by Alice Oseman
Juliet and Bliss appear behind Rowan, looking confused.
Piero sighs. ‘He’s lost his knife.’
Bliss’s eyes widen. ‘Knife? Wait, that family heirloom thing? Shit. Rowan told me about that. What does he want it for?’
‘It’s important to him,’ I pipe up, and everyone looks at me. Rowan frowns at me, apparently still very annoyed that I’m here.
‘Well,’ says Rowan, ‘me and Lister are leaving now.’ He peers down the hallway towards the bathroom and shouts, ‘Allister! We’re going now!’
Wait … they’re going?
They’re leaving Jimmy behind?
Lister fails to materialise, but Jimmy appears again out of his bedroom, looking markedly more ruffled than when he went in.
‘It’s not there,’ he says. His fists are curled tight and his eyes are moving frantically around the hallway, searching the dark corners and nooks.
‘It’ll turn up,’ says Rowan.
Jimmy stops suddenly, and looks at him.
‘You took it,’ Jimmy says.
‘What?’
‘Didn’t you?’ Jimmy steps closer to him. ‘You took my knife.’
Rowan has taken my knife. It’s gone from my bedside table. He must have seen it in my bedroom when he came to wake me up, or maybe later when we were talking in here, and decided that it’d be best if he took it away for good.
He overreacted. Typical Rowan. He turned up to the house thinking I’d had a massive breakdown and was now a danger to myself, and the first thing he saw when he stormed into my room this morning was the knife on my bedside table. So he took it.
That has to be it. That has to be it.
‘Are you having a fucking joke?’ Rowan shakes his head. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘My knife has gone. You’re the only one who would take it.’
‘Why would I take it?’ Rowan says. ‘I don’t even want to touch that thing.’ He looks around. ‘Come on. Why would I take it?’
Why is he lying?
‘Piero!’ Rowan gestures at Grandad, who is leaning against the hallway wall, arms folded. ‘You must have taken it off him, yeah?’
Grandad shakes his head, baffled. ‘No, no. It’s not mine to take.’
Rowan drops his hand.
‘Jimmy, you can search me; I swear I don’t have it—’
‘Just give it back!’ I shout.
‘I don’t have it! I bet you fifty thousand pounds she has it.’ He points aggressively at Angel, who is also in the hallway, and then at her friend Juliet. ‘Or her fan friend.’
Angel lets out a hysterical laugh, which probably doesn’t help their cause.
Rowan starts laughing too and walks towards the front door. ‘Look, I’m leaving—’
‘No.’ I grab his arm, pulling him back from the door. ‘Don’t fucking do this to me. Just give it back.’
He yanks his arm back. ‘Do what? What could I possibly do to you that’s worse than what you’re doing to me?’
‘Boys, come on,’ Grandad barks. He looks at Rowan. ‘Come on, Rowan, just give him the knife back.’
‘I don’t have it!’
To my side, Angel’s friend Juliet murmurs, ‘Angel … do you have it?’
‘What?’ Angel practically shrieks. ‘I’d never steal something of Jimmy’s, oh my God!’
Angel wouldn’t have it. She’s the only one who’s been helping me. If she’d wanted to take it, she wouldn’t have given it back to me yesterday.
‘But … you’ve … I mean, you’ve been acting kind of weird, generally …’ Juliet doesn’t say any more. Angel blinks several times, and then just turns round and goes back into the kitchen.
‘You can’t leave,’ I say to Rowan.
Rowan sighs. ‘I bet you just fucking lost it, or something.’
‘Why don’t you just admit that you have it?’
‘Come on, Rowan,’ says Bliss, giving Rowan a pointed look. ‘Just give it back to him.’
‘I literally don’t have it!’
‘Right.’ Grandad pulls Rowan by the shoulder and shoves him into the lounge, then he grabs me and pushes me into the kitchen. ‘No one’s going anywhere until this is resolved. Anyone can come forward and give me the bloody thing any time. No questions asked.’ He lets out a harsh breath. ‘It was my father’s and I don’t want anyone to take it either.’
I sit down heavily into a kitchen chair. Angel is already there at the table, and she looks up at me.
You don’t have it, do you? I ask her with my eyes.
She shakes her head at me.
I decide to get some air. The house has been getting really hot and stuffy with so many people inside and waves of panic were starting to flow over me. I step out into the back garden and trudge through the wet grass, breathing in the fresh air. The rain hasn’t stopped all day. I wonder whether the river has burst its banks.
My clothes are getting gradually wetter and wetter, my T-shirt changing from light grey to dark.
Are we all going to be trapped here forever, kept still by indecision?
No one doing exactly what they want?
Wouldn’t be much different to being back in the band, would it.
As I wander down the garden, a figure appears from behind a bush. I have to squint through the rain to identify them – it’s Lister, a lit cigarette in his mouth, sitting down on a bench that looks out over the woodland and countryside.
‘Hey,’ I say, and he flinches at the sound of my voice, then laughs when he sees me.
‘Didn’t hear you coming,’ he says, and takes a drag from his cigarette.
‘You shouldn’t smoke,’ I say. ‘You’ll die.’
‘We’re all dying.’
‘How pretentious.’
‘I don’t want to grow old, anyway.’ Lister takes another drag. ‘Seems boring. I’ve lived enough, thanks. I want my rest.’
His voice is slurring slightly. He has an empty glass in one hand.
‘Calm down,’ I say. ‘You’re only nineteen. Not dead yet.’
‘Nineteen years too old.’
I laugh at him but can’t help hearing the slight sincerity in his voice.
‘What’s going on?’ asks Lister. ‘What’s going to happen?’
I can’t answer him. And then he presses his cigarette out on the bench, puts it into his glass, and turns to me. For a moment I think he might want to kiss me again, but instead he just presses his head into the crook of my neck, nestling his cheek on my shoulder, and wraps his arms round my shoulders. He smells vaguely smoky, and a little of alcohol, but he feels so warm.
‘I want to change too,’ he says. A raindrop falls from his hair and lands on my leg. ‘When I come back in my next life, I’m going to be a normal person, with a normal job. Nobody will know who I am.’
Is that a good alternative? I don’t know.
‘Jimmy …’ he says, ‘I’m sorry …’
I rub his arm. ‘What are you sorry for?’
‘I …’ He hides his eyes. ‘I took the photo.’
‘What photo?’
‘The Jowan photo. From Tuesday.’
My stomach drops. It takes a moment for it to sink in.
Lister’s voice gets wobbly. ‘I … I genuinely didn’t think it was me, but … then I found it in my phone … and I remembered …’
I can’t even speak.
He sits up. ‘Look, Jimmy, I … it was months ago. The … the Jowan shipping thing, the fans, it was really getting to me.’ His eyes fill with tears. ‘The fact that they all wanted you and Rowan to … to be in love or whatever. It messed me up. It made me feel like I’d never have a chance with you because the fans would be so … so angry …’
‘A chance … with me?’ I repeat back to him.
He continues on like I’ve said nothing. ‘I’d liked you for years but the fans don’t give a shit; they can’t see anything – they just keep going on about Jowan. And then, that night, after one of our house parties, I saw you
two lying there in bed looking like … I dunno … a … a married couple or something …’ A tear rolls down his face. Or maybe it’s just the rain. In the quietest voice he says, ‘I’d never felt so fucking miserable and alone.’
I sit still, saying nothing.
He laughs, throwing his arms up into the air. ‘So I did what I always do! Turned it into a joke. I got drunk and took a photo and texted a couple of friends like “LOL! Look at this! Don’t Jimmy and Ro look like an eighty-year-old couple!!” And obviously one of those idiots leaked it eventually. But it’s all my fault, Jimmy.’ He turns to me. ‘I’m so sorry. God, I’m so sorry.’
This isn’t his fault. This is my fault.
This is my fault for being so blind.
‘Jimmy,’ he says, ‘please don’t hate me.’
‘I don’t hate you,’ I say. ‘I hate myself.’ The truth of it overwhelms me suddenly, and I scrunch my hands into fists and cover my eyes. ‘I hate myself so much. God. I don’t deserve to be alive.’
Lister’s eyes widen.
‘I need to be alone,’ I say. I stand up and start walking back to the house. Lister calls after me, but I don’t want to listen to him, to any of this, any more.
By early evening, the shouting has started again. Juliet has given up on her attempts to get me to go back with her, but similarly refuses to leave me alone with The Ark, so is sitting in the kitchen with Piero listening to the radio.
Bliss has set up camp at the kitchen table with a book she plucked from Piero’s study. She called for a taxi a few hours ago, only to be informed that the only road leading into the village has been shut due to flooding and won’t be reopened for a few hours.
Which means she’s stuck here, we all are, until further notice.
I’m sitting alone in the study now, curled up on my airbed. I keep looking at my phone, as if expecting someone to message me, but no one does. I’m thankful Mum and Dad still don’t know I’m here. They’d be out of their minds with worry.
No one’s found Jimmy’s knife yet.
Piero comes into the room a little while later and asks if I want a cup of tea. I say I do, and stand up and leave the room with him.
‘You haven’t seen Lister, have you?’ he asks as we walk through the house.
‘No?’
‘Hmm.’ He doesn’t say any more.
Jimmy and Rowan are still shouting at each other in the living room.
‘Boys, you could get some sleep, you know,’ says Piero gently.
‘I won’t be able to sleep when I know someone could stab me at literally any moment,’ says Rowan, glaring pointedly at me as I walk past the living room doorway.
‘All right,’ Piero says. ‘Let me know if you need any more tea.’
‘Where’s Lister?’ a voice mumbles. I open my eyes. It’s Jimmy. I’ve been dozing on the kitchen table, my head in my arms. The radio is still on, crackly voices whispering in the background.
‘Haven’t seen him,’ says Bliss, who is already halfway through the book she selected, Tess of the d’Urbervilles.
Me and Juliet shake our heads.
‘He’s not in the house,’ says Jimmy, scratching the side of his neck. He looks like he needs to sleep for four years.
‘Did he go out for a smoke?’ asks Bliss.
‘I’ll go and look.’
Piero gets up and rummages in a drawer. ‘Take a torch, lad. The sun’ll be setting soon.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ says Bliss, standing up.
‘Me too,’ I say.
‘Me too, then,’ says Juliet.
Piero sighs. ‘All right, nobody panic. Just be careful. There’s a lot of flooding just outside the village.’
As we leave the room, Rowan emerges from the lounge. He looks exhausted.
‘Where are you going now?’ he asks, his voice a little hoarse.
‘Lister’s not in the house,’ says Jimmy.
We walk all the way round the back garden, and then all the way through the front garden. Rowan jogs up and down the street, even checking the pub, but it has closed early due to the weather.
Lister has disappeared.
We reconvene back inside the house, everyone cramming themselves into the hallway. Jimmy calls Lister’s phone, but we hear it ringing from the living room.
Jimmy crouches down, puts both hands on the side of his head and starts muttering, ‘He’s gone. He’s gone.’
‘I’m sure he just went for a walk to clear his head,’ says Bliss, but there’s no confidence in her voice at all. ‘You know what he’s like. He’s reckless. He does what he wants.’
‘But he’s not stupid,’ snaps Rowan.
Bliss holds up both hands. ‘All right. Just trying to stay calm and not descend into hysteria. Jimmy.’ She nudges Jimmy with her foot. ‘Jimmy. Stand up, mate.’
‘He can’t have gone far, can he?’ asks Juliet. ‘How long’s he been gone?’
No one’s sure. No one saw him leave. It’s nearly eight o’clock now.
‘I saw him two hours ago, but that’s it,’ murmurs Jimmy.
‘I’m sure he’s just gone out somewhere to smoke in peace,’ says Bliss, still determined to keep everyone hopeful, but everyone’s already thinking the worst. It’s obvious by the looks on their faces.
‘Yes, I’d like to report someone missing,’ says Piero. He’s on the phone to the police, all of us seated round the kitchen table. ‘A young man. Nineteen years old. About five foot eleven, white skin, light-brown hair, slim build.’ He looks at us. ‘What was he wearing?’
‘White T-shirt, grey joggers,’ Jimmy supplies immediately.
‘White T-shirt, grey joggers,’ says Piero.
There’s a pause.
‘His name’s Allister Bird. Goes by the name “Lister”.’
There’s another pause.
‘Yes, I know he’s famous. He’s a local lad. I’m a friend of the family and he was with me this evening.’
Will the police even believe Piero?
‘Been missing about two hours.’
There’s a much longer pause. Piero’s face drops.
‘This is serious,’ he says. ‘There’s flooding in our area, and we’re really concerned, and—’
We’re all holding our breath.
‘I see,’ says Piero. ‘Well, thank you for your time.’
He hangs up, and we all realise simultaneously what has happened.
Two hours isn’t long enough to report a missing person. Not nearly long enough.
Jimmy makes a low groaning noise and puts his head in his hands again. Bliss makes a loud tutting sound.
‘We’ll go and look for him, then,’ says the last person I would expect to make such a statement – Juliet. She links her hands over one knee and flicks her hair back. ‘It’s getting dark, but we’ve all got torches on our phones. It won’t be that hard.’
Rowan stares at her.
‘I’m still not totally sure who you are,’ he says, ‘but you’re right.’
‘I’m Juliet,’ says Juliet in a very irritated tone, which actually makes me smile. I thought she’d be a mess around Rowan. Instead, she’s looking at him like he’s an annoying little brother.
‘Right, then.’ Bliss claps her hands together. ‘We’re going.’ She looks at me and Jimmy. ‘Angel and Jimmy? You in?’
We both stand up and say, ‘Obviously’ at almost exactly the same time.
It’s my fault that Lister is gone. He’s been hinting at not being okay again and again and again. And I didn’t notice, even after he tried to explain about the photo. Was I even listening properly?
I’m always so consumed by myself. Why don’t I notice anything that’s happening to anyone else?
Grandad’s the only one staying home. The five of us set out – them with their phone torches, me with an actual torch because my phone is out of battery – into the garden. Grandad lent Rowan his only pair of wellies, since they wouldn’t fit anyone else. The rest of us are in trainers and pli
msolls, which get covered in mud in under five minutes.
The sun is beginning to set now, though it’s barely noticeable. The clouds are just turning a slightly darker shade of grey.
‘Where would he have gone?’ asks Juliet. ‘How do we know where to look?’
‘There are some muddy footprints here!’ calls Bliss from the end of the garden. We go and join her, and sure enough there are footprints in the wet earth. ‘I guess he went in there?’
She points towards the woodland path. We used to walk Rowan’s old dog there sometimes, or play manhunt, or make secret bases.
There’s water running down the path in some places. Tiny streams. What happened to the summer?
‘LISTER!’ Rowan has the loudest voice and is doing most of the shouting. We’ve been walking for nearly fifteen minutes now, further and further into the woodland.
The three of us even camped out here once. I remember my way around, but everything looks warped and wrong in the rain and the darkening sky. Grandad’s house has long disappeared out of view.
‘LISTER.’ Rowan comes to a halt and turns to us. His skin, soaked from the rain, shimmers under the dimming light. ‘I … I really don’t think it’s safe to go any further. We’re getting so close to the river.’
What? We’re not just going to give up. Anything could have happened to him.
But Bliss nods in agreement. ‘Yeah …’ She shines her torch further down the path. ‘Look, the path down there has flooded completely.’
The light reflects off a rush of water.
To my surprise, it’s Angel who speaks next. ‘We-we can’t just leave him out here.’
‘To be fair,’ says Juliet, who is shivering quite violently, ‘we don’t know for sure that he’s out here.’
‘But what if he is …’
Rowan stays very still, staring at the ground.
Then he turns round and bellows Lister’s name so loudly that the rest of us all flinch and Juliet puts her hands over her ears.
‘This fucking rain,’ Bliss mutters.
‘How about we split up?’ I suggest. We need to keep looking. Anything to keep us looking. I’m nearly crying again. This is entirely my fault. We need to find him. We’re going to find him.
‘No, that won’t do any good,’ says Rowan. ‘We’re better together.’
