Page 28 of Open Water

“Lukas always comes in with coffee from Espresso House. I don’t know which branch he gets it from, but it might help to narrow it down. There is an Espresso House en route from where he lives to school.”

“Ahh…” Dad’s forehead is a mess of concentration. Sticking his tongue out like he is a five-year-old.

“Or you could just ask him where he lives.”

“He won’t tell me. He can read me like a book. If I ask, he will just lie to me. Tell me he lives somewhere he doesn’t.” I leave him to it. But I do refill his cup and clumsily pat him on the head before I leave.

“Love you!” he shouts after me.

“Okay, Dad!” I shout back as I close the door.

* * *

I don’t see Matteo all day. Again. Which is good in a way. But also bad, because now the anxiety is building in my head. If I run into him now, I will probably freeze with fear and run the other way. Because that is how I function. When all I really want is to run up and just casually hug him. Say hi. Behave like a normal human being.

Instead, I hide in the Maths classroom and write out my thing for the Queer Student group. It’s easy. I have been in group therapy for years. I have done so many icebreaker games and get-to-know-you things and let-your-feelings-out workshops that I could probably run one in my sleep.

I’ll just run with the basics. Get a feel of how these kids think. It scares the shit out of me just imagining that they will all laugh at me, but Lukas will be running it. He will have my back. And then, I will never have to turn up again. It’s just a few sentences I need to squeeze out of my mouth and then, I’m hopefully back in Simon's good books.

I email my draft to Simon. Neatly typed out in an email signed and dated like a grown-up. Hopefully buying me extra goodwill in case it all goes to shit. I can’t force anyone to participate. I can’t make anyone do anything.

I have a stomach-ache as I step into the classroom where the Queer Student group meets. A normal classroom where Lukas is busy moving all the desks out of the way and putting chairs in a circle. Standard stuff. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. I just stand there. Slightly paralysed. Because now that I’m here, I can’t run.

Because, of course, there is this boy who has just thrown himself around me. Hugging the shit out of me and talking nonstop, saying words that I can’t quite take in, apart from that every second word is…

Pumpkin.

“What are you doing here?” I pant out. Becausehello. It’s not like I’m smooth.

“It’s the Queer Student group? Of course, I’m here! I’m like the only Queer at school, Pumpkin. Apart from you. The rest of the people who come here are great, though. It’s a laugh. You’ll see. O-M-G, I can’t believe you came. You have just made my day. Seriously.”

I think Matteo needs to breathe. I think I need a Valium. Lukas just laughs over by the chairs in the corner.

“You’re the Queer?” I need to get my mouth a filter. I need to engage my brain. I need not have a panic attack.

Matteo just looks at me like I have two heads.

“I choose not to label myself. I don’t care, Pumpkin. I am what I am.”

“I assume you two know each other then?” Lukas says as he passes by and a group of girls enter, all chatting excitedly, then holding his arms up in defeat. “Kornelia, we are NOT watching YouTube clips today.”

“Lukas, you are no fun. There is this new Philkas video, all Philkas kisses in under two minutes. It’s seriously cute. You must watch it. “

“Philkas?” Lukas says and the girl who is apparently Kornelia rolls her eyes.

“I think we need to watch thirty greatest Larry proofs again. I still don’t buy it,” another girl says and throws herself on a chair. Then, bounces up and stares at me. “You’rehere!”

“Yeah?” I say back. Trying to sound cocky, when in reality I am probably just as cocky as a bumble bee.

“Hands off him, Hedda, he’s mine,” Matteo says, and swats his hand at her as she grabs the sleeve of my jacket and my chest heaves.Please don’t touch me.

“You are like the coolest of the cool. Are youreallygay? Such a waste.” She looks seriously disappointed and the nerves in my stomach settle a little.

Matteo’s arms are around my waist. And this Hedda is now shouting at someone called Ida who is trying to argue about some story she has read online that apparently has the hottest rimming scene.

“Is it always this crazy?” I whisper to Matteo, who is kind of plastered to my back. His arms are still around me.

“Oh, you haven’t seen crazy yet, Pumpkin. Shyla hasn’t arrived. Her and Reim are like the tag team of Gay-shipping. They could convince you Donald Trump and Barrack Obama are having a passionate affair by just making you watch carefully doctored YouTube clips for an hour. Trust me, you would totally buy it.”

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