War Bird

5. The Whole Darn World

I wake up late, my head cloudy and aching from a restless night. My dreams were full of Mr. Pelham's staring eyes and big, black wings flapping in my face. I lie for a few minutes, wondering whether I should just go back to sleep but I can hear the sleepy drone of Radio Two and the clatter of breakfast. I shuffle into the kitchen. Mum's there trying to feed Ribbon. She doesn't say anything but looks at me with raised eyebrows. I know what that means and so I concentrate on sticking bread in the toaster and getting the milk out. It's only when I'm brewing my first tea of the day that Mum speaks.

"Post came today." Her voice is kind of high and wobbly.

"Yup." I say.

"Do you even care about your results?" She says. Ribbon gurgles apple puree down her front. "I took today off all special so I could open them with you."

"You didn’t have to do that." Jeez. Out of bed ten minutes and I'm getting the 'what about your future?' lecture. My toast pops and I slather it in jam then I sit down, facing her. Between us on the table is a simple white envelope with my name and address printed on it.

"Ain't you going to open it?"

"What's the point?" She’s not going to like what’s in that envelope. GCSEs were a total waste of my time. Truth is, the real world doesn't care about quadratic equations and osmosis and Shakespeare. It hasn’t got time or space for that noise, the real world chews you up and tramples on you. Knowing stuff like that doesn't stop bad things happening, despite what Mum seems to believe. A piece of paper full of A’s wouldn’t make our lives any better.

"Can't have this conversation again, Marla." Mum rubs a fist against her temple and I notice how tired she looks. 

"Do you want me to take over?" I gesture at Ribbon, who as usual is wearing her breakfast instead of eating it. Mum nods gratefully and hands over Rib's little dipper spoon. I stand over the high chair and play 'here comes the aeroplane' with her. It's sometimes hit and miss this game depending on her mood but this morning it seems to be working. She takes big mouthfuls and smacks her lips, her little eyes crinkling in that way only a baby's eyes can. I drop a kiss on her soft little head. Mum picks the envelope up, flapping it, running her fingers along it. She looks up at me hopefully.

"May I?" She says quietly.

I shrug, then nod yes. What does it matter to me? Mum rips it open and pulls out a single white sheet, unfolding it as if her life depends on it. She scans it for a few seconds and then drops it to the table, leaning back in her chair.

"Well. That's that then, I guess." She reaches for her coffee and stares into it. I pick up the paper. It's just black and white, meaningless letters and symbols on a page. They tell me I have D’s in I.T. and English, Maths, Biology. Couple of E’s and then F's for everything else.

"Told you." I turn back to Ribs, who has nearly finished her little pot of green mush. Suddenly, her dipper spoon is wrenched from my grasp and milliseconds later it clatters against the far wall.

“That's it?" Mum cries. "Told you? That's all you have to say?"

I don't look at her. I concentrate on Ribbon, who seems a bit confused by the sudden disappearance of her next mouthful of food.

"What would you like me to say?" I reply calmly. I grab the roll of paper towel sitting on the side, tear off a sheet and wipe Ribbon's face.

"How about, sorry for not trying, sorry for letting you down..."

"Sorry for letting you down?" I repeat. "How many times do I have to say, exams don’t mean nothing!” I hold the results paper up and shake it. “Let’s say this was all As. Let’s say I end up doing well enough to go to Uni. What would I study? How would we pay for it?”