Z is for Zebra

Plymouth 2013

Tiara wriggled her ears. They were getting hot under her headphones. From the minute the school bell rang in the quad, through the physics corridor, down quality street, out the door and over the bridge, she had worn them. The gravity of the hill was pushing them further on her earrings. They were vinyl, shiny and red. She wanted to decorate them with stickers but her brother had other plans. ‘When a big company buys them, they’ll be worth so much more, they’re limited edition.’ She rolled her eyes just thinking about him. TThomas wasn’t a terrible brother at the best of times. He was just weird. But not weird in a quirky cool kids type of way, weird in an I-don’t-care-and-can’t-tell-I’m-a-weirdo type of way. Her dad was just the same. To be honest, the only difference between the two was the colour of their skin. Her father, was tall and stocky and very white. So white the slightest change of temperature would stain his ears tomato red. Her brother was also tall and stocky but had skin the colour of toffee that tanned the minute the summer arrived. They had the same curly hair that reminded her of the tangled thorns she walked past on the way to school and they had the same hazel-green eyes that made everybody stare.

Everybody stared.

But not just because of their eyes. Because of their skin.

Whenever the McFarlane’s walked down the street, people watched them puzzled. They were the town's best riddle, people couldn’t quite figure out what they were. They knew they were ‘hybrids’ and ‘half-breds’. What they didn’t know was what they were mixed with. They had moved down from London to Plymouth a year earlier when Titi, Tiara’s mother died from end stage kidney disease. The move was meant to ‘do them some good’ and country life was the best thing to  ‘toughen them up’ in the words of her father. What he had really meant was that his parents’ proximity made raising two teenage children and a special needs toddler alone a far easier task. 

Only issue with the move was… everything. It hadn’t done Tiara any good when the mums at the after school hockey game called her a half-cast and the old ladies in the street clutched their purses. The slurs were the worst part, she adopted wearing headphones outside to block them out; it was unavoidable. 

Tiara didn’t look as ‘mixed’ as Thomas. Her skin was brown like walnut and her eyes were brown like mud. Even her hair was another shade of brown while her brother’s was a golden blonde. The only thing that gave her away was the fact her hair was wavy at best. She wasn’t envious of her older brother but she was ready to trade her ‘big monkey smile’ for his thin lips any day. As for her younger brother, his fair skin, green eyes and straight hair puzzled even Tiara at first. 

The rumour was, the McFarlane’s moved down south after a nasty divorce, hence no mother insight. The divorce was sited to Mr McFarlane’s infidelity, hence the random white child amongst the hybrids, but Theo’s alleged mother also ran off and was out of the picture. If not for the malicious bullying, Tiara thought the rumours to be quite entertaining. She never knew her father was secretly in the arms of another woman while also staying at her mother’s side throughout the dialysis. She admired the multitasking of her ‘rumour dad’.

Her real dad, however, was terrible at multitasking. This was why Tiara was walking to the cinema, alone. At first, she didn’t want to mention the harassment. He had promised the move to Plymouth would ‘toughen her up’; when someone spat on her she snapped.

She decided soon after the ordeal that telling her father was the worst thing she could have done. He insisted on picking her up after school. This was bad for several reasons.

Firstly, it meant she had to spend extra time with Theo. She did not like Theo. She loved him, as siblings have no choice in that matter; she found his obsessions tedious. He carried a stuffed zebra around with him and called Tiara a zebra because she was black and white and stripy with stretch marks. The second reason this was bad was because being in public with her father meant more eyes on her and more rumours. 

Because he worked at home, no one actually knew what he did. The rumours around how he made his money were just as outlandish as the rumours around her mother. Tiara needed space and time to herself outside of school without her father or Theo or Thomas around her. 

Aunty Jo, her father’s sister, tried her best to be there for Tiara in the move but it was quite hard to discuss the two topics that stressed her the most, race and boys, with a white lesbian.

Tiara caved in and took off the headphones. Holding her breath she walked the rest of the way down the hill to the cinema. “Fucking nignog.” Pressing her lips together, Tiara picked up the pace. “Leave her alone.” Tiara didn’t look back to see who defended her, instead she hurried more towards the cinema door.

“Hey, Tiara. Hey, Tiara, it’s pretty rude to rush off when someone is calling your name.”

Not many people actually spoke to Tiara, not unless they were trolling her. She still hadn’t recovered from when Adrian  Hunter-Campbell asked her out (as a dare) and stood her up. Tiara grunted. She didn’t want to say hello or engage in conversation, she just wanted to watch a movie, alone then go home and face the interrogation of her father. 

“It’s me, Cammy from Geography.”

Class clown was the only way to describe Cammy Pitcher. He made everybody laugh, even the teachers (he had figured out that if the teachers were laughing they were less likely to put him in detention so he stuck to that tactic). He had a strawberry blonde scruff on his head, Tiara decided it was too messy to be described as hair, and strawberry seed freckles to match. He was lanky with oversized limbs which he hadn’t quite grown into. He was a social nomad, as was Tiara; for entirely different reasons. He drifted because he could, she drifted because she had no option. Even Suki McPherson, the half Filipina girl with an identity crisis, didn’t want to be friends with her. And that was saying a lot. 

“What are you watching?”

“Nothing, I’m going home.”

“Why?”

“I’m tired.”

“Sorry about those guys out there.”

She nodded.

“What did you want to watch?”

“Iron Man 3.”

“Let’s watch it this weekend.”

Tiara looked at his ears. They were tomato red, just like her dad’s. Whether it was from running to catch up with her or asking her to the movies was not her concern. He was Cammy and she was Tiara. He was a he, and a he from school so this had to be a prank.

“No thank you.”

“Well can we at least go to the park?”

“Why?”

“Because it’s fun.”

Tiara shifted her weight between her feet. She felt uneasy around anyone form school. Truthfully she felt uneasy in the whole city. Even at home she felt uneasy, she couldn’t talk to her dad about anything and Thomas didn’t understand wither because he was a boy and boy friendships weren’t complicated. 

“Ok.”

“Ok?”

Tiara nodded with her elbows in both hands. Subconsciously, she needed to be cradled. She wanted a friend and wanted some fun. She hadn’t played or gone to the park with anyone since she left London. Her whole body had shut down. Indigestion, thinning hair, sallow face, Plymouth had not ‘done her some good’. Cammy’s cheeks weren’t sallow, they were round and full the mangoes on her mother’s farm ‘back home’. 

Even after spending most of her life in England, her mother spoke so fondly of ‘back home’. It was the same every time. Her shoulders dropped and leant forwards ever so slightly. Her chin jutted upwards as if she was trying to catch the African sun rays on her face. Her eyes closed and she smiled her widest smile as a sigh slipped out. Tiara wondered what her mother saw behind her eyes. She knew she was reminiscing, replaying something in her mind. Something magical and blissful. It was the only time she remembered her mother looking genuinely peaceful. Not even at the funeral did she look peaceful. Her skin wasn’t radiant ebony, it was amala grey and waxy. Her hair was a mess, her afro usually framed her face like a rainbow but on that day it made Tiara cry. She wanted to stop the service and smooth her mother’s hair back into place. She didn’t know how to braid neatly into rows like her mother did for her but she wished she could. The whole day was terrible for Tiara. No matter how much she willed, she couldn’t unsee it all. Shejust couldn’t forget.

“Do you want me to push you?”

“No, I’ve got this.”

The squeak of the rusty swing cut through the air. Back and forth she tossed her feet until she could see through the tops of the trees. She could feel Cammy’s eyes on her.

“You can go higher if you look forward.”

“I don’t want to look forward. I want to look at you.”

Her stomach tingled. It wasn’t like indigestion, that burned hot. It was a subtle heat, a warmth that spread across her belly and cheeks. She didn’t like everyone glaring and staring’ Cammy just looking made her nervous. The squeaks slowed as she came down. 

“Don’t look at me.”

“Why not.”

“Just because.”

He kicked a pebble across the tarmac, deep in thought. What could be so profound about a pebble? 

The Park was small. By Plymouth standards at least. By London standards it was vast. The intermittent parks filled the tiny spaces in London, like placeholders before something better and more important could be built there. Down south there was green space in excess so parks were on an entirely different scale. There were two sets of swings, benches around the perimeter, a slide, monkey bars, all the essentials.

Cammy lunged towards her. “You’re it.” 

“What?”

“I said you’re it. Areyou going to chase me or what?” 

By the time they had caught their breath, the sun was an orange pendant, low in the sky. “Why don’t you talk at school?”

“No one to talk to.”

“You could talk to me.”

The warm fuzziness made her belly ache. Tiara watched her fingers. “I’m different so people don’t want to talk to me and that’s ok.”

“How are you different?”

Cammy reached out. Tiara flinched. “Give me your hand.” He inspected them thoroughly. Tiara felt self conscious, there was dark green grub under her nails from the grass. “You only have 5 fingers, just like me.”

“No, I have 4 fingers and a thumb, I’m not Cornish with 5 fingers and a thumb.”

“You have two arms and two eyes and a nose and a mouth. Just like me.”

“My nose is flatter and my slips are wider than yours.”

“And?”
“So I’m different.”

“It just means there’s more room for glasses and more room for me to kiss you.”

Tiara tried to pay attention to his hand on her cheek. She tried to pay attention to the grass tickling her legs. She tried to pay attention to anything but the warm feeling and the gentle belly ache.

When she felt his mouth smiling on hers, she opened her eyes. They were fuzzy, she blamed the sun’s dipping position in the sky. 

He laced their fingers together. As she watched his chest rising and falling gently, her thumb drew circles on the back of his hand.

“Tiara.”

She hummed. She was scared that if she said a word the kiss would dissipate and she would be standing at the school gate, waiting for her dad after hockey and listening to the rumours from the other mums. 

“Can we see Iron Man 3 this Saturday.”

She slowly nodded, careful not to shake off the kiss either. 

“Awesome.”

She nodded, slowly again.

“Just don’t tell anyone. Ok?”

“Why?”

“I don’t want anyone to know.”

“Why?”

“Just because.”

The warmth in her belly grew hot and unforgiving. Her mouth no longer tasted like the jammy dodgers Cammy ate at lunch, it was saline and sickly. His cheap cologne and the bubblegum scent of his vape made her nauseous. The grass beneath her was prickly and slimy. 

She nodded. 

He didn’t want anyone to know he was hanging out with her. He was a social nomad by choice; that didn’t mean he wanted to be exiled. Her eyes stung. The tears were half way out when she grabbed her bag and walked to the gate.

“Tiara!”

She  thanked God the headphones were noise cancelling, she could pretend not to hear him, even with no music playing. She didn’t pray much since moving to Plymouth. Not only because her faith died with her mother; because the bullying had beat the remaining faith out of her. 

The walk home wasn’t far. Down the road, around the roundabout, across the path and to the left. Each step felt trickier than the last. Tears falling, nose stuffy, she dragged herself down the road, around the roundabout, across the path and to the left.

Swinging the door open she rushed in. “Ow.” More tears fell. The delivery package at the bottom of the stairs was the same brown as the wood floors. The black and white toy inside it didn't make it easier to spot either. If she wasn’t in such a hurry, maybe she wouldn’t have fallen and banged her head. 

Her head was too heavy to move. The heat made her chest tight and the tears weren’t any motivation for her to move either. 

In the corner of her eye she saw a pair of women’s shoes where the discarded delivery boxes usually lived. From the dining room she could hear a woman’s laugh. Taking a sharp breath in, she pressed her lips together. She was meant to come home early to watch Theo so her father could go on a date. If she had done as she was told, she wouldn’t have been crying on the floor, at the bottom of the stars, with a new forming bruise on her temple from falling over. She wouldn’t have been in the park with Cammy either which would have saved her even more tears and embarrassment.

“Why are you crying?”

Tiara looked up at Theo in his onesie with  a blanket in hand. Sniffing, she wiped her tears on the back of her hand. “I’m crying because I tripped on a zebra.”

THE END