by James Dawson
But first things first. She peeled off the jeans and threw them into the shower with the T-shirt. She got in with them and turned the shower on. The filthy water ran black and maroon down the plughole, and she washed her clothes as best she could. The T-shirt would have to be burned, but the jeans could go in a regular wash without attracting too much suspicion. She’d put her bedding in too and just hope her mum didn’t notice. As luck would have it, in the Feather household, Monday was laundry day and always had been.
After she was dry she found her phone in her leather jacket pocket. Without hesitation she called Kyle. It went straight to voicemail. ‘No,’ she mumbled. It felt like a brick dropping into her stomach. Surely she didn’t . . . but maybe Molly Sue had. She had threatened it.
Panic bled in around the edges and Sally had to sit on her bed for a moment to stop shivering. Did she kill him? Did I kill him? She was no Kyle fan, but she didn’t want him dead. Or did she? She reminded herself what he’d done to Jennie – those finger marks on her arm. No, it wasn’t you, she told herself, it was her. I was a fool to trust her.
Sally thought about calling Jennie to ask if she’d heard anything from Kyle, but knew it’d look suspicious. She had to trust that Molly Sue hadn’t left evidence – the police hadn’t arrived on her doorstep yet. For now, Sally knew she mustn’t draw attention to herself. She probably just punched him in the face or something. So why is his phone dead?
She couldn’t manage any breakfast and walked to the corner almost in a trance. Stan and Jennie were waiting for her. ‘Oh, she’s on time for once!’ Jennie called down the street. ‘Oh, sweetie, what’s up? You look awful!’
‘Gee, thanks!’ Sally attempted a carefree smile.
‘Are you hungover?’ Jennie grinned. ‘I heard you got pretty wild at The Old Boat Shed last night.’
‘What?’ Stan’s head whipped around as he walked a step ahead of them. ‘What were you doing there?’
Sally processed the information. Did that mean Jennie hadn’t been there? ‘Yeah, I went and met some of the Little Shop cast,’ she lied and Stan could barely hide his annoyance. ‘How come you didn’t go?’ she said to Jennie.
‘Duh!’ Jennie sighed. ‘Grandma was over for a family dinner. Major suckfest. I hate missing Kyle play. Was he good?’
‘Yeah, great.’
‘Where was my invite?’ Stan said huffily.
‘Don’t start,’ Sally snapped. She didn’t have time for his wounded ego this morning. ‘It was a cast thing. You are not in the cast. OK?’
Stan backed down. ‘Sorry, Stresspants. Are you hungover?’
‘No!’ Sally said, although suspected this was precisely what a hangover felt like.
‘Oh, really?’ Jennie smiled slyly. ‘When Kyle texted he said you were drinking shots.’
‘Well, I wasn’t,’ she lied. She could kill Molly Sue. That would explain her dry mouth and churning stomach. ‘Hey, are we meeting Kyle on the way in?’
‘Don’t think so. He hasn’t texted to say to wait for him.’
Of course he hadn’t – his phone was lost.
His phone’s lost? How do I know that? It came back to her. A single image: a mobile dropping into the black lake with a clear plop. Nothing else – just that one image. The lake? What was I doing on the lake?
‘Sally? Sure you’re OK?’ Stan asked, genuinely concerned.
‘Yeah. Fine.’
‘OK, let me know if you’re gonna hurl. I’ll hold your hair back.’
‘You’re such a gent.’ Sally smiled, trying to hide her fear. It was another Monday morning where she couldn’t wait to get to school.
Sally told Mrs Flynn that she had to talk to Mr Roberts about rehearsal so she ducked straight out of registration and went to the Newton Building where Kyle had form room with Dr Farmer. She loitered long after the bell for first period, waiting for everyone to file out, but Kyle was not amongst the masses. Her palms grew sweaty and she realised, almost too late, that she was going to vomit. She got to the girls’ toilet with seconds to spare. What did Molly Sue drink last night? What did she do?
She felt better for being sick, like she’d expelled something toxic from her system. I have to think clearly. Sally was alone in the toilets so took her time, washing her face and rinsing her mouth out at the sink. She checked her jacket pocket for a tissue. She couldn’t feel one, but her fingers found something square and hard in her inside pocket. Confused, Sally pulled it out. It was a Zippo lighter, the metal cold with a chipped American flag painted on one side. Sally flicked it open to see if it worked and found that it did. And remembered that Kyle had one just like it . . .
I should call the police. But if he was dead, it would be her DNA all over the body. Molly Sue didn’t have little cartoon fingerprints. She could hardly tell the police that the tattoo on her back did it – she’d be put in a straitjacket and carted away.
Don’t panic. Find out what happened first. Molly Sue? Are you there? There was still no answer. Fuming, she shoved the lighter back in her pocket. Again, if anyone saw it, they’d ask questions.
When the ground had stopped spinning quite so fast, she went to maths as normal, still wary of drawing too much attention to herself. Mr Pollock was already droning on when she tried to slip into the classroom like a shadow. ‘Sally . . . glad you could join us. Hurry up and take your seat, please.’
‘Sorry,’ Sally muttered, head down. She tripped over someone’s bag and managed to knock a pencil case off a desk with her satchel before finally arriving at her own desk. So much for not causing a scene. She was rummaging in her own bag for her textbook when she saw a scrap of white paper enter her periphery vision. It was Todd trying to subtly slide a note into her hand. She took it and sat up. Sure Mr Pollock wasn’t looking, she unfolded the piece of paper.
Last night was AWESOME! Where’d you go? Xxx
Her eyes widened. Oh God, what did I do? All Sally could do was turn around and smile dumbly. Todd looked right back at her, the blue eyes peering out from under his heavy brow. It was like he was seeing past her and right at Molly Sue . . . who had done God knew what with him. His full lips curled up at the edges – a knowing half-smile. There was no way . . . surely she’d remember that. Sally turned away to hide the extent of her fuchsia blushing.
She needed to know what happened in those missing hours and she needed to know now.
By break it all became real.
‘Have you seen Kyle?’ Jennie was now visibly concerned. ‘His phone has been off all morning.’ She stood outside the library, hands on hips, looking hot and sticky from marching around the school on her search.
‘Maybe’s he’s off sick,’ Stan said through a mouthful of ham and crisp sandwich. ‘If I was off sick, I’d still be asleep.’
Jennie humphed. ‘I bet he got wasted after the gig and stayed in bed. Sal, did you see him after the gig?’
‘Not really,’ she replied, non-committal. Maybe I should just turn myself in now.
‘God, it drives me mad! What’s the point in having a phone if you’re not going to use it!’ Once more, Sally saw the phone vanish into the water. Jennie stomped off in search of Kyle. Sally knew she wasn’t going to find him.
‘Maybe he finally dropped dead?’ Stan said.
At that Sally whirled to face him. ‘What?’ Had he seen something? Now that she thought about it, Molly Sue must have gone past his house on her way home.
Stan grinned, just kidding. ‘You think? I wished pretty hard . . .’
‘Well . . . don’t!’ Sally hoped her hammering heart wasn’t audible. The rising panic was dizzying, and the thought of vomiting in front of half her class only made her more panicked.
‘Steady on! Good lord, Sally Feather, you are not good after a late night.’
‘Sorry . . . sorry. That’s just a terrible thing to say.’ Sally fought to keep her trembling hands steady.
‘C’mon, Grumpy, let’s get you a coffee!’ Stan took her hand and dragged her towards the cafe
teria. Sally could see Todd watching her every step of the way as they climbed the stairs. Just in case, Sally pulled her hand out of Stan’s palm. She didn’t want Todd to get the wrong idea.
Finally, in second period, it all got too much. She drummed hyperactive fingers against the table and she couldn’t even feign interest in the fanfic Stan was writing in her notepad. The classroom felt airless, stifling.
Sally could think of five options available to her. Option one: do nothing and hope the whole thing blew over. Not likely. Option two: go to the police and tell the truth and accept the consequences. That didn’t seem fair when she hadn’t done anything – hell she didn’t even know what she’d be confessing to! A bubble of anger kept popping in her chest; Molly Sue had taken advantage of her. Was this a plan – to slowly take permanent control of her? To possess her body? No, that didn’t feel right. If that were the case then she wouldn’t have relinquished control so soon. Another thought occurred to her: maybe Molly Sue couldn’t remain at the wheel for long – perhaps that was why she was so quiet now – she was spent after whatever she’d done last night.
Options three and four were to go to Kyle’s house or the hospital. The final option was to go to the lake, to see if there was anything there that might jog her memory. The phone being swallowed into the water was the only pixel of the night she had.
‘Stan, I have to get out of here,’ she said suddenly.
‘What? Are you OK?’
‘I . . . I really don’t feel well.’ Not a lie.
‘Want me to come with you?’
‘No, no, it’s fine.’ She started to sweep her things into her satchel.
‘Mademoiselle Feather,’ said Madame Renoir, ‘are you going somewhere?’
‘Miss, I feel really ill . . .’
She mustn’t have looked too brilliant either because the teacher nodded. ‘D’accord. Vite!’
Sally careered into the corridor, feeling like she was suffocating. She saw the fire escape at the end of the hall and lurched towards the open air. She started to run, her Converse slapping against the polished floor. Pushing against the bar, she tumbled into the yard and gulped in fresh air. The pigeons and crows gorging on leftover break-time snacks scattered, cawing their disapproval. Sally gathered her wits and hurried towards the main gates so fast she didn’t see the figure coming around the corner of the science block until she ploughed into him.
It was Kyle, and he looked angry.
Chapter Sixteen
No. Sally backed up. He wasn’t angry, he was shocked . . . scared even – a rabbit in her headlights. He backed away from her, eyes wide. Well, as wide as they could physically go with all the swelling – he had two black eyes and a nasty red gash on his cheek. He was so disfigured, he was only just recognisable as Kyle.
Did I . . . ? Did she . . . do that?
‘OK, darlin’ here’s what you’re gonna do.’ It was Molly Sue and she was back, loud and clear. ‘Before ya start freakin’ out, I want ya to stand up real tall and ask him if he’s done what ya told him to do.’
They faced-off at opposing sides of the playground like a pair of cowboys at high noon. Empty crisp packets rolled across the concrete in place of tumbleweeds. Sally did as she was told, trying to stop her voice from shaking. ‘Did . . . you do what I told you to do?’
Kyle scanned the deserted path for help. Sally could see it even in his malformed face: he was scared of her. Perhaps he should be. He actually held up his hands in surrender. ‘I . . . I only just got here, Sally. No one found me until this morning! You . . . you have to give me some time . . . I’ll do it, I promise.’
Molly Sue piped up again. ‘Now tell him he knows what’ll happen if he don’t.’
‘Well . . . you better . . . do it . . . or you know what’ll happen.’ Sally tried her hardest to be menacing, but her voice sounded high and strangled.
‘I know, I know! I’ll break up with Jennie.’
Sally tried to keep surprise off her face. ‘Good. Do it . . . nicely.’ That one was all her own.
‘Tell him he has until the end of the day.’
‘You have until the end of the day. I . . . mean it,’ she threw in for good measure.
‘You might also wanna remind him what’ll happen if we so much as see him put a pinky on another girl . . .’ Molly Sue’s voice contained an unmistakeable smirk.
‘And you know what’ll happen if I see you even look funny at another girl.’
Kyle nodded. He looked like he might cry. ‘I . . . I promise.’
‘Good,’ Sally said. ‘And if you tell anyone what I did . . .’
‘God, I won’t! Do you really think I want the whole school to know that you did this to me?’ He stopped himself, no doubt scared of what she’d do. ‘Can I go?’
‘Yeah!’ Molly Sue chuckled. ‘Tell the jackass to run on home to his mama!’
‘Just . . . go,’ Sally said.
Kyle scuttled into the school like a mouse some cat had tired of pawing.
You and I need to talk, Sally told Molly Sue.
Sally couldn’t go home because her mother would be there, but there was no way she could go back into school with such a congested mind. Instead she went to the diner and squashed herself into the darkest booth in the darkest corner. At this time of day, it was pretty empty – there was one mother with a toddler and a single waitress playing on her phone behind the neon and chrome counter. With what little money she had, she ordered an Oreo milkshake in one of those metal tumblers, the way she’d seen Todd and Melody do from outside on the pavement.
What did you do to him?
‘Oh, here it comes!’ Molly Sue groaned. ‘You’re such a nag. Girl, I did you a favour.’
You STOLE my body!
‘No I didn’t! You told me I could take it!’
You know what I mean! You hurt him!
‘You deaf or somethin’? I thought you wanted him to leave your girl alone . . . mission accomplished.’
Sally fought the urge to scream at the tattoo out loud. I didn’t ask you to mash his face!
‘What can I say? I figured askin’ real sweet might not get the job done.’
Tell me what you did.
‘Why?’
Sally clenched her jaw. Molly Sue, you can’t do things like that with MY body! I . . . I can’t remember ANYTHING about last night. You talked to Todd! What did you say to him? What did you do? It . . . it’s not fair!
‘Ya wanna talk about fair? How you wanna try being a freakin’ drawing for a few hundred years?’ Molly Sue broke off suddenly as if she knew she’d said too much.
A few hundred years?
She paused. ‘I can show you last night if you really wanna see it.’
Of course I want to see it! It’s MY body.
‘OK. Just relax, darlin’. You’re head’s about to get real full . . .’
Boom.
Darkness. And then, colours.
It was like watching a film – passive. There were words and sounds and colours, but she was outside of the action. A hi-def, 3D movie over which she had no control. Sally was a passenger in her own head, Molly Sue in the driving seat. The first thing she saw was The Old Boat Shed – right where Molly Sue had taken over the night before. She joined the queue of people filing in.
Being in her head felt claustrophobic, like she was hermetically sealed inside a suitcase. Molly Sue was right at home, though, testing her muscles, stretching her limbs, rolling her neck, curling her fingers and toes – Sleeping Beauty awoken from her long, deep sleep.
The back of Molly Sue’s hand was stamped with a red stop sign to show she was under eighteen, and then allowed in The Shed. It was cramped and sweaty and the warm-up act – Kyle’s band – were already on. Sally hated them and she sensed Molly Sue did too. The instruments were so high in the mix they were crunchy and distorted, totally overshadowing the vocals – although the singer was pretty much just growling into the mic.
Hardcore fans were at the front by the stag
e, moshing and bounding into one another like Weebles. Molly Sue was unimpressed; Sally could feel her thoughts and she thought they were try-hards – LOOK HOW WILD WE ARE! They weren’t wild, they were sheep. Girls trying to impress boys, boys trying to impress boys.
Molly Sue sidled to the bar, sashaying in a way that Sally never would, her hips swinging from side to side. When Molly Sue walked with Sally’s legs she lifted her feet for one thing – one foot in front of the other, like a lady panther. She fixed the dimpled-cheeked bar boy in a vice glare. ‘Double malt on the rocks.’ Molly Sue’s words, Sally’s accent. It sounded insane.
The bar boy looked at the underage stamp on her hand, but she continued to stare him down with a look that said, And what? He went to get her whiskey without question. She paid him and rewarded him with a curve of her lips, lifting herself onto a bar stool. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she downed the drink in one huge gulp. ‘Dear God, I was ready for that, you have no idea. Can I get another, cutie-pie?’ He did as he was told, blushing.
That was when Todd appeared at the other end of the bar. Trapped in her own head, Sally screamed at Molly Sue – stay away from him – but he’d already clocked her and wove his way through the crowd. ‘Hey, Sally. Didn’t know you were coming tonight.’
‘Well, here I am.’ Sally felt Molly Sue’s weariness – she had little patience for schoolboys, Sally suspected, but the last thing she wanted was to upset Todd. He looked so good tonight – he was wearing a creased Hollister shirt, rolled to the sleeve to reveal thick forearms. Enough buttons were undone to see the curve of his chest and a light smattering of dark hair. Sally liked that, it was . . . masculine.
Molly Sue must have taken pity on Sally’s doomed crush because she summoned the energy to make conversation. ‘Thought it’d be nice to support . . . whatshisface . . . Kyle.’
‘The band are pretty good.’
‘They’re terrible.’
‘Ha! Yeah . . . but it’s better than nothing, right?’
‘If you say so.’
‘Wow,’ Todd said as the bar boy arrived with her drink. ‘Didn’t have you down as a whiskey drinker.’
