by C. J. Flood
‘Oh no,’ she said, and she seemed to be struggling to stay professional. ‘I’m not having that. People need to take responsibility. That’s what they don’t teach any more. If those girls don’t take responsibility for their choices, they’ll pay for it. Nobody else.
‘You’re not a bad kid, just easily led. There’s no shame in it; Titania’s a charismatic girl – but I’m telling you, Rosie – stick with your new friends, focus on your work. Because those girls are going to get nothing but what they’ve asked for.’
After an intense look that I thought would never end, she nudged her head towards the door, and it took every bit of power I had not to sprint out of it.
The corridor was seething, and at first I thought it was the usual mixture of theatre kids and hangers-on, coming to ask Chase a question or deliver a prop, but they were crowding round something, and pushing my way to the front I saw what it was. An A4 sheet of paper in the middle of the Drama noticeboard.
The photograph.
It was the first time I’d seen it, and I couldn’t help noticing the quality of the image. My instinct must have made me press the shutter release, in spite of the shock.
Chase and Kes, looking guilty, amidst shattering glass.
‘Did you take that?’ Kiaru whispered, at the edge of the crowd.
Alisha gripped my arm. ‘Does she know you were there?’
Kids gasped and hooted, the noise getting louder until it was like sports day, and then Chase’s door opened.
‘What’s going on out here? Knock on my door if you want to see me, otherwise, out of the Drama block!’
Lost in the mass of other kids leaving, we turned to watch as Chase examined the poster. There was the sound of paper ripping as she pulled it down.
Twenty-four
At the start of last lesson a prefect arrived to tell the teacher I was required in Kes’s office. Seeing we were all too excited about finishing school at the end of the week to concentrate on land reforms, Mr Hedges had admitted defeat and let us play Monopoly, and I moved my counter six places before collecting my stuff, thinking of the way Ti always finished what she was doing before she exited a classroom. ‘It gives the illusion of being in control,’ she had once said.
It was unusual to be the centre of everyone’s attention, but I could see how you might get used to it. Crave it even.
Kiaru watched from the adjacent table, and I wondered if he was impressed or disappointed.
It was almost a relief walking there. The doors of the teachers’ offices passed by me like pieces of set from a film. So much had happened in the last couple of weeks that I half wanted to be punished. It would be nice to stop hiding things and avoiding people and sneaking around.
Katy Johnson, the prefect escorting me, knocked on the door to Kes’s office, then opened it for me to enter.
Inside, Chase sat with her legs crossed, hands clasped in her lap, lips pressed together. Kes sat behind his desk, upon which was the poster.
My adrenalin level spiked, my cheeks hot, but I met their eyes. Ti had said she’d felt they were united against her when she was brought in, and I did too. What exactly was the deal between them? Was it Kes’s shadow we’d seen that first time at Chase’s? And did that mean he knew Chase was lying about Ti? The stuffed mole burrowed up to the light, and I held my breath, wishing for an underground lair of my own to creep into.
Chase glanced at Kes, who pursed his lips.
‘Titania De Furia has implicated you,’ he said, and there was no chance to deny it, because there on the desk was the self-portrait I’d taken of me with a bleak expression.
‘The time matches the break-in,’ Chase said, and I noticed the blurry orange figures in the bottom right corner. I hated the date feature, and never used it, but Dad had taken my camera on a protest recently, and he loved the date stamp because he hoped to capture the police doing something incriminating. In my rush to leave with Ti I hadn’t noticed it was still on. Not that I’d expected it to be used against me.
‘We don’t know or want to know the motives behind your scheming. We simply don’t have time for this kind of behaviour here. You’ve proven yourself a capable student, but weak-willed and sly, and your presence is not appreciated at this time. Do you understand, Miss Bloom?’
Chase blinked in my direction. ‘Perhaps you’ve been placing your loyalty in the wrong areas,’ she said, and there was a smug look in her blue eyes, because she’d known I was lying, and now I was caught.
‘Miss Bloom?’ Kes said, and I realized he was waiting for an answer.
‘I understand,’ I said, though I didn’t completely.
Chase rose at the same time as Kes, and we all walked out of the cluttered office into the starker space of the corridors together. A first year carrying a box of folders stared at me and my shocked red face like I was a one-armed foetus emerging from a bottle of formaldehyde.
‘Time for a big think, eh, Rosie?’ Chase said, holding her hand out so I had to shake it, and then she turned towards her beloved Drama block, vintage heels clicking, off to yet another Grease dress rehearsal.
Kes walked me very slowly to the main doors by reception. My own personal funeral march.
‘Ms Chase is right. Time for a very big think indeed. Consider the type of person you want to be, Rosie, and what you want to make of yourself. Think about how you’ve been spending your time lately, how you would like to spend it in future. The kind of people you want to put your faith in. This matter is far from closed.’
He held his hand out for me to shake, and then his huge dry palm was in mine, and the door was shutting, and it was me on the wrong side of it this time, with all my friends inside.
Twenty-five
Dawdling home in a daze, I tried out explanations, but none were acceptable, and pushing the door handle I felt I was walking into a stranger’s house.
Dad was chopping without looking, the way he always did, the way he’d learned back when he was a chef, before I was born. He swiped the ingredients into a pan, wiping his knife on the tea towel he had tucked in his waistband. I thought maybe he hadn’t heard me come in, that I could creep to my bedroom, like the worm that I was, but then he spoke.
‘Sit down.’
Dad could make delicious dinners with his eyes closed, slicing and singing and messing around, but right now the kitchen was silent except for his knife.
De-de-de-de-de-de-de-de-de-de-de-de-de.
My brain scanned for justifications as I sat, but there were none. And then he turned and the look he gave me made the lump in my throat double.
‘You stupid, horrible little girl,’ he said, and I almost fell off my chair. ‘We can’t cope with you getting into trouble, can you not understand that? I’m run off my feet as it is – I can’t afford to be dragged out of work like this for something so . . . I thought you of all people knew. I’ve been on the phone to your Drama teacher this afternoon. She called me at work, thank god. Can you imagine if she’d called home? Spoken to your mum? With this talk of suspension. What’s going on, Rosie? Creeping around at night, a campaign against your teachers – what were you thinking?’
I had no answer, but I had to say something.
‘I didn’t put the posters up,’ I said. ‘I don’t know who did that, it must have been—’
‘But you did break into your teacher’s garden? In the middle of the night. And smash the window?’
‘No! That wasn’t me, that was Ophelia, she—’
‘But you did take the photograph, didn’t you? Admit that at least. You can’t wriggle out of that one, thanks to your good friend Titania. And you were there through all of it, which makes you guilty by association. How could you be so stupid? I thought you were a clever girl. It’s embarrassing, Rosie. I’m embarrassed.’ He pleaded instead of shouting, and that made it worse somehow.
‘You won’t be using that camera again, I’ll tell you that for free. Where is it? Bring it here. This is not what I gave it to you for.’
‘I don’t know where it is,’ I admitted miserably.
‘Careless as well! You’re really pulling out all the stops, eh? Your teacher used the word “stalking”, Rosie. She mentioned the police. Do you realize how serious that is? You’re nearly sixteen, for Christ’s sake, use your bloody brain. Creeping around gardens in the middle of the night? A vendetta against your teacher? It makes you sound unhinged.’
The onions and peppers were burning in the pan, and I couldn’t believe it because Dad was like a machine in the kitchen. It was his happy place, where he did everything absolutely right. Mum always put the oil on before she’d even chopped the vegetables, getting it so hot it burned everything before she’d begun, and Dad couldn’t understand – he called her untrainable – and now here he was, ruining the vegetables because I was such a disappointment he couldn’t cook straight.
I lay my head on my arms, dying to get away for one second, and then Dad started shrieking, except it wasn’t Dad it was the fire alarm, and we both jumped up with tea towels to waft underneath the sensor before the racket disturbed Mum.
‘I don’t need this, Rosie,’ Dad said, slightly out of breath, the electronic shriek finally silenced, and his voice cracked. ‘I don’t need it.’
‘I was trying to help Ti,’ I said quietly. ‘That’s why I went. I haven’t been a good friend to her, and she needed my camera and then—’
‘Jesus Christ on a stick! I don’t want to hear you defending her any more, Rosie. She’s the one that got you into this mess. A good friend wouldn’t ask you to do something that would get you into trouble, can you not see? A good friend wouldn’t ask you to do something that put you in danger. When are you going to learn? I cannot for the life of me understand —’
I tried to say she hadn’t asked me, she’d just wanted my camera, but he wasn’t listening. He spun back to the hob to chuck a tin of tomatoes into the seething pot.
‘Ms Chase believes that Ti and her sister have a hold on you, that you’re under their influence—’
‘What? That’s ridiculous, as if—’
‘— so, if you’re very lucky, you might get another chance. She said you’re doing better in lessons, that your new friends take school seriously, but from what she said you’re also a liar and a sneak, and they aren’t sure what to make of you.’
‘Dad, please, listen, it’s not like you think . . .’
‘I’m sorry, Rosie, I don’t believe a word that comes out your mouth. No more Titania, that’s the first thing. No phone calls. No emails. No meeting in secret. No planning or plotting or scheming, nothing like that. You aren’t good for each other. You know, we thought we’d been lucky with you – so helpful and gentle and kind – we thought this is too good to be true. And now . . . ? I don’t know. I can’t get my head round it. You’re not who I thought you were, Rosie. You’re not. And it bloody hurts.’
‘Dad.’ My voice was unrecognizable, and I wanted so much to make him listen, but to what? I had no excuse. Everything he was saying about me was true.
‘Just thank your lucky stars they called me at work, because I can’t risk your mum falling again, not now when we’re just getting close—’
‘See! This is what I mean!’ A feeling of injustice surged through me, and I stood up. ‘This is why I sneak around, because Mum’s always just about to get better, if only I don’t mess everything up! Well, it’s impossible, and it isn’t fair. I’m not even sixteen! I’m a child! Why can’t I just have a normal mum? That gets up and helps around the house and has conversations and does things? It’s like she’s dead. She’s not a real person! She might as well be dead! Least then I could have a life!’
I stood by the table, breathing hard. I could hear ringing in my ears. It was like Mum had died. I hadn’t realized I thought that until I shouted it out loud, and now I couldn’t take it back.
Dad’s hand still clutched a sauce-coated spatula, and he stared back, nostrils flaring, angry enough that it crossed my mind he could hit me. I thought of Ophelia, and how Ti had told me that Fab had slapped her face that time he caught her stealing, and I wondered what I would do if Dad did that now. I’d probably just let him. I deserved it.
‘I’m sorry. Dad? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I didn’t want to upset you, I—’
‘Don’t! I mean it. You didn’t want to upset me? Well, you have. You’ve bloody cut me to the quick. I thought you were better than this. I thought you had compassion, integrity, but I’m starting to think that it’s all been lies. Who exactly is this standing in front of me? Because it’s not my Rose.’
He stirred overzealously, splashing tomatoes on the tiles above the hob, and I couldn’t hold down the hatches any more.
‘Daddy.’ Tears with snot for good luck, and my voice like a baby’s.
‘At least with Titania she’s honest about who she is. At least with her what you see is what you get.’
The sauce was burning again on the bottom of the pan, and I wanted to tell him to turn the heat down, but I didn’t dare. It felt like I’d lost the right to tell him to do anything ever again, and I left the kitchen instead, feeling the whole mess I’d got myself into, and the mess our family was in, and what a bad friend I’d been to Ti, and how none of it had helped anyone.
Life couldn’t get any worse, I thought, and then I saw Mum, crouched on the bottom stair, with her head against the wall, eyes screwed shut like a little kid.
Twenty-six
‘Dad,’ I called, and something in my voice made him come to me without question.
‘Shit,’ he muttered. ‘Lucy.’
She looked at us with such pain, and I wondered why she wasn’t saying anything, then realized that she couldn’t. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out, and her lips had lost all their pinkness; they looked floury and dry like they needed some balm. I prayed that she hadn’t been there for long. Her usually glossy chestnut hair hung limp over her shoulders.
‘Go to your room, Rosie,’ Dad said, and I was so ashamed that I ran straight past her, without speaking, up the stairs and to my bed where I pulled the duvet over my head. How long had she been there? How much had she heard?
Footsteps on the stairs, and Dad’s low voice soothing. Maybe he could make everything okay. The things I’d said played in my mind, and it was like a hot needle piercing my brain.
‘I heard the fire alarm!’ Mum’s voice lifted abruptly. ‘What did you expect? Let go of my arm; I’m not an invalid!’
I closed my eyes.
‘Don’t shout, Lucy, please,’ Dad said in his infuriatingly low voice.
‘I’ll shout if I bloody want! This is my house! My family! Stop suppressing everybody, Alistair. Stop putting everybody on eggshells. Rosie! Rosie! I know you can hear this! Come out here!’
They were on the landing outside my room now, and I was filled with dread as I dragged myself out of bed. Mum held on to the banister, and Dad fixed me with a dark expression.
‘Don’t listen to your dad when he tells you not to worry me. Do you hear? I’m still your mother and I demand to worry! It’s my human right. Do you understand me?’
Joey burst out of his room in his school uniform, looking scared. Dad must have collected him on his way back from the uni. ‘What’s happening?’
‘God, I’m so lonely!’ Mum wailed. ‘You all get me grapes and cards and visit, and I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s sweet, but it makes me so lonely. It makes me feel like the only thing I am is an ill person. Like there’s nothing else left, and all I really want is my bloody family to bloody well talk to me!’
Letting out a shout of frustration, she put her face in her hands, and Dad took her elbow, because it was obvious that this walk downstairs had taken it out of her.
‘Come on, Luce,’ Dad said. ‘This isn’t helping anyone. Let’s get you back to bed, and then we can talk. Rosie will be honest with you, lay it all out, won’t you, Rosie?’
I nodded, but did he really want me to be honest or just say
what Mum wanted to hear, and how was I supposed to know the difference? And all the while, Mum being too tired to stand spoke more powerfully than anything else, because the truth – whether any of us liked it or not – was that it didn’t matter what she wanted or what I wanted or what Dad wanted, because in the end her bloody illness got to decide.
Twenty-seven
The next morning, I felt very calm and grown up. Everything was different and I was alone. Nobody understood me, and that was fine. Dad had confiscated my laptop and phone, and told me that for the rest of the week Mum was my responsibility. I wasn’t allowed to go back to Fairfields until after the holidays, which was okay by me seeing as everyone must think me a psycho stalker now too. I would make Mum’s lunches and keep the house clean, and focus on my schoolwork, Dad said. My social life was on hold until I could be trusted.
‘We’ll make you responsible yet,’ he said, and our eyes rested very coolly on each other.
So, he was disappointed. Well, I was disappointed too. All the times I’d collected Joey and made the dinner and done the laundry and taken messages in my best phone voice counted for nothing. Now I was just like everyone else who put pressure on him and didn’t understand, just another problem.
I put a wash on, and took up Mum’s lunch tray, and read her another chapter of What Katy Did, while she did an elaborate French plait in my hair. We hadn’t talked about what I’d said, but I heard my words when I was trying to fall asleep. She might as well be dead. What kind of person said things like that? No wonder I wasn’t allowed outdoors.
‘It’s getting so long,’ Mum said, securing the end of the plait with a bobble. ‘You’ll have to ask your dad to take you to Ryan’s for a trim.’
‘Mmm,’ I said, though I wouldn’t be asking Dad for anything.
Drinking tea later, in the kitchen, I did my Maths pages, and it was refreshing not to have my phone or computer, to know that I couldn’t communicate with anyone even if I wanted to.