When I finally found her, I had to stop and laugh. Because it was hilarious. Erica, being Erica, hadn’t actually planned out her sprinkler stunt too well. For some reason she had committed her prank at the very back of the classroom, meaning that as soon as the water started falling, she was stuck in her position up in the corner next to the ceiling. If she had tried to get out by herself, she would have been totally soaked through, and immediately rumbled.
‘Don’t just stand there!’ she yelled at me, but I was enjoying it all far too much.
Finally, after letting her stew for a suitable amount of time, I took off my blazer, pulled my trusty umbrella out of my bag and opened it over my head before venturing into the classroom. I knew that we didn’t have a lot of time before a teacher came to inspect. Once I was close enough, Erica shimmied herself down and under the umbrella with me, and we legged it back outdoors with barely a drop of water hitting either of us.
Sure, we were told off for being a little late to line up on the field for the register, but nothing could beat my sense of satisfaction. Saving Erica had been amazing, and to top it all off, she had got her timetable wrong; history wasn’t straight after break, but the lesson before lunch. So the test went ahead as scheduled and Erica flunked spectacularly. It was just brilliant.
‘You remember that time with the sprinklers?’ I ask Erica as we’re walking back through the field.
‘How could I forget? You totally saved me that day,’ she replies.
I need her to remember this, right now, as our friendship slips away. I saved her.
‘Why did you bring that up?’ she asks me, clearly perplexed by my train of thought.
‘No reason.’
‘Oh, that reminds me,’ she says, stopping in her tracks. ‘There was something else I wanted to tell you.’
I stop too and stuff my hands in my duffel-coat pockets. I wonder if she’s going to apologise for nearly frying me. I wonder if that’s even occurred to her.
‘So, some people were talking about my name. You know, the whole Flamegirl thing. And it was suggested that maybe it wasn’t the greatest codename.’
‘What people?’
‘Oh, there are like all these people that I meet – branding people, merchandising people, stylists and promoters and all sorts. You wouldn’t believe how many people are involved in the whole Vigil thing. Anyway, the Flamegirl name was brought up in a meeting and everybody kind of felt the same as you. That it wasn’t really good enough, and they wanted something more original, with more impact.’
‘Well, I could have told you that. In fact, I think I did tell you that.’
‘So, some names were getting thrown around but I didn’t like any of them, and then I kinda suggested your idea: Vega. And everybody loved it. So I wanted to tell you before you saw it anywhere, when I get launched, that I’ll probably be called Vega now. That’s cool, isn’t it? I mean, it was your idea originally, so that’s really cool, right?’
‘But you hated it when I suggested it.’
‘Yes, but the branding and merchandising people like it. And Jay really likes it.’
‘So you listened to them but not me?’
‘Oh, please, don’t get all pissy with me about this. It is your idea after all. We’re going with your idea! You should be happy about it!’
Erica starts to walk again but I’m too stunned to even move. I can’t even explain this bubble of anger that’s sitting in me. It’s like I don’t even know Erica any more. Who is she? If Jay told her to throw herself off a cliff, would she do it? OK, bad example, she can fly – but still. Why is his opinion so much more important than mine? I’ve been there since the beginning, and what am I getting for it?
This isn’t how I thought it was going to go. This isn’t what I thought any of this was going to be like.
‘Oh, come on, Lou,’ Erica says. ‘Why are you making such a big deal about this? This is amazing. You should be happy for me.’
‘Do I even get credit?’ I ask.
‘What do you mean?’
‘For the costume design, and the name, and whatever else. Do they know that it was all me? Do I ever get any credit?’
‘You know it doesn’t work like that. And besides, I never thought you were the “needing credit” sort.’
‘I’m not. It’s not about that. It’s just …’ I try to think of anything I can say that won’t result in her getting angry (and potentially literally exploding right here in the park) but can’t come up with a thing. I realise the only way to deal with this is to back down, and nurture the hope that somehow everything will work out fine eventually and that I’ll start to feel happy again.
‘Nothing,’ I say finally. ‘It’s nothing. I am happy. I always thought that Vega was the perfect name and that you’d come around.’
I once heard that déjà vu is when the memory cells of your brain cross over each other accidentally, so that something feels familiar even though it’s completely brand new. You might get it in a bakery because your brain already has bread-smell memories and can’t work out if those memories are new or old. Or an ocean view might remind you of something, and then your brain crosses wires and you think that you must have been right there before. I can understand how it might happen, and how you can convince yourself that you’re experiencing the exact same moment for the second time.
Except that I have been here before. It’s dark and raining outside, and I’m stuck on a maths problem that I just can’t get my head around. Suddenly Erica arrives in my room, slamming the door behind her before stopping still, panting and sizzling and looking like she wants to cry and scream at the same time.
‘What is it?’ I’m on high alert, noticing the warm glow around her fingertips, as soft and fragile as a dying candle flame.
‘I can’t believe she … Oh my God, my mum! You wouldn’t believe …!’ Erica holds her hands out, aware that if she presses them behind her she’ll likely set fire to my dressing gown hanging on the back of the door.
‘OK … OK … slow down. Need me to run you a bath?’
‘I’m furious, I’m not a baby!’ Erica’s tone is unexpectedly sharp, which unnerves me – when we were last here, the ice-cold bath was the best idea I had.
‘Erica, I’m only trying to help. And you’re on fire, in my room. Can we just calm down for a minute before you burn down my house?’ She watches me, jaw tensed and eyes focused, and for the briefest of moments I’m scared of her. ‘I’m going downstairs to get you a drink, OK? And then we’ll talk.’
When I get back to my room with a large glass of ice from the freezer, Erica is perched on my bed, arms wrapped around her knees. I try to work out if she’s crying, because I can’t quite see her face, but as I edge nearer I decide that her face is screwed up with rage more than anything else. I don’t remember the last time she was this angry. Sure, she can be moody, but this is something else. I reach over to hand her the glass, and she takes it, chucking back the ice chips into her mouth. The ice left in the glass melts in the heat of her grasp.
‘So what’s going on?’ I ask, the déjà vu attacking me again as I settle into my desk chair.
‘Mum and I had another fight,’ Erica admits. ‘I tried to tell her … not the whole thing … but she was asking about Jay and where I go on the weekends, and I was like, finally! After years of wanting to talk to her, finally she’s interested in what I’m doing, and I can’t tell her a thing! She was yelling at me, and it was ridiculous, and I tried to tell her that Jay was one of the good guys but she just didn’t believe me. She thinks I’m going to get pregnant and turn out just like her, so when I told her that Jay’s not like that, that he’s helping me, she went ballistic. Said I was a fool for trusting someone I’ve only just met, and that Jay’s only after one thing.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ I say after a pause.
‘And I thought, God forbid, if I actually have to tell her what’s going on, she’s not going to take it. She’s not going to believe me, even if I wave
my stupid hands right in front of her, because she’s so off her face most of the time that she’d just think she was hallucinating or something.’
I want to say something. I want to apologise again, or say something about the wine bottles I saw at her place, or that time when I saw her mum drinking wine from a mug, but the words leave me. This is the one thing that Erica’s never talked to me about before. I would never have pried, and she would never have admitted to it.
‘She’s a monster, you know.’ Erica sighs. ‘She’s always drunk, and has always liked getting drunk, but before she only did it when she was celebrating. Or if she was really sad and wanted to forget. Now it’s all the time. And she doesn’t think I notice it, but I do. I’ve watched it for months. And I’m sick of it. My life is finally becoming something. I’m finally getting to do exactly what I’ve always wanted, and she’s ruining it for me.’
I wait for a break so that I can offer more ice, because it’s the only thing I can think of to do or say, but the breaks don’t come. I can tell that she’s working hard at keeping herself controlled, if only for my sake, but maybe we should be heading for the tunnel right now, so she can just let it all go.
‘I just can’t believe the things she was saying about Jay, and she hasn’t even met him! Saying that I shouldn’t be thinking about boys right now because of my exams, and if I absolutely had to think about boys then I should at least be thinking about boys my own age. Jay is only a few years older than us! Hardly anything, really! And screw exams! I don’t need them. I’ll never need them, and I don’t know why the Vigils won’t just let me move to London and be a part of the team now, because Jay says I’m ready for it. Exams will just hold me back!’
I don’t think I’m hiding the doubt from my face very well, because suddenly Erica stares right at me and says, ‘What?’
‘Nothing,’ I reply.
‘No. I can tell that you want to say something. What is it? Just get it out.’
‘You’re scary like this, Erica,’ I mumble.
‘For goodness sake, Louise. If I can’t talk to you about all this, then who can I talk to? Whatever you want to say to me, just say it.’
I think about lying. I think about saying whatever I can to make her calm down. I could tell her how wonderful she is, and how she just has to be patient, and that maybe my mum will allow her to move in with us for the time being, but it’s just not right. I don’t want to lie to Erica to make her happy. That’s not why I’m her friend. She might hate me right now for saying it, but in the long run she’ll appreciate that I always told her the truth. Won’t she?
‘What is it?’ Erica insists.
‘I’m just not sure about Jay. There’s something about him, and the things he says to you, that just doesn’t feel right.’ It feels like such a relief to say the words out loud to her, but it’s quickly squashed by the look on her face.
‘You are joking me,’ she says.
‘I know it’s not what you want to hear but I’m just not sure about him.’
‘We’re really going down this road, after everything I just told you about my mum?’
‘I’m not saying that your mum is right, and by the sounds of it I get that you’ve been having a horrible time with her, but if you’re really asking me what I think about everything, well … I think that Jay’s not right.’
I look down at my rug while Erica glares at me. Her being angry with me is the last thing I want, but right now the truth seems so much more important, especially as I’ve spent most of my spare time over the last couple of weeks thinking and stressing about this very issue. No matter how hard she makes it for me, I know that this might be my very last chance to tell Erica what I really think before I lose her.
‘You’ve barely spent any time with him!’
‘He hates me.’
‘And you think it’s all right to just hate him back?’
‘No, it’s not just that. It’s the things he says to you, and how you’ve changed. It’s like you’re becoming a whole new person, with this costume and the secret meetings at weekends. I’ve hardly seen you since we went down to London. And when I do see you, you scare me. I’m not sure that I like what you’re becoming.’
‘You were round at mine last week! I showed you the costume! Do you know how hard it was for me to get that out for you? How much effort I had to make just to try and keep you involved? And what about the park last weekend? You’re just throwing it right back at me, trying to make me feel guilty for following my dream!’
‘I’m sorry, I just … This is just how I feel, OK?’
She’s standing up now, pacing around in what little space there is between my bed and my window. I keep myself as small and tucked in as possible on my chair, scared that she might pounce out at me on a whim with her angry burning hands. They’re not ablaze now, but I can tell that they want to be, that she’s using every tiny bit of her strength to hold herself back.
‘I knew it,’ she mutters, stopping and staring blankly out of my window.
‘Knew what?’
‘You’re jealous. This is what it’s all been about since the beginning. You’re jealous of me.’
‘What? No!’
‘You might not have been at first, but now … now that the Vigils are taking me in, you’re scared of being left behind. What – you think that Jay is taking me away from you? Can’t deal with the fact that I have new, better friends now?’
‘Erica, you’re my best friend.’
‘You were my best friend.’ Her words stun me. ‘You were the one person I trusted above everyone. I wouldn’t even be where I am without you. But now what? Can’t handle the fact that I’m leaving you behind?’
I’m starting to feel angry now too. I shouldn’t be acting the meek and modest little girl in her chair, all wrapped up and small. This is my room, and she’s my friend that I’m trying to protect. I shouldn’t have to just sit here and listen to her say horrible things to me while I do nothing to protect myself. If Erica wants a full-blown blazing row, then it looks like I’m going to be giving it to her.
‘Fine,’ I start, noticing that my breathing feels tight and heavy, that my voice sounds cracked and bruised. ‘You know what? If we’re going there, then yes, I’ll tell you the truth. I don’t know who you are any more. The Erica I used to know wouldn’t accuse me of the things you’ve just said. She’d know without me even having to say it that I loved her and wanted the best for her. I still do. We both know that Jay hates me, so let’s think about what he might be saying to you, to turn you against me. Can you just think about that for even a moment?’
‘Jay is a Vigil. He’s one of them. He’s one of the good guys,’ Erica replies, and for the first time, I get her logic. How could one of the Vigils be wrong?
‘Well, he’s never seemed like a particularly good guy to me. I don’t trust him. All right?’ I realise that I’m not going to win this. That even though Jay is miles away wherever he lives, somehow he’s got Erica completely on his side.
‘You’re wrong, Louise. You don’t even realise how wrong you are. My whole life is opening up in front of me, and you’re trying to destroy it. Just like my mum. I always thought I had you, Louise. I might never have had her, but I always thought I had you.’ She moves to open my window.
‘Where are you going?’
‘I’m getting out of here before I burn your whole bloody house down. Isn’t that what you want?’
‘We can talk more …’
‘I’ve got nothing more to say to you. I’m going.’
‘But you have to go back out the front door, otherwise my mum might wonder how—’
‘Like I care about that any more. You think I have time any more to wonder whether your mum notices how I come and go?’
I want to remind her how kind my mum has always been, how she’s always welcomed Erica without question. That if she leaves from my window, it will open up questions and lead to lies. Weirdly, in my head, this simple act seems just as horr
ifying and tragic as any words she could possibly say.
After she’s gone, I’m sitting on my bed in the very same spot where she was just minutes ago, and it still feels warm. I haven’t got the head for my maths homework now. Maybe I should be crying but I’m too stunned. Each gust of wind that rattles my window pane makes me look up, hoping that Erica has come back to apologise. But the rain pounds on outside and I feel lost and empty.
It’s as I’m getting ready for bed that I notice the parcel on my bedside table. Mum must have left it there for me. I can guess what it is. Maybe I should just throw it straight in the bin now and avoid the feelings. Or maybe I should scratch out my address on the front and forward it straight to Erica, so that she can incinerate it. If I was brave I might ask her for the money to cover what I’ve already laid out for it, but we’ve never been that pernickety about money before. We always shared costs equally because we shared the experience equally. But now here it is, a reminder of what I don’t have any more. It’s the Halloween costume I ordered from America, all ready to be turned into Erica’s new superhero costume.
Nobody has seen Erica for a week. Not since our blowout. She’s not been in school. I don’t know what to say about that. Some of her friends have come up to me in break and at lunchtime to ask if I’ve spoken to her, and I play it as though I’m clueless. Of course I’m thinking that she must be in London, playing with Jay and her new Vigil buddies, but I can’t tell anybody that. All I can do is shrug my shoulders apologetically and go back to whatever it is I’m doing.
Until Friday, when I get called out of my English lesson.
‘Note for Louise Kirby to see Mr Stanley,’ says the Year Seven kid, a shrunken shrimp within her oversized school blazer. The teacher dismisses me amid a hushed wave of ‘umms’ and ‘oohs’, as if I’m in trouble.
As I follow the tiny Year Seven, so proud of her incredibly important job, I consider making a run for it. I know what this is about. But what am I meant to say?
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