She’s out of the house! What’s she doing here? Oh God. This must be bad.
Dad’s next to her, wearing his work suit, frowning. Which just confirms my suspicions.
‘What’s going on?’ I ask. My voice quivers. I try to calm my thoughts: maybe it’s not such a big deal. Maybe Mum really is OK, like she’s been claiming. It seems the baby has cured her phobia. This could just be … a friendly visit?
Who am I kidding?
Mr Butler stands up. ‘Hello, Neena,’ he says, like I’ve come in for a job interview or something. ‘Please sit. We want to talk to you.’
He rubs his hands together nervously and then indicates his chair. But I don’t sit. My skin itches all over. I want to get out of here. Everyone’s got a mug of tea in front of them and there’s a plate of biscuits in the middle of the table. Maybe this should feel cosy. But it doesn’t.
‘What’s going on?’ I ask again.
Mum wipes her head with her dupatta. She looks really hot and bothered. Dad shoots me a look. ‘Sit down, Neena,’ he says, and his voice is so deep and strong that it forces me to move. I sit down on Mr Butler’s chair and he sits next to me. The smell of strong coffee hits me. Miss Taylor stares into her mug.
‘I’ve been concerned about Neena for a little while now,’ Mr Butler says to Mum and Dad. ‘And so have other teachers.’ He glances at Miss Taylor, who nods, and then he points to a pile of notes in front of him. ‘It’s been a tough year, Neena. You’ve struggled to keep up at times, which is understandable and we all sympathize. But, over the past couple of months, we’ve noticed … Your work’s been … erratic. Possibly due to exam pressure? It seemed you were improving, but there’s been a sudden dip in your grades over the past couple of weeks or so.’
I look at Ms Jones for reassurance. I think Mr Butler has got it all wrong.
‘My work’s been brilliant, hasn’t it?’ I ask her.
Mr Butler coughs. ‘You had a good few weeks – that was all. But, Neena, we’re not here to tell you off. We’d like to know, are there any extenuating circumstances that are affecting your work and concentration right now? Anything that might potentially affect your exams?’
I cross my arms. So I’ve had a bad week. But that’s only because everything’s been happening so fast. I’ve been working hard. I’ve been trying.
Mr Butler clears his throat. ‘OK … I’ve also noticed … We’ve noticed … that Neena has been acting out of character. Withdrawn. And …’ He clears his throat again. ‘We suspect she’s been getting help on her artwork – there has been a vast improvement in some of her paintings while others have been … not so good.’
‘“Getting help”? You mean cheating?’ Dad says, and his voice sounds dangerous.
‘Now wait a minute, I didn’t say that,’ replies Mr Butler.
I glare at Mr Butler. We all know what he means. How could he? Him, of all people. Mr Butler has been the one teacher who has helped me through everything. He let me spend lunchtimes in his classroom, drawing, when I first came back to school after Akash disappeared. He was the one who told me to use what I’d been through and put it into my art.
‘I haven’t cheated,’ I tell him. But then I realize that I have. Because Akash’s been helping me.
Mr Butler’s still talking. This is beginning to feel like an ambush. ‘We’re very concerned, especially with the exams so near. We’ll need to investigate further, but Neena is producing work that’s either outstanding or very poor. Not just in art, but in English too.’
What! I stare at Miss Taylor. Now I know that they really are setting me up. Akash definitely hasn’t been helping me with English. He was rubbish at English. Hated writing essays.
‘Like I said, we’re going to need to look at this closely,’ Mr Butler continues. ‘But, at the moment, we want to know how we can help. Is this … like what happened before?’
I don’t dare look at Mum and Dad. But, from the corner of my eye, I can see Mum fanning herself with a piece of paper. The bell for the end of school rings and the corridor is suddenly filled with shouting and cheering as everyone rushes out of lessons. I want to get out of here and join them.
‘There’s been a lot going on,’ Mum says. She’s fanning herself like crazy now. She looks really uncomfortable. ‘Lots of changes …’
‘We do understand,’ Mr Butler says, nodding, and I think I see him looking at Mum’s bump. ‘But what can we do for Neena? We spoke to Fiona – Neena’s friend in Year Twelve. She’s also worried. Could we arrange some counselling perhaps?’
I feel dizzy. ‘Fi?’ I say. I don’t get it. Fi’s involved in all this? Why would she do that? She’s supposed to be someone I can trust.
My hands begin to tremble.
Everyone’s turning against me.
What do they want from me?
What are they trying to DO to me?
I think of Raheela’s smile as I left the classroom. I bet she knew about this too. Trying to trap me as well. My heart slams against my chest. Everyone’s staring at me now. Turning on me. The whole world is turning on me.
‘There is one other option,’ Mr Butler continues, and I try to tune in again. ‘Due to everything Neena’s been through this last year, there might be the possibility of deferring a year.’
It feels like someone’s stamping on my chest. ‘No! I’m not stupid. Why are you picking on me?’
Mum stands up suddenly. She’s shaking. She tugs Dad’s arm. ‘I … I need to go home,’ she says.
Dad looks super concerned. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Please,’ Mum says. She’s beginning to cry now.
I push my chair back and the screech of the legs against the floor pierces the air. A sign that I need to get out of here. Quick. I see Mr Butler get up – he’s saying something to me, which I don’t catch – and then Dad stands up too. I leap for the door before anyone can stop me. Before Mum and Dad reach me. Before they trap me and keep me here forever.
‘Get back here, Neena,’ Dad calls after me, not quite allowing himself to shout in front of the teachers.
But I don’t stop. I almost trip over a chair by the door, which they’ve probably put there on purpose, but I fling it aside and it crashes against the wall.
I need to find Josh. He’s the only one I can trust now. If I find him, I’ll be safe.
I glance over my shoulder to check if anyone’s following me as I charge towards Josh’s house. No one. Nothing. I keep checking until I reach his front door. I need to be careful. Very careful.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
I peer over my shoulder again. Swallow. Breathe. ‘Hurry, hurry. Please,’ I whisper at the door.
The air is hot but I’m shivering. I wrap my arms round myself. Have the teachers followed me? Mum, Dad? Are they watching? Waiting? What will they do if they catch me?
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
The door swings open. A lady … Josh’s mum … Short blonde curls … Lots of bracelets and necklaces … Warm air … Vanilla …
‘Hello,’ I say. ‘I’m … I’m …’ I can’t remember my name.
‘Neena,’ she says, smiling. ‘You must be Neena.’
‘Yes! Yes, I’m Neena.’
The woman holds a hand out for me to shake. Her palm is soft and her skin is warm. My hand must feel so clammy to her.
‘Come on in. I’ve heard so much about you. I’ll call Josh – we just got in ourselves.’
I step inside. The door closes. I feel a wash of relief. ‘I’ll go up …’ I tell her. ‘I just need to see him. I … I just …’ My hand is aching where I’ve been banging it against the door.
Josh’s mum frowns, and I’m worried she won’t let me see him. But then she smiles again. ‘Of course, love. Go on up.’
I rush up the stairs and stand outside the beaded curtain to Josh’s room, catching my breath. I don’t go straight in. There might be another ambush inside. ‘Josh?’ I say. ‘It’s me. Is it safe to come in?’
&n
bsp; The beads part and Josh appears. He grins. Perfect teeth. I step into the room, into his arms. The beads close and clatter behind us like they’re clapping.
Josh gives me a quick kiss. ‘I didn’t know you were coming over today,’ he says. ‘Good surprise.’
My eyes dart around the room. My breath is shallow. I need to check I’m definitely safe here. ‘Can you shut the curtains?’ I say. ‘I’m worried they’re following me.’
Josh frowns. ‘What do you mean? Who’s following you?’
I rush on, the words spilling out. ‘If they’re not following me, they might be watching, spying – they’re always watching me.’
‘Slow down,’ Josh says. He takes my arm and manoeuvres me to the bed. We sit on the edge of the mattress. ‘Who’s watching, Neena? I don’t understand.’
‘Mum. Dad. The teachers. Everyone.’
Josh squeezes my hand. ‘Shhh. Hey, breathe. Just breathe. There’s no one here but me. Well, me and my mum, I suppose. I promise.’
‘Please,’ I beg him. ‘Shut the curtains.’
He gets up and pulls the curtains shut. Turns on the lamp.
‘No!’ I say. ‘No light. They might see it.’
Josh is looking really unsure now. ‘Neens, I –’
My chest is tight. I’m desperate. ‘Please, Josh.’
He does as I’ve asked and I expect to feel better, but I don’t. They could still be out there. Josh kneels in front of me and wraps his arms round my waist, presses his face into my neck. ‘You’re shaking,’ he says. ‘Did someone follow you here? Why are you so scared?’
I’m not shaking; it’s more like my skin’s twitching and jumping all over. ‘What’s happening?’ I ask, pressing my head against Josh’s shoulder.
‘I … I don’t know. But you’re safe here.’
I can’t stop twitching. ‘Do you ever feel like you’re in hell, Josh? Are we both in hell? Why are they trying to get me?’
Josh strokes my hair. ‘Shhhhh. No one’s after you, Neens. You’re safe.’
‘No, no, I’m not.’
He strokes my hair some more. ‘Everything’s OK. I promise.’
I look him in the eyes. I know I can trust Josh. He’s the only one I can trust.
‘I promise,’ he says again. ‘You’re OK.’
He’s so sure that I begin to believe him. His words crowd out my other thoughts. The image of Mum and Dad and the teachers and Mr Butler’s orange jumper slowly fades. No one is here. I’m with Josh. They can’t get me here.
‘So we’re not in hell?’ I ask, just to make sure.
Josh presses me closer to him. I feel his heart, beating, strong.
‘Feel that?’ he says. ‘We’re definitely alive.’ I smell his wonderful, familiar scent – shower gel and apples. His fingers stroke the back of my neck and he kisses me.
His touch, his kiss, his breath – they all calm me, soothe me. I kiss him back. The world stills around me. My breathing steadies. The twitching eases.
After we stop kissing, Josh presses his forehead against mine. ‘We wouldn’t be able to do that in hell, now, would we?’ he says, smiling.
‘No,’ I say, managing a smile too. ‘No, we wouldn’t.’
I’m calmer after seeing Josh, but I’m furious with Fi. I’ve had a message from her while I’ve been at Josh’s house. She wants to know where I am. As if I’m going to tell her.
Liar. Traitor.
I dial her number while I hurry home, ready to demand some answers, when Dad’s car pulls up beside me. It screeches as it stops. I freeze. Were they following me after all? I hang up the phone before Fi answers.
Dad winds the window down. ‘Get in,’ he says. ‘Now.’
I don’t know what to do. I want to go back to Josh, but how can I without Mum and Dad seeing me? ‘I … I’m fine walking …’ I tell him.
He glares at me. ‘GET IN!’ he shouts, which makes me jump.
I see Mum in the passenger seat beside him. Her face is swollen and blotchy, tears running down her cheeks. She looks genuinely worried. I try to hold on to what Josh said … They aren’t trying to hurt me. No one is trying to hurt me. I believe Josh. I can trust Josh. I climb into the back seat. Wait for one of Dad’s lectures. But he doesn’t say anything; he just drives. I peer out of the window to see where he’s taking me – but luckily it’s in the direction of our house, not the school. So maybe Josh was right.
Mum peers back at me from the front passenger seat and sniffs. She wipes her cheeks with a tissue. ‘We’ve been so worried, Neena. Driving around, looking everywhere for you. You can’t just … disappear like that. After … after the other day as well. It’s too much, Neena …’
Disappear.
I’m forced to think about Akash, as I know she’s thinking about him too, but this isn’t the same. She needs to realize that. They both do.
‘I just needed some space,’ I say. ‘I needed to think.’ And you and the teachers were trying to trap me. But I don’t say anything about trapping or following. If they are planning it, they can’t know that I know.
Mum’s eyes fill with tears again. ‘Space? No,’ she says. ‘Not space like that. Not between us.’
I cross my arms. No space for me. Mum’s allowed to stay in the house and cut off the whole world. Dad spends all day out. But I can’t want some space. I stare out of the window. Hypocrites. They’re all hypocrites.
Dad’s still scowling as he reverses the car down the driveway. I watch his reflection in the mirror. Why isn’t he saying anything? What’s he planning? He parks the car and turns off the engine. My body tenses.
‘Your behaviour today was unacceptable,’ he says. His voice is calm and controlled, but deeply furious.
I think about this. I’m beginning to see just how badly I behaved. I shouted at Mr Butler in front of Mum and Dad. I threw a chair across the classroom. I stormed out of the meeting. It sounds weird, but I don’t even know how I ended up at Josh’s house. I have a vague memory of meeting Josh’s mum, of her hand being warm and soft, of her voice being soothing and calm. She has green eyes and long lashes like Josh. I remember that. What did I say to her? But I do remember Josh kissing me, feeling his breath against my ear, his arm round my waist, as secure as a seat belt. I remember his words as I left his house: ‘Your parents and teachers aren’t out to get you, Neens.’ I’m still not completely sure I believe it, but I try to hold on to it.
‘Yes, Dad. I’m sorry.’
‘Your poor mother,’ Dad continues. ‘She had a panic attack in the middle of your school. Do you ever think about her, Neena? Do you ever think about anyone other than yourself?’
I feel so small, like I’m shrinking. I’m always thinking about everyone else, but I don’t tell him that. And I’m surprised he even knows what a panic attack is. He’s never used that term before.
I glance at Mum. It seems maybe the baby hasn’t cured her after all. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, even though I really don’t think any of this is my fault.
She nods. ‘It’s OK, Neena. I’m OK.’
No, you’re not, I want to say. None of us are OK. But I know that won’t go down too well right now.
‘Here’s what’s going to happen,’ Dad goes on, loosening his tie. ‘You’re going to write a letter of apology to your teachers. I don’t know what you’ve been up to, but absolutely no more getting help with your artwork or English –’
‘But I –’
‘And you’re going to catch up on all your work.’
‘They’ve got it in for me,’ I tell Dad. ‘I haven’t been cheating! They’re picking on me!’
Dad shakes his head. ‘No! No more excuses! You’ll work extra hard, understand?’ He turns and glares directly at me. Mum looks at me too.
I know the answer to Dad’s question, the right one to get this over with. ‘Yes, Dad.’
‘The teachers aren’t out to get you,’ Mum says. ‘No one’s against you.’
That’s exactly what Josh said. I’m so confuse
d. Everything’s so confusing. Maybe I’m the one who’s got it all wrong. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say.
Dad’s face falls. ‘I just … I don’t know what to do any more,’ he whispers.
We all sit in silence until Mum undoes Dad’s seat belt and takes him into the house, her arm round him. I follow them in and go to my bedroom. It seems the right thing to do. No one tries to stop me, and again I realize I must have got it all wrong. No one’s trying to trap me.
I sit down at my desk, ready to work, ready to try to make things right. I’m exhausted. Today has been very confusing. But I know I need to work hard to get back on track.
I hold on to Josh’s words. I say them to myself quietly, under my breath. ‘No one’s after you, Neens. You’re safe,’ I whisper. I say it until I believe it. ‘You’re safe. You’re safe. You’re safe.’
Mum comes into my room later that evening, just as I’m finishing an English essay. I’m surprised by how well it’s gone, considering what a shitty day it’s been, and I’m feeling good, ready to prove to Miss Taylor that I’m not a cheat. Well, at least not when it comes to English. A bit of hope fills me. Once Miss Taylor tells Mum and Dad I haven’t been cheating, Dad might even change his mind about art college.
Mum leans against my desk. She smells of fried onions and garlic. ‘You’ll eat with us today,’ she says. ‘I know you’re studying, but you need a break.’
I look up at her puffy cheeks and messy hair. ‘But I’ve got so much to do!’ My throat tightens with worry as I glance back at the revision timetable above my desk: I still need to do maths and history.
Why is she trying to stop me? Does she want me to fail?
No – I push the bad thoughts away. No one’s out to get me: that’s what Josh said.
‘I’m not hungry,’ I say honestly and without thinking. ‘I’ll just work through.’
Mum’s face drops.
‘I mean, I am hungry,’ I say quickly, correcting myself. ‘But … can you maybe make me up a plate? I’ll heat it up later. Please?’
The Million Pieces of Neena Gill Page 12
