by Cat Clarke
‘This is so weird.’ I hear a loud exhalation, and I think I feel it on my arm. ‘Just for the record, I don’t think you can hear me. Nothing I’ve read about this sort of thing has convinced me.’ Ha. That’s what you think, buddy.
A deep sigh. ‘But I am sorry, you know. This should never have happened. I did care about you, but it was messed up from the start. You want to hear something funny?’ I can tell it’s going to be anything but funny. His voice is sour.
‘Remember the night we met? I’d just got back from uni, and the first thing I did was go round to her house. I’d been thinking about her ever since we met. I’d emailed and called and texted, but she just ignored me, and I couldn’t work out why. I was pretty gutted. God, why am I even bothering to explain? You can’t hear a word I’m saying.’ YES, I CAN!
‘Anyway, she refused to see me that night too. And then I met you at the bus stop. I thought I’d try to forget about her. And it was working, till I found out you two were friends. It was so fucked up. I know it’s no excuse, but I was confused. I … I thought I was falling in love with you, but I couldn’t get her out of my head. She knew how I felt, but she said she wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. She made me promise not to say anything – even made me pretend I’d never met her before.’
His voice goes quiet. ‘When you told me about her getting pregnant … I blamed myself. I knew it must have been Simon – he’s such a sleazy fucker and he’d acted so damn smug after that party, but I never knew why. I begged Sal to see me. I kissed her that night, but she said if I broke up with you she’d never forgive me. She really loves you, you know that?
‘And then that night. You shouldn’t have had to see that. But nothing actually happened. We never …’
It hits me. Like a physical blow to my heart. That night. I remember That Night.
I don’t hear another word he says.
Nat. Sal.
Don’t think about it. Don’t. Think.
But I have to. I want to. I need to.
Just go to sleep.
No!
You don’t want to remember. Just drift away. It’s better this way. Trust me.
No!
You’ll be sorry.
We’ll see about that. We’ll see.
I remember. All of it. And it hurts. More than I’d have ever thought possible.
I know where I am and what I’ve done and why I can’t move or speak or open my eyes. And I’m scared.
It was all a terrible mistake.
I’d like to not be here. I’d like to go home now.
Please.
Please.
The hand is back, nestled in mine. The right hand. Or the left. But it feels right at least.
Music is playing. The same song over and over again. I’ve heard it somewhere before, I think. It’s beautiful.
The music stops. And then he speaks. ‘I hope you don’t mind listening to that. I thought … you might wake up. Stupid of me, probably. I didn’t tell you before, but it reminded me of you the moment I heard it. I don’t know why.’
A pause and then his voice is closer – right next to my ear. ‘I’m here for you, if you need a friend. I know I might not be your first choice, but I reckon we’ve got more in common than you think. Don’t laugh.’ I’m not.
‘I’m sorry for what I did. You shouldn’t have had to find out that way. If I’d thought for even a second that something like this would happen, I would never have … But you wouldn’t listen, and I couldn’t think of any other way. You’re so stubborn! You’re even being stubborn now, aren’t you? Pretending you can’t hear me. Ignoring me. It’s really kind of rude, you know.’
But I CAN hear you, I shout inside. I won’t ignore you, ever again. I promise. I could do with a friend right now. A friend like you.
‘It’s OK, you don’t need to say anything today. But I’ll be back. Tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day, until you’re so sick of me you get right up out of that bed and walk out of here. It’s going to happen. Trust me.’ I think I do.
I feel the gentlest of kisses on the back of my hand. And then he’s gone.
The small hand is back again, but this time it’s warmer.
‘I’m sorry, Gracie-bear. I’m sorry.’ Gracie-bear? I’ve heard that before, I think. But what does it mean? ‘I know I should have said it years ago, but I was too wrapped up in myself. I wasn’t there when you needed me … I was hurting so much. And I knew you were too, but somehow I just couldn’t bring myself to do anything about it. I couldn’t be who you needed me to be. I missed him so much. He was everything to me. I’ll never understand why he did it. Why he left us.’ Her voice is small and sort of heartbreaking. The hand squeezes mine and I would really like to squeeze it back. I try my hardest, but it’s no good.
‘I didn’t know how to be without him. He was all I’d ever known. I know that’s no excuse, but I want you to understand … things are different now. I’m here for you. And I always will be, even when you don’t want me to be. That’s the way it’s supposed to be. I won’t let you down, I promise. You just have to wake up and let me prove it to you.’
I believe this voice. And I know who it belongs to.
I try and try and try to move my hand, just to let her know that I can hear her. My brain is sweating with the effort. I concentrate on my little finger and think think think about it moving. And I try and I try and …
Nothing.
But I’ll try again. Tomorrow, and the next day, and the next.
I won’t give up.
I won’t ever give up.
acknowledgements
Entangled took its sweet time making its way from my head to the page, and a relatively short time making its way from the page to the book you hold in your hands. Lots of lovely people helped me along the way. Extraspecial big thanks to …
Jan Sherwood, my favourite English teacher, for not laughing at my early writing attempts.
BWC. Our meetings got me through the whole ‘actually-having-to-write-the-book’ thing. Non and Kate K., I owe you big time. Nonster, you know I couldn’t have done this without you. Thank you thank you thank you for encouraging/nagging me every step of the way. You are a star. Go fish!
The All-American Rejects, Fall Out Boy, Cute Is What We Aim For, Elliot Minor and Jack’s Mannequin for writing the soundtrack.
Chris (Kissyfur), Ed, fabulous cousin Sarah, Liz (Frodders), Dan, Laura, Smoo, JNT, Stephanie K. and Megan L. Each one of you has been supportive, enthusiastic and/or excited just when I needed it the most.
Awesome Sar, for recognizing that elusive first line lurking in the middle of my manuscript, and for being, y’know, awesome.
My agent, the marvellous Victoria Birkett, and the equally wonderful Nancy Miles, of the Miles Stott Children’s Literary Agency. Meeting you both on that sunny day in Marylebone was truly one of the highlights of this whole journey. You took a chance on Grace, and for that I will ALWAYS be grateful.
Roisin Heycock (editor extraordinaire), Parul Bavishi (publicity guru), Talya Baker (copy-editing genius) and all at Quercus. I couldn’t have wished for a better home for Entangled.
My new blogging and Twitter buddies, for sharing in the excitement and for understanding that getting what you’ve always dreamed of can be kind of scary too!
Lastly, and firstly, and always, my parents, Elspeth and Rob for well … everything. And for being (sort of!) patient when I wouldn’t let you read my writing.
for news, blogs and more information visit us online:
www.catclarke.blogspot.com
www.catclarke.com
Twitter @cat_clarke
www.quercusbooks.co.uk
Twitter @quercusbooks @quercuskids
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