CECE, DISRESPECTFULLY | rewriting

24: COMING BACK FROM THE DEAD

            Diwa sticks to my parameters for the next few weeks. We acknowledge each other only in maths olympiad where she has discovered a new level of getting on my nerves. Currently, she gets her fix by complaining about my handwriting because apparently I rush and my fours look like nines. To which I say: she's actually brain dead.

I sit two rows behind her on the bus we take to Churchill Way High School in Salford. It's well unfair that we always have to go to other schools for the competitions but I wager Apostolou does everything in his power to make sure he don't have to host.

My eyes glide from the back of Diwa's head to the window and finally to my lap. I poke the spikes around the cuffs of my jacket. Maybe if I'd've worn summat else, Diwa wouldn't currently be plotting my murder that'll look like a suicide.

But I don't own another jacket that's warm enough for December. And I'm wearing a fucking shirt and tie! Nicolás did have a black button-up at the back of his closet for me to borrow. That's me already exceeding expectations.

We've not even got dressing requirements; I read the rules. For the first time in my life.

The bus route leaves us a few minutes away. I drag my feet a safe distance behind the others, smoking a cigarette. Maybe I can manage to get cancer in the next three hundred metres so I won't have to go in.

But no. Doesn't happen.

We get our visitor badges before heading to the school hall. Apostolou magically vanishes again, probably to drink burnt bean water in the staff lounge.

The Churchill Way maths olympiad group glances at us as we enter, casting compulsory jeers for anyone in a college competition. Fionn Deegan looks Diwa over and scoffs. He has already turned back to Imani when his focus ricochets. It drills into me.

'No. Way. Cecilio? Did you walk through the wrong door? This is maths olympiad, not detention.'

I make sure every letter of the F-U-C-K on my teeth is legible as I laugh. 'Qué funny.'

'You must be really desperate to let them on your team,' Fionn says to Diwa who has led Meira and Noah to our group table. 'So your plan is to shock us by not having a single competent member. Are you going for the record of the worst Isaac Evans has given us yet?'

The school hall darkens to spotlight him in the glow of the fire.

'Insult them again,' I dare.

Fionn's smile tightens with each scrape of my Vans on the linoleum. My palms blister. Flames lick my arms. They only have one desire, one command, one–

'Cece!'

I'm one step from mauling him when I'm jerked back.

Fionn's laugh skins me. His eyes slash to Diwa. 'Keep your dog on a leash. I hear they've got rabies.'

He looks me up and down before he turns to his two teammates.

I sink back to our desk where Diwa's glare stakes me. 'You're gonna get us disqualified!'

'I were tryna help–!'

'Well don't!'

Her cheeks flush. Diwa says nowt else but she don't have to; it's a familiar script: You only make things worse.

'Whatever. I'm gonna have a smoke.'

'Cece!'

I've already turned around when Diwa hisses my name but her voice is joined by a second, one that succeeds in bolting me to the spot. Elliot enters just as I go to exit and we're stuck a breath apart. He looks up at me, skin even more pallid than it normally is beneath his freckles. The blue of his stare covers me in frost.