Sasha's Secret

by Cathy Cassidy

  Mum and Dad seem to be working all hours lately, and I remember the whispered conversation from the other night and how they put on hasty smiles the moment I came in. A flicker of disquiet grows inside me. Is something wrong?

  ‘I don’t mind staying home, cooking the tea and keeping you both company, if it helps?’ I offer, but I know it’s a losing battle.

  ‘No way,’ Mum says. ‘You’re going, Sash. You can’t let an opportunity like this go by. It’s your dream!’

  If only she knew.

  Is it OK to text so late? Just wanted to thank you for setting up the photo shoot. I’d never have approached Marley without your back-up – he’s pretty spiky, isn’t he? He liked the photos, though! Anyway, thanks to you, looks like I’ll be coming down to Devon at half-term – can’t quite believe it! Matt

  S’OK, can’t sleep. Thinking about the Devon trip. I mean, obviously, a dream come true, but also scary! Sasha x

  Don’t be scared! This could be your big break! If Ked Wilder propels you into superstardom, remember I’ll be running along behind, taking loads of pictures! M

  Stop it, you’re making me laugh! Sasha x

  Good! Seriously, I have no shame. I plan to hang on to your coat tails for the sake of my own career! M

  You don’t need us. You’re amazing already! I’m glad you’re coming on the Devon trip, though. That’s cool. Sasha x

  It’ll be fun, Sasha. Promise. G’night! M

  G’night! Sasha x

  7

  Sorry

  The weather turns cold and wet overnight, but I’m in denial, heading to school without the nylon waterproof Mum tries to foist on me. I live to regret it. By the time I get to the bus stop my hair is drenched and plastered across my face in rat’s tails, and my attempt to stay upbeat is drowned beneath the tidal wave that engulfs me as the school bus zooms past without stopping, ploughing through a puddle the size of a small lake.

  On days like this the very last thing you need is games, but that’s exactly what lies in store in period three. The rain has eased off, but I’m hoping Ms Trent will keep us inside anyway because it’s blowing a gale out there and I’m still soggy from my soaking earlier.

  No such luck.

  ‘What you need is a good, brisk game of hockey to warm you all up,’ she declares.

  I groan, dragging on my PE kit, the ugliest T-shirt and shorts combo in the northern hemisphere, made from a slimy man-made navy fabric decorated with alarming stripes of neon tangerine. Put it this way, if I were to get lost in a thick fog miles from anywhere, I’d still be visible, even from outer space. I bet the space rescue team would need to wear shades to protect their eyes from the migraine-inducing tangerine stripes.

  ‘Get going, girls!’ Ms Trent barks. She hands out lethal weapons, otherwise known as hockey sticks, and we jog down the side of the football pitches. The boys are nowhere to be seen. Their teacher is a lot less savage than Ms Trent, so they’re probably in a nice heated gym doing bench presses and sit-ups.

  It’s freezing, but the running does warm me up, and by the time we’ve done five circuits of the hockey pitch my heart is thumping and the breath is warm and ragged in my throat. Ms Trent divides us into teams, and I end up as a forward, actually scoring two goals and earning some praise from Ms Trent for a change.

  I’m almost enjoying it, way more than Romy who’s lurking at the far end of the pitch and looking like she might die of either boredom or exposure at any minute. The ball flies past me again, and I scoop it closer and start to leg it down the pitch in case I can make it three goals. I’m buzzing, grinning, on a mud-stained hockey high … and then I’m not.

  I’m nothing.

  The world slips away and I’m nowhere at all, lost so far from home that not even that imaginary rescue team in outer space could find me. And then I hear shouting somewhere on the edge of my consciousness, and shame curdles in my belly before I can gather my thoughts and work out that, yes, it’s happened again.

  ‘… never seen anything so idiotic! You’re a good player when you want to be, but that was downright dangerous. Good grief! What were you thinking?’

  ‘Miss, I don’t think she’s very well …’

  ‘Not well? Rubbish! Are you even listening to me, Sasha?’

  ‘Sasha? Sasha, can you hear me?’

  Someone has an arm round my shoulder, and as my eyes focus I see Romy beside me, her face anxious, while Ms Trent glares, her expression icier than the October chill.

  A girl called Tara Lyons from the other team is sitting on the grass at my feet in a tangle of hockey sticks, splattered with mud and with a thin trickle of blood coming from her nose. Guilt floods through me, although I have no idea what I’ve done. I just know that somehow this is my fault.

  ‘What happened?’ I whisper.

  ‘She ran into you,’ Romy tells me. ‘You stopped and Tara tripped and managed to get up close and personal with your hockey stick. It was an accident … I don’t think she expected you to stop so suddenly …’

  How could she, when I had no idea myself?

  I reach out a hand to help Tara up, but she says something very rude under her breath and scrambles to her feet without my assistance. Ms Trent hands her some tissues to staunch the nosebleed and tells me to take her to the medical room and then go to the changing rooms and wait.

  ‘I’m not happy with your behaviour lately,’ she tells me crossly. ‘Not at all. Right. Enough time-wasting!’

  She blows the whistle to restart the match a little too shrilly. I feel the screech is hollowing out my insides, stripping back my skin. I’ve gone from boiling hot to freezing cold in the space of thirty seconds, and I’m shaking all over. I can’t tell whether it’s the shock of being yelled at or something to do with the black-hole moment.

  Tara is stalking away across the playing field. Her nose may be bleeding, but her legs are working fine, and I have to run to catch up.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, struggling to keep up with her. ‘I don’t know what happened back there. One minute I was running after the ball, the next everyone was yelling and you were on the floor, all muddy and battered. If I hurt you … well, I’m gutted! I didn’t mean to!’

  Tara gives me a sidelong glance. ‘I bumped into you, OK? I was running too, trying to get the ball, and then you stopped dead and I just sort of crashed into you. It had to be deliberate. Why else would you just freeze like that?’

  ‘I don’t know!’ I say. ‘Maybe it was some kind of blackout? I’m sorry!’

  ‘Like that helps,’ she says, as we skirt the outdoor lunch area and push through the double doors back into school. ‘You’re saying you don’t remember anything? Seriously?’

  ‘Seriously,’ I promise. ‘It’s happened before, but nobody’s been hurt. I’m so sorry!’

  ‘Can you stop saying that? It’s not helping.’

  ‘Sorry!’

  She glares at me over the top of the bloodstained tissues.

  ‘OK,’ I backtrack. ‘I’m … um, I won’t say it again.’

  We arrive at the nurse’s office and Tara lowers the wad of tissues to give me a weary look. Her nose is a peculiar shade of blotchy crimson, but the bleeding seems to have stopped.

  ‘If you’re having blackouts, you’re the one who should be seeing the nurse,’ she says.

  ‘No, no, I can’t do that,’ I argue. ‘It’s nothing, really!’

  Tara rolls her eyes and raises her hand to knock on the office door, but at that moment it opens and Jake appears, holding an ice pack to his temple.

  ‘PE can be very dangerous,’ he says, eyeing Tara. ‘Right?’

  She sweeps past him into the office and slams the door behind her.

  ‘Something I said?’ he asks, looking slightly hurt.

  ‘Something I did, I think.’ I sigh, and the words come pouring out before I have time to think. ‘It’s me she’s mad at, not you. I … kind of zoned out in the middle of a hockey match, and she ran into me and got a faceful of hockey
stick …’

  I fade into silence. Jake has seen me zone out before, but, like the rest of the band, he seemed to think I was just a bit daydreamy and distracted. I’ve just given myself away big style, but he seems not to notice.

  ‘Ouch,’ he says. ‘Ice-pack treatment for Tara too then, I think! Want a chocolate lime?’

  He takes a crumpled packet from his pocket, grinning, and I accept, grateful for the small sugar rush.

  ‘Thanks. What happened to you?’

  ‘Fell off the vaulting horse,’ he explains. ‘I was seeing stars for a minute, which is why they sent me here, to be on the safe side. I’m OK, though. Just very accident-prone!’

  He grins sheepishly, and for one moment I think I’ve got away with it. I am caked in mud and wearing neon nylon, sure, but my black-hole secret remains safe.

  Or not.

  ‘This zoning-out thing,’ Jake says into the silence. ‘It’s happened before, hasn’t it? In practice sometimes … and at the radio station that time, when we were in the Battle of the Bands?’

  Shame floods through me and my cheeks are blazing.

  ‘I have to go,’ I mutter.

  ‘Aren’t you staying to see the nurse?’ Jake asks. ‘I thought –’

  ‘You thought wrong. I don’t need to see the nurse. I’m fine!’

  Jake puts a hand out and tugs my sleeve, and I turn back.

  ‘Can I ask you something?’ he says awkwardly. ‘Are you going out with Matt Brennan?’

  My eyes widen. ‘Of course not!’ I snap. ‘Not that it’s any of your business, Jake!’

  He shrugs and bites his lip. ‘No, obviously,’ he says. ‘It’s just … I’ve heard he’s a bit of a user, that’s all. A bit of a chancer. And I wouldn’t want you to get hurt!’

  I shake my head, furious. ‘I won’t get hurt,’ I say. ‘Because there’s nothing going on between me and Matt – we’re just friends. And if you were a friend, Jake, you wouldn’t try to tell me what to do, or who I can and cannot see!’

  I pull away and storm along the corridor, blinking back tears.

  ‘Sasha, wait, that’s not what I meant –’

  ‘Gotta go,’ I yell over my shoulder. ‘Forget it, Jake. I’m OK!’

  But I know that it’s no use pretending any more, because I’m not OK … I’m not OK at all.

  189 likes

  SashaSometimes Daydreaming …

  #RainyDay #SchoolDay #Lost&Found #Dreamer

  PetraB First like!

  littlejen Second like!

  OllieK Are you thinking up new songs?

  _Brownie_ You’re my dream girl!

  MattBFotos Nice shot … cute!

  8

  Kidnapped

  Once the tide of escaping pupils has ebbed to nothing and the last school bus has pulled away from the kerb, I leave the safety of the empty corridors and make for the gates. I’m just stepping on to the pavement when someone grabs my arm.

  ‘Gotcha!’ Jake says, as Lexie, Sami and Romy close in from the other side. ‘We wondered where you were hiding!’

  ‘Gettoff!’ I say, glaring. ‘What is this, some kind of ambush?’

  ‘More of an apology,’ Jake says under his breath. ‘I’m an idiot sometimes …’

  ‘We’re kidnapping you,’ Lexie tells me brightly. ‘Taking you for a hot chocolate at the Leaping Llama!’

  ‘We wanted to check you were OK,’ Romy adds. ‘You missed the bus and got soaked on the way to school, and Ms Trent went overboard in hockey. Then you went missing at lunchtime and you weren’t at the bus stop either!’

  She tucks an arm through mine, and this time I don’t pull away.

  The Leaping Llama is one of those painfully hipster cafes where the waiters have beards and man-buns, and roll up the cuffs of their skinny jeans to show off their sock-free ankles. It also happens to do the best hot chocolate in Millford, and today I reckon I’ve earned one.

  ‘I’ve never been kidnapped before,’ I say, attempting a wobbly smile.

  ‘We’re the best kidnappers ever,’ Romy promises. ‘Most hostages only get bread and water – you get hot chocolate!’

  Jake steers me towards a corner booth while the others head to the counter to order.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he says again. ‘I heard some stuff and I didn’t want you to get hurt, but I should have kept my mouth shut …’

  ‘You should,’ I growl.

  ‘Look, don’t hate me, Sasha. I was trying to do the right thing – I just misjudged it.’

  ‘Matt Brennan’s OK!’ I argue.

  ‘If you say so …’

  ‘He is! You’d like him if you just gave him a chance!’ I insist, but I remember how offhand Matt was with Jake at the photo shoot and know that’s probably not true. I sigh. Matt may not be perfect, but it’s too late now to tell me not to fall for him. I’ve fallen – hook, line and sinker.

  ‘It’s only because I care,’ Jake says.

  ‘I’m fine! Matt’s just a friend and the zone-out thing is probably nothing. Don’t say anything in front of the others – they’d think it was weird …’

  He raises one eyebrow. ‘We’re your friends,’ he says. ‘If something’s wrong, we want to help.’

  ‘I’m OK!’

  But suddenly I’m tired of pretending everything’s OK. My shoulders slump and a single tear slides down my cheek. ‘Look, I don’t know what the zone-out thing is and I don’t know why it happens,’ I say in a whisper. ‘That day in the radio station when we were recording live for Battle of the Bands … that was the first time I noticed it. You saw, right?’

  Jake nods.

  The whole band had been crammed into a hot and crowded radio studio to play live for a local competition. I remember being nervous as the first chords rang out, and the next thing I knew everyone was staring at me as the music crashed to a ragged, discordant halt. I’d totally missed my cue – on live radio. That was the day my confidence shattered into about a million pieces and, no matter how hard I try to put it together again, I can’t seem to manage it.

  ‘It’s happening more and more,’ I say. ‘Every day. There’s no warning, and I never know what’s happened until I come back to myself and realize people are staring, or shouting or whatever. It’s horrible!’

  He frowns. ‘You can’t keep something like this to yourself,’ he tells me. ‘Tell your parents. Tell your friends. See a doctor. Get some help!’

  ‘I will,’ I say. ‘But I’m still getting my head round it. Things are a bit weird at home just now – money problems maybe. And it’s not the right time to tell the band. I don’t want to drag everyone down, be the weak link. Marley would chuck me out!’

  ‘No chance,’ Jake says.

  ‘I think he would,’ I argue. ‘After the Devon thing, I’ll tell my parents. I can’t say anything yet, though. It’d just mess things up for everybody!’

  I can see Jake thinking this over, not convinced.

  ‘What’s it feel like?’ he asks. ‘When you zone out?’

  I frown. ‘Hard to explain. It’s like I go somewhere else … slip into some parallel universe, or fall into a black hole or something. It’s like the memory of what’s happened is just out of reach, no matter how hard I try to hold on to it. I’m the invisible girl!’

  ‘You’re not invisible,’ Jake says. ‘I can see you. You’re still here.’

  He looks at me so intently for a moment that my heart starts to thump, but just then Lexie, Romy and Sami return, squeezing in beside us and chatting loudly. The awkwardness dissolves and, even though he hasn’t promised to keep my secret, Jake doesn’t mention the zone-outs again.

  ‘Hot chocolate is on the way,’ Lexie announces. ‘Best remedy ever for a rubbish day!’

  ‘Ms Trent was totally out of order this morning,’ Romy is saying. ‘It was just an accident – could have happened to any of us.’

  I grin, grateful for the kindness.

  ‘Tara’s fine now,’ she tells me. ‘No harm done.’


  My friends seem more interested in the imminent arrival of our hot chocolates, carried by an especially theatrical waiter in horn-rimmed glasses and a tweed waistcoat complete with pocket watch and chain.

  ‘Five deluxe hot chocolates with whipped cream and dipping flakes,’ he announces, setting the tray down between us. ‘We’re trialling a new range of raw gluten-free, sugar-free vegan cakes … cacao, kiwi and lime drizzle cupcakes with cashew cream. Try them with our compliments and tell us what you think!’

  He strides back to the counter, leaving us slightly befuddled.

  ‘Raw cakes?’ Sami echoes. ‘Really?’

  ‘What actually are they?’ Romy says with a frown. ‘How d’you get cream from a cashew nut?’

  ‘My mum makes raw vegan cakes sometimes,’ Jake says. ‘They taste better than they sound!’

  And it turns out that the cupcakes are great, sweet and tangy, a perfect foil for the richness of the hot chocolate. For a moment we’re all silent, spooning up cream and cake and sipping the thick, warm chocolate, and I think that there’s nowhere I would rather be than right here, right now, with these people who really care about me.

  Talk turns to the trip to Devon, scheduled to set off on Friday. Ked Wilder has arranged a minibus to take us down, and three adults have signed up to go along and keep an eye on us: Jake’s stepdad, Sheddie, and Lexie and Bex’s foster carers, Mandy and Jon.

  ‘Not sure what they’re actually going to do,’ Lexie says. ‘It’ll be a bit boring for them while we’re recording. Still, the minute Ked Wilder asked for volunteers I knew they’d offer!’

  ‘My stepdad’ll just chill,’ Jake says. ‘Sheddie’s OK … practical and pretty laid-back.’

  ‘I don’t know what they think we’ll be getting up to,’ Lexie adds. ‘From what Ked Wilder was saying, we’ll be so busy with the music we’ll have no energy for anything else!’

  ‘My family are keen for me to go,’ Sami says. ‘It is a good opportunity! And perhaps it will be fun?’