I tell him about all the research I’ve done on the internet; the websites and forums I’ve pored over; the YouTube videos I’ve watched on loop. I even tell him about my weekly inspections and how it feels to look in the mirror and realise my inside and outside don’t match up; that they don’t even come close.

The entire time he doesn’t interrupt. He just stares at me, barely blinking, his expression undecipherable.

‘Sometimes,’ I say, ‘I look in the mirror and the kid who looks back; he’s like a stranger to me, an alien even. It’s like I know the real me is in there somewhere, but for the moment I’m trapped in this weird body that I recognise less and less every day. Does that make any sense at all?’

Leo opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something but no sound comes out.

‘Of course it doesn’t,’ I say sadly. ‘How could it?’

‘Why are you telling me all this?’ Leo asks finally, his voice sort of croaky.

‘I don’t know,’ I admit. ‘I suppose there was just part
of me that wanted to share something important with you. Something really important.’

‘Right.’

A silence hangs between us. Leo is fiddling with the frayed hems of his jeans, and I can only guess that I’ve totally freaked him out and he’s heard enough. I was stupid to think he would react any differently. After all, it’s not every day people turn round and tell you they want to be the opposite sex, least of all some kid you’ve known a matter of months.

‘I suppose you think I’m a freak now too,’ I say, my voice coming out all small and sad.

Leo looks up at me sharply. We lock eyes for a moment, Leo’s amber flecks flashing in the moonlight.

‘I don’t think you’re a freak, David,’ he says, his voice slow and careful.

‘You don’t?’

There’s this sort of glassy film over his eyes. Not tears (I don’t think I can even imagine Leo crying), but something close.

‘No,’ he says. ‘What I mean is, I get it.’

I sigh.

‘That’s kind, but you don’t get it, Leo, you can’t.’

He looks at me for a second before swearing under his breath and standing up. At first I think he’s signalling that it’s time for us to leave, that the conversation is over, and I make a move to stand up too. But then I realise, instead of walking away, he’s taking off his hoodie. Which makes no sense because it’s absolutely freezing in here, my bum’s almost totally numb beneath me. I stare up at him, confused.
He tosses his hoodie aside. His hair is sticking up in messy tufts. He takes off his sweatshirt, then his shirt, the entire time not saying a word, his face blank but determined, until he’s wearing just his white T-shirt. His arms goose-pimple immediately. He pauses for a second before lifting up his T-shirt, not over his head, but up to his chin. Instead of skin, his chest is covered by what might look to anyone else like a tight white crop top. But not to me. I know exactly what Leo is wearing. And Leo knows I know. And it’s like the jigsaw-puzzle pieces that have been floating around in my head for the last couple of months have suddenly slotted together to form a picture.