The Year Nick McGowan Came to Stay by Rebecca Sparrow Page A

weren’t.’
    â€˜Okay, Rachel, so I wasn’t. Big deal.’ He goes back to concentrating on netting more leaves and twigs from the water’s surface, not looking at me when he speaks. ‘I was out enjoying this beautiful, sunny day while you and everyone else . . .’ He pauses as he lifts the scoop out of the water, shakes the captured leaves and twigs onto the grass and then returns the net to the water ‘. . . were stuck indoors at desks learning stuff that you’ll most likely never use again. You’ll never get this day back. It’s another day you’ve wasted.’
    â€˜I’ve wasted? You’re on drugs. So is this what you’re gonna do now? Tiptoe through the tulips instead of going to school?’
    He pauses, and looks into the distance. ‘Maybe.’
    I make a snorting sound in disgust.
    â€˜Why do you even care?’ He looks directly at me, eyebrows raised.
    â€˜I don’t. I don’t care what you do. What I care about is when Mrs Ramsay comes and finds me to ask where you are. “Is Nick home sick today, Rachel? It’s just that he hasn’t shown up to any of his classes. ” ’
    â€˜Ahhh.’ He continues to skim the water’s surface with the pool scoop, taking a few small steps to the left as his negotiates the far back corner.
    â€˜Yes, ahhh. Apparently, idiot-head, you had an appointment to see her today. If you’re going to start wagging class, try not to make it on days when the school counsellor is expecting to see you in her office.’
    I turn to walk back up to the house.
    He calls out, ‘What did you tell her?’
    But I keep walking.

I don’t feel like dinner, so I spend the evening sitting on the floor of my bedroom just staring at my copy of Hamlet . Part of our assessment is to memorise a three- to five-minute soliloquy and perform it in front of the rest of the class. Ms Corelli’s giving us two weeks to get it done, but I want to get a start on it now. I don’t like leaving things to the last minute. I stare down at the words from one of Ophelia’s monologues. I don’t even understand what half of these words mean. According to my Cliffs Notes , Ophelia’s telling her father, Polonius, that she thinks Hamlet has gone mad. But Hamlet is only pretending to be mad, because he suspects his uncle killed his father to be with Hamlet’s mother and therefore become king. Talk about dysfunctional.
    I close my eyes and attempt to recite the first verse for the hundredth time.
    â€˜My lord, as I was sewing in my chamber,
    Lord Hamlet, – with his doublet all unbrac’d;
    No hat upon his head; his stockings foul’d,
    Ungart’red, and down-gyved to his ankle;
    Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each other . . .’
    I open my eyes and take a quick peek at the book. That’s right – the double ‘p’ line.
    â€˜And with a look so piteous in purport
    As if he had been loosed out of hell
    To speak of horrors, – he comes before me.’
    Why is it that I have been able to memorise all the words to Billy Joel’s ‘We Didn’t Start the Fire’ but I can’t even get eight lines from Hamlet down? And I’ve got another dozen or so to go. This is Nick McGowan’s fault. I can’t concentrate. My mind keeps wandering away from Hamlet and his unbraced doublet and over to Nick McGowan. He’s really not even that good looking. I mean, okay, so he has really big green eyes that are, like, I don’t know, the colour of sea glass or something. But he has a slightly crooked nose. And his eyes, I’m pretty sure, are too far apart.
    I look down at my books. I repeat the ‘piteous in purport’ line over a few more times but I keep saying pitiful instead of piteous . I toss Hamlet aside, look around my room. I notice my purse lying open on the floor. That’s what I’ll do, I’ll reorganise my