This is out of order. How old are you? Take this off, you sick bitches.
And it looks as if Fliss has started a trend. More supportive messages have been written in the last few hours.
This is pathetic …
Poor Poppy – you guys are bang out of order.
Yeah – nice one! You’re just making yourselves look dumb here.
Low move …
Wipe this now.
I blink, hardly able to believe it. They can see. People can see Charlotte and Lia for what they are. Not some cool, funny girls – but just pathetic nobodies.
I move back to the video again. Without thinking too much about it, I save it to my device.
I realise I’m not upset any more. Not about anything.
I’m just really, really angry.
Chapter Ten
I get off the bus at the last stop in town. It’s a quieter area, mainly full of cafes and charity shops. As I walk along, I count out the last of my change. I have four pounds, which will buy me a drink and the bus ride back home.
Back home. I shiver at the thought.
I’m still clutching my stupid bag. The one I’d packed, hoping I could stay at Dad’s. How dumb had I been? As if he’d want me around, getting in the way. And how would it have helped anything anyway? Sitting in Dad’s tiny bedsit would hardly sort out all my problems. Only I can do that. What would I have done? Sat there and watched him drinking? How would that solve anything?
I can’t keep running away from what is happening in my life.
I walk into the nearest cafe and order myself a Coke. Then I sit back in a chair by the window and turn off my phone. I need to shut out the noise for a bit.
I guess I have a lot of thinking to do.
A few hours later, I am back on the bus. My head feels a bit clearer, but I’m dead tired. I reckon I would sleep for a month straight if I could.
I decide to walk back home via the park. I know there’s a risk that I’ll bump into Lia and her lot, but weirdly I’m not worried about that any more. Let them say their worst. I know I have support now. I know that I’ve done nothing wrong. I’m not going to hide away like a scared animal. Not any more.
I’ve done nothing wrong.
I’m passing the main play area, past the swings and zipwire, when I hear my name being called. My skin prickles. I pause, unsure, and then I turn.
I’m expecting to see Lia. Or Charlotte. Or any one of those girls grinning back at me, ready for the next fight. But it’s not them.
It’s Kayla.
She walks slowly towards me. I notice she has less make‑up on than normal. Her face looks pale and her hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail.
“Where have you been?” Kayla asks, coming up next to me. She touches my arm lightly. “We’ve all been worried sick. We’ve been looking everywhere. This was my last stop.”
“I …” I shake my head. I’m not sure what to tell her. It seems so lame to admit that I was riding a bus, sitting in a cafe. “I just needed some time alone,” I say finally.
Kayla smiles. “Yeah, I get that. It’s been pretty rough for you, eh?” She squeezes my arm. It’s such a gentle action it makes me want to cry. “Your mum found your note,” Kayla adds. “Saying you were going to stay at your dad’s for a bit. And then when your dad turned up at ours—”
“He turned up at home?” I say, stepping back, confused. “He was meant to meet me before the match. He never showed up.”
Kayla frowns a bit. “I heard him and your mum shouting about it. From what I could make out, he had too much to drink last night. He lost his phone and his wallet. By the time he got to the house, it was too late – you’d left.”
I half laugh. “So Dad was out getting wasted when I was trying to call him? When I was asking for help?” I snort. “Why do I never learn?”
“I’m sorry,” Kayla says. “But you have us as well, remember. You need to talk to us too.”
“But my dad …”
I can’t finish. How can I explain to Kayla that it is my dad who normally fixes things, that it’s my dad I normally turn to? But then I look at Kayla and see that she’s nodding gently.
“I get it, Poppy. I do. Remember it’s been me and my dad for a long time. Ever since my mum died. He’s done everything for me and he’s always tried to be there. But it’s been tough at times – like I’m guessing it’s tough for your dad at the moment. But we got through it and so can he.”
“I think Dad’s struggling,” I mutter.
“Maybe. And you are too. But I think it will get easier for him.” Kayla shifts on the spot. “My dad was so worried. He thought you might have run away. He thought all of this was somehow his fault. Dad really cares about you, Poppy. He just wants you to be happy. Everyone does.”
“Is my dad still there?” I ask.
Kayla smiles. “Yes! They’ve been worried sick about you.” She pauses. “I have to ring them. Your mum and dad are out in the car looking for you and my dad stayed at home in case you came back.”
I watch, feeling awkward as she pulls out her phone and calls Richie. She turns away from me, but I can still hear a few words that she says. She tells him that I’m OK and that we are coming back now. I hear her tell him that she loves him.
“He’s so relieved,” she says softly. “He’s going to call your mum now. They’ll be there when we get home.”
My skin prickles. “They are going to be so mad at me.”
“I don’t think they will be. We were all just worried about you.” She touches my arm. “It’s not all bad, you know. Your parents have been talking. I think they want to sort stuff out. Make things easier for you.”
“All of this …” I say. “It’s just so hard …” I can’t get out the right words.
“I know. It’s hard for all of us. It’s hard for me moving into a brand‑new house and starting over. It’s hard for my dad trying to fit in. It’s hard for your mum trying to keep the peace …”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
Kayla leans forward and then sweeps me up in a hug. It’s so unexpected it makes me gasp. As she pulls away, I see that there are tears in her eyes.
“Your mum makes my dad so happy,” Kayla says. “There was a time I never thought that could happen again. Dad was in such a bad place once, I thought I’d never see him smile.”
I stare back at her. “Really? I didn’t know.”
“Sure. After Mum died, it was like something in Dad died too. Even I couldn’t make him feel good again.” Kayla pauses, draws a shaky breath. “I’m just so thankful to your mum. I want this to work out. For all of us.”
I nod. “I do too.”
She takes my hand in hers and squeezes it. “You’re not alone, Poppy,” Kayla says. “Just remember that. You have me now. We have each other.”
We walk back home together. It feels strangely comfortable, as if it’s always been like this. I’d seen Kayla as this distant, unapproachable person, when in fact nothing could be further from the truth. As we talk, I realise how laid‑back Kayla is, almost geeky. She’s totally easy to talk to.
“I have to confront Lia,” I tell her as we walk down the road. “I have to sort out all of this mess. She can’t get away with it.”
“No,” Kayla agrees. “She can’t. I’ve been raging about it to my year group. They’re not impressed. They think Lia is pathetic. In fact, by the end of school yesterday, everybody was feeling the same. That’s what I was trying to tell you this morning.”
“Oh …” I pause. “So most people in school have seen the video, then?” I can feel my skin redden.
Kayla flaps out her hands. “And?” she says. “So what? It doesn’t make you look bad at all. You just fall over and have some bitch dump a drink on your head. If anything, you come off as being dignified and calm. It’s those shrieking, childish cows who did this to you that are getting roasted.”
I grin. “Really?”
Kayla nods. “Yep. And, just for your informatio
n, Jamie is going to see Lia this weekend to tell her to her face what a child she is being. Lia was never going out with Jamie anyway. He snogged her once and she got obsessed and started making stuff up. It’s driving Jamie mad. She is not coming off well here at all.”
“OK,” I say. “Well, I’m feeling a bit better.”
“So you should.” Kayla smiles. “I’ve not even told you the best bit. One of Lia’s idiot friends uploaded the video onto the school’s social channel. So now the head knows about it. From what I’ve heard, Lia and Charlotte are going to be in serious trouble on Monday.”
“At least it might be over now.”
“I believe in karma,” Kayla says. “And in this case, Lia is certainly going to get hers.”
Chapter Eleven
They are all sitting in the living room, waiting for me.
Mum, Dad and Richie.
I don’t like this. It feels beyond weird. Dad just looks wrong, on the sofa next to Richie. How could that even be? It wasn’t so long ago that Dad would have been lying out on there, happily watching TV or reading. How did things change so fast? Now Dad’s perched on the edge of the seat, looking like he wants to be anywhere else but here.
Dad jumps up as I walk in. “Poppy. Thank God!”
Mum runs over to me. She pulls me into a hug. “You had me so worried,” she says into my hair.
Richie walks towards me and lightly taps me on the shoulder. “Good to see you back in one piece,” he says. I pull myself away from Mum and smile weakly at Richie. I never noticed before how tired he looks.
“Thanks,” I say.
“I’ll leave you guys to talk,” Richie says, and slowly guides Kayla out of the room. She flashes me a “see, it’s OK” glance as she leaves. They close the door behind them.
I flop down on the sofa, exhausted. My eyes scan the clock. It’s nearly nine now. I’ve been out of the house for seven hours.
“You didn’t need to worry,” I tell them.
“You had your phone turned off,” Mum says softly. “You weren’t replying to us. I knew you were planning to meet your dad and then when he showed up here, I panicked.”
“I know,” I say. “I’m sorry. I just needed to get away for a bit.”
“And the note?” Mum asks.
I shrug. “I just wanted to be with Dad for a while, that’s all.” I look at Dad straight in the eyes. “But that’s not going to work out, is it?”
Dad seems smaller somehow. He rubs his face with his hand and says, “I’m so sorry, Poppy. I let you down. I keep letting you down. I keep messing stuff up.”
“But you’re sorting yourself out now, aren’t you?” Mum says firmly to him.
Dad nods. “I can’t carry on like this. It’s not fair on any of us. I’m going to get a steady job. Get help with the drinking …”
He trails off.
The drinking. Of course I knew he drank quite a bit when he lived here. It caused rows between him and Mum, but I never thought it was that bad. Dad was always happy when he was drunk. If anything, he was more fun.
But looking at him now, I can see the mess he’s become. His clothes are shabby. His hair needs cutting. His skin is grey. I can see what Mum can see.
What Mum has seen for years.
“I need to grow up,” Dad tells me softly. I notice how he has deep shadows under his eyes. How his cheeks are sunken slightly. “I can’t keep on acting like a kid.”
“I just want you to keep your promises,” I say. “I thought today—”
“I know. I know.” Dad hangs his head. “I should have called you. I should have told you that I didn’t have the money for tickets. But I left it too late and then I lost my phone down the pub. I tried to get here as soon as I could. I tried to stop you going.”
“I was left waiting for you,” I say.
“I know and I’m so very sorry.” Dad looks up and I see tears are glistening in his eyes. “I will make it up to you.”
“It’s a storm, Dad, remember?” I say, my voice trembling. “It will pass.”
Despite it all, he’s still my dad.
And I need him back.
After Dad leaves, Mum sits with me. For a while we just sit in silence; sometimes she strokes my back. Then, finally, Mum speaks.
“I should have been more honest with you, Poppy. I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you hating your dad.”
“I thought you kicked him out for no reason. Replaced him with Richie because he suited you better.”
Mum snorts. “No. Not at all. Richie had been a friend for some time. We used to talk when I was on shift and he’d make me laugh, take my mind off things – you know? Life was so difficult here with your dad. We just resented each other. He wanted to be out drinking with his mates, gambling, watching footie. I wanted him to be more responsible. It couldn’t work.” Mum’s voice breaks a bit. “But I did try. I tried for a long time.”
“Are you happy now?” I ask her.
She squeezes me. “Yes, yes, I am. I have a man who loves and respects me. It’s so important, Poppy. I have someone who makes me feel good about myself. Who listens to me.”
Mum sighs gently as she strokes my back once again. “I just need you to be happy again. That’s all I really want.”
I lean up against her.
“I’ll try, Mum.”
I’ll try.
It’s quiet in my room. I’ve read the messages on my phone and thankfully it’s all calmed down. Lia has removed the video. I don’t know why; I don’t even care. All I know is that the people who are contacting me are on my side.
The last message was from Jamie. It simply said:
Lia promises to leave you alone now. I’ve had words. Respect to you for handling it so well.
A warm feeling passes through me. I feel like I’ve achieved something, no matter how small. I didn’t let Lia win.
I turn my phone off. I don’t need to read any more.
There is a knock at my door and I’m startled. It’s pretty late now. I guess it will be Kayla maybe, wanting a chat. Or even Mum checking up on me.
I don’t expect Richie. He stands by the door, looking a bit awkward. He’s still wearing a too‑loud shirt and his smile is still cheesy. But I like the fact that he is being respectful and not coming in.
I walk over and ask, “What’s up?”
Richie’s holding his phone. “I just want to show you something. I hope you don’t mind?”
I shrug. Go on.
Richie coughs. “I was thinking about your dad, how he really wanted to take you to a game but he couldn’t. It didn’t seem fair somehow. You two deserve some time together. I know I’d hate it if I couldn’t be with Kayla.” He coughs again. “So I bought this for you. Call it an early Christmas present.”
I look down at his phone. For a second, I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
“A season ticket?” I say. “For two? Richie, I don’t—”
“Please,” he interrupts. “Please accept it. It’s my gift. I want to help. This way you and your dad can go to every game together, if you want to.”
“But Dad?”
I’m not even sure he’d accept this.
“He can pay me back when he can, if he wants to. I got the tickets at a stupidly cheap price.” Richie grins again, flashing those too‑white teeth. “I cashed in a few favours.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
I really don’t.
“You don’t need to say anything,” Richie says gently. “I’m just glad I can help.”
Before I can stop myself, I sweep Richie into a hug. “Thank you,” I say. “This means so much to me.”
And honestly, I really mean it.
Richie will never be my dad, and I can see now that he’s not even trying to be. But he’s the man who makes my mum happy.
Richie’s trying to make me happy too. And that’s a big deal.
So I’ve got to stop fighting and begin accepting.
This is a new start for all of
us.
Richie moving in was a D‑Day of sorts. But not in a bad way. In a good way. The war is over. The rebuilding now begins.
Because of You Page 5