‘I doubt that’s true.’
‘That I can’t fake it?’ Poppy replied dryly.
‘That you don’t know shit,’ Norah corrected her just as dryly.
‘I guess we’re both gonna learn,’ Poppy said.
‘You never do stop,’ Norah commented.
Poppy had to admit that was true. There was no end of things to learn. For example, Norah was bi. That was interesting. Very interesting indeed.
Twenty-Seven
What felt like every parent of every child at Northwood was jammed into the small school hall for the raffle. It was hot and loud.
The headmistress, Mrs Lock, a tall woman with blonde hair that perpetually had black roots, was standing on the small stage looking stressed. ‘I’m going to do the raffle now!’ she announced. ‘Get ready because I’m not repeating myself,’ she told the crowd firmly.
‘OK, so we’re starting small and working our way up. First off, the voucher for a family meal at Murrey’s Pizzeria!’ Mrs Lock called out, holding up a small, shiny envelope.
The crowd fell into a hushed anticipation, though not for the right reasons. Murrey’s pizza sucked. Norah would just as soon win a box of dogshit. The difference in taste would be negligible.
Norah shifted uncomfortably in her seat near the front, Freddie next to her, while she tried to catch a glimpse of Poppy through the sea of people. She spotted her standing at the back near the refreshments table, laughing with a random dad about something. Norah’s heart gave a little jump at the sight of her. She didn’t read anything into it. She was just excited to see her friend.
Mrs Lock was fumbling with the raffle tickets. ‘And the winner is... number 34!’
A man made his way to the stage, forcing a smile badly. That voucher was going in the bin.
‘Next, we have a voucher for a haircut from Ray’s Barber!’ Mrs Lock continued, waving a beautifully wrapped basket. ‘The winning number is... 142!’
A bald man went up to claim the prize.
‘They also do beard trimmings,’ Mrs Lock offered.
The man rubbed his clean-shaven face. ‘Great.’
Norah wished Poppy was sitting next to her so they could laugh about this. But Poppy was late, and Norah felt weird trying to save her a seat. She hadn’t seen her much lately.
Last Sunday, their regular park time hadn’t happened because Luna was unwell. Then, this week, they couldn’t seem to coordinate the morning walk, just missing each other time and again. Norah had missed them both.
Mrs Lock bumbled through a few more prizes as Norah glanced back at Poppy again, and this time, they caught each other’s eyes. Poppy gave a waggle wave, and Norah waved back.
Mrs Lock’s voice droned on, ‘Next, we have an ice cream maker! The winning number is... 93!’
An elderly woman with a walking stick hobbled her way to the stage, receiving a polite round of applause. Norah stifled a yawn, wondering how much longer this would drag on.
‘Next, a session with a personal trainer... 21!’ A fuller-figured guy went up to collect. ‘I bet you’re excited for this,’ Mrs Lock noted as she gave him the voucher.
‘Why’s that?’ he replied, irritated.
Mrs Lock froze. ‘Err... no reason.’
The man walked off, seething.
Mrs Lock shuffled her notes. ‘Our next prize is a hand-drawn portrait session with local artist Norah Cauldwell.’
Local artist? That was pushing it.
‘Four hundred and twenty-nine.’
A man in a baseball cap shuffled up and accepted the voucher Norah had printed off. He looked at it and mumbled something.
Mrs Lock looked at him. ‘What?’ she pushed the mic under his nose.
‘I don’t want this,’ his voice boomed out to the entire hall.
Norah wanted to die.
‘Oh!’ Mrs Lock said, slightly shocked. ‘Well, I don’t know what to tell you. You won, so...’
‘Can I swap it for something?’ he asked.
Norah didn’t just want to die now, she wanted to be chucked into a bath of lye and dissolved to the extent that her dental records wouldn’t have identified her. All that would be left was a puddle of humiliation.
‘No,’ Mrs Lock said, confused. ‘Sorry.’
‘What about store credit?’ he asked.
‘Sir, this is a school. What would you do with credit?’ Mrs Lock asked, looking tired.
