***
It was as I was coming out of school later that day that the phone pinged in my pocket.
I pulled it out, expecting another text saying I was totally evil. I was going to delete it. They’d soon get fed up if I just kept blocking people and didn’t ever respond to their sick messages. I was going to make them sorry for a change.
Then I read it.
TWENTY-THREE
I swivelled round. Almost everyone in the wind-whipped plaza was on their phone, either texting or messaging or calling or checking their profiles online. None of them seemed to be looking at me.
There was Andrea, chewing gum, surrounded by Belinda and Tracey, all of them with their phones clamped to their ears. There was Robbie, heading out through the main doors, typing into his phone as he walked. I saw William Creen’s nephew, Josh, with his back to me. Could he be deliberately turned away, or was he just protecting himself from the wind? He was certainly tapping something into his phone. Then my eyes moved up to the first floor of the school. There was a figure at one of the windows. I couldn’t make out who it was, not even whether they were a boy or a girl. It seemed to me they moved back quickly as soon as I glanced towards them. Had they been watching me as I read the text, as my eyes scanned the yard? Or was I just being paranoid?
Was it a threat? Or had this UNKNOWN seen how upset everything was making me? Maybe the text was their way of letting me know I wasn’t alone? But why UNKNOWN? Why not let me know who they were?
I stood in the plaza for ages. Buses left, cars drove off, the wind rose. But no one came toward me, no one even looked my way. I stood until I was alone. The grey clouds hung heavy over the hills. It would rain soon, the clouds would slash open and a deluge would pour down. And still I stood.
The entrance door to the school slid open. It was Mr Madden. I held my breath as he hurried toward me. I hadn’t considered UNKNOWN might be a teacher. Yet, why not? That would account for why they were blocking any recognition of their number. A teacher wouldn’t want me, a pupil, to have their mobile number. Maybe he was just letting me know he was keeping his eye out for me.
He came up close, holding his coat closed against the bitter wind.
“Are you ok, Abbie?”
I didn’t answer him.
“Are you waiting for someone?”
Am I waiting for you? I wanted to ask, but the words hung in the air silently.
“Come on, I’ll give you a lift home. You’ve missed all the buses.” He gestured behind him. Mrs Speke, another English teacher, was running towards us, her long hair whipping out in the wind as if it was alive. “I’m giving Mrs Speke a lift too. We go right past your place.”
At last I found my voice. “No, no. Thank you, but I’m waiting for my dad.”
He nodded, patted my shoulder. “I know you’re going through a hard time. I’m keeping my eye on you.”
Mrs Speke caught up. She hardly acknowledged me, almost as if I wasn’t there at all. And they both began to hurry to Mr Madden’s car.
I’m keeping my eye on you. Almost the same as ‘I’m watching you’, wasn’t it? Yet why did it sound so different? He was the only one who showed me any kind of sympathy. Could Mr Madden be UNKNOWN?
***
Over the next couple of days I waited, watched out for another text. I hated myself for being so pathetic, so desperate for some kind of contact that just might be friendly, someone trying to let me know they were there. Maybe someone a bit afraid to let the rest of the school see they were on my side. Then the next minute, I was sure it was all different. The message was sinister. I’d seen enough horror movies to know ‘I’m watching you’ could mean I was being stalked by some kind of serial killer. Or someone from school really trying to scare me.
Was this UNKNOWN the same one who texted HELP ME when Jude was away? That was a text too, not a message, and both were from UNKNOWN.
Every night my phone lay close at hand on my bedside table. I spent so much time watching it, not sure whether I wanted it to light up with a message or not. Then I’d shut it in the drawer and try to forget about it.
After a couple of days I almost managed that. I wanted to put everything behind me and move forward. The police had said that if I was going to be charged, there would be a letter from the Procurator Fiscal, but so far nothing had arrived, and with each passing day I hoped they would forget about it all too.
It was Thursday, and on Thursdays I always made a special tea for Dad, though lately we had been eating in silence. I wanted to change that. So on the way home from school I went into the supermarket to get their ‘Dine In for Two’ deal.
I began to feel hopeful. That day I had only had a few abusive messages and texts. Maybe Mr Madden had been right. It was a nine-day wonder.
I wandered round the aisles, picking up shampoo and milk and trying to remember what else was running low at home. The ‘Dine In for Two’ deal offered chicken piri piri, which Dad loved. I was at the checkout with my basket when the phone pinged. I had a text. My first thought, my hope, was that it was Dad, reminding me to pick up something nice for tea.
But it wasn’t.
TWENTY-FOUR
I swung round. The supermarket was busy, people striding in and out of the aisles, pushing trolleys, stopping to chat, blocking my view. I was searching for a familiar face. Someone from my class, from school, someone I recognised.
“Have ye got your club card, hen?”
The voice of the girl at the checkout came through in a blur, but I couldn’t answer her. My phone pinged again, urging me to look at a new text.
UNKNOWN was in this supermarket, saw what I had put in my basket. Someone here was watching me.
“Hen, are you listening to me?”
The woman behind me, impatient to move, tutted. “The cashier’s waiting.” She nodded to the girl at the till, “We’re all waiting.”
But all I could think was UNKNOWN was in here. I had my chance to find who it was. I pushed past the queue, leaving everything I had chosen sitting on the conveyor belt.
The cashier shouted, “You cannae leave all that!”
I heard someone say, “That’s the lassie that caused all that trouble. Kerr – was that her name?”
“So it is,” someone agreed. And in seconds news of my notoriety spread like a virus through the supermarket.
I ran along the aisle where I had picked up the chicken, searching frantically for any face I recognised. I blasted into trolleys, pushed them aside; irate shoppers shouted at me. I knew I looked like someone crazy, but I couldn’t explain to anyone what I was doing. No one would believe me. I was only looking for attention again, that’s what they would say.
Hope you enjoy that chicken. I wanted to shove that text into someone’s face, yet I knew to anyone else it wouldn’t seem threatening at all. Sounded like a friend I’d met earlier in the shop, someone who’d seen me pick up the chicken and had sent me a quick text. That’s what everyone would say: it must have come from a friend. That was a joke in itself. What friends did I have?
The text sounded so innocent, but it scared me.
Then I had a thought. Perhaps UNKNOWN had been at one of the other tills, waiting in a queue like me. Whoever it was would be outside now. I ran again, and stood at the entrance. It was a dark dreich day, and soon it would be darker. I hurried into the car park – maybe UNKNOWN was already in one of the cars? I ran, peering into car windows, desperately seeking a face I knew. People stared back out at me, and I could almost read their minds. Any sympathy melted when they recognised me, and realised who I was.
After a while I gave up and stood in the shelter of the trolley bay, and tried not to cry.
***
We didn’t have our chicken dinner that night. I’d left everything on the cashier’s conveyor belt. When I got home I opened a tin of chilli we had in the cupboard and Dad and I ate it with nachos.
“Did something happen today?”
I was amazed he even noticed; he had h
ardly spoken to me since he came in.
“I got a text when I was in the supermarket, Dad.”
He let out a long sigh, fed up with the whole thing. I took my phone from my pocket and handed it to him. He glanced, and handed it back. “Doesn’t sound too threatening.”
“I knew you would say that, but don’t you see, Dad, somebody was watching me. They saw what I put in the basket.”
He tried to make light of it, and I knew he was doing it to make me feel better. A wave of love for him swept over me. I wanted to hug him. I wanted him to hug me. “Just forget about these texts, Abbie. Ignore them.” Then he smiled, the first for a long time. “I would have enjoyed that chicken,” he said. “Better than this blinkin’ chilli.”
But I couldn’t smile back. He didn’t understand. No one did. “That’s not the first text I’ve had.”
I scrolled to find the first one from UNKNOWN: I’m watching you.
And handed him back the phone.
“I thought you were deleting all these texts? Why keep this one?”
“Because it’s from UNKNOWN. It’s like the ones I was getting while Jude was away.”
I shouldn’t have mentioned that. Dad pushed the phone back at me. “Delete these as well! You can only blame yourself for all of this, Abbie. You and that so-called friend of yours.”
And in that instant I knew he was right. Who had got me into all this trouble? Jude. Who had passed all the blame on to me? Jude. She’d sent the texts from a withheld number while she was gone, and I’d bet she was to blame for these texts too.
Jude was UNKNOWN.
TWENTY-FIVE
I itched to go directly to Jude’s house and confront her, but I knew I had to plan carefully. I thought of sending a text to her old number, a nasty text telling her what I’d do to her if she kept on with this – and then I realised how stupid that would be. Jude would have been able to use that text against me, and then I’d be in even more trouble. My life was falling apart and all because of her (ok, maybe I was a wee bit to blame, but I didn’t deserve all this). I spent that night ‘nursing my wrath to keep it warm’. We’d been doing Robert Burns in school, and I remembered that line. I liked it. It sounded just the way I felt.
I didn’t march straight to her house next morning, because chances were she’d already started out for her new school down in Greenock. I’d have ended up dealing with her mother, when it was Jude I had to see. I promised myself I would go at the end of the day. And I would talk to her calmly and sensibly. I would not lose my temper.
I considered running away, but had a feeling no one would come looking for me. They’d probably think it was another hoax.
Isn’t it funny that even in the worst times, you still do the normal everyday things? It was morning, so I went off to school, as normal. I would get through the school day and then I would confront Jude. I had to. I had to find out if she was UNKNOWN.
It was hardly worth my while being in classes, I wasn’t taking in any of it. I pressed the wrong button in I.T. and crashed the computer. All I could think about was finding out the truth from Jude. I would be calm, polite, coherent. I played the conversation over and over again in my head: what I would say to her, and what she would say to me, and in my mind she always apologised and confessed. Confessed to her lies, confessed she was UNKNOWN. In my imagination, it was all so easy.
I did manage to do a little sleuthing about where people had been the day before when I’d been trying to buy chicken. Tracey had had a fight in the school plaza and was kept in till her mum came to get her. Robbie had stayed back with Angus in the studio, and Andrea was at drama class, so none of them could have been at the supermarket and seen me. I couldn’t account for Belinda, or Josh Creen. Though I hardly suspected any of them really.
No, Jude was my chief suspect.
After school I headed for her street. I figured I’d be there before she arrived – she had further to travel to get home. I would wait for her at the corner.
All of my calm, polite intentions went out of the window when I saw her strolling along in her new uniform, giggling into her phone, flicking her hair, not a care in the world. How dare she look so happy!
She spotted me.
Her expression was worth gold. She began to babble, probably telling whoever she was speaking to that the mad Abbie Kerr was about to attack her. She was almost right.
I ran at her. “Why are you doing this to me?”
She stumbled back. “What? What are you on about?”
I pushed my phone into her face. “This! You’re texting me on another phone. The one you used when you were away. UNKNOWN. It’s been you all the time, admit it.”
She was beginning to recover from the shock of seeing me. “Get that out of my face.” She tried to push past me, but I stood my ground.
“What are you doing it for, Jude? Why not just let it be? You’ve won. Everybody thinks you’re a saint and I’m the bad one.”
She tossed back her hair. “It’s not me texting you. Why would I do that?”
“Because you hate me. I don’t know why. You got dumped and I tried to be a friend to you. You and me against the world, remember? What happened? How could you turn against me like that? You’ve got me into so much trouble with your lies.”
“I didn’t tell any lies,” she spoke right into my face, “and you know I didn’t. You’re the one who should admit it.”
“You did. You said it was all my idea. You said you were scared of me. You said you wanted to come back and I wouldn’t let you.” My voice was rising. I couldn’t help it. “You said I threatened you.”
Jude was the one who suddenly sounded sensible. Her voice was quiet. “I think there’s something wrong with you, Abbie. I’ve said that to my mum. Everything I said is true and you know it, and you’re either lying, or you’re not admitting it to yourself. I mean, how else would I get the key to your aunt’s house? You gave me it.”
I didn’t want to hear what she was saying. “I didn’t. It’s only me and you here, Jude. Tell the truth.”
“You know I am telling the truth. For some reason you need attention, and this is your way of getting it.” She tapped her head. “I think there’s something wrong with you… up here. That’s exactly what I think.”
Well, no one would let that go, would they? How was I meant to keep calm after that? I grabbed her by the lapels of her brand new blazer and I rammed her up against a lamppost. Jude was bigger than me but no match when it came to fighting. “Tell the truth! Tell everybody the truth!”
I was ready to punch her but a shadow loomed behind me and an arm pulled me back. It was her mum.
“You’ve already been warned to stay away from here! If you ever come near Jude again I’m calling the police. I’ll get a restraining order against you.”
In spite of all the promises I’d made to myself, I’d managed to cause a scene in the street. Neighbours were peeking through blinds or standing at their open front doors, watching, recognising me. Mrs Tremayne led Jude inside their house and I had to stand there, knowing all those disapproving eyes were on me. Finally I slumped away.
Why was Jude still persisting with her lies even when we were alone? Surely with me she could tell the truth?
She’d said I was lying to myself. As if that could be true. Why would I do that? Why would anyone?
Because I still need attention, she said.
Confronting Jude hadn’t made anything better. In fact I had made things worse. I imagined her mother on the phone to the police, complaining about me. If she did, it might sway the Procurator Fiscal to charge me. There might even be police waiting for me at home.
I wished there was someone I could complain to. I couldn’t talk to anyone. If my Auntie Ellen was here, I could talk to her, I could always talk to her… but when she found out Jude had been staying in her house, would she think I had really let her stay there? Would she think what everyone else did? Would she turn against me too? I had no one.
No-
mates-Abbie.
TWENTY-SIX
“What’s wrong wi’ your face?”
I was back in the school library. I haunted it these days. It was the only place in the school I felt safe, cowering in an alcove behind stacks of shelves. I never thought the day would come when I, Abbie Kerr, would cower. I hated myself for that. I had always been a girl who swaggered. Who didn’t care what anyone thought. What was happening to me?
“I said, what’s wrong wi’ your face?” Robbie repeated. I never knew why he was in the library. He wasn’t exactly an avid reader and he didn’t need to hide from anyone. “Are you ok?”
“Do you care?”
“Not particularly,” he said casually. “But I was going to sit there.”
“Too bad. I was here first.”
“Under false pretences. You’re not even reading a book. This is a library, you know.”
“I’m wondering how you figured that out actually.”
“At least I’ve got a book.” He held it out to me. “Reading up about urban myths. Remember? Madden wants us to discuss urban myths and conspiracy theories for Halloween.”
I vaguely remembered Mr Madden mentioning something about it, but I had hardly been concentrating.
“Are you ok?” he asked again, almost as if he meant it.
“Do you remember those texts I was getting, when Jude was still away? The ones from an unknown number?” Why was I confiding in him when I’d promised myself I’d never tell anyone about UNKNOWN? But the words were out before I could stop them, like naughty weans sneaking out at night.
“You’re still getting them?”
I looked at him. There was a tiny moment in the past when I’d thought he liked me, admired me even. Did I see any of that admiration left in his eyes?
No.
“You’re still getting them?” he asked again. “Is that what you’re claiming now?”
Between the Lies Page 8