Free The Art of Being Normal by Lisa Williamson Page B

knocks my pencil case off the edge of the desk, sending it clattering open.
    ‘Laters, Freak Show,’ he calls over his shoulder.
    I sigh and drop to my knees. My pencil sharpener has burst open and there are shavings everywhere.
    ‘Why does he call you that?’
    It takes me a moment to register that Leo is speaking to me.
    ‘Sorry?’ I say, blinking up at him.
    ‘Freak Show. Why does he call you that?’
    I consider my answer. Leo punched Harry in the face for me, which surely indicates he’s on my side to at least some degree. I’m assuming he also heard Harry spout the contents of my notebook before punching him, which also bodes well. But at the same time, I can’t help but feel cautious.
    ‘It’s kind of historical,’ I say, scooping the shavings intomy hand and tipping them back into my pencil case.
    Leo frowns. ‘How do you mean?’
    ‘Harry’s been calling me that since we were, like, eight years old,’ I reply, standing up and shoving my pencil case into my backpack.
    ‘But why?’
    ‘I don’t know. Because I’m different?’
    ‘Isn’t everyone?’
    ‘Not at Eden Park School.’
    I pull on my coat and we begin to walk down the deserted corridor.
    ‘So you just let him?’ Leo continues.
    ‘It’s not a case of letting him …’ I say. ‘Let’s just say it’s complicated.’
    Leo raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything else.
    ‘Harry Beaumont is kind of the unofficial king of Year 10,’ I say.
    ‘But why? He’s a dickhead.’
    ‘He’s on the football team and runs the one hundred metres for the county. Oh, and he’s on the Ball Committee, which automatically grants him god-like status around here.’
    ‘Ball Committee?’
    ‘You didn’t have balls at Cloverdale?’
    Leo lets out a single laugh. ‘No.’
    ‘We have two, one before Christmas and one in the summer. And Harry is in charge this year. He’s promising a snow machine at the Christmas one. Whoop-de-doo.’
    ‘And people care about this stuff?’
    ‘They really do.’
    Leo shakes his head.
    ‘At least I’m not alone when it comes to dealing with Harry’s abuse,’ I add brightly. ‘He has it in for pretty much anyone who doesn’t fit the mould. Yesterday was just my turn, that’s all. Thanks by the way, for knocking his lights out. Much appreciated.’
    ‘Don’t mention it,’ Leo mutters, pushing open the main doors.
    We step outside. It’s begun to rain. I fish in my backpack for my umbrella.
    ‘Want to come under?’ I ask as I open it up.
    ‘No thanks.’
    We begin to walk down the drive.
    ‘You shouldn’t let him,’ Leo says after a moment.
    ‘Pardon?’
    ‘Harry. You shouldn’t let him call you that.’
    ‘It’s only another two years. Then, if my parents let me, I’m going to a sixth form college in the city rather than stay on here, and Harry will be a figment of my imagination.’
    ‘So until then you’re just going to put up with it?’
    ‘I know it sounds really pathetic, but it’s honestly just easier to try and ignore Harry. You never know, he might get bored eventually. Hey, it would be different if I knew I had a personal bodyguard on hand to beat him up every time he gives me grief, but I have a feeling yesterday was probably a one-off …’
    ‘Yeah,’ Leo says quickly. ‘I’m on probation so probably best I keep my head down.’
    I look over at him in surprise.
    ‘You’re on probation? Just for what happened yesterday?’
    ‘Yeah,’ Leo says. ‘Er, new policy I think. Zero tolerance or something.’
    ‘Oh, right. God, I’m sorry.’
    Leo shrugs. ‘Not really your fault, is it?’
    He doesn’t say it with a whole lot of conviction though.
    The rain is falling faster now, hammering down on the fabric of my umbrella. I try again to coax Leo under, but he pretends not to hear me. His eyes look even greener in the eerie grey light. It’s weird, but the rain sort of suits him.
    We reach the gates just as the number fourteen bus comes juddering up the