This is just a test

Each time she reached under her mattress panic welled inside her.

And each time, safe.

They were still there.

Her fingers danced quickly across CD cases, working through the alphabet until they found the one.

Swapping the disk with her Japanese language study, she pressed play.

She sat at her desk facing the bedroom door; not really focusing, just quick poems, doodling. In case of a surprise visit her school bag lay in front of the door like a sleeping policeman; she hoped it would give her the precious seconds needed to dump the headphones, hit the power button and look studious.

Fingers crossed.

Her mother expected her back upstairs at exactly eight-thirty with her completed homework, but that wasn't a problem tonight as she had finished the last of it off on the bus ride home. She would make a hot chocolate while it was checked and then return to her bedroom. Reading was allowed until nine after which her light must be out.

The alarm was set for six; mum and dad expected their coffee at six-thirty exactly.

And so another day would begin, pretty much as they all did – so far.

Today though, phew. she smiled, her head shaking at the craziness of it.

The other girls had all pooled their lunch money and bought a cap of oil from the guys living opposite the school. At lunch break, armed with tinfoil and a little cardboard funnel, they'd chased the wisps of smoke about, all giggly and high.

She hadn’t dared. The fear of being caught was too great. The punishment at home; the beating.

'No way!' she'd said laughing at the invitation. 'I gotta read my speech in English today and there’s no way I could do it stoned!'

No, she definitely couldn't afford to get caught.

Stealing from the church collection box was another story though; it was easy, safe even. And the impact it had on her life was so immediate, so big in this teenage world of popularity that the slight risk was worth it.

But lipstick, jewellery, CD's and junk food really only scratched the surface. It was things like shaving your legs or under your arms – which she was forbidden to do – that really mattered here in this world, their world.

The game drove her insane, controlled every waking moment. It sucked; each day the question would hang over the school gates: would they talk to her or would they leave her to wander the backfield alone? So many days spent waiting for the bell to ring; waiting for it all to be over. Mufti-days were the worst though. Having to wear weird out-of-fashion clothes passed down from her sisters would induce panic weeks before the 'fun' day. Yuck. Illness often struck that day. What could you call it? Umm, what about 'having no control of your life'?

What can you do when the only place you went to other than school was church? No town, no movies, no TV and no holidays. Forget competing, in fact you could forget engaging in any sort of meaningful conversation at all. Damn them.

There were a lot of lies. Little lies that grew like mushrooms, fat on bullshit and needing ever more to hide them.

(damn them)

A web of lies that at times left her speechless with confusion and only served to further condemn her.

(damn them)

Geek.

Geek.

Geek.

(damn them, just you wait.)

The last song faded in her ears and she carefully removed the disc and returned it to its place under the mattress.

Skating on thin ice for so long... the fear had pretty much now just made her numb inside.

There had been arguments lately; left her shaking and fearful. There would be more, she was certain of that.

Everything was changing as she raced towards the light; not much longer, not much longer. This was her new survival prayer.

Soon she would be outta here; free of all this.


Later that night she lay in her bed singing softly to herself.

She checked the alarm was set and turned to face the wall; to sleep.

To dream.