With Warm Regards, Franny Page 6

  “Where have you been hiding? I haven’t seen you in ages,” she said.

  “Oh, I’ve just been very busy,” I said.

  “Jesus, tell me about it. I’ve been absolutely swamped. What are you up to now? Do you want to go and grab some coffee?”

  I’ve never grabbed coffee with anyone in my life before. I certainly wasn’t going to start then.

  Grace used to be friends with me and all my other friends at high school, but she sort of stopped coming to things with us. She did a lot of rowing, and every time we invited her to something, she would say, “Sorry, I’ve got rowing tomorrow morning, I can’t make it.” Or she would say, “Sorry, I’m exhausted from practice today. I’m going to crash early tonight. Hopefully next time.” So, after a while, we sort of just stopped bothering to invite her any more. Then, later on, I heard from one of my friends that she was apparently very angry at us. She said that we never invited her to things any more, and that we were all big bitches for that reason. The thing is, though, when someone says no to you about two hundred times in a row, you sort of stop wanting to invite them. Even if they really truly do have to go to rowing or something else, it still doesn’t feel very good when they say no to you all the time.

  “No sorry, I’ve got to be somewhere,” I said. I didn’t really want to tell her that I was going to drop out of my paper. I was a little bit embarrassed about it. So instead I just said, “I have to go pick up an assignment.”

  It was funny, because I actually did have an assignment that I was meant to pick up. But I didn’t want to pick it up because I already knew that I had failed it. My tutor told me at the last class I went to. What’s even worse than that, though, is that they always forced you to pick up all of your assignments, even if you didn’t want them back. I didn’t know why they couldn’t just throw them in the bin instead. Or even burn them. But they always got very angry if you didn’t go into the office to pick them up. Once they even threatened they would start deducting marks on uncollected assignments. They would always say in class that it was very important to read through the marker’s notes so that you could learn from your mistakes. I never did that though. I did something very cheeky. When I picked up my assignment, I would always say, “Thank you. I’m going to read all through the notes and learn a lot.” Then, as soon as I was out the door, and they couldn’t see me anymore, I would walk straight over to the nearest bin and throw it away. I wouldn’t even look at it once. It was my secret revenge.

  “Oh, I’ll come with you!” she said. She seemed very excited to tag along with me. But I really wanted to shake her loose.

  “Unfortunately, it’s probably better if you didn’t come. Straight afterward, I have to go work on my essay. I’m very busy.”

  She didn’t even really notice that I was trying to blow her off, all she said was, “If you think you’ve got a lot of work, you should see the stuff they pile on to me.”

  Grace always says that kind of stuff. The thing about Grace was that she always loved to be the best at everything. Like if you got a bruise on your arm or something, and it was quite sore and you showed it to her, she was likely to say that it was nothing compared to the bruise she got last week or something like that. Hers would have been much bigger and much more painful than yours was. Or if you had to stay up all night finishing an assignment, there was a very high chance that she would have just stayed up for three nights in a row finishing an even harder assignment. And she’d always tell you about it. It was very annoying.

  She said, “I spent all yesterday finishing off my operations research assignment. What a lot of fun that was, I’m about ready to strangle someone. Now I’ve got to try get through these fluid mechanics questions, which I haven’t even started yet.”

  She studied engineering. I only know about two people who do engineering, but I don’t like either of them. They always think they’re better than everyone else.

  “Endless bloody assignments,” she said. “I’ve got assignments coming out of my ears, I really do.”

  I looked at her ears for a second. I didn’t really believe they were coming out of her ears, though. I just sort of looked there automatically. I was kind of sick of talking to her. Then I yawned.

  “Sorry,” I said. I said it mostly out of habit, because it’s meant to be rude to yawn in front of someone. “I just didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  “Oh my god, don’t even talk to me about sleep; I haven’t slept in about a week.”

  I didn’t think that was very likely to be true, but I didn’t say anything.

  “I’m absolutely exhausted,” she said. “I’m running on pure adrenaline.”

  She paused for a second, and so I quickly took my chance and said, “It’s nice to see you, Grace,” and I kind of started to shuffle away, “but I better get going.”

  “All right see you, Franny!” She came up and gave me another crushing hug. “Let’s catch up soon.”

  She always says, “Let’s catch up soon,” but we never do. Not that I’m too bothered by it.

  Once I got away, I started going toward the student advice building again. But when I got there, there was this very long line that went all the way out the door. It was very annoying, but I guess a lot of people needed advice around exam time.

  I waited in that line for a long time and finally got close to the front. I was in this small room with blue carpet. They had these three little grey desks with student advice councillors sitting at them, and you’d just go sit with whichever one was available. Everyone was talking in quiet voices, because you’re not meant to listen to someone else’s conversations. Sometimes people can discuss very private matters there, like if you failed a paper, or missed too many assignments, and need to know what to do about it. I thought it was a bit silly, because you can actually hear what everyone was saying, even if they whisper. I thought there should be private rooms or something.

  When I got to the front of the line, I suddenly felt very anxious. I was worried that everyone was going to listen to me, and that they might laugh at me or think I was stupid for not wanting to do my paper anymore. Then someone left one of the desks, so it was my turn. I wondered if maybe it was a bad idea, what I was doing, dropping out of my paper. For a second, I wondered whether I should go away to think about it some more. But then the student advice man looked up and waved me over. I didn’t have any choice, so I went and sat down in front of him.

  The man was quite thin, with these round glasses on, and he looked like he was extremely bored. He seemed like he wasn’t even focusing on anything around him, just staring at nothing. And he talked in this boring monotone voice.

  “What can I help you with today?” he said.

  The only problem was that I didn’t really want to talk about my situation with all those other people around. I was feeling very worried and quite upset. I started getting this lump in my throat, almost like I was going to cry. I was so scared that if I tried to say anything, I would just burst into tears. That happens to me quite frequently. Like this time when I was in high school, when I was quite young. I was new to the school, and our whole class went to the computer lab. All the kids spread across the room and sat at a computer. People started opening the Internet and drawing things and writing things on the computer, but the problem was that I didn’t even know how to turn it on. My old school didn’t even have a computer lab. I’m not sure if we even had any computers at all. I never used one there at least. The only computer I’d ever used was this black one at my dad’s work. Just for making pictures and messing around on and stuff. But the trouble was that those computers at school were different. They were white ones. So I didn’t even know how to work it. I sat there for about ten minutes, sort of looking at it, trying to see whether I could figure it out. I didn’t want to feel all over the computer for a switch or anything, because then people would know for sure that I didn’t know what I was doing. Eventually, the teacher asked me why I was reading instead of doing my work. I had pulle
d out my book and started reading, instead of doing my work, because I didn’t know how to turn it on. But I couldn’t tell her that, because then everybody would laugh at me. So I didn’t say anything; I kind of just stared at her. She asked me again, and then everyone else in the room started looking at me. I could feel my face going hot, and so I sort of just looked down into my book again, because I didn’t want everyone to look at me. She got very angry at me then. She was such a stupid teacher! I guess maybe it was a bit rude of me not to answer. But it wasn’t even my own fault! I was so nervous. I wasn’t doing it to be mean. But she just got angry at me, and even almost yelled at me. She made me stand up in front of everyone and go to the dean’s office. Then, when the dean asked me what I had been sent to his office for, I just started crying everywhere. I felt like such an idiot.

  The student advice man was still waiting for me to say something. I think I was silent for quite a while, but I don’t think he cared. He just sat there looking very bored. He was looking at me right in the eyes. He was hardly even blinking. I can’t really talk very well when people stare at me like that. I eventually said, in a very hushed voice, because I didn’t want people to hear me, “I was just wondering if—”

  “What? I can’t hear you.”

  I guess I was talking a bit too quietly. I felt my face go very red then. I didn’t want to turn around to see, but I could feel there were people looking at me when he said that. He said it quite loud. I wanted to just run away and get out of that horrible little room. But I had to sort everything if I wanted to get out of writing my essay.

  “Uhm,” I said, a little bit louder this time. The bored man leaned in very close to me, to hear what I was saying. He leaned all the way across the table. “I just wanted to make an alteration to my degree.”

  “A what?” he said. I didn’t know what he meant, so I didn’t say anything. “Do you mean an alteration?”

  “Yes. That’s what I said.” I started feeling a bit annoyed that he was talking so loud. He was talking louder than anyone in the room. “I wanted to—”

  “No, you said altercation.”

  I guess it’s possible I did. Sometimes I muddle words up like that, especially when I’m nervous. I’m quite stupid. I tried to keep asking him about changing my paper, but he talked right over me.

  “Altercation doesn’t even make any sense.” He was talking so loud now. He leaned back in his chair and looked like he was thinking very hard about it. “It’s not the right word.”

  I suddenly felt very dizzy, and my face was so hot and started to feel sweaty.

  “I think you definitely meant to say alteration.”

  I looked around, and the whole line of people were staring at me. Even some of the other student advisers had stopped advising and were looking at me. I started panicking, and I didn’t know what to do. Everyone was watching me, and he was talking so loud. I pushed my chair back and ran away. I ran past the whole line of people, who all watched me go. I ran out of the building and into this toilet block that was next door. I locked myself in a toilet stall and cried for a long time. I felt very faint and was sweating so much, and I hated everyone, including me.

  Chapter Seven

  After quite a while, I came out of the toilets. I figured I had to go to the library. I had to finish my essay. I didn’t have any choice. I went to the computer lab in the basement of the library, and eventually found a computer I could sit at. It was quite crowded there. There were a lot of other people writing essays and studying. But I didn’t even bother turning the computer on. I knew I couldn’t focus. I just sat at the chair. I felt so distracted. I wouldn’t be able to write my essay at all. I felt so sad then. I felt completely depressed. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t write my essay, but I couldn’t not write it either, because I had to get it done. I was so confused. I thought maybe I should go and see my mum. It made me feel even worse when I started thinking about her because of the horrible thing I had done. I didn’t really want to tell you about it before, but I had been purposely ignoring my mum. I turned off my phone just so that she wouldn’t be able to call me.

  The reason is because me and my mother don’t really get along. I moved out of home when I started university so that I could get away from her. She was just so overwhelming! I couldn’t handle her anymore! She always got so nervous and worried about everything that it would make me on edge all the time. When I left home in the morning, I would have to go into her room and say goodbye to her. Then when I got to university, I would have to call her, to say that I got there safely. Otherwise, she would worry that the bus might have crashed. Then after my lectures, I would have to call her to tell her that my day was going well; otherwise, she started worrying about me. And then when I was on my way home, I would have to let her know before I left university. If it took me longer than half an hour to get home, she would start thinking I was kidnapped. I wasn’t allowed to do anything unless I got her permission first. And I never even got any peace and quiet. Even if I was just hanging out by myself in my room, she would come in every twenty minutes to check that I was all right. It was exhausting! If I ever forgot to let her know where I was going, it would be a battleground when I got home. She would start crying and yelling and saying that I didn’t love her and that I didn’t care about her. Sometimes I felt sorry for her and that she just cared about me a lot. But after a while, I didn’t really feel like that anymore. I just got sick of it.

  Then when I moved out, I sort of stopped talking to her. She would always still try to call me about twenty times a day to make sure I was okay. But I’d never answer. At first, that just made her call even more and even come around to my flat, panicking that I might be dead. But after a while, she stopped calling at all. I think she kind of gave up on me.

  I was just sitting in the computer lab then, not sure what to do. I didn’t even know what to feel. I was so confused. Because I know that if your father dies, you’re meant to forgive everyone, and be nice to your family again. But to be honest, I think I kind of hated her. I kind of blamed her for what happened, actually. There were a few times when I visited my dad, when he told me in this very sad voice that they weren’t really getting along any more. He said they mostly fought all the time or didn’t speak to each other at all. So I just still didn’t want to talk to her. I know it’s horrible. I’m a mean, disgusting person. But I just can’t help it.

  But then I suddenly remembered that it was Saturday. Every Saturday, for practically my entire life, I’ve babysat this little boy named Charlie. To be honest, it actually made me feel a little bit better when I remembered that. Because I really couldn’t write my essay now, even if I wanted to, since I had to babysit Charlie. I didn’t have any choice. I could just forget about it for the day and worry about it tomorrow.

  I entirely forgot I was meant to be babysitting him that night. I had probably forgotten because I had my phone turned off. His parents always call me on Saturday morning to make sure I’m still coming over. It’s funny, because I don’t think I’ve ever missed a single babysitting session ever. Except maybe for when I had my appendix taken out that one time. But they always still call to make sure I’m coming. I always tell them that yes, I am. But I hadn’t talked to them that day. It was only 3:00 pm, and I didn’t have to be at their house until 6:00 pm. But I still felt a little worried because I hadn’t let his parents know I was coming. I wondered if maybe they thought I wasn’t coming. The problem is that I still didn’t want to turn my phone on. Luckily, I actually knew their phone number because I had memorised it quite some time ago. Sometimes I’m very clever like that. I went outside and over to this pay phone that they had at university and called them up. Someone answered on the first ring.

  “Hello? Debbie speaking.”

  “Hello? Debbie?” I said. I hadn’t been listening properly when she answered the phone.

  “Yes?”

  “Hi, it’s Franny.”

  “Franny!” she said very loud. I had to hold the
phone away from my ear. “I’m so glad you called. I haven’t been able to get a hold of you. I wasn’t sure if you were coming or not; you didn’t answer your phone. Are you going to be minding Charlie tonight?”

  “Yes, I’ll be there tonight.”

  “Is everything all right? Did you lose your phone? You didn’t answer it when I called you earlier today.” She always talked very fast and said about ten sentences at the same time.

  “Sorry. I’m all right.”

  “Oh, that’s good, darling,” she said. Then she said, “I’m very sorry, Franny, I have to go. I’m in a rush.” She was always in a rush. “We’ll see you tonight. Goodbye!”

  I didn’t even get to say goodbye before she hung up. I felt quite a bit better after I talked to her, though. Sometimes it’s nice to just talk to someone.

  I had a few hours before I needed to be at their house. I didn’t feel like writing any more of my essay, so I wasn’t quite sure what to do with myself. I started walking through the university campus. I wasn’t sure where to go. I went toward Symonds Street, which is this big road that goes through the middle of the university. I don’t know why they put a road through a university. It doesn’t make any sense to me. People are always walking across the road to get to their class, and the cars can never drive anywhere without stopping a hundred times.

  I sat on the steps of Old Choral Hall. It’s this old building next to the big intersection where all the students cross the road. It’s a very nice building made of red brick. I think it’s one of the oldest buildings in the whole university. They have this big sign on the wall saying how old it is and who opened the building and things, but I’ve never really read it.

  I was quite bored, so I just watched all the people going past. I saw quite a few interesting people. There were these two boys going past. One of them was a very tall, skinny boy, and the other was kind of short. The tall one was saying, “Don’t worry, they didn’t say anything about you.” The short one just nodded. Then the tall one said, “But unfortunately, I was mentioned a lot.” I could see his face, and he had a big smile when he said it. I never found out what they were talking about, because then they crossed the road and I couldn’t hear them anymore.