The Art of Being Normal Read Online Free Page B

time to the music, hair in their eyes. A few tables over, the clever, nerdy kids are passionately debating the next
Star Wars
movie.
    Essie, Felix and I don’t fit into any particular group. Essie reckons this is a good thing. It was Essie who came up with our name – the Non-Conformists (or the NCs for short), not that anyone ever calls us that.
    ‘Hey, Davido,’ Essie says as I slide into my seat. ‘We’re discussing which has more nutritional content, today’sdelicious macaroni cheese,’ she leans in and sniffs at her plate, ‘or a can of dog food.’
    ‘I vote for the dog food,’ Felix says cheerfully, his mouth full, spraying pumpkin and tahini millet ball crumbs in all directions. He’s allergic to pretty much everything so his mum prepares him a macrobiotic lunch every day.
    ‘I vote for the dog food too,’ I say, unfolding a paper napkin. ‘I once tasted some of Phil’s Pedigree Chum and it wasn’t actually all that bad.’
    ‘You did what?’ Felix says, putting down his carton of carrot juice.
    ‘How have we not heard this story before?’ Essie demands.
    ‘Mum caught me eating from Phil’s bowl one morning,’ I say. ‘I guess I must have just been really hungry. In my defence I was only about three at the time.’
    ‘And this is precisely why we love you, David Piper,’ Essie says. ‘Pass the salt, will you?’
    I can’t quite pinpoint the moment Essie, Felix and I became best friends. I only know we somehow gravitated towards one another like magnets, and by the end of our first year at primary school, I couldn’t imagine the world without the three of us in it together.
    As I pass the salt to Essie, my eyes fall on the new boy. He’s sitting two tables away, picking at his food. Up closer, he doesn’t
look
crazy. In fact, he’s sort of cute-looking with a snub nose, sandy brown hair falling across his forehead and the most incredible cheekbones I think I’ve ever seen.
    I lean in.
    ‘Hey, do either of you know anything about the new boy in 11R?’
    ‘Only that he got expelled from Cloverdale and is meant to be a violent lunatic,’ Felix says, his voice carelessly loud.
    ‘Ssssshhhh, he might hear you!’
    I peer over Felix’s shoulder but the boy is still having a stare-out competition with his chips.
    ‘I feel bad that he’s all on his own,’ I say. ‘Should I ask him to sit with us?’
    Felix raises his eyebrows. ‘Did the words “violent” and “lunatic” not raise even the faintest alarm bells?’
    ‘Oh, don’t be so boring!’ Essie says. ‘Anyone who has got an official screw loose is more than welcome at our table. Go for it, Mother Teresa, spread some NC love.’
    I hesitate, suddenly afraid.
    ‘If you’re keen, you do it,’ I say.
    ‘I don’t want to scare him off,’ Essie says. ‘A lot of men are intimidated by strong women.’
    Felix and I roll our eyes at each other.
    ‘No, definitely best you go, David,’ she continues. ‘You’re nice and unthreatening.’
    ‘Gee, thanks,’ I say in an American accent, pushing back my chair and making my way over to the boy’s table.
    ‘Hi,’ I say, hovering at his side.
    I notice a red ‘free school meals’ token poking out from under his tray. The boy doesn’t respond.
    ‘Er, hi?’ I repeat, worried he hasn’t heard me.
    He sighs heavily and slowly angles his head to look up at me.
    ‘I’m David Piper,’ I say, extending my hand. ‘Nice to meet you.’
    The boy ignores it and takes a swig from his can of Coke instead, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his blazer. My hand hovers awkwardly in midair. He finally looks at it before sighing again and shaking it once, firmly.
    ‘Leo Denton,’ he says gruffly.
    He raises his eyes to meet mine, and I have to catch my breath for a moment, because, wow, those Year 11 kids were totally wrong. Leo’s eyes aren’t crazy at all; they’re beautiful, hypnotic, like looking down a kaleidoscope almost – sea green with amber flecks around the pupil and