by Sant, Sharon
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Your mate’s worse though.’
‘Matt?’
‘Yeah. I hate him.’
‘But he’s never done anything to you.’
‘He doesn’t have to. The way he looks at me is enough, like I’m something he just spat out.’
‘He looks at everyone like that.’
‘He pushes and shoves and takes and thinks he’s God’s gift to the world. He’s like that to everyone, but he’s worse with me.’
‘Why are you telling me all this now?’
‘You’re dead. It’s not like you’re going to tell him, is it?’
‘Even so… why tell me at all? What can I do about it now?’
‘Nothing.’ She shrugs. ‘It’s nice to tell someone, that’s all. Sometimes I want to scream from holding all this hurt and anger inside. But I’m scared too, that it will be just another reason to give me a hard time if I tell anyone. Things are bad enough, without that.’
‘I suppose… Why don’t you try being a bit less… weird? People might not be so mean to you then.’
She stops and turns to me, her face in shadow but her voice raised in an indignant squeak. ‘It’s not my fault we have no money, it’s not my fault my mum fell down the stairs, it’s not my fault my dad… I want to be like everyone else,’ she sighs,’ ‘but I’m not and there is nothing I can do about it. And that doesn’t give them the right to treat me like dirt.’
I’ve never seen Bethany lose it before. At school she’s so quiet; she never raises her hand in class, never gives an opinion on anything.
‘I’ve never really thought about it before,’ I say. ‘There are the kids that people like and the ones that they don’t. I just figured you were one of the ones they don’t.’
‘I can’t wait to leave school,’ she says. ‘And get away from this small-minded dump of a village.’
‘It’s not that bad,’ I say. She shoots me this look like she’s going to be sick on me. ‘Ok, maybe it’s a bit boring.’
‘It’s grimy and pointless. There’s nothing to do apart from some rusty old swings and a graveyard. My house is a dump, all the houses are dumps –’
‘Hey, not all the houses are dumps. Mine’s nice.’
‘Then you’re lucky. You should try being one of the council house kids in a village where there are only ten council houses.’
‘So it’s a bit rundown and we only have a couple of shops and a pub. It can be a laugh sometimes. Me and Matt used to turn the road signs around so that the tourists would get lost on the way through.’
‘Thrilling,’ she says. For the first time her voice really shows how much she hates Matt. How much she must have hated me.
‘It’s not so bad, is all I’m saying. There’s not much to do, but you can make it fun.’
‘Easy to say when you have friends.’
‘You must have some friends,’ I say. But I know that she doesn’t.
She just sniffs. ‘No one’s allowed to be different here. Being different doesn’t get you friends.’
‘Like you?’
‘Yeah, I suppose like me.’
‘So, you’re going to leave forever?’
‘Yep, and never look back.’
The thought of her leaving makes me feel scared for some reason, but I don’t say it. ‘Won’t you miss your dad?’
‘I can come back and visit, if I want to. Show everyone that I did ok after all.’
‘So… what are you going to do?’
She shrugs. ‘Maybe university.’
‘That sounds like fun,’ I say, and I suppose she hears the longing in my voice.
‘Sorry.’
‘What for?’
‘For being able to go to university.’
‘It doesn’t matter. It’s not your fault I’m dead.’
‘Who am I kidding?’ she says, plunging her hands deeper in her pockets. ‘There’s no way I’m going to uni. I have to look after my dad.’
I hesitate. What mental age is this guy if he needs a fifteen-year-old girl to look after him? ‘Can’t he manage without you?’
She doesn’t reply and stops walking. I look up to see that we’re standing by the wall across from her house.
‘Want to do something tomorrow?’ I ask.
‘Maybe,’ she says. ‘Are you going to hang around school?’
‘Maybe.’
‘So… maybe I’ll see you tomorrow?’
I grin. ‘Maybe you will.’
She smiles. It’s that unfamiliar Bethany again. ‘Maybe it’s goodnight, then,’ she says, turning for the house.
I tip my forefinger to my temple in a salute. ‘Maybe it is,’ I say, and I watch her climb the steps to her dirty yellow door.
I stayed outside Bethany’s house for a while last night, watching the windows. I saw lights go on and off in different rooms, and in other houses along the row. All of the people in those houses were safe, all of them happy and alive. In the end, I couldn’t stand it and I ran to Dad’s grave and stayed there until the sun came up, watching the stars and singing Radiohead songs. In the morning, I walked into school with Bethany but she said I couldn’t talk to her so I just listened to the sound of her boots hitting the pavement and her breaths in the freezing air. When we got to school, Ingrid saw us – no, she saw Bethany – come in through the gate, looked her up and down and pulled a disgusted face. She turned to her cronies. I don’t know what she said, but a couple seconds later, they all laughed.
‘Forget about it,’ I said to Bethany. But she looked straight through me, just like the others do, and went into class.
It’s lunchtime now. All the kids pour out of class and go to the canteen, or get a table outside where it’s cold but at least it’s dry today and the hot stench of bodies and food in the cafeteria doesn’t get in your nose and put you off your food. Some of them just wander around and don’t eat anything, preferring to chew gum and save the lunch money their parents give them. Matt does that sometimes, when he needs some extra cash. Once or twice, I did it too, but I always got home and went on a fridge raid and Mum would know what I’d done. Matt’s mum never seems to figure it out. But she lets him do whatever he wants anyway.
I wonder whether to wait for Bethany but I think about her warning and decide not to. If I annoy her by talking to her in school, she might not go to see my mum for me. I’m pretty sure if I play it right, I can still persuade her to do that. Instead, I’ve found Matt and Ingrid behind the science block again. It’s like torture, but something in me can’t leave them alone. He’s all over her again but she doesn’t look like she’s happy about it today.
‘Get off!’ She slaps Matt’s hand away but he doesn’t stop. ‘I said, get off me!’
‘You weren’t complaining last night,’ he sniggers, trying to get under her shirt again.
She grabs his hand and throws it off, then does up her jacket. ‘Last night wasn’t in broad daylight at school.’
‘Ok, I won’t do it again,’ he says, pulling her in by the small of her back to kiss her.
‘You’d better not,’ she says before he gets his gob round hers.
Straightaway, his hand is under her coat again.
‘I told you to stop it!’ Ingrid pushes him away.
‘Yeah, but I thought you were just being shy.’
‘Shy? Are you simple or something?’
‘No,’ he says, trying to grab her waist again. She shoves him away. ‘I can’t help it, I fancy you like mad.’ He throws her a look that he thinks is going to get him into her knickers. I can only stand here and watch when I want to punch his face in and it makes me want to scream.
‘I thought you were nice, y’know? Sensitive,’ she says.
‘Sensitive?’ I go up and stand between them and look her right in the eye. ‘I could have done sensitive if I’d known that was what you were into!’
She stares through me at Matt. ‘But I’m beginning to wonder if you aren’t the same kind of arse that yo
ur mate was.’
‘Arse? I hope you’re not talking about me, you bitch!’ I shout. My God, I thought people only said nice stuff about you when you were dead. That’s what my mum used to tell me: don’t speak ill of the dead, David. When was I an arse, anyway?
‘I can’t believe you’ve just said that about my best friend,’ Matt says. His face contorts into a pained frown and his lip wobbles.
‘Oh, grow up,’ she snaps. ‘You weren’t missing him when we were at the graveyard last night. In fact, he couldn’t have been further from your mind.’
‘You were at the graveyard? Did you go to my grave? Together?’ Something makes me think they weren’t putting flowers on there. ‘What time was this?’ I ask. I’m just thankful it wasn’t when I was there with Bethany. But then something bothers me… what if they were in the churchyard at the same time I was there with Bethany? I didn’t hear anyone else but I can’t be sure. What if they saw her talking to me?
‘He wasn’t exactly on your mind either,’ Matt says. ‘You keep going on about how upset you are about Cottle being dead all the time but you didn’t even like him.’
‘I knew him, though. Things like that get to you. Besides, it’s hard to have someone on your mind when his best mate is sticking his tongue down your throat,’ she says with ice in her voice.
‘You weren’t putting up much of a fight,’ Matt says to her.
‘I felt sorry for you.’
‘Do you do that for everyone you feel sorry for? If David ever comes back from the dead, he’ll be well in your knickers.’
‘You shit! I thought you were upset.’
‘Did I say I was upset?’
‘Well, no –’
‘I just said I wanted to go the churchyard. I didn’t say I was upset.’
‘So, why did we go, then?’ she asks.
‘Where else were we going to go in this place? The swings? Your house? My house? It was just somewhere quiet to go.’
‘But I thought… we looked at his grave.’ She looks like she might cry now.
‘You wanted to look.’
‘But then you…’
He tucks his shirt in and looks at his watch. ‘Forget it. Come and find me when you’re less narky.’
He walks back down the narrow passageway that leads away from the science block and to the main school yard. The sudden silence is filled with the dull hum of chatter from the grounds beyond the new blocks. Ingrid straightens her jacket and leans against the wall, tipping her face to the sky and taking deep breaths. Then she begins to cry, just quietly, small tears sliding down her cheeks. Part of me wants to do something for her. But part of me is too angry to care that she’s crying. I hate Matt. I hate Ingrid too for being shallow enough to fall for him.
Suddenly, I feel like we’re not alone and I turn around to see Bethany unravelling some earphones and not looking what she’s walking in to. Ingrid looks up and rubs her eyes clear.
‘What do you want?’ she says to Bethany.
Bethany fires a quick glance at me and then looks back at Ingrid. ‘Nothing,’ she says. I just came to listen to some music.
‘What, behind here? You know you’re a freak, don’t you?’
‘You’re behind here,’ Bethany replies, not looking at me, though I can feel her questions as though she’s beaming them straight into my head.
Ingrid marches towards her and pushes her out of the way as she goes back to the main yard.
Bethany waits for her to go.
‘What was going on there?’ she asks when the coast is clear. Not suspicious, just concerned.
I shrug. ‘Not sure. But they were at my grave last night.’
Bethany looks puzzled for a moment. ‘Who’s they?’
‘Ingrid and Matt.’
‘Oh.’ She winds the earphones back up and stows them in her rucksack before coming to sit on the floor against the wall. I slide down next to her.
‘Do you think they saw us? I mean you talking to me?’ I ask her.
She shakes her head. ‘I don’t know. But I don’t think so.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
She gives me a sideways look through her long fringe. ‘Do you really think they would have missed an opportunity to take the piss out of me? If they’d seen us last night, it would have been halfway around the school by now.’
‘I suppose you’re right.’
‘Does it make you sad?’ Bethany asks.
‘What?’
‘Ingrid and Matt.’
I shrug. ‘I don’t know what I feel. I’m angry about what they might have been doing right near my grave. I don’t think they were leaving flowers.’
‘Probably not,’ she agrees.
‘You’re supposed to argue that and make me feel better,’ I say.
‘What’s the point? You know what the truth is as well as I do.’
‘It doesn’t seem fair.’
‘Life isn’t fair.’
‘Death isn’t either.’
She gives me a small sideways smile. ‘Why was she crying?’
‘I got here halfway through the conversation,’ I say. ‘She told Matt that he was an arse like me,’ I say, suddenly remembering.
‘He is,’ Bethany says. ‘And so are you.’
‘You’re only saying that to me now because I can’t hit you,’ I laugh, feeling a bit awkward.
‘Yes, I am.’ She pulls out a plastic box. ‘Would it bother you if I ate my sandwiches?’
‘I suppose not.’
She opens it up and unwraps her lunch.
‘What’s on them?’ I ask.
‘Ham and pickle.’
‘I think I like ham and pickle.’
She sees me look at her food longingly. ‘I suppose you can’t eat,’ she says.
I shake my head.
She looks thoughtful. Then she says, ‘Try to imagine what it tastes like while I eat mine. Then maybe it’ll feel like we’re eating them together.’
I stare at her for a moment. Then I close my eyes and think about salty ham and the fruity sharpness of pickle and I can almost remember the flavours.
When I open my eyes she’s smiling at me.
‘How was that?’
‘Good,’ I say.
‘I think I know why Ingrid is so upset,’ she says suddenly.
‘Why?’
‘Maybe she gave something away last night, something she can never get back.’ She snorts. ‘To Matt Spencer, of all people.’
‘What does that even mean?’
She sighs and takes another bite of her sandwich. ‘Do you think they’ve split up?’
‘Don’t know. I hope so.’
‘Why should you care now?’ she says carefully.
‘I still like her. Just because you’re dead you don’t stop fancying people.’
‘Does everything like that stay the same? Do you still get emotions and… urges,’ she says the word quickly, like it’s embarrassing, ‘and stuff?’
‘Sort of. But it feels like I’m forgetting those things as well, slowly.’
‘Maybe you’re not forgetting them, exactly… just changing. You still seem pretty human to me.’
‘Thanks… I think.’
‘We still need to figure out what’s happening to you,’ she says. I feel like it’s a very deliberate change of subject.
‘Any more thoughts?’
Bethany looks up sharply as a group of year seven boys race past the opening to our narrow entryway. It seems to remind her that although it feels like we’re alone here, we’re really not.
‘You shouldn’t be talking to me now,’ she says.
‘I seem to recall you started it.’
‘You took me by surprise; I didn’t expect you to be here. I can normally come here and be alone.’
‘Are you mental? Matt is always here. You’ll have to find somewhere else to go in future.’
‘He’s not always here,’ she says defensively.
‘I’m not having a go at you,
’ I say. ‘You just need to be careful.’
‘I suppose. You should go,’ she says, wrapping her sandwiches back up. She’s hardly eaten enough to feed an anorexic gnat. No wonder she’s so skinny.
‘Meet me tonight?’
‘Where?’
I think about the churchyard and whether Matt will be there again with Ingrid. ‘I’m not sure. Where do you think?’
She snaps the lid back on her lunchbox. ‘How about back here? There’s a gap in the fence –’
‘I know where it is.’
‘Oh, yeah, of course. About eight? After I’ve done Dad’s tea.’
I think about how many hours it is until eight o’clock. They seem to stretch out ahead forever. ‘Eight… ok.’
Bethany sees me waiting under the security light and runs up the field. She glances up at me as she ducks through the gap in the fence and I can see the frown furrowing her brow even in the half-light.
‘I thought you weren’t coming,’ I say.
‘Yeah, sorry. I had trouble getting away.’
‘I’ve been waiting ages.’
‘I said sorry.’
I try to bite back my annoyance. ‘It’s ok. I just thought you weren’t coming, that’s all.’
She doesn’t reply and starts to walk in the direction of the benches beneath the windows of the canteen. I get the sense that something she wants to say is stuck in her throat.
‘Are you ok?’ I ask as I follow her.
She flops down on a bench and hugs herself. The frosted concrete glints diamond hard in the stark security light. She must be cold in her crappy thin coat.
‘Dad gave me a bit of a hard time,’ she says. ‘It’s nothing I can’t handle.’
I sit next to her, as close as I can. Then I remember that no matter how close I sit I can’t warm her any. But she looks at me gratefully as if she realises that I’m trying.
‘Did he want to know where you were going?’ I ask.
‘Not that,’ she says, pulling her coat tighter. ‘Sometimes, he just gets… difficult.’
‘Difficult? How did you get away then?’
‘I had to wait until he fell asleep.’
‘He fell asleep? It’s only about eight o’clock.’
She shrugs. ‘He gets tired when he’s had a beer or two.’ She smiles slightly. ‘So I made sure he had a beer or two.’