Leopold Blue by Rosie Rowell Page B

weird and a little bit different?’
    But I didn’t want to be teased. I wanted to tell him that at last I thought I had found a friend who was fun and even made me feel fun. She embodied everything I wanted to be, but as a result everything else seemed insufferable. I had a ‘Xanthe’ voice in my head and it was loud and funny and brighter than me. It was also meaner than me. But that sounded ridiculous. The best I could manage was: ‘Do you ever hear voices in your head?’
    â€˜Sure,’ he shrugged. ‘All the time.’ He picked up a jug of custard and scooped a large dollop into his mouth. ‘Take this custard, for instance. I don’t want it. It’s the voices! They’re screaming out for it, they won’t give me any rest.’
    I was beginning to suspect that his simple-mindedness was cultivated. ‘Dad, I hate to say it, but you’re a bit of a moron.’
    â€˜Funny,’ he replied as he left the kitchen, ‘The voices were saying the same thing about you.’
    Xanthe had been in Leopold for three weeks. Sometimes she appeared at lunchtime on the steps of the biology lab, but not every day. I was always there, although never again with my soggy sandwich. I ate that quickly standing behind my open locker door.
    Some days she was relaxed and chatty. But that could change without warning and she’d be monosyllabic and constantly looking over her shoulder. Then I had nothing to say.
    Xanthe arrived near the end of lunch break. She never mentioned where she’d been and I wasn’t brave enough to ask. She had taken to bringing me packets of Big Korn Bites. I found it unnerving – it was such a motherly thing to do. I felt I should give her something in return, but there was nothing she’d want from me.
    â€˜What’s next?’ she asked as the bell rang.
    â€˜Swimming,’ I muttered.
    â€˜Swimming?’ she shouted. ‘With that woman – Juffrou Kat? Fuck that. There’s no way I’m getting undressed in front of her.’
    I laughed. ‘Why not?’
    â€˜She’s a complete lessie.’
    â€˜A what?’
    â€˜Les-bi-an.’
    â€˜Seriously?’
    Xanthe didn’t bother responding. She stalked off, in the opposite direction to the pool.
    â€˜Where are you going?’ I called, and bit my lip at the sound of my voice.
    Girls streamed past, criss-crossing the space between us on their way to class. Xanthe stopped and looked back. ‘Come on,’ she said eventually.
    I swallowed and looked around. Juffrou Kat emerged from the building, a bundle of hula hoops over one shoulder and a sack of netball balls over the other. Juffrou Kat was taller than anyone else in the school. Her year-round uniform was a tennis skirt and a white polo shirt that stretched tight across her shelf-like breasts. Her thighs were thicker than Dad’s. She blasted the whistle that hung around her neck with a strength that made you pee in your pants. I turned towards the swimming pool. But a moment later, Xanthe’s hand on my arm stopped me.
    â€˜Why aren’t you two up at the pool getting changed?’ Juffrou Kat demanded.
    I looked down to avoid Xanthe’s smile.
    â€˜Juffrou, we were on our way to find you,’ Xanthe replied, her voice like the distant hum of bees. ‘How are you?’
    Juffrou frowned at Xanthe.
    â€˜Great,’ said Xanthe, with another quick smile. ‘Juffrou, the thing is, I’m far behind in maths, and Margaret has offered to help me catch up. If I don’t, my father –’ She broke off, and looked over her shoulder, as Juffrou Kat and I watched. ‘There will be trouble at home if I don’t improve my marks,’ Xanthe said softly. ‘Would you mind if we used this one hour to work in the library? It would make such a difference.’ Xanthe smiled at the teacher, who astonishingly smiled back, if only for a second. Then Juffrou Kat