Watching You, Watching Me (Back-2-Back, Book 2)

by Chloe Rayban

  ‘No, look at her. She’s completely out.’ I tried to see into her eye and her eyeball rolled back. ‘For God’s sake, someone call an ambulance!’ I shouted.

  One of the bouncers shouldered his way through to us. ‘That’s done mate. Lets get her moved.’

  I could hear a voice saying, ‘Let me through, I’m her friend!’

  It was Tasha. Her eyes were wide and scared.

  ‘Don’t worry. An ambulance is coming.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I don’t know. She’s passed out. She’ll be OK.’ I squeezed her arm.

  Brillo was right behind her.

  ‘Look mate — take over the decks — OK?’

  Brillo nodded. ‘I’m on to it.’

  One of the bouncers, a massive guy, picked the girl up. She was floppy as a rag doll and lolled over in his arms. He carried her off into a side room. Tasha and I followed.

  He laid her out on a couch. She was breathing in horrible snoring gasps. Someone brought a wet towel and I pressed it to her forehead. It should have brought her round but it didn’t. She just moaned.

  ‘D’you know what she’s taken?’ I asked Natasha.

  ‘Taken?’ she repeated. ‘I don’t know. I wasn’t with her all the time. She was with these guys we met.’

  ‘Where are they? They must know. Go and find them.’

  ‘I don’t want to leave her.’

  ‘This is important. I’ll stay with her. Hurry.’

  The bouncer had left to let the ambulance crew in through the emergency doors. I sat staring at her, feeling totally inadequate. You hear these things about kids who take just one E and it kills them. But I knew that in reality that’s terribly rare. In actual fact, I reckon, banging on about those horror stories does more harm than good. Kids get a thrill out of living dangerously. Always have. What they don’t tell you is how depending on stuff like that to make your life meaningful is really pathetic. Staring at the girl now, she didn’t look tragic or dramatic, she looked like a great pale lump of a girl who was dribbling uncontrollably into the fabric of the couch. Poor kid — if she could see herself now.

  Tasha got back just as the ambulance men arrived. She hadn’t found those guys.

  The ambulance men worked with silent professionalism. The clapped an oxygen mask on the kid and loaded her on to a trolley. They were wheeling her out in minutes.

  ‘You her friend?’ they were asking Tasha.

  She nodded, looking lost.

  ‘You’d better come with us then.’

  I couldn’t let her go alone. ‘I’m coming too,’ I said.

  ‘Thanks,’ she murmured. She looked really grateful.

  The club was back in full swing. Brillo was doing his bit as DJ. With every mix the music continued seamlessly — it was as if nothing had happened. It all seemed terribly unreal somehow.

  The ambulance had its siren going so I could tell they were taking the situation seriously They asked Tasha all these questions and she kept pretty cool answering them. The girl was called Rosie and she went to the same school as Tasha. She got a bit upset when they asked for Rosie’s parents’ address and telephone number. But it was clear we couldn’t keep them out of this.

  The journey only took about ten minutes, but it felt like hours. When the ambulance came to a halt, Rosie was whipped out and away through the Emergency doors and Tasha and I were sent to wait in the Casualty waiting room.

  ‘What if she’s gone into a coma …’ said Tasha.

  ‘I don’t think so. You must have some idea what she’s taken?’

  She shook her head. ‘I know she had some vodka earlier It was at this party. It was meant to be non-alcoholic punch but these boys poured vodka in it. And then she had some more later at the pub. I tried to stop her. And then she had these guys with her and I don’t know what happened after that. I’d better try and ring her mum.’

  ‘The hospital will have done that already,’ I pointed out.

  We sat in silence for a while. We were the only people in Casualty. The actual examinations went on through a doorway that was curtained off from us. Every now and then a nurse or someone would come down towards the curtain. You could hear their shoes would go squeak, squeak, squeak on the non-slip lino floor. Every time they approached, we’d tense up and then they’d go away again.

  ‘Would you like a coffee?’ It was all I could think of to say. ‘I thought I saw a machine as we came in.’

  She nodded.

  I got us a cup each. It was pale grey and stewed — disgusting stuff.

  ‘Here, might warm you up.’

  Her hands were shaking and cold as she took hers. That’s when she started crying.

  ‘Hey, hey,’ I said. ‘She’s going to be OK. You’ll see.’ I tried to give it as much conviction as I could.

  She nodded, but her eyes were still filling with tears.

  ‘Come on, drink up.’

  She took a sip and groped around for a tissue to blow her nose. She looked terrible.

  I tried to think of something to distract her. ‘Come on, cheer up. You ought to take a look at yourself. That’s if you want a laugh,’ I said.

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  She stood up and stared at her reflection in the darkened window.

  ‘I look such a nightmare,’ she moaned.

  ‘Come on. Come here,’ I said, and patted the chair next to me. You’re the nicest nightmare I’ve ever come across. I’d have you any night.’

  ‘You’d be lucky,’ she said and managed a weak smile.

  ‘That’s better.’

  We waited for what seemed like hours. I could see she was totally freaked out, so I did the only thing I could think of. I kept her talking. We talked about anything and everything — school, music, parents — you name it. She was easy to talk to — straightforward — not over-assertive or flirty.

  We were so rapt in conversation, I didn’t notice the pair of feet that came squeaking towards the curtain until a young doctor in a white coat was standing over us. He had a serious look on his face.

  ‘Natasha Campbell?’

  ‘Yes … that’s me.’ She got to her feet.

  There was a pause which seemed to last forever as he drew breath. Your friend, Rosie. She’s going to be all right.’

  ‘She is?’

  ‘She’ll have to stay in overnight. We pumped her stomach to be on the safe side. Whoever gave her that much to drink deserves—’

  ‘So … It wasn’t drugs …’ Tasha cut in.

  ‘Not unless you call alcohol a drug. It’s a debatable point.’

  The doctor looked completely knackered. ‘She’s been a very silly girl. But I don’t think she’s done herself any permanent damage. Look, sorry, I’ve got other patients to see …’

  He finished with us and he hurried away.

  I turned to Tasha. Her eyes were brimming again but she was smiling now.

  ‘She’s OK …’ she said. ‘Rosie’s going to be OK.’ Her voice kind of broke as she said it.

  ‘Come here,’ I said. I took a step towards her and slid my arms around her waist. I guess a hospital smelling of sickly-sweet disinfectant wasn’t the most romantic place to try and kiss a girl but I couldn’t hold back any longer.

  Our lips were nearly touching when she said: ‘I thought you had a girlfriend.’ And slid back on to her chair.

  Nice one! She was interested.

  ‘I’m working on it,’ I said, and leaned over her.

  ‘You are?’ I loved the way her eyes opened wide like that as she said it.

  ‘Mmm … But we’ve got problems.’

  There was just a hint of a smile on her lips.

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Well, she’s got a very possessive dad.’

  The smile was widening — she’d got my drift. ‘Really?’

  ‘And every time we meet — she kind of makes off in a hurry.’

  ‘Mmm?’

  ‘So I’ve had to find a way of keeping her i
n one place.’ I leaned on the arms of her chair so she couldn’t escape, and I kissed her.

  It was a long kiss — and long overdue. By the time we pulled apart we were both standing and I had my arms tight around her.

  That’s when Rosie’s mum and her partner arrived and broke the spell …

  Chapter Twenty

  We were driven back by Rosie’s mum and her boyfriend. They’d arrived in a terrible state. Rosie’s mum was chain-smoking despite the prominently displayed No Smoking signs.

  She was also talking non-stop — it must’ve been from shock. She kept saying over and over again that Rosie had never done anything like this before and that she couldn’t understand it. She was sending suspicious glances in my direction as if it was my fault.

  Her boyfriend was trying to get her to calm down, and eventually he actually told her to shut up and just be glad it wasn’t worse.

  We drew up outside Tasha’s house.

  ‘You’d better go straight back to your place,’ Tasha whispered.

  I could tell she was going to have a rough time from her parents. Might need moral support, so I said: ‘No, I’ll see you in.’

  Their front door opened before we’d even got down the path. Rosie’s people must’ve been in touch. Her dad was waiting inside.

  ‘This is Matt, Dad. He lives over the road.’

  I held out a hand, but he totally ignored me.

  ‘Inside, Natasha. Do you realise what the time is?’

  The door was closed firmly in my face. So much for playing the chivalrous male. The car had driven off too. That woman, Rosie’s mother cast a glance at me as if I was some disease. It was so bloody unfair. I went home kicking their blessed garden gate closed behind me.

  I went up to my room and stared over the road. I reckon she was having a bad time in there. But there was nothing I could do. Or was there? The light in her room went on. I went to the decks and put my brand new tape on for her — not too loud — but loud enough so that she could hear it with her window open.

  Sure enough, she was opening her window now. The breeze caught her hair and she brushed it back out of her eyes in that instinctive movement I’d come to recognise.

  I stood for a moment leaning against the wall. She was directly across from my window. It was such a small distance — I could almost jump it — and yet so far away.

  Next morning I woke up to hear the van hooting outside. I leaned out of the window.

  ‘You coming or what?’ It was Dom. He had Brillo in beside him.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The ‘Reclaim’ demo … You can’t’ve forgotten.’

  ‘Reclaim the streets’? That’s not today?’

  ‘Man, you should get yourself a minder.’

  ‘OK. I’ll be right down.’

  The ‘Reclaim the Streets’ demo. He was right. I’d totally forgotten. I grabbed my Probag. It was still packed from the night before. Have to play the same selection. Still, I didn’t expect there’d be any of The Institution crowd there. It’d be Crusties mainly — kind of folks who spend a lifetime up some tree or down some goddamn tunnel trying to protect the planet from terminal gridlock.

  I climbed in beside Brillo and told him to shove over.

  ‘Go easy with the tone, man. What have I done to you?’ said Brillo, sliding into the middle of the seat.

  ‘It’s not what you’ve done to me, mate. I just spent half the night in some stinking hospital waiting to see if Tasha’s friend was going to live.’

  ‘Nothing to do with me. I swear. She was with these Essex jerks. Real brain-dead nerds.’

  ‘While you tried to make a move on Tasha.’

  ‘Tried is the word.’

  I paused. By his tone he didn’t exactly sound as if he’d scored. I wanted to hear more.

  ‘Didn’t fall for your irresistible charms, huh?’

  ‘Could say she’d got some other bloke on her mind. I’d forget her, man. She’s got rotten taste.’

  ‘Oh? Who?’ I asked.

  ‘He’s sitting right beside me.’

  ‘And it ain’t me,’ said Dom with a grin.

  I climbed out of the van feeling pretty damn good. The sun was shining. It was one of those clear calm Autumn days when the air’s so clean you ought to be able to bottle it and sell it.

  On a day like this, ‘Reclaiming Streets’ didn’t seem like such a mad cause after all. I set up my decks and waited while Dom fiddled around with the power supply. A load of people were already gathering. A quick look at the crowd told me that my Durassic tape should fit the bill.

  ‘Mind if I take the first set?’ I asked Dom.

  ‘Be my guest,’ he said, shoving a milk crate under my backside and thrusting me down on it.

  A few kids started dancing the minute the music started. They were small black kids. And like all black kids they danced instinctively well. Must have a sense of rhythm in the genes, I guess …

  I was enjoying myself, in spite of the early morning and the lack of sleep the night before.

  Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I looked up. The sun was in my eyes but outlined against it — of all people — it was Tasha’s Dad. Oh no — he hadn’t come to have a go at me, had he?

  But that wasn’t it. He was holding out a hand. ‘Look, I’m sorry about last night. Bit of a misunderstanding. Thanks for … you know … Everything.’

  I looked over his shoulder and saw Tasha standing there with her hair blowing across her face, smiling at me.

  I turned to Dom. ‘Take over for a sec, man.’

  Then I stood up and shook Tasha’s dad by the hand. He wasn’t a bad bloke really.

  I looked at Tasha again and our eyes met.

  You know, I reckon that girl had fancied me all along.

  All that playing it cool and ignoring me — and treating me like I wasn’t there. I’m no fool. I could read it now — at least I think so.

  Well anyway, that’s my side of the story.

  I guess if you really want to know — you’d better hear hers.

  BACK

  2

  watching

  you, watching me

  Tasha’s side of the story …

  Matt and his oh-so-cool friends. We might as

  well be different species, or from different

  planets, as far as I could see …

  If you enjoyed Watching You, Watching Me, check out these other great Chloe Rayban titles.

  Buy the ebook here

  Also by Chloë Rayban

  in the

  BACK

  2

  series

  footprints

  in the sand

  read

  Ben’s side of the story …

  and

  Lucy’s side of the story …

  Copyright

  First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 1999

  HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers

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  Copyright © Chloë Rayban

  Chloë Rayban asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

  Source ISBN: 9780006753027

  Ebook Edition © JANUARY 2014 ISBN: 9780007400614

  Version: 2014-01-03

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