by Sara Barnard
She didn’t reply, her back still to me, but she’d lowered her arms and was now hugging herself with them. I could see her fingers curled around the blades of her shoulders, squeezing tight.
I tried to think of something to say that wasn’t the worst thing. In the end, I couldn’t help myself. “You tried to kill yourself?”
I heard a choked laugh before she turned around to face me again, wiping at her eyes with her sleeves. “Oh, God, did I say that out loud?” She blinked a few times, then drew in a long breath. “My filter just goes to fuck when I freak out.” She winced suddenly, glancing down at her hand. “Ouch. I think I burned myself on the cigarette.”
“Suze,” I said quietly.
She looked at me. “Yes,” she said finally. “Last year.”
I wanted to ask why, but even I could see that was a stupid question. “Is that why you moved here?”
She made a face. “No. But sort of.”
“Okay . . . ,” I said slowly, waiting for more.
She let out a resigned sigh and sank back down onto the seafront wall. “Things were really bad. At the time. At home, sure, but at school as well. There was some stuff with my friends. It was just too much, there didn’t seem to be . . . much point, I guess. So I took some pills. But it didn’t work, obviously. My dad found me before they could work properly. Sarah came to live with us after, to help try to make things better. But the short version is they didn’t. Get better, I mean. So now I live here.”
“Sarah came to live with you in Reading?” I clarified, surprised.
Suzanne nodded. “For about three or four months, I think it was.”
“Did she know before then?” I asked. “That your dad was . . . ?” I trailed off, not wanting to say it.
Suzanne didn’t say anything. She’d pulled out a fresh cigarette and was rolling it, safe and unlit, between her fingers, her eyes focused on it. After a long pause she nodded again.
“And she never did anything about it?” My heart was starting to hurt.
“It wasn’t up to her,” Suzanne said. “All she could really do was talk to my mum and try and get her to do something. But Mum, she’s not . . .” She stopped herself, paused, then tried again. “She’s not very strong. I mean, emotionally. She couldn’t . . . She couldn’t have taken care of us by herself, without my dad. And she really loves him. So it was never really an option.”
I wondered who had told her all of this, who had made her believe it was true.
“My mum used to say—” Suzanne stopped herself abruptly, clamping her mouth shut.
“Say what?” I prompted finally.
“You’ll think she’s awful.”
“Suze, I already kind of think that.”
A look of distress passed over Suzanne’s face. “I shouldn’t have said any of this. I’m not meant to.”
I sat next to her, the cold of the stone seeping through my joggers. “Says who?” I said carefully. “There’s only me here, and the only person I care about in any of this is you. And I want to hear it, if you want to talk about it. But if you don’t, that’s fine too.” I was almost disappointed that it really was only me and her there; I so rarely said the right thing at the right moment that it would have been nice if there had been someone else there to witness it.
“She used to say I was the strongest one,” Suzanne said slowly. “That I was much stronger than her. That . . . well, that I could take it, basically.”
For a moment I couldn’t speak. “Wow. Wow, okay.”
“See, it sounds bad.” Suzanne’s voice had quickened. “But she meant it in a good way.”
When I’d heard “abuse,” that very first time I’d found out the truth about Suzanne’s past, I’d thought of violence as being something simple. Awful, but simple. A violent man and a child who bore the brunt of it. I hadn’t even considered the framework that supported it, allowed it to happen in the first place. The blind eyes turned, the excuses made, the insidious lies whispered into the ear of a child so desperate for love they mistook a gentle tone for truth.
Could I say that to her? Would that make me a good friend or a terrible one?
“Did you ever tell anyone?” I asked instead.
“No, I did everything I could to make sure no one knew.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t want them to take me away,” Suzanne said. She wasn’t looking at me, still rolling the unlit cigarette between her fingers. “I know you won’t understand. But they’re my family. I love them. I just wanted them to love me back, that’s all.” Her voice caught on “back,” but she gathered herself. “I didn’t want to be taken away. I didn’t want that to be my life. I’d rather die than go into foster care.”
There were more things I wanted to say. I wanted to ask her why, if she was so against being taken into care, she wasn’t trying harder with Sarah. Didn’t it make more sense to try to be good? I wanted to know more about the family she’d left behind; where her beloved brother was during all of this; whether her old friends knew anything about what had been going on. But before I could voice any of it, she turned to me with a startling, full-bodied grin.
“Okay! I’ve told you lots of really awful stuff it kills me to talk about. I’m done now.” She leaped up off the wall. “What breed of dog do you think makes the cutest puppies? I think it’s Newfoundlands. The puppies are like bear cubs. So cute! And they call them Newfies.”
“You can’t beat a Labrador puppy,” I said, sliding off the wall and linking my arm through hers. We began walking away from the seafront, toward home. “They’re, like, classic puppy.”
“True,” Suzanne said lightly. She squeezed my elbow as we walked. “German shepherds though. Oh my God.”
She kept this up all the way home and until she waved good-bye—“Buona notte!”—and sauntered off down my street. It wasn’t until the following morning—when I woke up dog-tired and achy—that I checked my phone to see that she’d sent me a text at 4:38 a.m., saying simply, “Please don’t tell Roz anything I told you.” The starkness of the words, so unlike her, jolted me properly awake. A second text had come through half an hour later: “Thanks for listening. Sorry to offload on you. Next time will be more fun :) xx.”
For the first time I felt a pang of unease. Had she even slept at all? I hesitated, then tapped out a reply. “Offload anytime. You did get some sleep, right? xx.”
I was washed, dressed, and halfway to school before she replied. “Yep, just woke up. Too late for school OH WELL. Want to skip school with me? Sarah’s at work. Netflix all day and ME! Say yes xx.”
I was smiling, safe in my mother’s car, the collar of my school blazer rigid against my neck. “Private-school girls don’t skip. Be good! x.”
“What are you grinning at?” Mum asked. The Esther’s school gates loomed in the distance.
“Nothing,” I said, reaching for my school bag and pushing my phone into my pocket. I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “See you later!”
* * *
Later that week I met Rosie and Suzanne after school in Starbucks. The two of them were deep in an animated conversation when I arrived and I hesitated at the top of the stairs, looking at them. Both in school uniform and sipping from identical Frappuccino cups, they looked like a matched set.
“Hey,” I said when I approached, cutting into their chattering. “No chair for me?”
Rosie gave me an odd look. “There’s literally one right there.”
“I always forget how green your uniform is,” Suzanne said. She scooped up some cream with her straw. “Don’t you hate them for making you wear that?”
“Hello to you too,” I said, pulling up an extra chair from the next table.
Suzanne grinned at Rosie. “Caddy has third-wheel face.”
“Caddy is right here,” I said, irritated. “But she doesn’t have to be.”
“Oh, chill out, I’m just teasing,” Suzanne said lightly. “How are you?”
I shrugged. “Fine. You?”
“Really?” I took a sip of hot chocolate, which was still too hot. “Why?”
“I think I’m done with him. His dickishness doesn’t balance out his hotness anymore. So I think we’ll break up.”
“How can you break up if you’re not together?” I asked.
Rosie smirked. “That’s exactly what I said.”
“You know what I mean,” Suzanne said.
“So, basically”—Rosie pointed her straw at me—“she’s going to stop having sex with him.”
“That and other things,” Suzanne said, unruffled. She wedged her straw back into her Frappuccino. “Maybe I’ll find someone at Levina’s party.”
“Oh yeah,” Rosie said, brightening. “Me too! Do you think Liam will be there? That’s who I want.”
“Probably. From what Lev says it sounds like the whole school will be there. But you actually have to try and get Liam this time. Like, actually talk to him. That’d be a good start.”
Rosie rolled her eyes. “We’re not all beautiful and confident, you know.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Suzanne said earnestly, her eyes wide. “I didn’t know the ability to speak was restricted to those society deems aesthetically pleasing to the eye.”
Rosie laughed. “Shut up.”
I gave up waiting for one of them to let me into the conversation. “Society deems aesthetically pleasing?”
“We had a talk at school about body image and society,” Suzanne said. “The woman was a raging feminist. She said the aesthetically pleasing thing about five times.”
“I liked her,” Rosie said. “I thought she was great.”
“She said that our self-worth shouldn’t be dependent on whether we’re considered pretty by men,” Suzanne said. “And I’m like, come on, that’s all I have in the world; don’t take it away from me.”
“You are extremely fucked up,” Rosie said grandly, leaning back in her chair to stretch. “But, yeah—I do intend to make myself as aesthetically pleasing to the eye as possible for the party.”
Suzanne grinned. “Me too. Shall we do it together?”
“Obviously.” Rosie glanced at me, saw the look on my face and laughed. “Oh my God, Cads, you have epic third-wheel face right now.”
I tried to smile. “Levina’s having a party?”
“It’s her birthday next week,” Suzanne explained. “She’s having a massive party on Saturday. Her house is huge and her parents are loaded, so it should be fun. And they won’t even be there!”
“They must be crazy,” I muttered into my hot chocolate, imagining the look on my parents’ faces if I suggested they vacate the premises so I could have a party in their precious house.
“You should come,” Rosie said, but I could tell by the look on her and Suzanne’s faces that they weren’t expecting me to say yes.
“Okay,” I said before I could second-guess myself. I was gratified by their stunned expressions. “Sounds great. I’ll be there.”
18
ACCORDING TO SUZANNE, DYLAN TOOK the sort-of-breakup pretty well. She told me, via text, that his exact words had been “Yeah. Whatever.” but that he was still texting her in the evenings as he’d used to, asking her to come over.
“And I haven’t!” she said the following weekend, proud.
“Well done, you,” Rosie said, deadpan.
And then Tuesday happened.
Lunchtime was almost over and I was on my way to math when I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. Thinking more about the fact that I should take the vibration off before I got to the classroom than anything else, I tapped the screen.
1:58: Fuck. HIGH DRAMA. Suzanne’s been suspended.
1:59: What??? What happened?
I’d stopped right in the middle of the hall, staring anxiously at my phone.
“You okay?” Mishka asked, pausing between me and the departing backs of Allison and Kesh.
“Yeah, I’ll catch you up,” I said.
She looked worried. “Are you sure? Henderson hates it if we’re late.”
“It’s fine, I’ll be there in a minute,” I said, already turning back toward the nearest toilets. When I got there, I locked myself in the first stall and sat on the toilet lid, waiting for Rosie’s response.
2:07: OK, this might take a few texts so sorry. At lunchtime Dylan and his friends were being dicks, trying to wind Sz up.
2:07: It was just funny at first. Dylan said she was easy and Sz was like, lucky for your ugly mug, you know how she is, everythings a joke. She seemed like she didn’t care.
2:08: But then Dylan said give it easy, take it hard, and she told him to fuck off. And he called her a bitch, said she wasn’t even good, just cheap.
2:08: Then he said damaged goods come cheaper and Sz LOST IT. She threw a chair across the room, we had to hold her back
2:09: She would’ve gone for him. Mr. Daniels was next door in his office, & he came in yelling at us. Sz got taken to the principal, now she’s suspended.
I read the messages as they came through, one after the other, my heart pounding. My fingers angled over the keypad as I tried to figure out how to respond. I decided to text Suzanne first.
2:10: Here if you need me xxx
And then, to Rosie:
2:10: How come she got suspended? What about D?
2:12: They’re really strict about destructive behavior here. Plus she’s on thin ice cos of all the detentions. D just got a detention.
2:13: That’s unbelievable.
2:14: I know. Wait, how are you texting from class?
2:15: I’m in the toilets.
2:16: Are you skipping class???
I looked at the time. If I went straight to math now, I’d be fifteen minutes late and in trouble anyway.
2:17: Yes. Can’t believe any of this. Did you see her?
2:18: Wow, is that a 1st? Didnt see her. Lev did. Says she was crying, Sarah picked her up at the end of lunch.
Before I could reply to Rosie, Suzanne’s name appeared on my screen.
2:19: Are you at school?
2:20: Yes x
2:21: What good is that then.
2:21: Sorry. Just leave me alone OK.
Stung, I read over the messages again, trying to understand her hostility. I considered sending her a message reminding her that it wasn’t exactly my fault and I was only trying to help, but there didn’t seem to be much point, so I texted Rosie instead.
2:23: Did you text her?
2:25: Yep, but she hasn’t replied. Just told her to msg me whenever. All you can do.
Not replying was at least better than “leave me alone,” I thought. I was about to ask for more details, when I heard the main door open and then a tentative voice.
“Caddy?” It was Mishka.
I hesitated. “Yeah?” I leaned over and released the catch on the door, letting it swing open to reveal Mishka’s earnest, searching face.
“There you are,” she said, looking relieved. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, there’s a big drama going on with Suzanne,” I said, waving my phone as evidence.
“I told Mr. Henderson you felt sick,” Mishka said, “so you should probably go to the nurse now and get a note. That way you don’t have to go back to class. I’ll cover for you.”
“Thanks, Mish,” I said, meaning it. I pushed my phone back into my pocket and stood up. “Tell him it’s cramps.” It was cheap, but claiming cramps never failed with the male teachers.
She grinned. “Will do.”
We headed out of the toilets together, going our separate ways at the end of the hall. As I walked toward the nurse’s office, making sure to slow my pace and hunch slightly, it occurred to me that this was the first time I’d ever tried to skip class at Esther’s. Surely a momen
tous occasion, never mind that it had taken me almost five years. I wanted to text Suzanne—You’re rubbing off on me!—but I clearly couldn’t right now.
As the nurse fussed over me, apparently not suspicious of my vague symptoms, I could only think about Suzanne. Suspension. What would that mean for her? Things between her and Sarah were strained enough already. If I was suspended, it would be a big deal, but for Suzanne it could be a disaster.
My phone buzzed again in my pocket, but I had to wait a few minutes until the nurse left the room before I could look.
2:38: Whoops. Sz jst txt me, v pissed off I told you. What did u say to her?
2:46: Literally just here if u need me.
2:48: Fucks sake, y does she have to be such a bitch. I didnt throw any chairs. As if I wouldn’t tell u!
2:49: She told me to leave her alone.
2:52: !! Unbelievable. K I actually hv to do some work now. Call me after school x
2:53: Will do xx
10:31: Have you heard from Suze?
10:32: No, have you?
10:33: No, I left a message just after 6, no reply. I texted her like an hour ago, but no reply.
10:35: :/
19
Wednesday 11:49
From: Suzanne Watts ([email protected])
To: Caddy Oliver ([email protected]);
Rosie Caron ([email protected])
Hi, guys,
Sorry for communication outage last night. I just really, really didn’t want to talk. I’m rubbish, I know. Just wanted to give you an update. Things are fine, really. Sarah is steaming mad, but not at me(!!!). She’s at school right now trying to appeal the suspension. It probs won’t work but nice that shes trying. I thought she’d be so mad at me but she says a suspension is completely unnecessary, because of the circs, esp as Dylan just got a detention. She was like, you should have just ignored him. Tbh I think she was kind of distracted by finding out I’ve had sex. I was so upset I told her what he said—not all of it, but enough for her to get it. HER FACE. GOD. Now we’re both kind of pretending that bit of the conversation didn’t happen.