Am I Normal Yet? by Holly Bourne

one of his earphones. The intimacy of it made me all quivery. There was something about sharing headphones, creating your own auditory world together that others couldn’t hear, that I thought was so romantic. It helped that we had to practically rest our heads on one another, restricted by the short cord between each headphone. I tried to concentrate on the film, but Oli’s close proximity was distracting. He was so twitchy! His leg jumped up and down, making the screen rock. He also smelled amazing which didn’t help my attention span. We sat like that for ten minutes or so, watching Jack Nicholson’s amazing performance, until my tummy grumbled and I flicked the earbud out so I could concentrate fully on my sandwich.
    Oli paused it. “You like the film then?” he asked.
    I took a sip from my Coke bottle. “Yeah, I do… I like all that ‘what is madness?’ stuff.”
    I didn’t tell him why, obviously.
    But he gave me a huge cheekboney smile, like he totally got it. “Me too, me too. There aren’t enough films about it. Being mad, I mean.”
    I returned his smile. “There so aren’t. And the movies only focus on the really ‘exciting’ mental illnesses, like schizophrenia or personality disorders where the main character needs to have sex a lot.”
    â€œWhere are the boring ones about depressed people who just don’t get out of bed?”
    â€œExactly! They should make a film about depression where it’s just one person, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling for an hour. Then it’d be authentic.”
    â€œYeah…” Then he went quiet.
    I took a bite of my sandwich, struggling to digest as being around him made me feel all warm and cottonwoolly. Though his nervousness did make me more nervous. I wondered if he liked me. He certainly looked at me a lot during lessons. He wasn’t looking at me now, rather scrunching his hands up in a ball, squeezing his fingers one by one. I was about to try and break the silence but he spoke.
    â€œDo you ever wonder,” he asked, “how we decide what’s mad and what isn’t? There’s so much crazy stuff in the world – everything’s a mess most of the time – but then people who can’t handle it are called mental and have films made about them… But what if they’re just reacting to the weirdness of the universe? Isn’t it more weird to just think everything’s okay, when it clearly isn’t?”
    I drummed up the courage to move my chair closer to his, to show I agreed with what he’d said. He still wouldn’t look at me.
    â€œYou know…” I said. “I think they’re re-releasing this at the cinema soon, so young people like us can see it on the big screen.”
    In other words: Ask me out please, ask me out please, ask me out please.
    I watched his face as he dropped his earphones again, and ducked down to pick them up. Then he looked at me. Something passed, something good.
    â€œI…I…” he said, and I urged him on with my eyes.
    Please ask me out. I really like you.
    â€œI…I…” And when his face dropped I knew he wouldn’t. “I… It’s a pity we’ve just watched it then, isn’t it?” he said.
    â€œYeah,” I said, still smiling. “It is.”

Thirteen
    My phone beeped from under my body. I turned over on the grass and looked at the screen.
    â€œWho is it?” Jane asked, from behind a pair of sunglasses.
    I grinned. “Oli.”
    â€œHas he asked you out yet?” Joel asked, from under Jane. She was lying on top of him – her head on his head, like they were a sandwich.
    â€œUmm… No, not yet.”
    Autumn had slid back into summer for one last gasp before winter snatched all sunshine away for six months. It was mild and bright and lovely. Half of college sprawled out over the grounds, huddled in groups of