Penny Joelson - Things the Eye Can't See

‘Gran!’ I exclaim again before she can finish that sentence.

I can hear Dad’s voice in my head saying, ‘ I know she doesn’t always say the right things, but she means well, Libs. Her heart’s in the right place .’ But Gran really does go too far sometimes – and this is one of those times. I open my mouth to tell her how I feel, but then I close it again. Gran hurt my feelings, but hurting hers back won’t make it better.

‘I’m off upstairs,’ I tell her, and I go. Samson pads up the stairs behind me. I think he’s had enough of Gran too.

I sit at my desk and open my BrailleNote – it’s a laptop which converts my work from Braille to print and vice versa. So I can type Braille and print out a text version for the teacher to mark. I can also convert online handouts into Braille. I used to prefer to enlarge everything or use a magnifier, but now I have to do so much reading and writing, I’ve got faster at Braille and it’s much quicker and less strain on my eyes.

Samson curls up by my feet while I try to get on with my history homework – but my mind keeps slipping back to Charlie and the note. I wonder what it says, and I’m tempted once again to open it. But I’d have to go back downstairs to get it – and anyway, I promised. I wonder how I’m going to give it to Kyle without anyone else knowing. I wonder what kind of trouble Charlie’s in. I feel a nervous kind of excitement in the pit of my tummy. This isn’t the sort of thing that happens in my very ordinary life. Everything’s routine – at home and at school, going from lesson to lesson. But now I have a challenge – a task that takes me out of my normal zone.

Maybe I shouldn’t have stopped when Charlie called my name. Maybe I shouldn’t have taken the note. I could have said ‘no’. But I didn’t.

3

I’m walking to school, telling Samson, ‘Straight on,’ so he guides me along the road. Today I don’t feel like going down the path that cuts through to the station, where I was when Charlie gave me the note yesterday. The sun’s bright and I enjoy the warmth on my face. Cars zoom past one after the other, a constant hum. This, along with the smooth, hard pavement underfoot, feels reassuring right now, even though I usually prefer the birdsong of my usual route, with the occasional rattle of a train passing nearby, and the gravel, grass-edged path. There’s nothing to stop and photograph here.

I’ve put the note back in my skirt pocket, but it feels like it’s burning a hole. I’m still wondering what’s going on with Charlie, and also why and how Kyle is involved. He’s not exactly a friend of Charlie’s. I’ve never been aware of them hanging out. Kyle’s a bit off my radar. He doesn’t say much, so I don’t really notice him. The only thing I’ve noticed is his height. I’ve been paired with him a couple of times for projects and he has a nice voice, but he’s a bit of a loner and he seems to be absent from school more than most. He’s never been in trouble though – not even a detention for late homework as far I know.

My challenge is to somehow approach Kyle and give him the note without attracting attention. It isn’t going to be easy. I might think that he’s on his own, but there could be a bunch of people nearby who I don’t even know are there and who can see everything.

I always meet my best friend Madz at the school gate. I want to tell her. I wasn’t going to, but as I get closer to school I think maybe I will. I can trust Madz – and it would be a lot easier to do this with her help.

‘Hey Libs! Hey Samson!’ Madz is in her usual spot on the wall. She jumps down to greet me.

‘Hi Madz. You all right?’

‘Yeah. But last night was a disaster!’

‘Why?’ I ask.

‘I think I’ve made a mess of things with Ollie.’

‘Oh – what happened?’ I ask.

‘You know I was meeting him to see that film?’

I do know this. I was actually a bit peeved because I wanted to go to the film with Madz. And yes – I do enjoy the cinema. Once, when I had just started secondary school, a group of girls that I was hanging out with arranged to go to the cinema and didn’t even tell me, as they thought I’d be upset to be left out. When I told them I could have used headphones and audio-description (a voice describes the action through the headphones) and that I love going to the cinema, they were completely shocked. At least they didn’t leave me out again after that.

Madz and I go to the cinema quite often – or we did, until Ollie came on the scene three weeks ago. Now he’s all that Madz can talk about. I don’t want to be jealous of her having a boyfriend, but sometimes it’s difficult.

‘So what happened?’ I ask.

‘I only went to the wrong cinema, Libs! I went to the Vue and Ollie had booked for the Odeon!’

‘Oh no! What did you do?’

‘I felt such an idiot. I waited for ages – and then I called him, and I couldn’t believe it! I said I’d get the next bus, but he said it was crazy to miss the beginning and he’d get his mate to come instead. I’m gutted, Libby. I’ve got to find him now and make sure things are OK between us. I’m scared he thinks I’m stupid or that I wasn’t bothered enough to turn up. You don’t mind, do you?’

‘No, sure,’ I say. ‘He’ll be OK about it, won’t he?’

‘I hope so – I’ll see you at registration.’

‘Yes,’ I say, as we reach the doors.

‘Great.’ She touches my shoulder gently. And then she’s gone.

Someone shoves past me and I call out, ‘Hey, watch it!’

I hate the crowded corridors first thing in the morning. I direct Samson towards our form room and he leads me there, carefully weaving in and out of the crowds. I’m relieved when we reach the room and I’m in my chair, with Samson snuggled under the desk by my legs. I didn’t get to tell Madz about Charlie, and now I’m thinking about it, I’m glad I didn’t. I don’t need her help with this. I want to do it myself.

Five minutes later, Madz sneaks in beside me just as Miss Terri starts the register.

‘Well?’ I whisper.

‘He’s cool. I’m so relieved!’ she whispers back. ‘He’s asked me to watch him play cricket at lunch. Would you mind? Can you manage without me?’

‘You’re not my carer,’ I remind her. ‘I’ll be fine.’

I’m irritated that she thinks I can’t cope without her, but also that she didn’t ask me to join her. Not that I want to sit around at a cricket match.

Samson shuffles against my feet, as the implications of what she said start to filter through. I start to worry. Lunch in the dining hall is much easier with Madz. I don’t have to think too much because she always finds us a table, and makes sure I don’t put my lunch down too close to the edge, and that there’s an empty chair so I’m not sitting on someone’s bag where they’ve saved a seat.

I have other friends, but not close like Madz, and everyone has their lunch groups and routines. I’d feel awkward saying, ‘Can I sit with you at lunch?’ to Kaeya or Lilly. And then I’d have to ask them for that little bit of help too, but without them fussing over me. Madz does everything with no fuss. I forget she’s even doing it.

‘Are you OK? I feel really bad,’ Madz says.

‘It’s fine,’ I assure her. ‘You’ve got to have a life. I’m happy for you. I have to get used to doing stuff without you.’

I’m used to spending a lot of time with Madz – before school, lunchtimes, at least one night after school each week and one day at the weekend. I’ve never wanted her to feel that I’m relying on her. Our friendship hasn’t felt like that. Being with her is effortless and I don’t have to explain anything. Yet now she’s got a boyfriend and isn’t going to be around so much, I feel vulnerable and needy, and I don’t like it.