Chapter 2

Psychology is boring, but then, things have never quite been the same since Russia and the party. Most of us spend the hour staring down at our hands and carry out instruction without complaint. Angie's changed a lot over the past couple of weeks. She point-blank refuses to make eye contact with Chris during classes now. Of course, it's a completely different situation behind closed doors. We get regular updates as to what's going on from Chris; he can't stop talking about her.

Michelle used to be like that about Tony. She's stopped now and rather abruptly at that. As her visits continue, she's mentioning him less and less. It's been a week since I stopped by at the hospital and for the first time in five days, I overhear her mention his name to Jal. Leaning back in my chair, careful not to topple backwards off its legs, I strain my ears to hear what she's saying. Something about tomorrow, something is happening tomorrow. With my hand gripping the edge of the table, I lean a little further back and turn my head towards her.

I can just about pick out her words. He's coming out of hospital tomorrow. I blink; I hadn't expected it to be so soon.

Biting down on my lip as I think about it, my chair is suddenly pulled back onto four feet as Chris grasps the front of my shirt and whispers into my ear to leave Michelle alone. Angie's gazing over at us looking annoyed. Perhaps he's right. I decide to do as he says, pick up my pen and begin to scribble down a few rough notes onto the sheet of paper in front of me.

Ten minutes later the bell sounds and I scramble to collect my things together, making a beeline for the door, Chris and Anwar right behind me. I don't get too far though, by the time I reach the second block of lockers I hear Michelle call out my name. Stopping in my tracks, I glance back over my shoulder at her, consciously toying with the strap of my record bag. For a moment the other guys hang back, but I quickly tell them it's OK and they continue on their way.

'Hi, Max,' she says when she eventually catches up with me. Her eyes are glued to the floor and she has her hands anxiously shoved into the belt loops of her jeans. I'm about to reply her greeting, when she continues without warning, 'I just want to ask you a question.'

I look at her, give her my full attention, and then nod my head as we continue to walk down the hall. Do I really want to know what this question is, because if she's about to start quizzing me about what's going on between myself and Tony I'd rather escape in all honesty. God knows why I'm agreeing to this conversation. I'm too eager to please that's the trouble, I really am.

'Did you go and visit Tony last week?' she asks eventually, her words quiet.

Is this a trick question? If I say yes is she going to go all Charlie's Angels on my ass? Talking to Michelle is a scary feat these days. I usually try and avoid it if I can. She's a lovely person of course; she just doesn't like me anymore. I'm the enemy, just like Abigail is. What a category to be placing myself in, but there you have it. In Michelle's mind, I'm exactly the same as she is.

Allowing my gaze to fall to the limonium floor, I kick at an imaginary stone, swallow down my nerves and answer briskly, 'Yes.'

Wow, so articulate.

Michelle forces a smile and slows down her pace. Several seconds later we've stopped walking and we're looking at each other face on. She's chewing on her lower lip, obviously thinking over whatever she's about to say. She actually looks sick to the stomach. 'He doesn't talk to me anymore,' she says softly. 'He won't.' Quite clearly becoming agitated, she sighs. 'Has he said anything to you?'

The least I can do is be honest, so I shake my head and offer her a very weak but sympathetic smile. 'He was asleep,' I answer her. 'I didn't get to speak to him.'

Looking to the ceiling, Michelle shakes her head and whispers, 'All I want is for things to go back to normal, to the way they were before.' Don't we all. She lets a breath go and as she brings her gaze back to me, she smiles faintly.

But what exactly is normal, especially where Tony's concerned? He's always been so erratic. How can anyone pinpoint usual behaviour for Tony? Michelle's idea of normal would be getting back together with him and forgetting about everything and everyone else. She's dreaming of course, it's pretty clear that he's going to have changed. He got hit by a bus for fucks sake; he'll be celebrating the fact that he's still alive, not worrying about making everybody happy. She's hoping for too much too soon, that's the trouble.

It seems we're done now, she doesn't say anything more to me, simply walks off to go and find Jal. I glance around somewhat apprehensively, wrap my arms around myself and set off in the same direction Michelle had. Lunchtime could be spent in the green, as usual, remembering happier times when everyone got along. We've separated off into three individual groups these days. Tony had always been the binding that brought everyone together, and without him, we're completely lost.

Unsurprisingly, Sid and Cassie spend all of their time together in their mixed-up, mashed up little world. Since she abandoned going to Scotland with her parents, she'd been staying with an Aunt on the very outskirts of Bristol. Although it was only temporary and as soon as summer came to an end she'd have to make her way up North. She and Sid had decided to cross that bridge when they came to it.

Some days, I like to watch them. Sid still has trouble getting used to Cassie's eccentric ways, so his awkwardness is always a joy to behold. Only two days ago, she sat for half an hour making him a daisy chain and then insisted he wear it for the rest of the day. That had gone down a storm in history.

Michelle and Jal were the same as they always had been (with the exception of Kenneth hanging around every now and again), lying around on the grass and talking about everyone else. Some days they would venture into town to do some shopping, other days they'd stay put.

As for me, I spend day in day out with Chris and Anwar. At least some things are back to normal. Today is no exception. I find them sat in the middle of the green, Chris casually smoking a rollup with a dazed expression on his face, while Anwar picks at a sandwich, his gaze fixed pointedly to the group of girls who are on their way past.

'Did I manage to miss the Angie talk?' I ask as I take a seat, placing my bag down beside me and grinning cheekily in Chris's direction. It isn't much of a shock when I get smacked around the back of the head with his psychology book.