Orlagh Collins - All the Invisible Things

For Vivienne

My name is Helvetica.

Like the font.

Whenever I tell people this I wait for them to make the face: the one where their features freeze like theyre hoping they misheard, then they realize nope, shes for real and they look sorry, like its their fault. I bet Dad thought my name would make me sound interesting. (Graphic designers think stuff like this, I swear!) I was probably like some branding exercise and he just did it to make me stand out but in a good way. And he wasnt to know how different Id feel already. My little sister, Arial, gets away with it because she sounds like the Disney mermaid, which I used to think was so unfair, but Im relieved for her now. Mum must have been high on that baby gas to let Dad get away with it. But, like, twice?

Pez never made the face.

Were all in Shakeaway sheltering from the rain and Im scanning the menu high up on the wall, eyes flitting over the milkshake options. Ive whittled it down, toying between Reeses Peanut Butter Cups and Rhubarb & Custards, when I realize Jess is talking.

Ill order, she says, lolloping off toward the till. Its a going-away treat.

Liv counts out change on the counter beside me, already slurping her Strawberry Laces and Starmix blend. She always has the same, like Freya, who has a large Kit Kat straight-up every time.

Must be exciting, Liv says. Id give anything to be moving to London.

I try to smile but its hard to hide the other feelings I have about going back and my cheeks flash hot. Im prone to a violent reddening of face, neck, and even my ears, often at the same time. Freya steps left, checking herself in the mirror behind my head. Still doesnt feel real that you wont be with us next year. I mean, who am I going to copy my French off now? she says, fanning a fistful of blond locks over her eyes as she and Liv study her reflection, trying to see what she might look like with bangs. Im pretty sure Im not supposed to answer so I pretend to search for something deep in my bag.

Two Oreos with crushed Aero Mint bubbles, the guy behind the counter says, landing two more cups with an impressive thud. According to Jess, Shakeaway has two rival taste campsfruity or chocolateyand you can only be a true fan of one. She thinks Liv is alone in the fruit camp and its me, her, and Freya in chocolate. Really, Im there for both. Isnt everyone? I tip my cup off Jesss by way of a thank-you and we clatter some stools to our usual high table by the window.

Photo! she says, reaching her arm out. Last Shakeaway with all of us together.

Liv rolls her eyes. Shes going to Camden. Not Cambodia!

Jess ignores this and nudges us to raise our cups like shes doing. I have to stand on my toes to tilt my head next to hers and she snaps away until shes happy and my face hurts. I haul myself back onto my stool, bending over the sticky tabletop to sip my drink. Ive tagged you, she says, handing me the phone. Its a cute picture but my smile looks strange. A bit like this shake: its nice but theres an aftertaste I cant put my finger on, vaguely similar to a kids toothpaste I bought for Arial once. I take another sip to see how bad it is and when I look up Liv is pressing her face against the window.

Check it out, she says, tapping the glass. Mrs. Richardson is outside the bank, with a man!

Jess squints across the street. Think youll find thats her husband.

Freya leans in too. Richardson was easily the least awful of our teachers in junior year.

Liv makes a face. She said I was trouble.

Jess shoves her shoulder. You were trouble! She threw you out of her sex ed class in Year 9. Remember?

Liv folds her arms across her chest. I wasnt thrown out, she says. I had to stand at the front. And all I did was ask a question.

In the boys sex ed they get to discuss the fun stuff like actually doing it, so hows it fair that all we talk about is blood and STDs? That was Livs question. Ill never forget because when I pointed out that boys can get STDs too, Richardson thought I was being cheeky and sent me to stand beside Liv in front of the whiteboard. Far as I recall she got through our entire sex ed without even uttering the word vagina. Not once! Livs voice is loud and a man behind us looks up from wiping his toddlers mouth. She was way more comfortable with the word penis, she says, more quietly. Preferred the feel of it inside her mouth, I reckon.

Jess takes the lid off her shake and stabs at a stubborn rock of Oreo. What was it she called down there again? she says, waving the now-dented plastic spoon over her lap.

Freya hooshes her stool in. Intimate female area?

That was it! Jess says.

Liv grabs her cup and speaks into it like a microphone. Girls, today were going to talk about reproductive health and sex-sue-al relations. Shes got Richardsons voice exactly down and its impossible not to laugh. By that I mean, how to avoid touching any genitals whatsoever outside of marriage.

Stop! Jess says, bouncing on her chair. Ive got a wet patch going on here.

Richardson might have failed at sex ed, but Freyas rightshe was far from an awful teacher. When I arrived in Year 8 just weeks after Mum died, she left me alone and let me thaw in my own time, which to be honest felt kind.

Liv is at full volume again. And its not like boys are the only ones with any genitals so how come they only ever talk about boys doing it? Everyone is laughing now and Id join in, only I seem to have missed the beginning of this particular rant and Im not 100 percent clear what she means.

Doing what? I ask. Freya sticks her tongue in her cheek and makes a pretty unmistakeable hand gesture. I force a smile. You mean masturbating? The word lands awkwardly and this makes them crack up even more. I take a noisy slurp of my shake, kicking myself for opening my mouth as a reverse avalanche of freezing cold ice cream shoots down my throat. The brain freeze is so sharp I have to squeeze my eyes shut. When it finally subsides, I cautiously open them.

Liv leans closer. Yes, Helvetica, mastur-bayy-shun, she says, in Mrs. Richardson mode again. Feel free to share any personal experience with the class. Were all ears. I twiddle my straw, making some face back at her. Shes about to take a sip, when she sits up. Okay, real talk, she says, looking around. Say youre at home, alone in your room, and, like testing your batteries or whatever, just say who do you fantasize about? She glares at each of us. For a moment no one speaks and I scan the table. Jess sinks into her seat, cup raised to her mouth, but Freya looks like shes really thinking about it.

Jamie, Freya says after a while.

Hell be thrilled that took you so long, Liv says. But Jamie doesnt count on account of the real-life sex youre having with him.

Freya peers up from under her lashes. Um, we havent actually gone that far.

Whatever, Liv says. I said fantasize. then she turns to Jess, who is opening her mouth, but Liv quickly raises her hand. I swear, Jess, if you mention that Timothe Chalamet one more time, Im reconsidering our friendship.

Jess laughs and Liv moves on to me. Vetty, Im counting on you now for some real juice. Her eyes are locked on mine and I know I should just blurt out an answer but the last time I did this it nearly changed everything. Admittedly, it was in Year 8 on a sleepover at Freyas house and Liv wasnt even there, but still. I wish I could be like them and joke about this stuff but its as though nothing Ive said since sounds convincing.