Popcorn
I shake my short hair out as much as I can, and adjust my stance to look coquettish...
All I wanted was for Bianca to see me. She, and her two confidants - Katie and Ella - spending every break time together, sitting on the playground concrete. A closed triangle of whispers, clapping games and scented gel pens. If only they’d see past my appearance, they’d know I was one of them too. The fourth corner of what ought to be a square. I had gossip to contribute. You pick up a lot, sitting on your own by the gates. You become invisible.
I had a couple of scented gel pens. My favourite was popcorn, and one day I got to show Bianca. By chance, we had ended up sitting next to each other; her being moved away from her regulars for being too chatty. Bianca wanted to know if I’d trade it for her apple. Not a bad pen, apple, but by no means rare. Still, I accepted the trade. Sometimes you have to know your position in a negotiation. Popcorn was a sacrifice, of sorts. And it worked, because now Bianca was talking to me.
Bianca would inevitably find herself sitting next to me on other days too, being unable as she was to suppress her chattiness. Our teacher, Miss Em, had clearly underestimated my capacity for yapping. She, like so many before her, had made the grave mistake of assuming I was ‘quiet’. It was entirely circumstantial. In the right context, I could be a right little nuisance. Bianca and I now had a routine developing. A schedule. And it felt right, our friendship. Finally, after so long, I was in my element. No effort required. The closest to ‘me’ as had been safe to reveal, up to now.
It started to spill outside of the classroom, too. Bianca and her droogs would occasionally rock up to me in the playground, giggling, and ask me what I thought of some boy or another. Did I think so and so liked Katie? Would I give this note to him? Ella took to calling me ‘Claire’, which I knew was intended as snide, but I relished all the same. She would also tease me, pushing me to ask out boys, something I had the good sense not to attempt. I wasn’t ‘Claire’ to them. I was just a little faggot who didn’t join in with football.
One day, Bianca announced to the class that she was having a ‘swimming party’ for her birthday. Anyone who was invited, could expect an invitation on their desk after lunch. Despite my occasional ingratiation into her world, I never actually expected to be invited. I never for one second actually thought things would get that far, but when I got back from lunch, sure enough - there it was.
You have been invited to Bianca’s Birthday party! Bring your swimming costume and your goggles! Strong swimmers only!
When: Saturday 8th, 1pm
Where: Ladywell Swimming Baths
PLUS: McDonalds party afterwards (Lewisham)
Looking around the classroom, gaging people’s reactions, I noticed that it was mostly girls invited. I noticed the boys, who hadn’t received an invite, couldn’t care less. If anything, they were relieved to not be going, McDonalds or not. I, on the other hand, was elated. It felt, in some daft way, like progress - a step in the right direction, finally, after so long stuck so still. I was quick to RSVP. To arrange a lift there from my dad. To make sure that mum bought the right present for me to give to Bianca - a set of 12 scented gel pens from WHSmith.
At the swimming baths, I’m separated immediately. Shown by Bianca, Katie and Ella’s parents the direction of the men’s changing rooms, which I would have to enter alone. There, I stare at my body in the mirror - dejected and dismayed. The swim shorts baggy. The netting scratchy. I still feel naked, only half dressed for the day. I tuck, as I have done for years now. My secret comfort. I take the opportunity to wrap my towel around my top half, so it looks like a dress. I shake my short hair out as much as I can, and adjust my stance to look coquettish. I sigh and drop the towel. Take a deep breath, and prepare for everyone to see my nipples.
The fun starts in the shallow end, as it often does. Pool floats aplenty, and lifeguards looking the other way at kids screaming and bombing. There are girls here who didn’t know Bianca and I were friends - ones who wouldn’t have even considered getting to know me. Now though, outside of school, they’re curious. They want to race me, or try to climb on my shoulders. All I want is to talk to them, but the screaming isn’t conducive.
Bianca decides that it’s time for the deep end. She, the queen of the day, summons everyone’s attention, and starts swimming her way towards the darker end of the water. I follow, but it quickly becomes apparent to me that I’m not quite the strong swimmer I thought I was. I find myself struggling in the dead centre of the pool - the lifeguard’s eyes locked onto me. Judging my abilities. He motions to me in my peripheral vision. Orders me over to the side. When I get there, he says I need to go back down to the shallow end.
The shallow end is where the mums are. The mums, and me. They do their breaststrokes occasionally, but mostly just natter. Bianca, Katie and Ellie’s mums look like bigger versions of them, standing in their own aquatic triangle. Theirs though is even more closed off, cemented shut by years of coffee mornings. They have no interest at all in me, and I’m glad for it. The last thing I want is their pity. I already feel utterly pathetic. I wonder how long I can hold my breath for? If I should just go under, and stay there until I black out? Now would be the perfect time, the lifeguard distracted by screaming girls.
At McDonald’s, I have two girls I don’t know sitting either side of me, but I’m still alone. At least I have this hamburger. These fries. Bianca shouts down from the other side of the table at me.
“What happened, can’t you swim?”
I shout back.
“I can swim!”
And that’s it - the longest me and Bianca will spend talking to one another ever again. In the weeks following, she and her droogs will figure out a more effective whispering technique. A more shrouded seating position in the classroom, to keep their chatting more undercover. Miss Em will be out of earshot, and stop moving Bianca; and I will notice that she never uses the scented gel pens I got her. In fact, scented gel pens appear to be ‘out’ completely. It’s glitter rubbers now.
Not for me, though. I still like the pens. Popcorn is my favourite.
MEMOIRS OF AN EVIL, HORRIBLE TRANNY is written by Jen Ives.
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