Good. I don’t care. Then I got out onto the ledge. Looking down I did suddenly feel that the ground was miles away, but I knew I had to escape. So I sort of wriggled my whole body around to face the inside of the room and then lowered myself down, hanging on to the ledge, getting my feet just a bit closer to the ground and then I panicked, I looked down and the ground seemed just as many miles away as before. I felt sick and wobbly – I wished I could just climb back in and pretend none of this had happened but it had, and there was no way I was going back to Greyfriars and super-no-way I was living with GB, so I closed my eyes and just let go. There was nothing for it, unless, of course, I wanted to deal with GB finding me casually dangling out of the window, like it was the most normal thing in the world to do.
In the end it was okay. I hurt my ankle, which meant I had to hobble instead of walk properly, but at least I was down. I ran as best as I could to the bushes that edge GB’s garden and crawled under them in case Dad or GB came out and spotted me.
I got all the way to the gate on my hands and knees, dragging my rucksack and clambering through the bushes. I got covered in dead leaves and yucky bits of garden stuff – completely mankenstein. I looked like a scarecrow by the time I got to the road and could finally stand up. It wasn’t a great look, but luckily no one was there to see me.
I started walking, or rather hobbling because my ankle had got quite sore, towards the village. I planned to get a bus from there to the train station. Luckily I had kept my return train ticket in my rucksack and I had five pounds that Gran had given me. It was just over a mile to the village but after a bit I realised it was going to take ages because of my ankle. I couldn’t go back. I didn’t know what to do.
And then I saw Jim – GB’s gardener – coming towards me in his truck. I panicked. What if he told GB or Dad he’d seen me?
He slowed down and called out of the window, ‘Hello, Tabitha, your granny told me you were coming down for half-term. What are you doing out on the lane lugging that big rucksack? You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards.’ He thought he was very funny.
I had to make something up quick. ‘I’ve been … I’ve been … I’m going … Orient– orient– ?’ I said desperately. I couldn’t think of the word for pointlessly going around the countryside for ages using only a map to find your way.
‘Orienteering?’ Jim said helpfully.
‘Yes, I’ve been doing that! Got all my … erm … maps … compasses and things in my rucksack, I’ve got to meet up with the other … erm …’
‘Ah, so are you meeting up in the village?’ Jim asked.
‘Yes, I’m meeting other …’ What were they called? ‘Erm, the other orienteerer-ers. I’d better go,’ I said hurriedly. The longer I stood here chatting with him the more chance there was of everyone realising I’d gone and come after me.
‘Why don’t I give you a lift there? It’ll only take a minute. You can save your energy for the rest of your orienteering. You’ll need it,’ Jim said cheerily.
I didn’t reply. I just jumped straight into his truck. I was so grateful I didn’t have to keep walking on my bad ankle.
There was a bus already waiting in the village, which was brilliant. Plus, extra brilliant, when I got my fiver out to pay, the driver said he didn’t have any change and smiled and told me not to worry about it. I was so pleased.
I hadn’t had any breakfast, or anything to eat at all’ in fact, since last night. I was starving. I planned on getting something at the train station but there were no shops. There was not even a kiosk at that station – not even a guard.
I got a bit nervous waiting in case Dad and GB turned up, but I didn’t think they’d have worked out what I’d done in time to catch me before I got on the train.
I took out my mobile and saw I had a missed call from GB’s house. Jim had probably told them he’d given me a lift and about my fake orient… whatever it’s called, plans for the day. I don’t think GB or Dad would believe for one second that I’d gone on a big, long hike (I never did that sort of thing even when we lived in the country). GB will just decide I’m sulking. But they probably won’t realise I’ve actually run away. Well, not yet, anyway. And by the time they do, no one will be able to find me. All the same, I was super relieved when I’d got on the train and it pulled away.
After a bit I decided I actually had to tell someone I’d run away, you know, to make it official and A Real Thing, not just some hissy fit, so I sent Mum a text: Because of you letting GB take over I have run away. You will never, ever see me again for the rest of your whole entire life. I hope you are sorry now. Goodbye forever.
And I didn’t even put a x. Then I switched off my phone.
Mum is going to be so sorry now!
A grotty old cheese sandwich and a yuckily tepid Coke from the trolley on the train used up the whole of my five pounds! That was all I had in the world. I literally did not have one single penny left but I was so starving there was no choice. The sandwich was bone dry and tasted like someone had been sitting on it all morning. It was completely and totally mankenstein but I ate it, obvs.
I started to think about what had happened. I’d got so angry with GB and Dad and then caught up with running away, I hadn’t really had time to think about Miss Wright’s letter.
As the train chugged along, it all began to sink in. I couldn’t believe it. Miss Wright had actually given me a whole month’s detention and threatened to suspend me! A whole month? That is equivalent to torture. No one gets a whole month. A whole week, okay, maybe, if it’s like major, but a month?! Apart from expelling me it is about the worst thing she could do, and all just for being up on a stupid roof that wasn’t even that high off the ground. Well, I suppose it was quite high, but we def wouldn’t have died even if we had fallen off it, which we weren’t going to do, obvs. She should see the window I’d just jumped out of. Actually that probably wasn’t quite as high, but then I didn’t really hurt myself. Okay, so I did hurt my ankle a bit, but it’s not like I actually broke anything. Anyway, it is so pathetic and lame of her. And sooooooo extra.
I don’t think I deserve to be given such a long detention time. It’s really, really, really super-unfair of Miss Wright. And she hasn’t even given me a chance to tell my side of the story.
It’s all that moron Grace’s fault for waving at me. Ms Drippy-Dry would never have seen me if she hadn’t done that. I don’t believe that wasp story. I am going to kill her. Oh god, I can’t believe this. I don’t think it’s fair at all. I love my new school.
Obvs, I don’t love the schooly bit, but I love it there. I love my friends and how different my life is now and how different I am there.
I fit in at HAC. I never really fitted in at Greyfriars. HAC just feels right, like I belong there. I don’t want to sit inside with some boring teacher for one whole month! I am going to miss so much. And I’m so worried everyone will forget about me.
I mean, I realise I haven’t been, like, a brilliant student, or most likely to be voted head prefect (as if I’d want that anyway – can you imagine anything more pathetic and losery?), but I don’t think I’ve been bad enough to deserve this. It is so unfair. I wish I knew what to do. What if everyone forgets me?
When the train got in to London – the final stop – everyone started gathering up their stuff and getting off. I was the last one to leave. There was no hurry because I realised I hadn’t made a plan, other than running away. I didn’t know where to go or what to do next. But I wasn’t scared – I just didn’t know what to do really.
Okay, I was scared a bit and, you know, I wanted to go back to Gran’s, but I couldn’t. Mum obviously doesn’t want me around any more. I mean, she’d never have agreed to let Dad keep me if she did, would she? I know Mum and I row a bit and I s’pose I’m a bit mean to her sometimes, but she’s my mum. Mums aren’t supposed to kick their kids out. It wasn’t my fault I’d got into trouble. And anyway, kicking me out is a bit extra – leaving me in the country w
ith Dad just because of a bit of detention!
I knew when Mum found out I’d run away she’d get really upset and blame herself. Good. She’d be right to blame herself. It is her fault. I’d never have run away if Mum hadn’t given me away to Dad and GB. I mean, god, she could hardly bear Dad’s mum when she and Dad were together, but now suddenly she thinks it’s okay to force me to live with her!
I hope Mum is really, really worried about me.
Everyone must know by now that I’ve run away. Good. That’ll teach them for making decisions about me without asking what I want first.
I switched my mobile on and saw that I had six missed calls from GB’s house and eleven missed calls and five texts from Mum. Eleven calls! I’d only run away just over six hours ago and Mum had already called me eleven times. I know I’d switched my phone off but I wouldn’t have answered her calls anyway.
I have run away and I am not going to tell anyone where I am. I want them to be frightened and worried about me. Bonus – Mum will probably regret ever going on at me about eating biscuits and stuff, too. GB is really going to regret trying to make me go back to my old school. And I hope Dad is going to regret starting drinking again. Serves them all right.
I hobbled over to a bench in the station and sat down. I needed a bit of time to try to work out what to do next. I literally didn’t know what I was going to do. It dawned on me that when you run away you should, first of all, have a plan. And, most of all, you should definitely make sure you’ve got some money with you. And probably some food too. But I hadn’t had time to do a detailed running-away plan had I? It’s not like I’d had masses of time to set up a whole running-away project complete with instructions, illustrations and handy tips!
While I was sitting on this stupid bench wondering what on earth I was going to do with the rest of my life now that I was officially A Runaway, I suddenly got a huge whiff of a horrible, mankenstein, stench. I looked up and saw a hunched-over old man wearing the dirtiest coat I’d ever seen in my life, standing literally about an inch away from me. His coat was tied together with bits of old rope and all the way round his waist, hanging off the rope, were about a million ancient plastic bags filled with other plastic bags. The smell coming off him made me want to vom.
‘Spare us some change,’ the man said, stretching out a completely black-with-dirt hand.
‘I haven’t got any money,’ I replied crossly. I couldn’t believe he was begging money off me. I was a runaway, couldn’t he tell?!
I didn’t want this stinky old man talking to me. But he didn’t go away. He just stood there not saying anything. I didn’t know what to do.
‘Not even the price of a cup of tea?’ he eventually mumbled.
‘I don’t have a single penny in the whole world and I’m hungry too!’ I replied, trying really hard to fight back the tears by now.
He didn’t say anything – he just stood there.
And then he put his grime-covered hand into his pocket and whispered, ‘Here you go,’ and handed me a fifty-pence piece. ‘Take care of yourself.’
And he shuffled off really noisily because his shoes were made of plastic bags done up with elastic bands.
And then I did cry. I was frightened and alone and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know where to go. And a smelly man who couldn’t even afford shoes had been nice to me and given me fifty pence.
‘Tab? Is that you? Are you okay?’ I heard someone ask a few minutes later.
I looked up and you will not believe who it was. It was Grace. Grace was standing in front of me.
‘Grace, what are you doing here?’ I asked, quickly wiping away my tears. I did not want her to see me crying.
‘I’ve been visiting my … erm … auntie. My mum’s just coming to pick me up. Do you want a lift? Mum won’t mind,’ Grace said.
I didn’t know what to do. Of course I didn’t want to stay the night on the bench in the train station, but I couldn’t go home. I had nowhere to go.
‘I’ve got a month’s worth of detention for going up on that roof. Miss says if I don’t improve she’ll suspend me and my mum’s kicked me out,’ I blurted. It just all came tumbling out of my mouth.
‘Oh dear,’ Grace said. She paused for a second, then said, ‘Why don’t you come back to mine then?’
I’ve never been to her house, obvs – we’re not even friends. Oh god, and I’d never even accepted her Facebook friends request. Here she was being so nice to me and coming to my rescue and everything and I hadn’t even been that nice to her. I felt really bad about everything now.
‘Erm, okay, thanks, but, erm, do you mind not telling your mum about it all … yet, please. Is that okay?’ I asked as we walked out of the station. My ankle was really sore but I hoped Grace didn’t notice.
‘Yeah, fine, whatever,’ Grace replied. She was being so cool and casual, like what I’d just told her wasn’t that big a deal at all. Her being like that made me feel much calmer.
Just as her mum arrived I heard my phone ping. It was yet another text from Mum.
Darling, please, please, please let me know where you are and that you are okay. I am going out of my mind with worry. I love you with all my heart. xxxx
Tears sprung into my eyes. I felt a bit bad for her. She sounded really upset. But then I felt angry again. If she loved me with all her heart she shouldn’t have agreed for me to move into GB’s house miles away, should she? I felt all jumbled up inside.
I turned my phone off and decided I’d think about it all later.
Grace’s mum was like a bigger version of Grace. She was even wearing a hairband and a cardigan with all the buttons done up, though not a school uniform one, obvs. But she was really nice and just seemed to think it was super normal for Grace to bring someone she’d just bumped into back to theirs.
Their house was really nice and cosy. It looked quite a lot like Gran’s house inside, which made me think of Mum and Gran and Basil and I felt all sad again.
I was absolutely starving and super relieved when, as soon as we got in, Grace’s mum told us she’d already made supper. ‘So, Tab’s staying over tonight, Mum, okay?’ Grace said to her mum but looking at me, just as we were finishing eating.
‘Fine, if it’s okay with your mum,’ Grace’s mum said smiling at me. She was so nice and friendly and laid back, like nothing was a surprise or a problem.
‘Yeah, it is, thanks very much,’ I replied.
Grace grinned at me and gave me a little thumbs-up under the table so her mum wouldn’t see. I hadn’t decided yet if I was going to let Mum know I was okay. I wanted her to worry for as long as possible so that she’d really, really regret what she’d done and never do it again.
‘Did your mum really kick you out?’ Grace asked, while we were clearing up. Her mum had gone out to meet some mates. There was no dad around as far as I could tell.
I don’t know why, but it made me feel good that Grace’s mum was a single parent, too, like my mum. I realised we were more like each other than I’d thought before. Because of the hairband and the way she wears her school uniform and being a swot and in homework club and all that stuff, I’d just thought Grace was so completely the opposite of me. She still is, but not so incredibly different, deep down, I guess.
Grace got out some nice biscuits for pudding – her mum had made them. I had three and Grace didn’t say anything. It felt good to just eat however many I wanted without having Mum tell me not to.
Then I told Grace the whole story. It was such a relief to get it off my chest. Grace was brilliant and didn’t interrupt once – she just listened until I’d finished. Grace was really shocked at what Miss Wright had done and how crazy Mum had got about it. ‘It’s not like you killed someone!’ she said. Quite right – that would deserve a month’s worth of detentions, I agree.
‘I know!’ I said. I was so pleased that even a goody two-shoes like Grace didn’t think what I’d done deserved the punishment I’d got.
‘I’m so sorry you
got into trouble, but you know, I really didn’t wave at you up on the roof. There really was a wasp,’ Grace suddenly said. ‘I really was trying to shoo it away. I got stung, look.’ And then she showed me a little mark on her arm.
I felt terrible for thinking she’d made the wasp up – the sting must’ve been quite bad for there to still be a mark. It had practically disappeared, but it was there. It had seemed like such a fake story and so made-up-to-cover-her-crazy-waving, but I guess sometimes things happen that sound like they’re made up but actually turn out not to be.
‘Sorry,’ I said.
‘S’all right, it isn’t itching any more,’ Grace replied. And then she gave me a serious look and said, ‘You know, your mum’s going to be really worried. It’s quite late.’
‘Do you want me to go?’ I said immediately, almost before she’d finished speaking. I wanted to stay. I liked being here with Grace. I like the way I don’t have to try as hard with her – I can just sort of chill. But I thought she was maybe telling me to go.
‘No, no, I want you to stay. I just think you should send your mum a text so she knows you aren’t lying strangled in a ditch somewhere.’
I laughed. I know I shouldn’t have, but that is exactly what Mum would imagine had happened. So, I sent her this text:
I am okay don’t worry but I’m not going to live with GB and Dad. I am not going back to my old school no matter what you say.
And then I switched my phone off again. I knew Mum would ring the second she saw the text. I just wanted to be able to work out what I was going to do tomorrow and make sure I didn’t have to leave school.
Grace and me stayed up practically all night chatting. It was really good fun even though I was pretty tired.
The Rise and Rise of Tabitha Baird Page 10