‘That’s what the Junior Cert’s
Becca says, ‘It’s not Burger King. It’s… Like, what if I fail, I don’t know, Science, and they won’t let me do Honours Biology for the Leaving?’
Julia is surprised enough that she almost forgets about Holly and Selena. Becca’s never said anything about what comes after school, ever. Selena’s always wanted to be an artist, Holly’s been thinking about sociology, Julia likes the idea of journalism more and more; Becca watches those conversations like they have nothing to do with her, like they’re in a language she doesn’t speak and doesn’t want to learn, and is prickly for hours afterwards.
Holly is thinking the same thing, apparently. ‘So?’ she wants to know. ‘It’s not like you
‘I don’t have a clue. I don’t care. I just…’ Becca’s head is down, over her hands moving faster and faster. ‘I just can’t be in all different classes from you guys, next year. I’m not going to be stuck in, like, Ordinary Level everything when you’re all doing Honours and we never see each other and I have to sit next to Orla Stupid Burgess for the rest of my life. I’ll kill myself.’
Holly says, ‘If you fail Science, me and Lenie are too – no offence, Lenie, you know what I mean.’ Selena nods, carefully so her hair won’t tug. ‘We’ll all be sitting next to Orla Stupid Burgess together. It’s not like we’re all smarter than you.’
Becca shrugs, without looking up. ‘I practically failed it in the mocks.’
She got a C, but that’s not the point. She’s electric because there’s something in the air, scraping at her even though she can’t figure out what or where it is, and she needs to feel the four of them holding tight because she believes that’s what will make everything OK again. Julia knows what she wants to hear.
Selena is the one who says stuff like that. Then Julia tells her to quit being such a sap and anyone who fails English is on her own, because personally she’d rather snog Orla Burgess with tongues than do Ordinary Level English and be forced to listen to Miss Fitzpatrick sniffing up her nose-drip every ten seconds like clockwork.
Selena says nothing. She’s drifted away again, eyes on the sky, swaying with the rhythm of Becca’s fingers.
Julia says, ‘If you fail Science, we’ll all do Ordinary Level together. I’ll survive without my world-famous-neurosurgeon career.’
Becca glances up, startled, looking for the snide edge, but Julia smiles at her, a real full-on smile. One confused second and then Becca smiles back. Selena’s swaying eases as her hands gentle.
‘I don’t want to do Honours Bio anyway,’ Holly says. She stretches her legs out luxuriously and clasps her hands behind her head. ‘They make you dissect a sheep heart.’
‘Eww,’ all round, even Selena.
Julia tucks the pebble into her pocket and stands up. She bends her knees, swings her arms, and leaps; hovers above the bush for a second, arms outspread, head back and throat bared to the sky; and floats down to land, one-toed like a dancer, on the grass.
On Thursday Julia barfs at the beginning of Guidance, right when Sister Cornelius is winding up for a long bewildering rant involving nightclubs and self-respect and what Jesus would think of Ecstasy drugs. She figures she might as well get something out of all this.
Selena’s phone is still in the same place. Chris has been sending her predictable texts. She hasn’t answered them.
Julia texts him:
She’s planning to lie in bed and study, because the real world still exists, whether that prick Chris and that fool Selena like it or not, the Junior Cert is still going to need taking, and today that actually feels comforting. Instead she falls asleep, too instantly and intensely even to fight it.
