White Petals

by Maria Grace

  ‘That’s because you’re not from the streets, like me,’ she said proudly. ‘You posh girls probably say something different. It means that you’ve got to look after yourself: survival of the fittest.’

  ‘Ahhh!’ It made sense now. ‘You mean dog-eat-dog.’

  ‘What?’ She laughed. ‘That don’t make no sense, Em. Why would a dog eat another dog?’

  ‘Well, they wouldn’t really eat each other. But it’s like a dog fight. Brutal. So it’s a dog-eat-dog kind of world.’

  She considered this for a moment, resting her chin on her hand. ‘I always wondered about that saying.’

  ‘Karra, are you leading Emmeline astray?’ Auntie Sue passed a plate of toast through the serving hatch.

  ‘Sod off, Auntie Sue.’ Karra took the plate of toast, and sat back down.

  ‘You kiss your mother with that mouth, Karra Lewis?’ Auntie Sue brought a cup of tea to the table and sat with us.

  ‘She’s had worse, believe me,’ said Karra.

  ‘Honestly, Karra.’ Auntie Sue shook her head. ‘You’re such a pretty girl, and then you open your mouth and it’s like…’ She made a vomit action.

  Karra laughed and Auntie Sue winked at her.

  ‘Anyway, what are you doing out of bed this early in the morning, Missy?’ asked Auntie Sue. ‘You never usually get up at this time.’

  ‘Seeing Emmeline off,’ Karra said, as she stifled a yawn.

  ‘That’s nice.’ Auntie Sue sipped her tea.

  Karra narrowed her eyes. ‘Just because I wanted to make sure that Emmeline was OK for her first day back at school, you think I’m going soft. I just wanted to be a good friend, that’s all. And I do get up this early sometimes!’

  ‘When?’ Auntie Sue asked.

  ‘Christmas,’ Karra replied.

  We heard a beeping noise from outside.

  Auntie Sue clapped her hands together. ‘Come on, Em! That’s your taxi! You don’t want to be late for your first day back!’

  I got up from my chair and put on my coat.

  ‘You have some crumbs around your mouth.’ Karra pointed and did a circling motion around her own mouth with her index finger.

  ‘Cheers.’ I wiped my lips with my sleeve.

  The back door opened, and in walked an older jolly man, wearing a brown jumper. ‘HELLOOO!’ His voice travelled through the kitchen into the dining room.

  ‘Hello, Clive!’ Auntie Sue called to the man. ‘How are you, love? It’s been a while!’

  ‘Well, none of them will go to bloody school, Auntie Sue!’ He chuckled and nodded in Karra’s direction.

  ‘Alright, Clive?’ Karra picked up a piece of toast. ‘Work drying up, is it?’

  ‘Hello, Karra!’ Clive smiled. ‘When I got a call from the office saying that I had a school run from here, I thought your injunction might have been lifted.’

  ‘No chance, Clive.’ Karra chewed her toast. ‘I can’t be arsed to go back anyway – teachers just don’t get me, you know?’

  Clive nodded sympathetically.

  ‘Clive, this is Emmeline.’ Auntie Sue gestured towards me. ‘Emmeline will be your new school passenger for a little while.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you, pet!’ Jolly Clive smiled warmly. I could tell he was a nice man.

  I grabbed my school bag and headed for the kitchen door, turning back to give Karra a wave.

  ‘Bye, Nerd!’ She waved back.

  ‘Bye, Chav!’ I shouted, and we both grinned at each other.

  ‘Have a good day, Em,’ said Auntie Sue. ‘If you go to school for the whole week, then we’ll go to the cinema on Friday as a reward.’

  A reward for what? Just for going to school?They must have been used to everyone refusing to go to school if they did a reward scheme for those who do go.

  ‘The cinema,’ Karra called after me, ‘is a place where people go when they have a life.’

  ‘And school,’ I replied,‘is a place where people go when they have a brain.’

  She laughed and waved her middle finger at me.

  I said goodbye and followed Jolly Clive through the kitchen. I heard Karra and Auntie Sue speaking as I walked away.

  ‘Special treatment, that is.’ Karra frowned at Auntie Sue. ‘You only reward the smart ones. The rest of us have to suffer because we’re thick.’

  Auntie Sue folded her arms. ‘That’s not true, Karra, and you know it’s not true. We don’t give special treatment to anybody; we just reward good effort, that’s all. And what do you think you’re playing at, calling yourself thick?’

  Karra shrugged.

  ‘If you went to school, then you’d be able to go the cinema as well. Why don’t you go back, love? Give it another go?’

  ‘Oh, shut up, Auntie Sue!’ Karra got up from the table. ‘What’s the point? Work my guts out for six hours a day, just to get a ‘D’ in everything? No, thank you! And I don’t want to go to the stupid cinema either, so just give it a rest, will you?’

  Karra stormed off, and Auntie Sue sighed heavily as she loaded the dishwasher.

  I closed the back door gently behind me, and walked to the car.

  Why was Karra always so hard on herself? And what was this issue she had about being thick? I mean, she was no Albert Einstein, but she wasn’t stupid or anything.

  We drove out of the car park and down the hill.

  ‘Are you nervous, pet?’ Jolly Clive asked.

  My stomach churned. I didn’t know how I was going to face everyone.

  We got to the bottom of the hill and the white rose bush sparkled by the park gate. The roses had grown since the last time I’d seen them. A bit like me, I suppose. Like they were growing with me. There was just something about that rose bush that made me feel safe. I smiled at them, and my stomach settled.

  ‘I’m not too bad, Clive,’ I said. ‘I think I’ll be alright.’

  THIRTEEN

  The registration bell rang.

  ‘Oh-my-days!’ Megan put her hands across her face, dramatically. ‘I still can’t believe you’re in an orphanage! When you told me in half-term, I was just stunned. Not being funny or anything, Em, but your mum is off her tree.’

  ‘It’s not an orphanage, Megan.’ I rolled my eyes at her. ‘You make it sound like I’m in Oliver Twist.’

  Her brown hair looked dishevelled. ‘What happened to you?’ I asked. ‘Why is your hair such a mess?’

  ‘Ollie destroyed it on the bus,’ she sulked. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

  She huffed as she struggled to navigate a hair-bobble around her ponytail, and walk safely at the same time. Megan had been my best friend since we were toddlers, and I’d never known her to be able to do two things at once. She seemed to miss out on the all-important multi-tasking gene that girls apparently had. A simple task like tying her hair back into a ponytail and walking at the same time could cause her, me or somebody else serious injury. My favourite time was a couple of years back, when she tried to sit on a swing and eat an ice cream simultaneously. I wasn’t allowed to talk about that one.

  Ollie Hart came running towards us with a sparkle in his eyes. ‘Hello, my turd-friends! How are we, today?’ He ruffled mine and Megan’s hair and grinned like a naughty little boy.

  ‘Ollie!’ Megan told him off. ‘Do you have any idea how long it takes to get my hair looking good in the mornings?’

  ‘Nope!’ he replied. ‘Mine takes me five minutes, so I can’t fathom how girls take so long. I mean, your hair is up in a ponytail, Megan. How long can a ponytail take?’

  Megan gasped, insulted. ‘For your information, this ponytail is a work of art. You already ruined it once today, and now you’ve ruined it again! You have zero respect for a good hairstyle!’

  Ollie winked at us both.

  We had known Ollie Hart since we were little. We all went to playschool together. He was a bit of eye-candy for the school, but we didn’t find him attractive like the other girls did, because we’d seen him pee in the sandpit when we were seven
. You can’t fancy someone after that – it’s just wrong.

  ‘Em, I’m sorry to hear about your mother,’ he said. ‘If there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.’

  ‘Cheers,’ I thanked him. ‘I appreciate that.’

  The three of us walked to registration class, chatting about what we’d been up to in the school holiday. I let them know what had happened with Mum. I knew there would be different versions of the story circulating the school, so I wanted my friends to have the facts. At least if they knew the truth, they could help to set the record straight if other people got a little too creative with the rumours.

  I was feeling anxious as we approached registration. Everyone seemed to whisper as they passed me, and I dreaded to think of what was being said.

  We got to the classroom door, and I hesitated.

  ‘Are you OK, Em?’ asked Megan.

  I nodded and closed my eyes to let the jittery feeling pass.

  ‘Hey.’ Ollie looked into my eyes, trying to keep me focused. ‘Don’t worry about what other people think. I want you to count to three, take a deep breath, and then walk in there like you own the place.’

  ‘Come on, Em,’ said Megan. ‘You can do it.’

  ‘One…’ Ollie started counting.

  ‘Two…’ Megan counted with him.

  ‘Three,’ I said, and then took a deep breath as I entered the classroom.

  By lunchtime, everyone knew about my situation. Apparently, it had been the main topic of conversation over the school holiday. I would have known that if I’d had my phone, but Mum had smashed it up on the day she was taken into hospital. In a way, I thought it was for the best because I’d have been going out of my mind if people were messaging me all half-term to ask what had happened. I doubt I would have come back to school if I’d known how popular I had become in the space of two weeks. Funny how people want to be your friend when you have a bit of drama going on in your life, isn’t it.

  Some were more polite than others, skirting around the issue instead of directly bringing it up. Others were like interrogators, in my face the whole time, asking me loads of questions. What was it like? Were there many kids in the home? Were they rough? Were they junkies? Was I scared? What happened to my mum? Was it true that she tried to kill herself?

  One of the neighbours had told Cherise Daniels that my mother had been taken to the nuthouse because she set the whole street on fire by posting petrol bombs through everyone’s letterboxes.

  Whaaat?

  I tried to keep my cool. ‘Nobody set anything on fire or petrol-bombed anyone’s house,’ I said. ‘Get a grip, will you? My mother’s not an arsonist.’

  This went on for a little while before word got around that the truth wasn’t as theatrical as everyone had hoped, and then it all died down a bit.

  Megan loved the whole thing. In her mind, she was like my press agent and bodyguard rolled into one. She would say things like, ‘Back off, people! I said, No Comment!’

  I was grateful to have a best friend like Megan. My mother always said that friends are like boobs: some are big, some are small, some are real and some are fake. And there was no doubt in my mind that Megan was a real one. Friend, that is. Not boob.

  Ollie was a good friend as well. And at times like this, he was particularly useful because he could warn off the boys if they started annoying me, but he could also charm the girls into talking about a different subject if they got too nosy.

  Megan and Ollie stayed with me throughout lunchtime, helping to divert attention from the disaster that was my life. Although there was a lot of speculation and gossip, most of the day passed without too much hassle.

  Result.

  Last class: Double Science.

  Megan hovered over the Bunsen burner, peering at the equipment through her safety goggles. She connected the Bunsen to the gas tap and I watched her slowly open the air hole on the burner, concentration forcing her tongue out as the flame turned from yellow to blue. She was probably the only one in class who insisted on wearing the goggles. Everyone else knew that style and popularity was much more important than health and safety, so if you were going to wear them, you had to wear them on top of your head.

  ‘It’ll be your own fault when you burn your face off,’ she warned me as she adjusted the tripod.

  ‘Shut up, Megan,’ I said. ‘Nobody wears the goggles – they’re stupid.’

  She lifted her head from the Bunsen burner to look at me. ‘Stupid?’ She stared at me through the goggles, and her magnified eyes looked like they belonged to a giant bug. I tried not to laugh. ‘You’re the stupid one, Em!’ I could see that she was offended by my lack of respect for proper procedure. ‘One day, a pair of these might save your life. And they’re not goggles, they’re safety glasses.’

  ‘Sorry.’ I pulled the safety goggles down over my eyes to keep her happy.

  ‘Apology accepted,’ she said. ‘Now pass me that spatula.’

  She bent down to continue her experiment; mixing some sulphuric acid with something else in the beaker.

  The second half of the lesson was spent writing about the experiment. Ollie was in a different set from us for English and Science, and it could get a bit boring in the lessons without him. We sat by the wooden table with our exercise books out, counting the minutes until the bell rang for us to go home. We did our work, whispering under our breath to pass the time. We eventually got tired and rested our heads on the desk.

  When the bell finally rang, we jumped out of our semi-slumber and gathered up our books and pencil cases into our bags. I dropped my book because I was still a bit woozy. I bent over to get it and when I stood up again, there was a tall, menacing figure towering over me.

  Stacey Lock.

  Great. This is all I need.

  She stood in front of me like a prison guard who wouldn’t let me pass. Her two clones stood at each side, with their lopsided smirks struggling to break through the five inches of cheap foundation that plastered their faces.

  My left ear started ringing.

  Damn it. Not again!

  I pushed my earlobe to try and get rid of the noise, but it wouldn’t shift.

  Stacey was saying something to me, but I couldn’t hear her with the high-pitched sound.

  ‘Are you even listening to me, Emmeline?’ Stacey looked offended.

  ‘Yes!’ I half shouted, nervous and confused, trying to focus. ‘Sorry! I think I must have bumped my head on the desk or something… I went a bit funny there, for a moment.’

  She studied me, eyes narrowed. ‘I said,’ she emphasised her point, ‘that I heard about your mum. You know, about her losing the plot and petrol-bombing the neighbours.’

  ‘She didn’t…’ I tried to speak, but she interrupted me.

  ‘Whatever.’ She rolled her eyes as if I was a waste of her time. ‘I don’t really care. So what’s it like in the children’s home? Can you only shower on Sundays?’

  ‘No. I can shower whenever I like,’ I answered.

  What a stupid question! The girl watched too much telly.

  ‘Lies,’ she said. ‘I bet you’re a real smelly bitch now that you live there. You should be careful, Em. I watched a programme on the telly about those places, and the care workers were messing around with the girls in the nights. Maybe you’ll get a visit from a special friend when you go to sleep.’

  The three girls sniggered.

  ‘Unless, of course…’ She leaned forward like she was sharing a secret. ‘You already have had a visit.’

  She looked at The Clones for a round of applause, and they laughed on cue.

  ‘Actually,’ said Megan, ‘it’s very nice there. She even has her own en suite bathroom. I’ve seen it. And the staff are super cool. She’s allowed out until whatever time she wants, and she gets to go to the cinema just for going to school. So I don’t know what programme you’ve been watching, Stacey, but it’s obviously a load of rubbish.’

  They gawked at Megan.

 
I was so proud, I could have burst. She was lying through her teeth, of course. En suite bathroom? Yeah, right! But the look on Stacey’s face was priceless.

  ‘And my mum didn’t petrol-bomb the neighbours,’ I said. ‘I don’t know where that rumour came from, but whoever started it is a liar.’

  Stacey looked annoyed. ‘My Auntie Zoe told me, actually.’ She scowled. ‘She is one of your neighbours, remember? I went to her house on the day that your mother cracked up, and Auntie Zoe said that your mum is a psychopath who was running around, screaming that your dead father was trying to ring her, but she wouldn’t answer the phone because she thought the police were monitoring her calls.’

  Oh balls.

  ‘My mother is not a psychopath,’ I said. ‘Your Auntie Zoe is just a trouble-making tart!’ I tried to control the shaking in my voice.

  ‘What did you say?’

  Just then, a teacher walked in and shouted at us to get out in the yard because the bell had gone ages ago.

  Stacey glared at me. ‘You wait,’ she said. Then she turned around and walked out of the class.

  In the safety of the open yard, I allowed myself to breathe with relief.

  ‘That girl makes me ill,’ Megan said, pale-faced.

  ‘I know. And what was all that about before she left? “You wait.” What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘When did she say that?’ Panic filled Megan’s eyes.

  ‘Just before she left the class. I mean, what kind of threat is that? She makes me nervous.’ I shivered.

  ‘I never heard her say that.’ Megan spotted her bus and started running so she didn’t miss it. ‘Gotta go! See you tomorrow!’

  I waved goodbye and walked to my taxi at the end of the street. I got in and Jolly Clive handed me a packet of crisps and a bottle of pop.

  ‘How was your first day, pet? Did everything go alright?’ He smiled at me.

  And for some reason, I burst into tears.

  FOURTEEN

  ‘Ohhh!’ Bett looked traumatised. ‘Emmeline Rose! What’s the matter? Your face is red! Have you been crying?’