Still Falling

by Wilkinson, Sheena;

  I look down at the blistered paint of the bench, notice how my hands are clasping it tight, notice that my fingernails are as bitten and raw as Luke’s. ‘N-no,’ I whisper, but it’s a lie. Once I’d heard he was awake everything else disappeared. In a film, his waking up would be the ending. We’d kiss – maybe there’d be tears, but romantic attractive ones, not snot and gulps like the way I’m crying now, and Luke would say what a terrible mistake he had made and how my love had shown him that life was worth living. And Jasmine would come in and say it had all been a mistake.

  Luckily I’m not so far gone as to say all that to Dad.

  ‘Esther, Luke tried to take his own life,’ Dad says. ‘He’s going to need help to get back on track.’

  ‘I would help him!’ It’s not like I hadn’t taken on board how serious it was. I just didn’t think he’d wake up and still be falling.

  ‘Professional help.’ His voice is very calm and non-judgemental and for the first time I see why they made him head of pastoral care.

  He takes off his glasses and presses the bridge of his nose. He looks tired – he looks like Luke’s picture of him.

  ‘Esther – I feel bad about what happened too,’ he says. ‘Luke was clearly in a bad way about something and –’

  ‘You don’t even like him,’ I remind him.

  ‘He was partly in my care. I – maybe I could have read the signals a bit better.’ He looks at me as if he’s making up his mind to tell me something, but he doesn’t say any more.

  ‘Well.’ I sit up straight and force my shoulders back. ‘He doesn’t want to see me, so I – there’s nothing more I can do.’

  ‘No,’ Dad agrees, ‘but he won’t keep on feeling like this. Give him time.’

  I give a huge sniff. ‘I thought you’d be glad he didn’t want to see me.’

  ‘Part of me is,’ he admits. ‘You’re my only child.’ He strokes my hair off my forehead. ‘And yes, I wish I could wrap you in a blanket and keep you home and not let anybody ever hurt you. Because that’s how you feel about your child. But you’re growing up so fast and –’

  ‘I don’t think anyone’s ever felt like that about Luke,’ I whisper. ‘His mum gave him up to social services, and that Helena – I think she tried but she wasn’t very – well, caring.’

  ‘And you are. Maybe too caring.’

  ‘Not anymore.’ Exhaustion swamps me. I can’t do this any more. And he doesn’t even want me.

  We stand up and walk away from the hospital for the last time.

  Esther

  I walk into tutor group with my head high. If anyone looks closely they’ll see I’m wearing makeup to cover my sleepless face, and that my eyes are red. But the good thing about being me is that nobody ever does look closely. Nobody ever did. Until –

  Stop it.

  ‘Esther!’ Toby makes room for me to sit beside him. ‘Is – is everything OK now?’

  ‘Kind of.’ I start asking about homeworks and notes – anything to keep him talking about safe things.

  Cassie whispers to Jasmine but I tune them out. Just like I don’t let my eyes see that Jasmine’s wrist, when she reaches across my desk to hand a magazine to Zara across the aisle, is sporting a bracelet of fading yellow bruises. Baxter looks embarrassed to see me – kind of, Oh no, now I’m going to have to deal with this; why couldn’t she just have stayed off – but he dutifully keeps me back – even though we’d both much rather he didn’t – and asks how Luke is.

  ‘He’ll be OK,’ I say. This is the answer I have decided on.

  ‘And you? Are you – um – OK?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say firmly, ‘thank you.’

  Toby has waited for me outside. I’ve never been so grateful for him, and I chatter inanely about anything to keep him off the subject of Luke. Despite my tuning-out efforts, I pick up before breaktime that people aren’t gossiping about Luke – it’s probably so much less exciting now he’s not going to die. There’s a party at the rugby club at Halloween and that’s what people are obsessing about.

  All the same, I do catch a few interested glances, and when I walk into art the twins stop talking suddenly and become very intent on their easels. Mihai, who normally just does his own thing, nods at me in a kind way.

  ‘Good to see you back, Esther,’ says Beauman. ‘We’re doing portraits this week.’ She explains the logistics of who is drawing whom, and all the time all I can think of is Luke’s picture of me.

  No. I have to stop thinking about him. He’s not thinking about me. He made it clear he doesn’t want me.

  Luke made it clear – keeping in touch wasn’t an option.

  Maybe you’re too caring.

  Never again.

  I’m drawing Zoë and she’s drawing Zara and Zara is drawing me. They witter about how funny it will be if my picture of Zoë looks the same as Zoë’s picture of Zara. I’m tempted to say that since I can draw and Zoë is only really happy with sequins and crayons, I very much hope it won’t, but I can’t be bothered. At least having something to focus on closely helps, though all the time part of my mind is checking perspective and shading, and getting the right shine on Zoë’s gold earrings, another part is betraying me by wondering when Luke did that picture of me, and if he ever planned to show me. And how he felt about me when he painted it, and how that had all gone wrong.

  I can’t bear to go to the sixth-form centre at lunchtime, and Toby always goes to chess club on Mondays so I can’t rely on him for refuge. I’d like to escape from school and hide out in Jus, but I walked out of the house without my purse, so I head for the library. I’ve missed three days of school and I can spend lunchtime catching up a bit. At least there’s only this week to get through before half term. I don’t let my mind formulate the thought that sooner or later Luke’s going to be back at school, and I have to be weaned off him by then.

  Somehow.

  I push open the door of the library and am met with the noisy fug of excited juniors. Wee Lauren, surrounded by her friends, waves out at me, all smiles. I back out, cursing. Monday’s junior book club, once the highlight of my week. How could I have forgotten?

  I hesitate at the door of Dad’s office. I’ve never hidden out there in school – I’ve gone out of my way to avoid him – but I’m nearly desperate enough to knock. But just as I raise my hand I catch voices from behind the door. He’s either in a meeting or pastorally caring for someone. I let my hand fall.

  Not the war memorial – but then I square my shoulders. It was my place for years before it was our place. Maybe going there, reclaiming it, will help.

  I trudge through the grounds. Junior boys kick a tennis ball in a game of about thirty-a-side. Girls swing their legs on walls and clutch each other.

  The war memorial is the same as ever. It’s stood for nearly a hundred years and it doesn’t care about me and Luke. It doesn’t even care about the eighty-three names engraved on it. For the first time in ages I read down the names, trying to imagine what the boys were like. Old-fashioned names – Piers, Frank, Cyril. No Luke. Stop it! Alec. Same as Dad.

  ‘Esther? There you are.’

  I look up. Toby. ‘Why aren’t you at chess club?’

  ‘Doesn’t matter.’ He looks round. ‘Haven’t been here for years.’ He sits down beside me. He’s so soft and pink and safe compared to Luke, and for a moment I lay my head on his shoulder.

  ‘Esther,’ he says, ‘why won’t you talk about Luke?’

  ‘What’s the point?’

  He opens his eyes wide. ‘The point is there’s something weird going on.’

  ‘Yeah, I kind of got that.’

  ‘No. Listen. What really happened?’

  I sigh. But it’s Toby – he’s my friend; he’s looking at me in concern, just like Ruth, except unlike Ruth he knows Luke too. ‘OK. I don’t know if this is common knowledge, but it wasn’t just a seizure.’ I lower my voice even though there’s nobody around. ‘He took an overdose.’ I know Toby won’t gossip.

  To
by sucks in a breath. ‘Ouch. Some people were saying that. But then Cassie was bleating to anyone who’d listen that it was definitely not true. And I wasn’t sure because – you know – Cassie.’

  ‘That’s weird.’ I frown. ‘Not like her not to want the most dramatic story possible.’

  ‘Maybe she only likes the drama to be about her.’ Toby looks thoughtful. ‘But Luke…? I mean – he has everything going for him.’ He blushes and looks down at his hands.

  Oh Tobes, I think. Not you too. ‘I don’t know. We broke up.’ Which is far too simple to describe what actually happened. ‘But I suppose it must be something to do with what happened with Jasmine.’

  ‘What?’ He looks totally bemused.

  I stare at him in disbelief. ‘Toby – even you must have picked up on what people were obsessing about at the start of last week. Jasmine’s birthday party?’

  He looks blank. ‘I know it was quite decadent,’ he says wistfully. ‘And Strong Drink Taken, and some say Illegal Substances. And two of the first fifteen had a fight over that girl – the one with the eyebrows.’ He shudders. ‘But I didn’t hear anything about Luke.’

  ‘Well’ – might as well say it – ‘Luke and I fell out and I left and after I’d gone he and Jasmine …’ The words stick in my throat. ‘Only she says – well, actually Cassie says, I haven’t spoken to Jasmine – that he – well, forced himself on her. And he’s not denying it.’

  The words spew out now – everything that’s happened since the party – and it’s horrible, but a relief too. Mum and Dad have been surprisingly amazing, but I can’t tell them this; and Ruth has been fabulous, but there’s nothing more she can do.

  ‘And you think it’s true? That he actually – attacked her?’ Toby’s eyes are round with disbelief.

  For a long time I don’t respond. Then I give a slow nod and feel the tears gather at the back of my eyes. ‘I didn’t want to believe it. But I’ve seen the bruises.’

  ‘You have to talk to Jasmine.’ Toby sounds surer of himself than I’ve ever heard him.

  ‘What’s the point?’

  ‘Uh – the truth? Because I don’t believe it.’

  I give a hard little laugh that scratches my throat. ‘You mean you don’t want to. I know. I’ve spent days refusing to believe it – trying to prove that Luke wouldn’t be violent. But that’s not what I’ve found out. I told you what Helena said.’

  ‘That was totally different.’

  He sounds so fierce. I don’t know if it’s friendship for me or a crush on Luke – and how could I not have noticed that? Have I really been so blind to everything but my own feelings? – but he’s saying the things I said to Ruth days ago. Before I gave up.

  ‘Look,’ I say, ‘he didn’t deny it. And I can’t talk to him because he basically told me to walk away and leave him alone. And I – I do have some pride.’ I scrub at my eyes with a disintegrating tissue I’ve unearthed from my blazer pocket.

  ‘So you’re too scared to talk to Jasmine? You’d rather take Cassie Morris’s word? Cassie who hates you?’

  ‘She doesn’t hate me. Maybe she’s a bit –’

  ‘Oh, come on. She’s never forgiven you for telling on her when she bullied you. And she’s jealous of anyone Jasmine even speaks to. Look at how mean she is to the twins.’

  ‘Well, I suppose –’

  ‘Shut up.’

  ‘Toby!’

  ‘Sorry.’ He pats my knee absentmindedly. ‘I mean – I’m thinking. Jasmine never actually said it?’

  ‘I saw her bruises.’

  ‘And people haven’t been talking about it.’ He sounds thoughtful. ‘Even I wouldn’t miss that kind of talk.’

  ‘Maybe Jasmine’s embarrassed.’

  ‘Why? If she was just an innocent victim?’

  ‘Toby – I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s really sweet of you, but I’ve been through all this with Ruth. Jasmine was probably off her head – but that doesn’t excuse –’

  ‘But it might explain her taking Cassie’s word just a bit too seriously.’

  I try to think back to that horrible conversation with Cassie. I go over it with Toby even though I hate remembering it. He forced himself on her. She was in a terrible state. Lucky I was there to look after her.

  ‘Well, I’ve seen Jasmine in a terrible state,’ I say. ‘And she was lucky that time that I was there. Cassie was useless. But even if she was drunk it wouldn’t explain the bruises and it certainly wouldn’t excuse anyone taking advantage of her.’

  ‘You have to talk to her.’ I’ve never heard Toby sound so sure of anything. ‘You go all the way to Dublin to talk to some scary-sounding stranger, and you won’t talk to the one person who might actually be able to help.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘Look at the facts: Jasmine has not been gossiping. In fact now I come to think of it she’s been pretty subdued this last week –’

  ‘Maybe because it’s not very nice to be attacked!’

  ‘And Cassie – Drama Queen herself – has been going round insisting that no way did Luke try to kill himself. Which doesn’t add up unless –’

  ‘Unless she couldn’t bear the guilt if it were true?’

  A tiny flare of hope flickers in my heart. And is immediately doused. Because the bottom line is – if that’s why Luke did it, then he thinks it’s true. And surely he’d know?

  I blurt this out to Toby.

  ‘OK,’ he admits. ‘That’s an added complication. But we must tackle Jasmine. What could be worse than what you’re thinking now?’

  She’s easy to find – she’s in the squashy sofas at the back of the coffee bar where only the cool people sit. One of the twins is painting silver stars on the other’s nails. Jasmine and Cassie are blowing on their own starry nails to dry them. All four look up when they see us.

  ‘Do you want silver stars?’ Zoë-or-Zara asks. ‘Or I can do hearts.’

  ‘No, thanks.’

  ‘Toby?’ She raises her eyebrows suggestively and Cassie sniggers.

  ‘I’m gay,’ he says clearly. ‘I’m not a girl.’

  Eight perfectly made-up eyes widen in amazement, and there’s one of those moments when the whole room seems to go silent and listen. I try not to gasp, but I find Toby’s hand and squeeze it. As far as I know this is the first time he has ever said the word gay out loud in public. When he squeezes my hand back I know why he did it – because if he can be brave, then I have to be too. And I don’t care that Sassy Girl hasn’t been near me for ages – because I’ve grown out of her now. I can do this on my own.

  ‘Jasmine,’ I say. ‘I have to talk to you. About your party.’

  She looks wary. Cassie puts a hand on her arm. ‘Jas. You don’t have to –’

  ‘In private,’ I say.

  The twins look at each other. ‘Come on, Zo. We can finish this in the loos.’ They gather up their stuff and go. Cassie digs her skinny bum deeper into the sofa and looks at me challengingly. Toby gives my hand a last squeeze, then backs off, fiddling with his phone to show – or pretend – he isn’t earwigging.

  ‘Is Luke going to be OK?’ Jasmine asks unexpectedly. Her face, now I’m looking at it closely, is pasty, her eyes baggy behind the mascara.

  ‘Yes. I think he’s getting home today.’

  ‘Good.’

  Cassie is watching both of us carefully. ‘I told you he’d be fine, Jas,’ she says brightly. ‘I mean – it was only his epilepsy, wasn’t it?’ Her voice rises to a little squeak.

  ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘Your dad said he had a seizure and a fall.’

  ‘After taking an overdose,’ I say.

  Jasmine’s hand flies to her mouth and for a moment I think she’s going to be sick. ‘But not – on purpose?’ she chokes out.

  ‘Oh, yes.’

  ‘Why?’ she whispers.

  Cassie darts little glances at me and then at Jasmine. She rubs her tongue over her lips and pulls at Jasmine’s arm. ‘Come on Jas. Thi
s has nothing to do with you.’

  ‘Is that true, Jasmine?’ I ask. ‘Or has it something to do with your party? With you and him at your party?’

  Jasmine twists a long strand of blond hair round her thumb. ‘I haven’t – I haven’t said anything about him at my party.’

  ‘Cassie has. She accused him of something.’

  ‘I did not!’

  ‘You did to me,’ I remind her. ‘You said Luke forced himself onto Jasmine. You said she only just got away.’

  ‘Well, that’s true! I was there. I had to pick up the pieces.’ She thrusts a protective arm round Jasmine.

  ‘Jasmine was there too,’ I say. ‘But maybe she doesn’t remember very well? Because she was a bit – drunk? Like on results night, maybe?’ My heart is banging but my voice is very cool.

  Jasmine looks away. She doesn’t say anything for ages but her throat moves as if she’s trying to find words. Or maybe she’s going to cry. She doesn’t cry. She heaves a long in-breath and says, ‘I have bruises, Esther. Do you want to see?’ She holds out the undersides of her arms which have bracelets of fading yellow. ‘I mean, that’s proof, isn’t it?’ she asks.

  ‘Proof of what? That he tried to rape you?’ The word stabs the air and Jasmine winces.

  ‘I never said … Jasmine rubs her arms. ‘Look, Esther – I was drunk. He was drunk. Things got a bit – out of hand.’

  ‘What kind of things?’

  The bell rings but we all ignore it.

  She opens her mouth and words tumble out, all mixed in with sobs. ‘I … I’m sorry! I never thought …’ She hugs herself, and fights for control. ‘OK,’ she says after some pretty disgusting sniffing. ‘I was pretty out of it. I took some pills. I don’t usually – but it was my birthday and I wanted it to be amazing.’ She looks up, her eyes starry and smudged with tears. ‘I wanted Luke. I admit that. I’d fancied him for ages.’ She looks me up and down. ‘And, no offence, Esther, but I never thought you were a keeper.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘When you stormed off – oh, I saw you go – I thought it was my chance. He was drunk too.’ She sounds suddenly haughty.