Page 45 of The Chemistry Test

Penny

I actually can’t believe this. Elias puts me down when we get to my front door. He’s trying not to show it, but I can tell he’s relieved we’re finally here. He twists his torso slightly, stretching out his back.

‘Thank you so much,’ I say. ‘Really.’

I don’t know what I would’ve done without him.

I didn’t get a chance to say my goodbyes to the TEDx group, and now I feel like I’ve left my right arm behind, being here without my chair.

Stranded. Completely and utterly. But I’m grateful to be stranded at home, rather than at the lecture theatre in Chaucer College where we left my punctured wheelchair.

And I’m grateful for Elias, for getting me here.

‘Anytime,’ Elias says, shivering against the cold. I say goodnight and let him go. He’s already gone above and beyond for me tonight and from how slow he was walking at the end, I know it wasn’t easy carrying me all that way.

When I get in, I call a house meeting. Or a musketeer meeting, since it’s just me, Amy and Ro.

‘I kind of have something I have to tell you too,’ Ro says, and I swear he looks a little paler than normal, despite his dark skin.

‘You go first,’ I say.

He hesitates for a second. ‘You know how I haven’t exactly been loving my course?

’ he says, biting his lip. ‘I like Engineering, but it’s not what I actually wanted to study.

And especially not Mechanical Engineering,’ he says, pulling out his sketchbook from beside the sofa.

‘Fashion and Textiles is what I really wanted to do, but my parents wouldn’t fund it.

Especially with the international rates. ’

Oh.

‘Ro,’ I say, feeling my heart tug. I hadn’t given the financial side of things much thought since starting, or the fact his parents were paying for him to be here at all.

He’s from Bangladesh originally, but since he lives in Rome, he’s not eligible for a tuition loan from the government like me and Amy.

His parents would have to foot the whole bill, aside from any scholarships he earned himself.

‘I tried to stick with it so I could stay here with you guys,’ he says. ‘But I just can’t keep doing it.’

Amy, who’s been studying at the table, scooches on to the sofas with us. ‘I had no idea,’ she says, taking the sketchbook and flicking through the pages. ‘I mean, obviously I know you’re into fashion, but I thought it was more of a hobby.’

‘Until last year, so did I. Or a phase, like Amma said. But it just never phased itself out. If anything, it’s just been building as time’s gone on.

I wanted to tell you ...’ He shrugs, twiddling his watch.

‘But I couldn’t say anything without confessing my parents’ thoughts on it all.

And even though I disagree with them, I know they want what’s best for me. ’

‘If you’re not happy, this isn’t what’s best,’ Amy laments.

He exhales slowly. ‘I know. Almost everyone our age knows that now. But my parents don’t. Amma’s a deputy headteacher and Abba ... Well, my dad’s a solicitor, so how do you even argue your case with parents like that?’

Amy puts her hand on his knee. At this point, she knows where this conversation is heading and so do I. But I can’t imagine university without him.

Amy looks at me. ‘Shall I give my thoughts first?’

I nod encouragingly. And as I expected, she tells him exactly what I would have said. That she’s really glad he gave it a go, but he shouldn’t push himself to stay just for us. It’s not fair on him, or his parents who’re putting their life savings and a lifetime’s worth of sacrifices into this.

He bows his head, just a little. ‘I thought I could just get on with it, but for the first time ever, I’m failing all my classes. If I don’t drop out soon, they’ll call my parents and then that’s it. Game over. I’d rather they hear it from me.’

For some reason, this whole situation makes me think about CJ’s seven billion ways to live a good life. And how there’s also seven billion ways to live a hard one. Everyone gets at least one hardship, and this is one of Ro’s. Something I’ve never had to think twice about.

My heart pangs as I look at the sketchbook I’ve become so accustomed to over the last couple of months.

Never the focus, but always there. ‘Just tell them how you feel, Ro,’ I say.

‘You’re so talented and there’s so many great things you can do with it.

Being creative isn’t the dead end it often used to be. ’

‘I’ve tried telling them that, but they just don’t see it,’ he sighs. ‘They say creative endeavours have no place in the real world.’

Amy is shaking her head. ‘ Show them, Ro. Show them all the practical things you can do with a Fashion degree. It wouldn’t exist if there weren’t good prospects for it.’

He hugs her from the side. She means well, and she’s right – but she doesn’t get it. Even though it should be, it’s not as simple as that. And neither of us will ever truly know what it’s like.

‘It’s not even up for debate, is it?’ I ask, more for Amy’s benefit than my own.

He closes the book, slipping it back down the side of the sofa. ‘I don’t think so.’

We sit in silence for a minute, until he suddenly claps his hands together, making us jump and snapping us out of the solemn state we’re in.

‘I’m not telling them until next week, so I want us to have the best time until then.

I can’t be dealing with any emotional goodbyes at the end of it, either, okay? ’

I visibly see Amy pull herself together, sitting up a little straighter. ‘Okay. We can do that, right, Penny?’

‘Right.’ I smile, even though I don’t think this meeting could’ve possibly gone any worse.

‘Okay, Penny. You’re up,’ Ro chirps, with a fraction less energy than usual. ‘Your turn to share your shit and join the pity party,’ he chants, pretending to hand me a mic, glimmers of himself shining through.

And even though it feels like far less of an issue after what he’s shared, we snuggle down together under our blankets as I tell them about the stupid pin that punctured my back wheel.

And how I barely made it to TEDx, let alone getting home because of it.

I pretty much spent the whole session panicking, until Elias offered to carry me home, and a random lecturer offered to store my wheelchair in their office overnight.

I already emailed Stephanie to see if she can bring me a mobility scooter in the morning, so all that’s left to do is sort out the logistics of tonight.

‘It’ll be fine as long as there isn’t a fire alarm,’ I explain. I might be able to get to the bench at the end of our path in the daytime, but if I’m woken up in the night, my autonomic nervous system wouldn’t stand a chance.

‘It’s not a problem. If there’s an emergency, I’ll just carry you out,’ Ro says. ‘I can even wear my orange pyjamas tonight in case you vom down my back.’ He winks.

Amy laughs. ‘What a supportive queen,’ she says, giving him a high five. ‘We love to see it.’

I shake my head as though they’re being ridiculous. But truthfully, I am a bit apprehensive about the whole sickness thing. And I’d be even more worried if Ro were wearing the fluffy cream set he’s been sporting lately. They’d never be the same again and, frankly, neither would my dignity.

For the millionth time since I got here, I thank my lucky stars for these two.

‘I can grab Sooty,’ Amy says, tucking my microwavable plushie in the fort with us.

I don’t know how or why, but somewhere along the line, he became sort of like our flat’s pet. Or at the very least, our most prized possession. Second only to Ro’s sketchbook.

‘Yes!’ Ro says, giving me a squeeze. ‘See, you don’t need to worry, Penny. We’ve got this.’

And despite everything falling apart around us, I believe him. ‘We’ve got this,’ I echo. They need to hear it as much as I do.