‘I’m just a bit . . . lonely, I guess?’ he says. ‘I don’t know anybody here.’
‘School’s starting tomorrow,’ I say. ‘You’ll meet people there.’
‘Yeah, and I’m sure that’ll go well. The new southerner boy. The people here really make fun of you, you know?’
It strikes me then – for the first time in his life, Ollie is in a minority. Me, on the other hand, I’ve always been conscious of being a bit different. The Indian one. The tall girl. So at school I’ve always tried to blend in and be like everyone else.
But I don’t know how to articulate any of this. Ollie always shakes his head when I bring up being a minority, saying there are tons of Asian people in London, the world is different now. But he doesn’t see the subtlety – how I’m the only Indian girl at some of my cross-country sessions. How people sometimes assume I’m vegetarian, for no given reason. How I don’t always feel connected to being Indian, because we don’t speak another language at home or practice any religious or cultural events, but that’s still what everyone sees when they look at me.
How I don’t even know my dad or who he is or where he came from – except he must be ethnically Indian like me.
How, a lot of the time, I feel split in two.
But now’s not the time to get into that.
‘Sounds really hard,’ I manage. ‘But you should keep an open mind about school.’
***
The first day of term. The first day of the last year at school. The beginning of the end.
This is the year I’m going to turn eighteen. This is the year I apply to university. This is the year I try to work outwhat’s coming next.
And it makes me feel sick.
I quickly message Ollie, wishing him good luck. He responds, saying the same thing back. I sigh. I can’t believe this year we won’t be able to hang out, telling each other about our day. We’re relegated to text message and FaceTime.
My phone buzzes again; it’s the Neapolitan group chat. I grab my bag and head down. Faye is parked at the bottom of the drive, Kira already in the front seat. Faye getting a car might be the best thing that’s ever happened to us. Especially since we go to school in the neighbouring borough. And, sure, Faye’s car is a billion years old and feels like on the edge of a breakdown all the time, but it’s still a car.
I have yet to pass my driving test. My instructor calls me ‘too timid on the road’. Kira has the opposite problem, she’s failed two tests and on the last one even gave the examiner a heart attack. She claims it wasn’t her, and he had an underlying health problem, but an ambulance had to come at the end of her test to take him away, which she’s not managed to live down. (Apparently the examiner is fine and lives on to be terrorised by more seventeen-year-olds.)
‘Can we playDreamers?’ I say, sliding into the back seat. It’s Rose Conrad’s third album, taking place at a time when her life turned upside down. Kira dutifully changes the song playing.
‘Feeling sentimental?’ says Kira. ‘You always want to playDreamerswhen you’re feeling sentimental.’
‘Don’t make the first Selena Says of the year too depressing,’ says Faye. ‘They’re best when they’re funny.’
‘Yeah, unlike the time when you mourned them taking out curly fries from the lunch menu,’ says Kira.
‘To be honest it was such a depressing read about curly fries, it did become funny,’ says Faye.
‘It’s the first day of our last year at school!’ I say. ‘What’s not to feel sentimental about?’
Kira gestures around her. ‘Look, I love school, you know it. But this is the beginning of the rest of our lives!’ She punches the air with her hands. ‘And I am ready to get started on it. I cannot wait to go to uni. I’m going to send off my UCAS as soon as I can.’
‘Don’t you have to send it early anyway?’ I say. Kira is, without any question of a doubt, incredibly smart, good at school and ruthlessly ambitious. So naturally, she wants to apply to Oxford university and get started on her way to political greatness.
‘Yes, but I think the sooner I send it in, the better. You both should do that too, so you can get your places early.’
‘I still haven’t decided where I want to go . . .’ I say. ‘Or even what I want to do . . .’
‘Girl, are you okay? You’re running out of time here,’ says Kira, turning around to face me.
I shrink into the seat. ‘It’s the first day of term,’ I say. ‘I’ve got loads of time.’
Kira shakes her head. ‘What about you, Faye? You decided what you want to do yet?’
I’m curious about this too. Faye has always been more on my wavelength than Kira. She’s the most laid back of us. The mostgo-with-the-flow.
