Ecstasy

Chapter 21

 Calla:

 I closed my bedroom door quietly behind me, not wanting to wake Sylvie or Mum and Dad. The moment the door clicked shut, a big smile spread across my face and I collapsed back on my bed grinning at the ceiling. I don't know why I was so happy. Tyson still peeved the hell out of me, but for some incredible and unknown reason the past conversation had began an entire new breed of butterflies in my stomach. They fluttered around pushing up my chest; tripping my heart and making me stutter every one of my words.

I don't know what it was about him but I just felt drawn to him, and despite what my mother wanted I wasn't staying away from him. God! What is wrong with me? I can't get involved with a drug addict! But there was something, a little voice in the back of my head that wanted me to try and understand him. I was curious – that, and he was hot.

I pulled my knee up to my chest and unbuttoned my mary-janes and dropped them to the floor. A soft knock rapped on the door as I settled back on the bed prepared to fall asleep in my clothes.

"Calla?" I heard my Dad's voice.

"Yeah?" I asked as he put his head in through the door.

"Have a good time?" he asked stepping into the room.

I eyed him in his blue check flannelette pyjamas and rumpled hair and frowned.

"What are you doing up?" I asked suspicious of his late night.

His eyebrows knitted together at my question and he came to sit by me on the bed.

"I was working late in the study, some cases needed doing over." He lifted a hand and stroked my hair off my forehead. I remember when I was little I didn't grimace away like I was now.

I thought I forgave him. But now, the constant guilt I harboured was easier to transfer into anger, and who better to be angry at than my lying cheating father?

I knew I shouldn't think like that, but why should I deem the existence of my parent's relationship? It's not fair! I shouldn't have that responsibility. I didn't want them to split. But I wanted them to be natural. I knew Mum was hurt, and Dad wasn't doing anything about it. I knew we moved out here because of it, and the fact that they were still together was because of me and Sylvie. I know I couldn't judge whether they would break up, if we didn't exist. But I know I would have considered it if I were in my mother's position.

I looked up at my father to just catch the flash of hurt in his eyes before he pulled his hand away and smiled a fake smile.

"Well off to bed now, it's very late." he stood up and walked to the door before turning and saying, "By the way, how did you get home?"

"A friend walked me," I mumbled turning my back to him. He closed the door behind him, taking away my good mood with him.

I reached over and switched off the light and my room enveloped me in darkness, and in the quiet of the old house I heard my father's footsteps as he walked into my parent's room and closed the door. Muffled voices squeezed through the walls and the argumentative tones were obvious as they fought with each other quietly.

I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the sounds of my mother and father arguing.

***

I awoke in a grumpy mood on Monday morning. I didn't want to go to school, I was exhausted and I couldn't be bothered trying to read today. It was just a constant effort to keep up. I walked through the school halls with a hand full of heavy books, posters on the wall I couldn't read, and the dread of remedial class next period.

Sitting at lunch I knew a headache was developing. I sat back in my chair lazily as Mitchie animatedly described Friday evening to the girls. I felt my eyelids closing just before she called my name.

"Calla?" I grunted in response. "Calla!" I sat up straighter.

"I'm here, I'm here! What?" I mumbled, rubbing my eyes.

"Where did you disappear to Friday night? One moment I looked over at you and Dan and the next I saw you were running off down the street with Tyson," She paused and looked at me expectantly, the girls sitting around the table leaned closer.

I frowned. "I was not running off down the street." They all stared at me. "What? Nothing happened. I just wanted to go home, and Tyson walked me."

The tabled erupted into a chorus of oohs and I inwardly groaned wishing the bell to ring.

"Nothing happened!" I almost had to shout over their laughing but I couldn't help smile myself.

"You're smiling! Something did!" Phoebe grinned. Suddenly the shrill bell split through the noise in the cafeteria and I sighed in relief.

"Well you'll never know. Saved by the bell." We stood up from the lunch table and grabbed our bags.

"This conversation is not finished. I expect full detail in science class, Calla," Mitchie warned. I nodded just to appease her and headed the other way to remedial English.

As I took my seat in class it wasn't long until the teacher called me up to the front.

"Yes?" I asked Mrs Gream, as I stood at her desk.

"Ah Calla, Mr Pollock wants to see you. Here's your pass." She ripped off a small pink slip off a pad.

"What about?" I asked, worry twisting in my gut. Was I failing a class? Why would the headmaster want to see me?

"I don't know, but go, as quickly as you can please," she said, shooing me out the door.

I stepped into the empty hallways and tried to remember my way to the front office. Heaving my books in my arms I made my way through the corridors and approached main reception. After a few wrong turns I made it there. As I approached the doors I heard shouting and angry voices.

Curious, I stepped around the corner and into the reception. I was greeted by Tyson and another boy sitting on opposite sides of the room, yelling at each other.

They both were fuming, and had obviously just been fighting as an angry red bruise was growing across the other boy's eye. Tyson looked relatively unharmed.

The receptionist was trying to yell over them and their nasty words and I just stood there, watching the exchange.

"You're a fucking prick!" The blond spat across the room, holding an ice pack to his eye.

"Well Holly didn't think so – she came running to me mate," Tyson retaliated.

The blond seemed to have had enough at that comment. He was up out of his seat striding towards Tyson with a new hot fury. They both stood up then, squaring up to each other, filling the room with testosterone and anger. The room suddenly felt smaller, as the boys that were nearly men started pushing at each other, yelling insults.

"She was my girlfriend in the first place!" He shoved Tyson back, which only encouraged him more.

"And look what happened!" Tyson's fists were curling.

The receptionist was yelling over them to stop and sit back down but they were oblivious to her demands. With all the noise in the room, they didn't hear the principal step out of his office and it was only when he wrenched the two teenagers apart they realised he was even in the room.

"Hey, hey, hey! Break it up." Mr Pollock held both of their collars bunched in his fists, he pushed them away from each other as he stepped between them. "That's enough," he boomed. "Now sit down!"

They both returned to their seats, shooting each other acid looks. Looking up, Mr Pollock noticed me standing there and his gaze spurred me back into life. I walked towards him.

"Um, Mrs Gream sent me?" I said my voice stumbling as my mind replayed the confrontation moments before.

Tyson's head shot up and I noticed him scowl at my presence. I heard him mutter something under his breath.

Mr Pollock opened his mouth to reply to me as he took my pink slip from my outstretched hand, but Tyson's cursing distracted him.

"That's enough Shelley! If I hear another sound coming from your mouth you're expelled, no warning this time. And that goes for both of you; if you move from your seats again a far worse punishment will follow!" He huffed pointing fingers at both of them.

"Calla, come into my office," he said, the tone of his voice dramatically changing into a friendlier manner. I followed him into his office.

"Please take a seat," Mr Pollock gestured to one of the shabby chairs situated in front of his small desk.

I watched as he squeezed around the desk past the file cabinets to sit in his chair opposite me. I noticed a file with my name on it sitting in front of us, it was thin in comparison to a thick file beside. I could just make out Tyson's name branded across the front. I frowned and deviated my eyes to the little golden name plate sitting on his desk, rather than looking at Mr Pollock. That anxious feeling had returned and I clenched my stomach, in case the nausea returned with it.

"I just wanted to touch base with you, and see how you were settling in," he said softly, his demeanour completely different to moments before. My eyes flickered up to meet his and I nodded.

A photo of his family sat on his desk proudly smiling. His light hair was beginning to grey and his waistline was continuing to grow over his belt. He sat with his hands clasped together in the air, resting on his elbows, he gazed across the desk intensely at me. The small matchbox office matched the man's effort at a career and pictures of the best sporting teams lined the walls. There weren't many photographs.

"I'm okay," I started at his encouraging smile, "I've made some good friends, and I think I'm doing okay in most of my classes."

He nodded, "More than most I hear." He smiled and looked down at the file, flipping it open and going through some pages.

"You seem to be excelling in art, I hear. But not so much in maths or science. I was wondering if you would prefer switching to a performance program, from the science one you are currently on."

I frowned, confused. "What would that mean?"

"Well instead of science or maths you would have the option of doing either music or drama. And since it's still early in the term you can switch over with no worries."

I sat up straighter. "Oh I didn't know I could do that. Could I have some information before I decide?"

"Of course, Roberta has some booklets for you out in main reception. But if you would like to switch you must notify the school by Friday, to not be too late."

I nodded. "Okay."

"Well, I think that was all." He looked down at the papers on his desk to confirm. "Yes, thank you for this chat," he said standing up. "Just make sure you submit your subject choices by Friday if need be."

I nodded and thanked him before being shooed out the door. I grimaced; feeling the ache of my headache in the back of my skull as I walked over to the front desk. Roberta sat with her hands on the computer keyboard but her eyes trained on the two angry boys sitting across the room.

"Um?" I said softly, leaning over the high receptionist bench. "Mr Pollock told me to collect some booklets?"

I could feel Tyson's eyes glued to my back and I watched as Roberta jumped back into life.

"Oh yes, sorry dear." She reached under the desk and pulled out a few pamphlets for me, handing them over. Visual and Performing Arts was printed on the front page.

I heard a soft inaudible mumble from behind me and by the snide tone of it I could tell that it was the blonde from across the room.

Suddenly Tyson erupted again. Pushed and egged on by the blonde's unknown comment. "Shut up, asshole." Tyson warned.

This time I heard the other boys response, "Hit a nerve, did I?"

Before the boy could say anything more Mr Pollock's deep voice boomed from within his office, "Shelley, Hickling!"

I rolled my eyes and Roberta smiled, leaning towards me she whispered, "This is Tyson's second home, don't you know?"

I quickly shot a look back at the two boys shoving each other as they made their way into the principal's office.

"I can imagine." I smiled at Roberta.