by Alex Flynn
I keep on wondering the streets. It’s coming up to four o’clock so the schools have finished. But the number of teenage girls walking the streets on their own is unbelievable. Okay, they’re not in any danger from me but anybody could be driving past or keeping a look out from their house. Looking for that little tell tale sign of vulnerability or naivety.
Some girl, who is about 14, is walking towards me, listening to her iPod. Even though I know for a fact that girls at her school can wear trousers, she wears a skirt. Simply because she’s got the legs for it. Bitch. And I’m sure that if I’ve noticed that she’s pretty cute then every bloke who’s passed her since she’s been let loose from school will have noticed too.
The girl does her best to ignore me when we pass each other. It’s almost as if she lives in a totally different world to me and that I’m not even real. Almost as if she lives in a world where child sex abuse happens, but to a totally different type of person.
So am I jealous? Jealous that this girl doesn’t seem to have a care in the world. Will sail through school. Breeze through college. And float through university without the need for Social Workers, doctors and psychiatrists deciding what she should and shouldn’t be doing. Of course I am. I’m human after all.
But getting jealous and resentful of people who seemingly have it all won’t help me. Neither will seeking out to hurt someone weaker than me so that they can feel the pain that I’ve gone through. I don’t know what’s put these thoughts in my head, but I want them to go away.
My mobile starts ringing again and I see that it’s Jack. I answer it, expecting an answer to the little task I set him, but instead he says:
‘Call Sandra.’
That’s it. No, “I hope you’re okay.” Or, “Is there anything I can do.” Not even a, “I understand what you’re going through.” He’s just straight to the point. And he’s right as usual. Although I’m not going to give him any satisfaction by telling him that.
‘I can’t.’
‘Yes you can. You like Sandra. She’s done so much for you. Without her then you wouldn’t even be allowed to see your mum.’
‘Stop making me feel guilty.’
I stop walking and sit down on a wall. When I realise that I’m totally lost I start crying. Now I look vulnerable and an easy target. Anyone who’d been watching me would know that now was the time to strike and offer me their help.
‘You need to be told sometimes. Where are you?’
‘Dunno.’
‘Stop messing around.’
‘I’m not. I just started walking. I’ve never been in this area before.’
‘So you’re lost?’
‘No.’
‘So you can find your way back to your mum’s?’
‘No.’
Jack pauses. Instead of getting frustrated and shouting at me he goes for the silent option. Using his patience. The patience that got through my defences in the first place.
‘Can you come and find me?’
‘I’m at work until 8 pm.’
I knew that was the answer but I wanted to test him, just to see what he’d say.
‘Just phone Sandra and they’ll send someone down to find you.’
He means a cop car. They’ll have all available units searching for the erratic Resource Consumer whose wasting taxpayer’s money once again.
‘Stop putting yourself down Jen.’
Jack never calls me by my name. Not many people do. Well, I’m just a number to most. I don’t know why people don’t use my name more. Maybe I don’t deserve a normal name like “Jennifer”. Maybe they know someone else called “Jennifer” and don’t want to ruin the name by associating it with me. Of course you get the odd idiot who asks me what I prefer, “Jen, Jenny or Jennifer,” they say, before laughing pointlessly like they’ve just come out with something original.
‘Come and find me,’ I say once again.
‘You know I can’t.’
I can tell that he’s pacing up and down and seriously considering it.
‘I’ve got a man following me.’
‘No you haven’t.’
‘Well, I’ve got a girl following me.’
‘Tell me more.’
‘Stop it. You’ll make me laugh. This isn’t funny,’ I say, as I automatically laugh to try to wipe away the tears that are rolling down my face.
‘Stop messing about then.’
‘I just want it over with.’
‘It will be soon.’
‘Promise?’
Jack doesn’t respond. He doesn’t want to make me a promise that he can’t keep. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen in the future as much as I don’t. Jack’s put himself in a very risky situation by getting involved. If Adam and his “friends” get acquitted then Jack could be revealed as the man who tried to slur the precious community’s name. He’d probably lose his job over it.
‘If you want it to be over soon, deep down, then it will be.’
I don’t know what he means by that, so I change the subject slightly and ask him, ‘Why me?’
‘Because you’re the girl who was unfortunate enough for it to happen to. That Adam and his lot have been getting away with it for years but for some reason everyone was too scared to do anything about it. Listen, I’ve got to go back to work. Stop being an arse and just phone Sandra up.’
And he just hangs up. Rude. But sometimes that’s the way to deal with me. By telling it to me straight, rather than faffing about. So because Jack know how to deal with me properly, I call Sandra’s mobile.
‘I’m coming to get you,’ she says before I’ve even had a chance to speak.
‘I don’t know where I am.’
‘It doesn’t matter. I’ll find you.’
Chapter Three
Mrs Robinson makes me sit in the naughty chair whilst she looks through her paperwork and decides what to do with me.
‘I didn’t expect this kind of behaviour from you when you’re in such a critical stage of your development. From the other one maybe, but not you.’
If she means Lucy then why can’t she just say her name instead of referring to her as “the other one”? And I really don’t see the big deal in this. All I did was go for a walk for a while. But this is the exact reason why I did it because I wanted to get away from all this paperwork and bullshit talk.
‘You know that your court trial starts in less than a week?’
Of course I know it’s in less than a week. I do have some concept on how time works. And it’s not my trial. It’s Adam and his “friends” trial. I’m just a witness for the prosecution. If I hadn’t have agreed to give evidence then the trial would still go ahead. It’s just that without my evidence then the chances of any convictions would be remote.
But sometimes there’s no point in trying to have a conversation with Mrs Robinson. She doesn’t have the brain capacity to listen and consider someone else’s point of view. She can only read what written in front of her and bundle her way through it as best she can.
‘It doesn’t look good for everyone concerned if you keep going missing like this.’
What she means is that it doesn’t look good for her. She’s the one who’s found herself in charge of me and it’s going to be her in the spotlight in a weeks time, just as much as Adam and his “friends” will be. When it’s all made public about what’s been allowed to happen to me then she’s going to be the one who’s going to have to give an explanation. No doubt she’s already working on her excuses now, laden with clichés about how she did the best for me in very difficult circumstances, but very subtly laying the blame at my feet.
‘Okay, I’ve decided what I’m going to do with you.’
That’s very decisive of you Mrs Robinson. Come on then, what’s my punishment going to be?
‘I think it’s best that until the trial starts that you stay here, unless there’s any urgent appointments you need to attend
.’
Why can’t she just say that I’m grounded for a week?
‘Can I visit Mum?’
‘She can visit you here. But under supervision.’
‘Whatev,’ I say, and stand up.
‘Wait,’ Mrs Robinson says, ‘I need you to sign this.’
She pushes a piece of paper into my hand. It basically outlines what happened yesterday, how they dealt with it and what they’re going to do to prevent it happening again. Mrs Robinson stands poised with a pen in her hand whilst I take my time, reading it slowly on purpose.
Eventually I take the pen and sign the paper as “Child X”.
‘Can I go now?’
‘Yes. That will be all.’ She says without bothering to check what I’ve signed the paper as.
I leave Mrs Robinson’s office, without bothering to close the door behind me, and start striding towards my room. I see Kate is walking towards me and I can tell that she wants to speak to me, but I just blank her and keep on walking.
By the time I’ve made it to my room Kate is right behind me.
‘Are you going into school today?’
‘Bit late, isn’t it?’
‘What did Mrs Robinson say to you?’
‘Do your job and read the paperwork.’
‘There’s no need to be like that.’
‘Is there not?’ I say, as I barge past Kate on my way out of my room.
I can’t work out Miss Baxter’s reaction towards me when I stroll into the classroom. There’s only The Self-Harmer and The Biter who’ve bothered to turn up today and they’re both busy working on their art projects. One of the subjects I hate and think is a waste of time.
‘You okay?’ Miss Baxter asks, like the mood I’m in is written all over my face.
I shrug my shoulders and sit down at a table on my own. Miss Baxter comes over and sits down next to me.
‘Is there anything you want to talk about?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Right. As you can see, the girls are working on their art projects. We can work on Romeo & Juliet if you like?’
I give Miss Baxter a look that she picks up on straight away.
‘Not the right time, eh?’
I don’t bother responding.
‘Is there anything else you want to do? It’d be a shame if you wasted the whole day.’
Would it though? Would it really matter if I spent the whole day just sitting here staring at the graffiti that’s been scrawled into the desks by the past generations of nutcases.
‘We were going to go out for lunch. My treat.’
‘I’m grounded.’
This makes The Biter sit-up to attention and give me the biggest grin.
‘No way? What you get caught doing, sucking that Jack’s little dick?’
‘Victoria,’ Miss Baxter says, that’s enough.
‘I’m staying here though Miss, if she’s going, so it’s your choice,’ The Biter says in retaliation.
‘I’m not in the mood anyway,’ I say.
‘Have a think about it anyway,’ Miss Baxter says as she goes back to her desk and checks her mobile.
The Biter gives me another snide little look but I don’t react to her. Instead I just and stare at the wall for a bit. When that gets boring I stand up and walk out of the classroom without saying anything.
Chapter Four
I feel like I’ve gone backwards during the past few days. Back to the dark days where I wouldn’t speak to anybody and would spend all my time on my own. Kate’s shown that she hasn’t learnt anything from those days, even after working alongside Sandra for the past couple of months, and has spent the minimum amount of time possible with me without making any genuine attempt to understand what is wrong.
But then I don’t know what is wrong with me. I don’t know why I freaked out the first time I was left alone with Mum, even though I knew that Sandra was coming to collect me. My so-called psychologist tried to put some words into my mouth to get me to explain how I was feeling but she soon gave up.
So as usual, I’m left with just Sandra to try and make everything okay for me. But she should have been here a couple of hours ago. Sandra seemed pretty annoyed when she finally found me the other day so I wouldn’t blame her if she’d decided to abandon me in my hour of need.
However, just when I’ve started to think of ways I’m going to survive on my own, Sandra strolls in with the biggest plate of food I’ve ever seen.
‘Even though you don’t deserve it I can’t let you starve.’
Sandra passes the plate over to me and I dive into it straight away because I’ve all of a sudden remembered how hungry I am.
‘A little thanks wouldn’t go a miss.’
I look up at Sandra but don’t say anything, not because I’m being ignorant, but because I’m trying to be polite. I indicate that I’ve got a mouthful of food and I suddenly have difficulty in trying to swallow without it making me gag. Instead of saying that she understands, Sandra sits down and patiently waits for me to stop choking.
‘Thank you,’ I finally mutter, covering my mouth so that I don’t spit any food out.
‘That’s a start.’
I put my knife and fork down but Sandra says that I’ve to eat first. Then she’s going to interrogate me over my behaviour lately. Having someone watch you eat doesn’t half make you feel self-conscious but I’m just glad that Sandra still cares enough to keep on treating me right. She goes over to my desk and checks through the exercise books that I use for Miss Baxter’s lessons.
‘You haven’t even done any school work.’
I put down my knife and fork and push my plate along my bed.
‘I’ve not been in the mood.’
‘We all have to do things when we don’t want to. You can’t decide whether you’re going to spend your day living like an adult depending on what kind of mood you’re in.’
I know there’s no point in trying to argue with Sandra. She makes people far who are far more clever than me look stupid.
‘Would it help if I said I was “sorry”?’
‘Who for, yourself?’
I look down at the floor because she’s making me feel so selfish.
‘Have you even tried to contact your mum?’
I haven’t. But then I’ve sort of been waiting for her to contact me. I didn’t really plan any of this and it’s not exactly easy to snap out of it when someone points out that I’m being a spoilt little brat. That’s the problem with my situation at the moment. There’s so many people involved with me but only one of them is truly capable of getting me to listen and act sensibly.
‘Right, regardless of what you’ve been getting up to this week we can’t have you going back to the way things were. Whilst the trial is on I’ll be working virtually everyday.’
‘Why?’
‘Because otherwise you’ll freak out.’
Will I? I know the trial’s only days away now but at least I know it’s coming so it’s hardly going to be a shock to me. And it’s not going to be like the last time. The last time my life was on hold because I didn’t know whether I was going to have a mum in my life at the end of it. This time my life is on hold because come the end of it I can put it all behind me and start living my life as an adult, regardless of the outcome.
‘Have you spoke to Jack or Lucy recently?’
I shake my head.
‘Do you not think it’d be a good idea to call them? See what’s been happening.’
I stand up and start looking for my mobile, ‘Should I call Jack now?’
‘No. We’ve got things to do first.’
I look at Sandra, trying to work out what she can mean by that, but she’s giving nothing away. I pick up my plate; suddenly not feeling hungry enough to eat what’s left, and scrape the remains into the bin before washing the plate in the sink. All the while Sandra stays silent, watching my every move like she knows that her stare is making me feel uncomfor
table.
‘After you,’ she says, as she holds my bedroom door open.
Chapter Five
I should have guessed that it would be Mum who’d be waiting for me in the Interrogation Zone. She’s had her hair done and looks about five years younger than she did when I last saw her.
‘Afternoon wonderer,’ she chuckles, but I don’t chuckle back.
Mum’s sat in what has soon become her usual spot on the sofa and it’s certainly a lot better now that she hasn’t got that excuse of a prison guard standing over the door. I look at Sandra who tells me to sit down, before sitting down herself on the sofa next to Mum.
Sandra starts fiddling about with some paperwork that she’s brought in with her but it soon becomes clear that she’s not going to start speaking soon. I smile at Mum. She smiles back at me but she doesn’t speak either.
‘What’s wrong?’ I ask.
‘We could ask you the same question,’ Sandra replies.
‘I’m okay. I’ve just had a bad couple of days.’
‘I know I’ve been off for a few days but there’s no way that Mrs Robinson’s even going to sanction you visiting your mum, let alone staying over, after you’ve behaved the way you have done with other members of staff recently.’
‘It’s not my fault Kate doesn’t know how to look after me.’
‘Do you know how I felt when you ran off?’ Mum asks.
I shrug my shoulders. I know that she cares. But I also know she’s scared that she doesn’t know how to deal with me, and the past week or so has just proved that.
‘I did have a plan in place to put a proposal forward to Mrs Robinson about you staying over with your mum whilst the trial was on. Would you have run off if you knew that was the case?’
‘Probably not. But I didn’t exactly run off. Well, not properly.’
‘How do you mean?’ Sandra asks, staring me straight in the eye in the way that makes everybody crumble. ‘Did you have permission to go off on your own? Did you tell anyone where you were going? Did you answer your mobile when we called? Did you reply to the voicemails that we left? Did you reply to the text messages that we sent?’
‘No,’ I reply, looking at the floor.
‘Well, you “ran off” then. In fact, you only bothered to get in contact when you ended up getting lost and wanted someone to find you and make everything okay for you.’
‘That’s not true,’ I say.