I look around. OK. Good. The bedroom window is shut. Everything looks normal other than the pile of clothes on the floor. Muddy, grass-stained jeans and the light blue top I wore last night. I grab them to put in the wash basket before Mum or Dad see them, but as I gather them together I discover the whisky bottle I drank from before I went out, hidden under the clothes. I freeze. Weird. I remember putting it back under the bed when I was messaging Josh. Before I went anywhere. I pick it up – it’s practically empty. Whoa! Did I drink all that when I got back from seeing Josh last night?
No, I couldn’t have. Why would I? There must be some other explanation.
But then my mouth is really dry. And I have a pounding headache. Urgh. I quickly shove the bottle back under the bed and chuck my clothes into the laundry basket. That’s when I see it: my painting.
It’s the one of the Ridgeway that I was working on before I went out yesterday. But it’s … well, finished. And so alive. There’s this painter called Jackson Pollock who my art teacher and I totally love. His paintings look like they’re just splashes of colour. Like a kid could do them really. But people pay a ton of money for this ‘messy’ kind of art. And what you notice after looking at them for a while is that they’re actually splashes of feeling. Well, that’s what I think anyway. And it looks like I’ve used that style in this painting; there are flecks of white, red and gold paint all over it. It looks great!
It’s not the kind of thing I would ever usually do. And I don’t remember doing it. Did I get home, drink a ton of whisky, finish the painting and then sleep in Akash’s bed? Is the whisky why I don’t remember? Memory loss?
I stare at the painting. It really doesn’t look like my work. My skin prickles all over. I feel cold and shivery. I know I brushed the thought off last night, but was Akash here? Did he do this?
No, no. It can’t be. I haven’t been sleeping much. I’m not thinking straight. Nothing’s been making any sense since Mum announced she was having a baby.
And yet … Could that be why I don’t remember the drinking or the painting? Because it wasn’t me? Did Akash drink that whisky? Did he finish my painting? Did he … maybe pick me up off my bed and put me on his to sleep? As a sort of sign?
Is he sending me a message? Telling me he’s still around?
I know, I really do know, that I could be imagining it. But I have to check if he’s still here. I look under my bed, and peer into my wardrobe. My head’s spinning. He’s not here. I look around for more clues. I don’t know what, exactly, I’m looking for. His shoes maybe? Or a footprint. But there’s nothing.
I sit down on the edge of my bed. Take deep breaths.
Am I being totally unreasonable? Do I just need some sleep?
But everything’s pointing towards him. Is he trying to help me? I was stuck with my painting, and he wants to help, like he always did. And didn’t I smell him at the Ridgeway yesterday? Maybe that was him playing the guitar later; maybe he was just hiding. Hide-and-seek.
Where is he?
This is all too confusing. I need sleep. I need my thoughts to stop spinning. But I don’t want to take any pills. Those days, they’re over. I get into bed. Close my eyes. I keep thinking I’m falling asleep, but then my alarm goes off.
I sit up, confused all over again. It’s 7 a.m. already? It doesn’t make sense. I just got into bed! But I force myself up and start getting dressed. I need to work hard and get good grades. I can do this, especially if … if Akash is helping me. And I can’t wait to get to school, where I’ll see Josh again.
Maybe Akash will be there.
The weeks pass in a daze of schoolwork and revision. Dad makes me change my shift at the art centre cafe to Sunday afternoons, because I have to go to church with him in the mornings. And every week, on the way there, it’s the same talk: Stay on the right path, Neena; pray your worries and mistakes away, Neena; really think about your behaviour, Neena.
I make a pact with myself, but for my own reasons: no more sneaking out, no more drinking, no more climbing over the school fence and going to the chippy at lunchtime. I don’t want any more panic attacks, or any more memory loss; I need to focus on getting good marks to keep Dad happy, so that I can go to art college and get away from this baby.
I meet up with Ms Jones and she’s thrilled with my progress. That’s what she says, her grey eyes shining: ‘I’m thrilled with you!’ She calls Dad in front of me to tell him how well I’m doing.
I stay up later and later every evening, work harder and harder. The harder I work, the less I think about reaching for that bottle of whisky under the bed. Anyway, I want to leave what’s left for Akash. In case he comes back again.
And then, like a reward for my good behaviour, the things I’m hoping for actually happen. Mum doesn’t mention the baby again. It’s like it never happened. And twice Akash finishes my paintings while I’m sleeping. Each time, I wake up in his bed. He drinks the rest of my whisky and starts a new bottle from Dad’s cabinet. Hides the new bottle under his bed this time.
I see Josh at lunchtimes. We meet under the willow tree at the top of the front field. We lie on the grass and look up at the blue sky and hold hands. We talk about exams and revision and Josh’s dad. But mostly we kiss. I find myself thinking about him in lessons. And at home, once Mum and Dad’s friends come over for dinner in the evenings, I escape to my room to revise and message him.
Only once do I break my pact and sneak out to meet him at the graveyard again. This time, I don’t stay out too late, and I don’t panic as much when I climb back through the window. Everything seems to be going smoothly. Josh does keep asking to see me more, but, when I tell him I can’t, he understands. I’m even feeling … happy … As if all the heaviness of the past ten and a half months is slipping away, and I’m being … lifted. No antidepressants, just real joy. But I don’t think about happiness too much. I don’t want to jinx it.
The only person who doesn’t like me working hard is Fi. She keeps messaging to invite me to parties at hers, complaining she doesn’t know what’s up with me. I need to let my hair down, she says. At first, she’s moody. Then she stops messaging altogether. She doesn’t reply to my messages or answer my calls. I almost give in and go to her house, but stop myself.
Then it’s Friday again. Unexpectedly, Fi calls as I’m walking up the field to meet Josh for lunch. I freeze, my heart pounding. My eyes fill up and I realize how much I’ve missed her. I answer straight away.
‘I need to speak to you,’ she says. ‘Can you meet me at the usual place?’
‘I can’t,’ I tell her. ‘I don’t want to get caught.’
‘Please, Neens,’ she says. ‘It’s really important.’ She sounds upset. Her voice is heavy. I wave to Josh, calling him over to tell him. ‘OK,’ I say. ‘I’m coming now.’
Fi is at the end of the field, loitering near the bike shed, as I approach. Her red hair shimmers in the sunlight as she runs her fingers through the long strands; she looks sparkly and fresh and I’ve missed her so much, the way I feel a bit more together when I’m around her.
‘Everything OK?’ I ask. I hug her tight. ‘I haven’t heard from you in ages. Are you all right?’
She lights a cigarette and I take a step back. I don’t want to smell of smoke.
‘Yeah, all good,’ she says, puffing away. ‘But we’re going for a drive. I want to take you somewhere.’
I frown at her and then peer back at the school building. Whatever she wants, I can’t do it. I’ve only just got Ms Jones and my parents back onside. And she doesn’t seem upset, like I thought, after all. I look back at her. ‘No, I’m not leaving school. I can’t.’
Fi rolls her eyes. ‘Do you realize what a bore you’ve become, Neens?’ She does a fake, exaggerated yawn. ‘Come on, we won’t get caught. You know how easy it is!’
She starts walking but I stay put. A part of me wants to follow her. I want to make her happy. And I want to fill her in on everything that’s happening with Josh. But I can’
t go with her. I can’t risk it.
Fi turns back round and raises an eyebrow.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say, shrugging.
She stares at me. ‘You can’t be scared of everything all your life,’ she says. ‘What would he think? What would Akash think?’
I go cold. What would he think?
My brother wasn’t scared of stuff. He was brave. Adventurous. Bold. I recall the night when it all happened. Remember how he’d begged me to go to the party at Fi’s with him. But I didn’t because I was too scared of getting caught by Mum and Dad. And look how that turned out.
I should have been braver. I should be brave now. More like him. But what about art college?
I keep my feet firmly on the ground, even though my mind feels like it’s already left with Fi.
Fi sighs. I glance towards the school building again. I’m getting twitchy about getting back – and I mean literally. The skin on my face is twitching all over. It must be nerves or something. I’m about to walk away from Fi when I notice that she actually looks a bit nervous too. Is her lip also twitching, or is it my imagination?
She steps towards me and her face softens. She licks her lips and takes a deep breath. ‘So, I might have a lead,’ she says, and it comes out as a whisper. ‘A proper one.’
Now my skin gets really prickly. Up and down my arms, my legs, my neck. I stare at the freckles on Fi’s face, suddenly nervous as hell. ‘What do you mean?’ I say, and I’m also whispering.
Fi clears her throat. Her face hardens again, her eyes suddenly watching everything – the field, her watch, my face. ‘Remember I said I might have something?’
‘But … but then you said it was nothing.’
‘I know, I know. But actually …’ Fi rubs her forehead. Is she sweating? ‘I didn’t want you to get your hopes up, but this guy … He’s a good friend of Akash’s. He might know something …’
I take long, deep breaths. Slow and steady. The way my brother taught me.
‘I’ve been chatting to him for months,’ Fi goes on. ‘I can’t get anything out of him other than that he saw Akash that night.’
‘What? That night? This is huge!’
She nods. ‘But if you speak to him … If you try …’ She pauses, catches her breath, swallows. ‘He refused to speak to you for ages, but I’ve begged and begged, and he … he said yes, Neens.’ Her voice breaks and her eyes fill. ‘So … if you want to speak to him, you need to come now. He’s expecting us.’
My heart races as my brain tries to process it all.
Fi puts her arm round me. ‘You still want to get to the bottom of what happened, don’t you?’
I nod. I put my arm round her too. And then we’re walking towards the far end of the field, and my chest and toes are on fire. My skin is prickling all over now, even the soles of my feet, my palms, the inside of my ears.
‘I just don’t want us to get our hopes up,’ Fi says as we climb over the gate to get to her car.
‘Yeah,’ I manage to say. But it’s too late. My mind’s racing ahead with the possibility of tracing Akash’s steps that night. The possibility of finding everything out …
Fi drives fast as we head away from school. Too fast. But it doesn’t bother me like it would have this morning. She glances at me apologetically as she runs a red light.
‘I want to make sure we get you back in time for lessons,’ she says.
I nod. But, right now, I don’t care about that. All I care about is Akash.
As Fi drives, she fills me in on some basic details. Akash’s friend’s name is Jay. He’s twenty. He’s known Akash for five years, although she’s not sure how they met. At first, Jay said he didn’t see Akash the night he disappeared. But Fi kept hearing rumours that Akash was at his house that night. Finally, last week, when Jay was really drunk, he admitted Akash had been there – but he wouldn’t give Fi any details like what time or for how long …
I do my deep breathing as Fi talks. Try to take it all in.
And then we’re parking outside a grey-blue house with a faded yellow door. Overgrown bushes spill out on to the pavement. The rusty gate whines as we open it. Cracked tiles line the path to the front door. Fi rings the doorbell and it plays a happy tune. We look at each other and Fi rolls her eyes. I relax a bit, but my head is spinning. Although Fi and I have been trying to uncover clues for months, this is the first time we have something solid. A real person, who Fi has spoken to, and who I am going to talk to as well.
A guy opens the door. He’s pale with round glasses and long, straight brown hair tied back in a ponytail. My skin twitches all over. Is this Jay?
‘All right, Fi?’ he says. He lifts a chin towards Fi as she steps into the hallway; she nudges her chin back at him. I follow her in and he shuts the door. My stomach is tight.
‘Who’s your friend?’ he asks, as we stand in the dark hallway.
‘Oh, she’s cool. Neens, this is Gareth. Gareth, Neens. She’s a friend of Jay’s,’ she says. I give a small nervous laugh.
‘Cool,’ he says. ‘Come on in then. I’ll get some drinks.’ He turns towards the staircase. ‘Jay!’ he shouts up the stairs.
‘What?’ a gruff voice bellows back.
‘Someone to see you.’
There’s no answer; Gareth shrugs. ‘I’m sure he’ll be down soon,’ he says. ‘You know what he’s like. Doesn’t like to be rushed!’
I glance at Fi. ‘Give him a minute,’ she says.
I hesitantly follow Fi into the living room. There are plants everywhere and branches from a massive one brush my face as we go into a room with peeling wallpaper and rough, worn carpet. The curtains are drawn, and a round lamp in the corner is giving off a dull bluish light. Three guys are lounging on faded brown sofas, two playing a video game and the other one rolling something between his fingers. Looks like a spliff. Yes. I recognize the smell from Fi’s parties.
‘All right?’ one of the guys says.
‘Yeah, we’re cool,’ replies Fi.
My mouth is so dry, I don’t even attempt to answer. I try to smile but I’m suddenly feeling awkward in my school uniform; we must look really young. Although Fi somehow manages to look cool in hers, the sleeves of her sweatshirt rolled back and her short skirt showing off her tanned legs. We sit down and the guys all carry on with what they’re doing. I glance at Fi, hoping for a clue as to what’s going on, but she’s peering at the TV. I lick my lips to get rid of the dryness as I look around.
There are some weird-looking contraptions on the coffee table. But, even though they’re unfamiliar, I’m pretty sure they’re something to do with drugs. And there are also small, see-through packets of little white tablets. From here, they look like they could be painkillers. But of course I know they’re not.
My throat and chest are getting tight. What exactly did Akash do here? Should we even be here? And where’s Jay? I look at Fi again, suddenly scared. I desperately want to be with Josh, in the sun, under the willow tree. Fi doesn’t see that I’m scared. She just smiles.
I concentrate on breathing. We’re here to find out about Akash, I remind myself.
Gareth returns with pint glasses of blackcurrant squash. He hands one to Fi, one to me and keeps one himself. As he squeezes on to the sofa next to me, I get a waft of greasy hair and stale cigarette smoke.
‘Will he be long?’ Fi asks. ‘We’re in a bit of a rush.’
‘I’ll call him again,’ says Gareth, downing some of his drink and bouncing up.
My stomach is flipping over with nerves. I want to know everything. But I’m also scared. Scared Jay won’t know anything and scared that he will – that I’ll find out the reason Akash disappeared. Find out that it really is my fault. That I could’ve stopped him if I’d gone to the party with him.
‘All right, all right, I’m coming,’ a voice calls.
Then a set of footsteps comes tumbling down the stairs. A six-foot guy with black hair and shiny, tanned skin comes into the room. He’s gorgeous, his face almo
st pretty, he’s that cute. He has high cheekbones, big brown eyes and long lashes, and a squishy nose like a baby’s. He’s wearing black joggers and a white vest that shows off his toned arms. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. He grins when he sees Fi, and his teeth are so white and straight, his smile wide and reassuring.
Fi gets up and hugs him. He picks her up, swings her round. They laugh. Then he puts her down and looks at me. ‘And this must be Akash’s little sis.’
I nod, suddenly feeling more shy than nervous. Butterflies burst in my stomach.
‘You look like him,’ he says, and my throat tightens. ‘It’s your eyes.’ He smiles. ‘Come on. We’ll chat upstairs.’
I look at Fi. ‘It’s cool,’ she says. ‘I’ll wait here.’
‘Cool,’ I hear myself echoing back. And I follow Jay upstairs, like it’s no big deal. Me and this total stranger. Perfectly normal. What does he know that he doesn’t want to tell me in front of everyone?
We step into his bedroom. My heart pounds hard against my chest.
Jay’s bedroom has hardly anything in it. There’s a thin white wardrobe and a matching bedside table next to a single mattress on the floor that’s pushed up against the wall. Like downstairs, the curtains are drawn, but up here the main light is on and it’s all weirdly yellow. He seems even better-looking against the grimness of the room.
‘Sorry about the smell,’ Jay says, pointing to patches of damp on the cream-coloured walls. ‘Landlord refuses to do anything about it. Dick.’
I nod. ‘Dick,’ I say too, because I don’t know what else to say.
Jay makes himself comfortable on the mattress on the floor and pats the patch next to him. There are no other seats in the room so either I stay standing or I sit on the mattress. I don’t want to seem rude so I give him what I hope is not an awkward smile and sit down. I almost spill my blackcurrant drink as I sink into the mattress.
‘Steady there,’ Jay says, and I do the hopefully-not-awkward smile again. I add a laugh for good measure. Why the hell am I laughing? There is absolutely nothing to laugh about.
The Million Pieces of Neena Gill Page 8
