Are We All Lemmings & Snowflakes? Read online

  I need to apologize to Mum and Dad.

  I shove on denim shorts and a floaty yellow top that brings out the natural tan in my skin and go downstairs to try and make it better again.

  Dad’s reading the news on his tablet and Mum is waiting for her toast to pop. I pause at the door and then decide to tap-dance in across the lino. They look up and I do a little handclap and a jazz-hands finish.

  “Ta-da!” I say. “Guess who’s back?”

  The smile reaches Dad’s eyes. Mum looks like she’s about to cry. I drop my arms sheepishly. “So, yeah, sorry about scaring the hell out of you again and ruining your birthday,” I say. “By the way, I’m feeling better now.”

  Then Mum is hugging me, so hard. And Dad is scraping his chair back and joining in.

  “Oh, Olive, you don’t need to apologize,” he says.

  “Yes I do.”

  I can hardly breathe they’re hugging me so tight. And I hate myself for a moment. I hate myself for making them worry so much. For having to put up with me. Their one child and I’m a failure. For not being stronger. For not spotting the warning signs. For tumbling back down into the abyss. I can’t do this to them again. I have to get mended. I have to get fixed.

  Eventually they let go. Mum offers me toast and I realize I’m starving. I eat six slices piled high with freshly mashed avocado and savour every bite. We all sit around the table like normal, sipping coffee and behaving like I imagine a regular family does.

  “Aren’t you going to be late for work?” I ask Dad between mouthfuls. He owns this little law firm in town and is always stressed about bringing in new clients.

  “I wanted to see you off so I cleared my morning.” He smiles again in relief at the restored state of me. “How are you feeling about camp today?”

  I swallow my mouthful of toast. “Good. I’m looking forward to getting better.”

  They share a look over the table that they don’t think I notice.

  “Well, let’s just see how it goes.” Mum sips from her thin china geese cup. She’s always been obsessed with geese for some reason. “You can call us and come home whenever you want.”

  Dad gets out the road map and he and Mum argue about why he still doesn’t trust the satnav. I wash up my plate. Enjoying the sun streaming in the window, how it feels warm on my face. The children next door are out in the street already, circling our cul-de-sac on their bikes, singing pop songs and enjoying the school holidays. The noise scrapes my insides but it doesn’t make me want to shoot them. A definite improvement. I head upstairs to see what Mum’s packed for me. I add a few more tops and a strappy summer dress, and take out an embarrassing pair of knickers. I know I get a private room, but I don’t want to risk the other patients seeing my novelty, period-stained Winnie-the-Pooh pair. I even dab on some make-up.

  I’m delaying something.

  Something I’ve been delaying since I woke up…

  The fallout.

  So, I snuggle under the duvet, take two calming breaths and turn on my phone.

  Eight trillion messages and missed calls.

  Loads are from Ally. Long-suffering Ally.

  Where are you? We were supposed to meet at twelve.

  You better not have stood me up, bitch.

  Okay, so you’re not picking up your phone. I’m worried.

  They descend into:

  So, I came round but your mum said things are bad. I love you. Let me know you’re okay.

  I miss you. Sending hugs.

  Oh, Olive. I called around and your mum told me about the hospital. I know you like to be left alone when you’re like this but I LOVE YOU. You’ll pull through.

  I wipe my nose on the cover as I tap out my reply. I wonder every day what I’ve done to deserve Ally. She’s practically my only friend – the one person who stood by me after that ridiculous drama with Bella last year. But you don’t need more than one friend when you’ve got someone as brilliant as Ally. She handles my crazy perfectly, and I handle hers.

  I punch out a reply:

  ALLY, YOU ARE SO WONDERFUL. I AM BACK. I don’t know what happened there. But it’s over and I’m through it, and I’m about to go off to some weird camp that mends crazy people so I PROMISE I won’t do this to you again. We’re leaving at ten. So, if you’re up in time, come round. I owe you ALL the hugs xxx

  My phone goes almost immediately.

  YOU’RE BACCCCCK! I’m literally just round the corner, walking Heather. I’M ON MY WAY. Don’t go to the loony bin without saying goodbye.

  A smile tickles the side of my mouth. I send loads of kisses back. But the smile soon vanishes when I see I have some less-nice messages. Mostly all from Rick.

  Hey. Howz it going? X

  U playin hard to get or what?

  Finally…

  Slut.

  My hands shake as I read that last one. I worry that I’m a slut for five whole minutes and then find myself smiling and thinking, And thank God I’m not pregnant with your child.

  I should really take an STI test though. I wonder if you can get them at camp?

  I go through the rest of my phone – checking tagged pictures, trying to remember what happened before I disintegrated. I feel like I’ve got away with it to some degree. No one’s sending me any abuse this time (apart from Rick); I can’t have done anything that bad. Apart from…

  The doorbell goes and I hear Mum answer it.

  “Olive?” she calls up the stairs. “Ally’s here.”

  I shove my running trainers further into my suitcase to make room for more stuff, and then jog down the stairs to meet her. Heather is equally excited to see me, pulling at her collar when I arrive in the entrance hall.

  “Olivio! You’re alive!” Ally says, bending to try and calm her terrier down, but I just envelop her in a hug. She squeezes me back and I see Mum watching, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, smiling.

  “Thanks for coming over.” I crouch to give Heather a rub behind the ears which makes her ten gazillion times more excitable. “Come on up.”

  “We’re leaving in an hour,” Mum reminds me.

  “I know, I know.”

  When we get into my room, Ally stops in the doorway and lets out a whistle. “Woah, Olivio, shit got dark.” She perches on the edge of my bed and takes in my walls.

  I shrug, feeling slightly embarrassed. “I know. I’m not sure what happened.”

  “Let’s put your photos back up. This is freaking me out.”

  Heather is happy enough, sniffing all the things there are to sniff, as Ally and I remake my giant montage on the wall. We don’t talk at first. I think she can feel me building up to it and knows I need time. So we just show each other photos before re-Blu-Tacking them to where they once were.

  “I still can’t believe you convinced me to pose as a Victorian mental health patient.” Ally holds up the picture I have of her in a makeshift straightjacket.

  “I got top marks for that!” I say, plucking the picture out of her hands and sticking it next to a group shot I took of everyone last summer.

  Ally twists to look at its new spot on the wall.

  “People have been asking after you,” she says quietly. “I didn’t know what to tell them.”

  I sigh and sink back onto my bed. “Just tell them what they want to hear – that I’m an attention-seeking mental.”

  Ally sits down with me, both of us with our backs against the wall. She calls Heather up, who jumps into my arms and settles into a belly rub, her tongue flopping out of her mouth.

  “People don’t think that.”

  “They do.”

  “Well, not everyone…” She pushes her dyed black hair out of her face and crosses her eyes. “Maybe Bella and her merry band of bitches.”

  “What a surprise.”

  “Most people just found you good fun. The Freedom party was INTENSE. Dare I ask what happened with you and Rick?”

  I shake my head.

  “He’s an idiot anyway. I tried
talking you out of it.” She sees my mouth fall open in surprise. “Don’t worry. I knew you were too wasted to remember.”

  “Sorry,” I say. It’s what I always end up having to say. But Ally never needs an apology.

  She sticks her tongue out, demonstrating just that. “Don’t worry about it. Makes us equals for that night I went off with Pete and left you without any money for a cab home.”

  I smile and hold out my pinkie. “Shit friends for ever?”

  She laughs and we pinkie shake on it. “Shit friends for ever.”

  I rub Heather’s belly and fill Ally in on the greenhouse and the ambulance and Jake and the antidepressants and my upcoming stint at camp. I get a bit weepy and she pulls me in for a hug. And, Heather, sensing my upset, rolls over and pushes her wet nose into my face, making us both laugh.

  “Oh, hon,” she says. “Heather, down…down now! Olive doesn’t want your lick in her face. Good girl. Aww, hon,” she continues. “I promise you, that all sounds pretty drama, but from the outside, I don’t think anyone noticed too much so don’t worry about that. Just worry about getting better. You didn’t do anything undoable.”

  I sniff. “That’s the thing though…I think I did.”

  She leaves me a silence, pushing her hair off her face again.

  “My English exam.” This is the first time I’ve allowed myself to think about it. “It was my last one and well…”

  At the time, I remember thinking it had gone brilliantly. In fact, I think I told a lot of people afterwards that I may, actually, be a genius. But now I’m remembering what I wrote. I think I may’ve gone off-piste… The question was about the character of Dill in To Kill A Mockingbird…I remember that much. But I also remember writing over ten pages in the two hours. And that a lot of it wasn’t about Dill. It was a full-on rant about the problematic representation of people of colour in the book, and how bad it is that white people always have to solve racism, and that Atticus is overrated. And I remember, at the time, thinking this was the most incredible insight the world has ever KNOWN, and the examiners will be BLOWN AWAY by my analysis.

  I don’t remember talking about Dill that much.

  Ally pats my knee. “You did tell me afterwards that you thought you’d aced it. But, not in a normal way.” She paused. “You had a LOT to say about Atticus, which would’ve been great, except our question wasn’t about him.”

  I feel the tears re-emerging. “Shit! I knew it. I need to pass to do it for A level…” My stomach clenches and Ally pulls me in for another hug.

  “There’s always retakes, Olivio,” she says. “And you still maybe passed. Knowing you, you’ve probably still got top marks even with answering the wrong question.”

  We just hold each other while I feel self-hatred and anxiety bubble up inside of me.

  “I can’t be like this any more,” I whisper into her shoulder. “I don’t want to be this person any more.”

  “You’re awesome, Olive,” she says back into my shoulder, before pulling away and holding me out at arm’s length. “But if you’re not happy, then this camp place sounds pretty cool. Hell, maybe I need to go too? Smuggle me in?”

  And she gets up and starts climbing into my suitcase while I laugh at her sheer bendability. I feel momentarily happier but now Mum is calling up the stairs, saying the car is packed and Ally has to go. We hug goodbye and I promise to email. And Dad packs my suitcase into the car and hugs me too and says that he’s proud of me and he’ll miss me but I can call any time. As he hugs me too tight, all I can think is, It doesn’t matter what happened. Because it won’t happen again. You are going to this camp and you are going to FIX THIS. You are going to knock this on the head. This is your chance. You are not going to be this person any more.

  I don’t know what’s wrong with me but I know I’m not right, and I know this time was the closest call I’ve had. I hug Dad back, feeling so guilty, and I whisper promises to myself that, no matter how hard it is at this camp, I will not let myself be this person ever again.

  Okay, so the gates of this camp are mighty gatey considering the whole you-can-leave-whenever-you-want thing. Mum has to pull to a stop outside this giant entrance and fuss about with an intercom until the metal bars swing slowly open.

  The driveway up to the big house must be at least half a mile long, and I stare out the window feeling sick with nerves. The lawns are mown into lines that stretch out into the blue sky. I squint as I look into the distance. “Is that a…farm?” I ask, catching a glimpse of some stables and tall, white weird fluffy animals grazing next to them.

  “It did say there was a farm attached. With alpacas!”

  I slump back in my car seat. “Pray tell, Freud. Exactly when was it that you discovered the cure to mental illness was alpacas?” I murmur.

  Mum laughs. “Olive, I don’t think they’re treatment. I think they’re just here for the ambience.”

  I’d forgotten this was going to become a private clinic until I see how good the house is. Like a huge stately home. Soon only the rich messed-up teenagers will be allowed here, as opposed to us regular messed-up teenagers – sitting on waiting lists, hoping we still have marbles left to find by the time we’re offered any treatment.

  I remember what Dr Herret said. “You’re very lucky.” I have enough emotions now to roll this over more in my brain. Trying to figure out if I should be pissed off or not. But then we draw up outside this huuuuuuuuge house with its giant marble pillars and marble stairs leading up to the front door.

  “Wow, it doesn’t look too bad actually,” I say to Mum.

  Then we see and hear the girl on the steps.

  Screaming at the top of her lungs…

  The girl’s still screaming as we turn the car engine off. Mum and I look at each other, totally panicked.

  They said this place wasn’t for certifiables…

  Do we need to help? Why is she screaming? Oh God, oh God…

  The girl makes direct eye-contact with me. She stops screaming and starts to cackle with laughter.

  “Ha!” she shouts, pointing at me. “Got you. I TOTALLY got you.”

  It takes a second or two to realize she’s joking. My heart is still going berserk.

  The girl jumps down off the step and rushes over to say hello. “Did I terrify you? Isn’t it funny? I’ve been doing it to EVERYONE.”

  I shake her hand and it’s warm and slick with sweat. I want to rub my hand on my shorts but I don’t want her to see me do it.

  I don’t even understand what UNIVERSE this girl lives in if she thinks that’s funny.

  “I’m Gabriella.” She rolls her Rs and looks very impressed with herself for doing so. She’s tall and big in a way that you notice, draped in baggy clothes with long sleeves.

  “I’m Olive.” I can’t bring myself to laugh. My heart still hasn’t recovered. She doesn’t seem to notice.

  “Here, I’ll show you where to go.”

  She pushes through the grand doors of the giant house. Mum and I give each other a look, and for a moment I know we’re thinking the same thing.

  Don’t make friends with this one, Olive.

  The coolness of the house collides with the warm sun still on my skin. I cross my arms and stare upwards as I follow Gabriella through a long hallway. It’s a converted stately home – one where every single atom of unmodernity has been stripped out. It smells of fresh white paint and orchids adorn every black, lacquered surface. The ceilings stretch up to reveal modern chandeliers made of black glass, all weird angles. Gabriella leads us towards a tall desk where a preened lady in a black kimono uniform clacks the keys of her sleek computer.

  “Grace, GRACE!” Gabriella yells. “Guess what? I scared another one. I TOTALLY got her.” She pushes me towards the desk and I look back at Mum, who just shrugs helplessly. “You lost your NUT, didn’t you, Olive?”

  “H-h-hi,” I say to the lady who must be Grace. “I’m Olive.”

  “Olive Newman! Welcome to Camp Reset.” Grace’
s face breaks into an earnest smile. She hasn’t even had to look at the screen to know my full name. “I’m Grace. I’m the care manager, which basically means I’m here to help you with whatever you need. I hope Gabriella didn’t scare you too much.” She turns to her and says, through a very gritted smile, “Gabriella? I thought we decided to stop that joke?”

  “It’s funny! Wasn’t it funny, Olive?”

  Oh God, I hope not everyone here is like her.

  “Umm. Yeah, I guess,” I say.

  She erupts into a triumphant smile. “SEE! Anyway, I’m going to go wait for more people.”

  She saunters back towards the entrance, leaving me staring at Mum, Mum staring at me. I don’t care how many orchids there are here, I did NOT find that funny.

  “Sorry about Gabriella.” Grace reads my mind and smiles apologetically. “I’ve told her to stop.”

  “But she’s not stopping.”

  “I’ll send someone out. Oh dear, it’s a shame when you have to discipline clients on their first day.”

  The word client confuses me until I realize she’s referring to Gabriella. We’ve morphed from “patients” to “clients” with some supercalifragilistic of black orchids and designer chandeliers.

  “She really did scare us,” Mum says, always wanting to get a word in. “I hardly think it’s appropriate… I mean… Olive’s been worried enough about coming here and that didn’t help…”

  “Mum!”

  “Well, she’s bound to be scared, isn’t she?”

  Grace nods solemnly. “Of course, of course. I can only apologize. Hang on…” She picks up a sleek phone, presses a button, waits a second and then says down the line, “There’s a client at the entrance who’s causing a bit of a to-do. Do you mind sending someone? Yes. Yes… That’s the one… Thank you very much.” She puts the phone down and beams back at us. “All sorted! Now, Olive. Let’s get you settled in. Your room’s all ready. Welcome!”