But how would he know about Jerome?
How would he have those photos of Louise?
Pushing the doubt to the back of my mind, I swipe across into my DMs. I’m going to put an end to this. I’m going to make him confess. I lick my dry lips and click on Sven’s conversation. There are hundreds of unanswered messages.
I don’t know him at all – but also, he doesn’t know me. And two can play at this game.
Chlo03 OMG SO weird. My Instagram seems to have deactivated loads of accounts, but yours is back now. Only just seen these messages. I thought you had ghosted me! Haha. How are you? How have you been?!
As I predicted, his icon lights up to show he’s online almost instantly.
I click out of the app; I can’t bear to wait for his reply.
Will this even work?
I drum my fingers against the base of my laptop.
It takes longer than I was expecting – about three minutes – but finally my phone lights up with a new message. Then three.
Sven_247 Your phone deleted me? You serious? How did that happen?
Sven_247 . . .
Sven_247 Weird. I’m good anyway, I guess. How about you?
Chlo03 I’m good. I missed speaking to you. I was thinking, we should meet up. We chatted for so long, it seems weird we never got to meet in person!
This time, his reply appears almost the second I’ve hit send.
Sven_247 Yeah, if you want.
Sven_247 Where do you want to meet?
Sven_247 When?
The messages are just a touch too short, too quick.
My stomach is still stirring, but this time, he’s going to do things on my terms. I’m going to decide where we meet. I’m going to confront him. But not before I’ve seen his phone and gotten the proof I need.
Chlo03 Saturday, by Ferrington Town park . . . 7 p.m.?
Sven sends a huge, happy smiley by way of response.
Got him.
CHAPTER 39
Amber
On the walk home from school, my bag keeps bashing against my lower back. I’ve not only got my workbooks in there, but my gym gear from this morning, so it’s packed solid and keeps thumping with a dull rhythm as I walk along.
Ren still hasn’t seen the message or replied. I’m resigned to the fact that he’s never going to respond. Why would he? He has loads going on. Things way more interesting than anything in my life.
A little way in front of me, there’s a familiar flash of royal-blue shirt and dark hair – which I recognize instantly as Ansh.
My feet freeze up.
Oh God. I have to walk this way. And I bet he thinks I’m a complete stalker. What do I do?
He hasn’t messaged me since I let it slip that I knew stuff about him from his Instagram, and to be honest, I don’t blame him. I should just keep walking behind him, but then again, what if he turns around and notices me? I know what to do: I’ll just speed past him, my head down.
I can feel my pulse fluttering slightly as I step forward and walk as fast as I can in front of Ansh.
‘Hey!’ Ansh’s deep voice calls after me.
I turn around, feeling my face drain of colour.
‘Er, h-hey.’ My voice cracks slightly as I speak.
He dips his head down and falls into step with me. But for some reason, he’s barely looking at me – his dark eyes flickering off to the side.
‘You all right?’ he grunts.
‘Yeah.’
There’s an uncomfortably long pause where I don’t know what to say. Then a thought pops into my head.
‘I was just wondering.’ I’m talking too quickly. ‘You know what we were talking about before, with Jemma and Maisie? I know you told me not to go looking . . . but do you know anything else about what happened?’
Ansh doesn’t look at me. Instead he purses his lips and looks up to the sky for several seconds.
I’m beginning to wonder if he heard me, but then he looks down with a frown.
‘Why do you ask so many questions about Ren?’
I blink several times. ‘Um, no reason.’
‘Because he’s your brother?’
I feel my cheeks flush. ‘Um, yeah. I’m just – I just want to know what’s going on.’
Ansh nods. ‘What does your mum think?’
‘My mum? Our mum? Me and Ren’s . . .’
‘Yeah.’
‘Well, um, she’s been OK. I don’t know if she really knows the details.’
I’m finding it harder and harder to keep talking. Oh God, I shouldn’t have asked that question. I look at the ground.
‘It’s OK. Sorry – we can talk about something else,’ I mumble.
Ansh is just staring at me.
‘It’s fine,’ he says. ‘This is me now, anyway.’
He nods to smokers’ lane. I bite my lip.
‘Yeah, because I’m going a different way actually tonight. I’ll head off . . .’ My voice is so quiet, even I can barely hear it.
Besides, Ansh doesn’t seem to be listening.
He shrugs. ‘Yeah – see ya.’
Without waiting for me to say bye, he starts walking off. Then, almost as an afterthought, he spins round and shouts back, ‘Oh, and good luck on your date.’
I stop in my tracks. ‘Date?’
‘Yeah, that’s what you told Iulia, didn’t you? That you’re going on a date.’ His eyes are squinting as he looks at me.
My heart starts to thud. ‘You – you spoke to Iulia?’
Ansh half-smiles. ‘Yeah, I did. Pretty funny, actually, because you said you were his sister. I thought she must have got it wrong. What kind of sister dates their brother?’
My mouth is incredibly dry. I gulp, but I don’t know what to say . . . I don’t know what to —
‘I didn’t . . . I’m not . . .’ I trail off.
Ansh breathes out slowly. ‘It’s fine. Whatever.’ He splays out his elbows in a kind of shrug, hands tucked into either pocket. ‘Enjoy your date.’
He walks off, and I feel my stomach sink to the ground.
CHAPTER 40
Chloe
Over the next few days, it feels almost natural to slip back into messaging Sven almost every minute of every day. Every so often, his messages come through a bit too fast, a bit too frantic – but then I remember it’s only for a couple of days. It’s only until I can meet him, get his phone, and get this all sorted out.
Tom has noticed I keep texting someone else, so I said it was just me and Louise having a lot to talk about at the moment. I haven’t told him anything about my plan. I feel like I mustn’t tell anyone; I know he would try and talk me out of it. Or insist on coming along and ruin it all. But I’m sick of feeling afraid, worrying constantly about what’s going to happen next. With Sven quite literally in my pocket, I feel the most relaxed I’ve felt in weeks.
Tom is lying back across his bed late one night when he gently brushes a curl off of my shoulder and smiles at me.
‘See – I told you they’d give up.’
‘Who?’ I say, kissing his fingertips.
‘You’ve even forgotten all about it! The person hacking your accounts.’
These words from Tom’s lips make my stomach stir uneasily.
Tom raises his eyebrows. ‘Didn’t I say they’d give up?’
‘Oh, yeah – I guess they have,’ I mumble, looking away.
‘I haven’t been sent any more photos from spam accounts. And nothing’s happened with school, Louise either, I’m guessing? It’s great, isn’t it?’ says Tom.
There’s something about the way he’s looking at me that is making me uncomfortable.
‘Mmm,’ I say, not wanting to reply.
I squint off at the far wall.
There’s a weird thought forming in my mind. Something so wrong that I immediately quash it, telling myself I’m being stupid. It couldn’t possibly be another guy, could it? Someone even closer to me. Someone trying to get back together . . .
; ‘Do you remember Sven? It was so weird before, how much he messaged you,’ says Tom, looking directly at me.
I squirm. ‘Can we – can we not talk about Sven?’
Tom shrugs. ‘Yeah, sure. I just thought—’
‘No.’ My voice is firmer than I intended. ‘I don’t want to talk about it any more.’
Tom looks at me, his smooth brow crinkling. ‘No worries. We don’t have to chat about it if it upsets you. We can talk about anything, like—’
I stand up. ‘I want to get home, actually. I’ve got some . . . Mum is asking where I am.’
Tom gets up too. ‘Um, OK.’
There’s a beat of silence.
‘Do you want me to walk you?’ he says.
‘No – no! It’s fine.’
Tom leans forward, and I let him give me a kiss on the cheek. I pull away quickly and walk, alone, out of the room.
When I glance back, he’s still standing in the same spot, staring at me.
CHAPTER 41
Amber
On Saturday morning, I’m cocooned in a duvet upstairs in my bedroom while a group of Seb’s friends crash about downstairs. Their deep voices echo through the thin walls, but my mind is so loud, it’s almost like I can’t hear them.
I feel so, so stupid for lying to Ansh. Obviously he was going to find out I wasn’t Ren’s sister. Why did I even say that?
And it’s pointless, anyway. It’s not like any of my lies have even helped Ren. For the last twenty-four hours, my thoughts have been going round in circles, trying to work out whether Jemma and Iulia have got it right about Ren, and if not – why wouldn’t they just say it was Jerome?
Could he have convinced them that Ren deserves it? Were they all drunk and just don’t remember which guy? Could . . . could Jerome have nudes from when they dated and be blackmailing them?
I close my eyes and rub the side of my nose. There’s a sheen of grease that sticks to my thumb, and I can feel little raised bumps of tiny spots across my forehead.
It’s 11 a.m. I haven’t showered yet, so I feel a bit gross, but it doesn’t really seem important. I catch sight of my reflection in my phone screen and turn it over so I don’t have to look at myself.
I just wish, wish I could speak to Ren. I wish I could know what’s going on and if he’s OK. Not knowing whether he’s innocent or guilty feels like it’s slowly driving me insane.
I’ve read every Tweet that Ren has posted since he got Twitter two years ago. Every Instagram post since he started posting photos a year ago. I’ve clicked through his Facebook and looked up his family. I’ve gone through the profile of every friend who’s ever visited the gym with him, every girl called Jemma, Maisie or Iulia on his friends list.
But . . . there’s nothing.
I sit there, chewing at a loose hangnail. It tears, and a blob of blood trickles down my thumb.
Right – that’s it. I’ve been doing this all morning. I need a break.
I push myself away from my laptop and tiptoe downstairs, craning my neck to hear whether Seb’s friends are in the kitchen. I’m pretty sure they’ve all gone outside; their voices are muffled and distant.
I know I look disgusting, shuffling around in my grey nightshirt and flannel trousers, but it’s not like I’ve had time to get dressed this morning. I literally spent all night at the computer, and as soon as I got out of bed, I immediately began to check Ren’s pages to see if I’d missed anything.
It almost feels like I’ve had an exam.
In the living room, Mum is standing there with a hand on one hip, dressed in a white dress, her bushy dark hair tumbling prettily over her shoulders.
She’s frowning at the TV and jabbing buttons on the remote.
‘Bloody smart TV!’ she snaps. ‘All I want to do is see Sylvia’s daughter’s wedding video! I have it on the computer – why can’t I watch it?’ When she sees me, her eyes widen. ‘Amber! Do you know how to get the computer to cast to the TV?’
‘Erm . . .’ I back away slowly towards the kitchen. I do know how to do that on my laptop, but with Mum’s old PC, it will probably take me all morning to get it set up.
‘Ugh!’ Mum sighs, dropping the remote onto the sofa.
Slowly, I step into the kitchen and start boiling the kettle. I’m about to ask Mum if she wants a tea, when there’s an almighty shriek from the next room.
I roll my eyes to the ceiling. What has she done now?
She shouts again, and I hear Seb clattering in through the front door. I freeze, straining my ears. But I only heard one set of footsteps – the rest of his friends must still be outside. Gingerly I step back into the living room.
‘Mum, are you OK . . .’ My eye catches sight of the TV, and the words die on my tongue.
Mum looks like she’s seen a ghost. She’s stabbing at the remote, horrified.
‘What is going on?’ she shouts. ‘Who is this man?’
Plastered across the giant screen, in full technicolour, is my laptop screen. There are six overlapping tabs open – one for each of Ren’s social media sites; several others open on his posts from a year ago; and yet another open on a conversation between him and Iulia from two months ago.
Seb grabs the remote off her.
‘Here, Mum – you can take it off like this.’
‘B-but I don’t understand! Why are there so many pictures of that man? Whose computer is it?’
Seb briefly looks up and catches my eye. I can feel that all the colour has drained from my face.
He rubs his temples. ‘Look. I don’t think . . .’ Seb looks up, then sighs, indicating towards me. ‘Ask her,’ is all he says, switching off the TV screen so it flickers back to the sign-in screen.
Mum frowns, turning to me. ‘Ask you? I don’t get it. Amber, do you know why there are so many pictures of that man on the screen?’
Seb has dropped the remote on the floor and is making his way back out into the garden.
Mum’s eyes flick from the screen to me, and back again. A vein pulses in her forehead.
‘Oh God, have you . . . Have you met someone? Online?’
‘No, no – it’s not that. It’s—’
Seb has reappeared at the door. Behind him, I can see several of his friends, and I have the uncontrollable urge to dissolve.
‘Yeah, Amber – why don’t you tell her,’ he says drily, and my stomach twists. ‘Tell her why you’re stalking Ren Moore.’
CHAPTER 42
Amber
Mum’s eyes widen, and a lock of wavy hair falls in front of her ear.
‘Ren Moore? That boy who does the machines at the gym?’ She stares at me, her mouth open. ‘You’re stalking him?’
‘No!’ I can hear Seb’s friends chattering outside, and a couple of them glance through the patio doors at me.
Mum follows my gaze and grabs my arm. ‘Amber, what – what is going on?’
‘Everything’s fine!’ I snap, wrenching my arm away.
‘Then why are you stalking someone?’ She almost whispers the last words, her eyes wide with concern.
‘I’m not – I’m not doing that,’ I say. Then I pause. What do I say? That I’m trying to prove he’s innocent? That he’s assaulted loads of girls? Yeah, that’s going to make Mum less worried.
‘It’s just . . . It’s not like that. Seb just put those pictures up because he thinks I fancy him. As a joke. I’m . . . friends with Ren. We go to the gym together.’
Mum opens her mouth to speak again, but I cut her off.
‘Anyway, I’ve got to go and do some homework,’ I say, almost running upstairs. When I look back, I see Mum staring after me, biting her lip.
As I close my bedroom door, I hear her talking loudly on the phone, probably calling Dad. I rush over to my desk and disconnect all my casting settings. Then I slump in the chair and put my head in my hands.
A tear dribbles down my nose as I think about how pathetic I am. How pointless these last few weeks have been. How I am never, ever going to know what
happened.
And maybe . . . I just need to come to terms with that.
My phone is unlocked beside me, open on Ren’s Snap Map icon.
There’s a soft creak from my bedroom door, which almost makes me jump up and scrape my knee across my desk.
Seb is standing there, his head tilted to one side.
I turn away from him, not wanting him to see my tears. ‘Leave me alone,’ I say.
There’s a sigh, and I hear him step forward into the room, closing the door behind him with a click.
‘You’ve got to stop this,’ he says quietly.
‘Leave me alone,’ I say again, but this time my voice is a whisper, and I can’t even finish the sentence without my shoulders heaving.
‘Honestly, sis, you’ve—’
‘You don’t understand,’ I say, watching a tear fall onto my desk. ‘He’s not – It’s not what you . . . Ren is innocent. It was Jerome – I’m sure of it.’
Seb frowns. ‘What was Jerome?’
‘The guy who assaulted Chloe at the party. I think he assaulted the other girls too, I think—’
‘It wasn’t Jerome,’ says Seb flatly, cutting me off.
I look at him for the first time. ‘It could have been! It—’
‘No. Jerome was buddied up with Nick in beer pong that night. He threw up about five times, barely made it to 10 p.m. before Bill had to take him home.’
I blink at him.
There’s a crash of noise downstairs, and several of Seb’s friends start shouting his name.
Seb glances at the door. ‘Look. Whatever you’re doing, cut it out. Ren is bad news. And this . . .’ He looks down at my unwashed hair and pale, drawn face. ‘It’s not good for you.’
Seb turns around and heads back towards the noise and chatter of his friends. It’s only once he’s gone that I notice my pulse drumming against my temple.
My mind is whirling.
I know he’s right. I need to stop. I blink a couple of times as my vision blurs.
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