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So I had to tell the music teacher that I couldn't do the solo. Worse still, I couldn’t sing at all. I’m heartbroken. I just wanted to perform at the concert, doing what I love. The solo wasn’t even that big a deal to me. I just wanted to sing. When I sing, I forget about everything; being homesick, missing Charlotte; the bullying; my lost friendships.
Now my family had come all this way for nothing. I feared that they were going to be so disappointed, and even worse, that they would have so many questions about my voice. I don’t know what I would tell them. I might be able to fob mum and dad off with the excuse that I was ill, but Charlotte would never fall for it. Plus, the nurse said it could take months to heal because it looks like the damage has been going on for weeks, if not months. What will happen over Christmas break when I’m clearly not ill anymore, but still don’t have a voice?
The music teacher let me help out backstage with the sound and lighting board, but in a way, it just made it worse. If I’d just sat in the audience with Charl, things would’ve been easier. The hardest thing of all was watching Natalia take centre stage and sing my solo. Okay, so maybe I did care about the solo, a little bit. She did a wonderful job, I have to admit, but I honestly think I would’ve been better. Peeking out from behind the curtain, I watched my family scan the program in confusion. There wasn’t time to get them reprinted or to speak to them before the show, so they were understandably confused, looking for me.
When I turned away, unable to watch anymore, I bumped into Tilly. She shouldn’t have been backstage, but I didn’t say anything. I always try to avoid her at all costs.
“You know, for a minute Lizzie, I really thought you were going to pull through and sing that solo,” she said to me. I asked her what she meant, and she told me. “You didn’t really think you just had a cold, did you? Even when all your vitamins and throat sweets didn’t make it better? I thought you were supposed to be smart!”
I stared at her in confusion, not comprehending what she was getting at.
“Oh dear. I’m going to have to spell it out for you, aren’t I? Your throat hurts, and your voice is gone because we’ve been spiking your drinks with chemicals for weeks.”
My jaw hit the floor, and I stared at her in total disbelief. I just about managed to squeak out, “Why?”
“Because Natalia wanted that solo... and we fucking hate you.” She sneered at me. “How’s Rebel? Seen him lately?” I shook my head. “He’s probably too busy spending all his time with Amber, his girlfriend.“
I pushed past her as tears started to stream down my face, and I raced out of the auditorium into the cold December rain. Within minutes I was soaked through, and it was no longer evident that I was crying. When I turned around, I saw Charlotte watching me, but I couldn’t even begin to explain to her what was going on, even if I could speak, so I just pushed past her and went inside, searching for my parents and my ride out of there.
I can’t believe that these girls have risked permanently damaging my vocal cords for a three minute solo in a school concert.
Where are the boundaries?
What will they do to me next?
Can I take much more?
***
Winter break was hard. At the time, I just couldn’t bring myself to write, but here goes.
I thought being out of West Prep and away from all the bullying would make things better, but all it did was make me worry more about returning.
I was so anxious that I couldn’t unwind and enjoy my time with my family. Thanks to the crying in the rain thing I did at least end up with a nasty cold, which helped to explain the voice loss to my parents. Small mercies, right?
The worst thing of all though was being around Charlotte. I never thought anything could come between us, but there’s this distance there that these bullies have caused, and I have no idea how to fix it. She’s the same as always; bright, vivacious, feisty and beautiful. And I’m...different. I’ve changed. I know I have. And she can see it. She keeps trying to get me on my own to talk, but even if I could, I wouldn’t know what to say to her.
Being back home has allowed me to see myself through her eyes. I can understand why she’s worried about me: I’ve lost a lot of weight, to the point of being a bag of bones; my skin is sallow; my eyes are dark hollow circles, and my hair is limp and lifeless. I don’t even feel like myself anymore. I’m just...flat.
I didn’t realise how much the excitement of singing that solo and being a part of the choir was buoying me up. It was the sense of belonging.
And now I have nothing and no one. I don’t belong anywhere. I don’t fit in at home, especially not next to my bubbly, effervescent sister, and I don’t fit in at West Prep.
Despite not fitting in, I’d rather be at school than here. At least there I’ve never fit in. Here, I’m constantly reminded of what I was and what I’ve lost. And what I fear I will never be again.
