2. 2

2

Ember

T he horrors of my school life had led to changing schools in the midst of my senior school years, and later, led to being home schooled by a tutor, because I’d missed my final exams, and needed help to get me there. I still wanted the qualifications I should have left school with, but at the same time, I hated some of the subjects I’d ended up taking in the end.

He was pretty great though, in the way that he was trying to help me harness my anger, and my pain, and put it on the page. Not as words, but in art.

Who knew that I could actually draw and paint, and that it wasn’t the rubbish I’d thought I was creating. He’d been so proud when I started using more colours than just black too, even though the black suited my mood.

Mr Erickson was sitting beside me in the study. That was the posh word for basically the spare downstairs room that my dads turned into a study room for me, after I had to leave the school. See, it turns out that no amount of bullying can get a reprieve from being schooled, but multiple suicide attempts suddenly makes you look like a bad influence on other students!

“That’s time, Ember.”

“I told you I want to be called Em.”

Mr Erickson sighed. “It’s a pretty name though, you shouldn’t waste it.” He was always saying dumb stuff like that, but he didn’t understand that my name had been part of the problem.

How weird was it for kids to be called stupid stuff like Blaze, Ember, and Ash? It was no wonder Phoenix was having so much trouble at his school now, especially since he’d realised he preferred to wear skirts and dresses.

My parents would never crush our spirit, or dissuade us from our wants and needs, but honestly, I think maybe they should have with him. At almost ten, he was attracting some nastiness from other kids already, and I didn’t want him to go through what I did.

“Em?”

“Sorry, yeah, here you go.” I handed my test paper to Mr Erickson to mark up, and went to make a cup of tea for us, because he liked a cuppa when he was grading test papers.

“Everything going okay, sweetheart?” Mum switched the kettle on as she saw me approaching, and I saw she had our mugs ready. “Did the test go okay?”

I had no idea, because I wasn’t even sure if I’d been focused on it enough to answer all of the questions. I hated the geography and history lessons, but because I’d opted out of languages, and couldn’t do all of the sciences from home, I was stuck with those as my options. Not that any of that mattered, because art was the only subject I truly cared about.

“Dunno. Mr E’s just marking it for me now. I don’t think I was very focused though.” I chewed on the inside of my cheek, rubbing my fingers over the scars on my left arm. I could feel them through the thin sleeve of my shirt, and just knowing they were there actually gave me comfort.

Mum started pouring the hot water into our mugs, talking as she worked.

“He said you’re doing very well in geography, but that history is the one you’re not that interested in. Is it too boring?”

I slumped into one of the dining chairs across the kitchen.

“It’s all old stuff, about old dead people, and it’s completely useless. None of those people went through what we go through now. It’s a different world, and completely irrelevant to me!”

Mum fell silent, finishing making drinks and carrying them to the table, to place them in front of me.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ll always wish I could have protected you from what happened. Sometimes we learn things from the past though, and sometimes we learn how to avoid things too. I’m just saying, don’t rule it out. You might find something in it that interests you.”

“I don’t care about a bunch of old bearded dudes, mum. They never had to… they had it easier, okay? Technology makes life so much more painful than it has to be.”

“Ember, has-”

“Em! My name is Em. Why is everyone finding that so fucking hard to remember?!” I shot up from my chair, grabbing both mugs, and storming away from mum, before she could ask whatever the hell question she had. I knew I was being a bitch, but it was so hard not to be. I had so much anger inside me, and no outlet for it.

I slid Mr E’s mug in front of him as I sat down, and he murmured his thanks as he marked the last page of my test. Finally, he lifted his head and returned the pages to the front, and smoothed it over his leg.

He was wearing dark jeans and a t-shirt with some charity thing on it. If he hadn’t been my tutor, I’d probably be thinking he was cute, but he was too involved in my life, and he knew too much for me to even think about him that way.

“You weren’t really invested in that, were you?” He asked softly, telling me what I already suspected. I’d failed the damn test. Fuck!

“It’s dull,” I finally whispered, lowering my head to stare at my hands. Could I rub my scars again, or would he call me on it? He seemed to always see too much.

“Em?”

I kept my head down and he sighed.

“I’m not going to talk to the top of your head. Please make the effort to pay attention. You didn’t fail.”

My head shot up, and I met his dark brown eyes with surprise.

“What? I was sure I fucked it up!”

He tutted at me, shaking his head.

“Language, Em. I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll remember your new name, if you’ll curb the cursing when we’re in class?”

Sometimes reasonable people could be so annoying. I liked swearing. It expressed how I was feeling, so much better than the more acceptable words.

“I’ll try,” I finally offered, reaching for the paper. He let me take it.

“You didn’t pass by much, but it was still a pass, so well done. I’d suggest you revisit some areas of the research material, but you’d probably stab me, so let’s move on.”

I giggled at his words, and shoved the paper aside.

“Move on to?”

He rolled his eyes, releasing a heavy sigh.

“Fine. Draw me something. Be creative though, and surprise me. You have,” he glanced at his watch, “twenty minutes. Do me proud, Em.”

It wasn’t really part of my schooling, but he liked to do this now and then to split up the academic stuff, and give me a break. He was pretty cool really, for a teacher.

As long as we still met the academic milestones, and I took the required tests at the required time, he was able to set his own curriculum, and that suited me just fine. Sometimes we’d go an hour or more over normal school hours, but that was because of breaks like this.

“Five minutes gone, Em.” I smiled as my pen started to fly across the page. I knew just what to draw, and I knew it’d make him laugh.

I was smirking to myself as I finished the drawing, just as he checked his watch again and called time.

“Okay, done.”

“Show me?”

I passed the page to him, feeling gratified when he chuckled, and then started to laugh. I’d drawn myself setting fire to a whole stack of history books, with my middle finger extended at the burning pile.