Everlong: (Book One of the Everlong Trilogy)

by Nikki Morgan

  I bounced out of bed and clutched angrily at a pile of clothes on the floor. How dare they come back and take the one place that I felt like I could be myself! It was bloody unfair of them, I thought -pulling on the first woollen jumper I came to - that they had stolen my one sanctuary.

  I dived into the bathroom, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and quickly pulled a brush through my hair. Then, I left the house.

  Outside it was still dark, the street lamps still lighting up the sky with their sickly orange glow. I wrapped my arms around myself to keep warm and began walking.

  Now and then, I bumped into people who said hello but I ignored them; I was in too foul a mood to deal with their happy lives. There was a family coming out of a house on Cope street, a little girl with curly blonde hair and her blue eyed older brother laughing despite the cold and earliness of the hour. They grasped their mother's hand as she led them to her car. Their mother was smiling as the little girl was telling her about having to wave at the trees because they were waving at her.

  I looked away, jealous of their happiness.

  Evie

  A week of pretending to be at school, faking that I was happy, that I was normal, was exhausting. I was glad when Monday arrived and I was back at school. I went out early, stopping off at Sofia's for a coffee to give me some sort of Dutch courage or something. I could feel my heart racing away with itself in my chest, my palms were sweaty and I was in danger of anxiety overload.

  I switched my phone on. I hadn't done that for over a week; there seemed no point when no one really wanted to talk to me. A pang of loneliness slithered across my insides.

  I scrolled down the list of text messages that had built up since it had been off; there were many from the same people who had been trolling my e-mail account; Ali57 and Razorgirl. I didn't even bother to open them; I didn't want to pick open my wounds today. Besides, as much as they cut me in two when I read them, even I had to admit that they lacked originality. "Die Bitch" seemed to be their particular favourite at the moment.

  I deleted them.

  Then there was a string of messages from Sam, all saying pretty much the same thing; "Are you ok?", "Haven't seen you for a while?", "Do you want me to come over?", "You're quiet?", "Why are you ignoring me?", "Fine, I won't bother". And then nothing since the last one, dated three days ago.

  A new message flashed up from Cassie; "Are you ok?" Do you really expect me to reply? I thought to myself. Do you really want to know? No. Of course you don't. So stop pretending!

  The message continued: "You left early today, I wanted to ask you something, come home straight after school and I'll ask you then, Mom xxx."

  I deleted that too.

  I pressed on Sam's number. After a few rings he picked up.

  'Hello.' His voice was lacking its usual warmth.

  'Hey, you ok?' I asked, trying to sound casual, like a gulf hadn't opened up between us.

  'Yeah, why are you ringing me now?'

  'Oh Sam, I'm sorry I didn't get back to you. I've been really ill and my phone's been playing up, the battery or something-'

  'All week?'

  I bit my lip. I could taste the metallic flavour of blood. It was so unlike him to be even a little bit angry with me. 'I know, I'm sorry. Life's been....life's been crap; Cassie's got engaged-'

  'Again?' asked Sam, his voice rising a few octaves.

  'Yep.'

  'Do you want to tell me about it over breakfast?'

  I felt myself relax. 'I'm already at Sofia's.'

  'Okay, give me ten and I'll be there.'

  The phone went dead and I was all alone again. Claire, the waitress, came over and placed my coffee and toast in front of me. I said thank you and cupped my hands around the steaming mug of coffee, watching the steam spiral up into the air.

  The growing chasm of loneliness was opening up inside of me, bubbling and churning, trying to swallow me whole. I pushed my toast away; I just couldn't face it.

  I grabbed my tablets from my bag, popped one in my mouth and took a long sip of coffee. The coffee burned my throat as it travelled down. I hoped it would burn the feeling of loneliness away too. But it didn't.

  After ten minutes, Sam strolled into the cafe, the biggest smile on his face. Dependable, loyal Sam. I didn't deserve him.

  We'd been boyfriend and girlfriend in year eight. It'd lasted two months and we'd never got passed the hand-holding stage. He'd told me his deepest darkest secret; that he preferred boys to girls. I didn't care; I'd got secrets of my own. It was these secrets that had bonded us in the beginning and had held us together as we'd grown. Until recently.

  Now we seemed to be sailing away from each other. Ships travelling in opposite directions.

  'Hello!' he said, sliding into the chair next to me, his face shining with his same goofy smile. But things weren't the same. We'd changed.

  There was a time when that smile would've made me feel a million times better, but it had been so long now since his words or smile could comfort me. Maybe it was me that had changed, or I had stagnated as the world moved on.

  But I still loved him, like he was my own brother.

  'Hiya,' I said, 'how are you?'

  'I'm fine but God, you look like shit!' he said, smiling widely again.

  'Thanks.'

  'My pleasure,' he said, pulling the plate of cold toast over to him, 'Do you mind?'

  I shook my head. 'No, go ahead,' I said, rolling my eyes, 'I'm sure that's all you hang around with me for!'

  'Well, it's not your good looks, is it?'

  I smacked his shoulder with my hand.

  'Anyway, you owe me, not answering my messages. I was worried, you know after...'But Sam let the sentence hang and took another big bite of toast.

  Immediately the atmosphere changed; a black cloud had entered the room and I knew that Sam felt that way too. Maybe that was what had come between us, my inability to share with Sam how low I'd fallen. Why did I treat him like this?

  'No, I'm okay.' I looked at his face; he didn't believe me. 'Honestly,' I said, 'It's just Cassie, getting engaged again.'

  'Another engagement, eh?'

  'Yep, she's asked me to be bridesmaid-'

  'Eugh!' said Sam, exaggerating a shudder, 'imagining you in a posh dress is turning me off your toast!'

  'Thanks. It's been hell living with her since she got back, you should try living with it.'

  'No, thanks. Got enough with my own parents.'

  Guilt suddenly ripped through me. I could feel my shame written in red over my face. How could I be so ignorant of my best friend's life? 'Is everything okay?'

  'Yeah, yeah,' he said, with a light dismissal of the hand, 'nothing I can't handle.'

  So, he didn't trust me enough to tell me. Had I really let him down that bad?

  'So, what was wrong with you last week?'

  'Just the flu,' I lied, as Sam pretended to recoil in horror, 'I'm okay now though!' We were both keeping things from each other. But what else was I supposed to say? Oh, yeah, sorry Sam, I wasn't at school because I'm depressed? 'So, what've I missed?' I asked, trying to divert the conversation before the tears, building at the back of my throat, exploded. I was struggling, despite my promise not to cry in front of people. I didn't know what was wrong with me; I usually had no problem locking them inside of me, until recently.

  'Loads,' he said, but then he saw the look of horror on my face and added, 'nothing you can't catch up with though!'

  'Great!' I said, leaning back in my chair. I pulled at the collar of my jumper; I was starting to feel really hot and an uncomfortable sicky feeling was building in the pit of my stomach.

  'Are you okay? Are you sure you're over-'

  'I'm fine,' I lied, again, putting my hand in the air to stop any more questions. I realised my legs were bouncing up and down under the table.

  'Don't worry,' he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. 'It's only the beginning of A-levels, you'll make up what you've missed, easy. You'll cinch it.'<
br />
  I smiled weakly.

  'Come on, let's go before we're late.'

  I nodded, scraping back my chair. I stood up and grabbed my bag, but my head started swimming. My legs felt like lead, and they didn't want to move, they wanted to melt away so they didn't have to hold me up. The fluttering was starting in my chest again and I felt really, really hot.

  'Are you sure you're okay?' asked Sam.

  'Yeah, must still be a little flu-y, I'll be fine,' I replied, steadying myself with a hand on the table.

  'Come here,' said Sam, placing his arm around me.

  It felt good to have his arm around me, to have someone there to support me. He smelt of soap and hair mousse and comfort and warmth, and friendship. How had I let him slip so far away?

  He held me all the way to school. It really was a good thing he was there because I don't know whether I would've made it to school otherwise. My legs seemed to have developed a mind of their own and they really didn't want to work. Being with Sam forced me to move, forced me to keep going forwards, to not turn around and run away.

  As we passed through the cafeteria I heard Amber say at the top of her voice, 'Ah, look, they've let the freaks out on day release.'

  I tried to ignore her, tried to hold my head up high. It was a struggle as my insides felt like they were crumbling in on themselves, but I was determined that I wouldn't let her make me run. I was not going to run.

  The first day back was so hard. I saw the nurse and she took notes, telling me that she would have to inform the teachers. I agreed, adding, 'Please don't tell my mom.' I didn't need that, not at the moment. All I could imagine was that this would come out, Cassie and Dan would argue and then split and it would all be my fault; everything else was my fault. I couldn't deal with that. The nurse wasn't impressed, but agreed as long as I kept going to see her.

  When I got home that afternoon, I was relieved to not be greeted by the sound of a banging headboard, but that relief was short-lived as I found Cassie and Celia hunched over the dining table, surrounded by swatches of fabric and piles of open wedding magazines full of expensive cakes, dresses and bouquets.

  'I think,' said Celia, pulling a magazine to her, 'that's gorgeous. This dress would look so good on you. That dress with a crimson rose bouquet would be amazing for a winter wedding.'

  'You know, that would be so romantic. Christmas Eve would be lovely wouldn't it? Especially if we could book Saint John's.'

  I cringed when Cassie said Saint John's, it just seemed so disrespectful and such a repugnant idea. Dad is buried there, I wanted to say, you married him there, but all I managed was 'Hello.'

  Cassie looked up, her green eyes dazzling like emeralds. It was easy to see why men were so captivated by her. 'Hi Hun, you had a good day?'

  'Yeah, thanks,' I said, sidling on past them and into the kitchen.

  'Come and have a look at what Celia and I have been doing,' she shouted after me.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before answering. 'Okay, let me get a glass of water first.' I heard Celia mutter something, but I couldn't quite make out what it was. I grabbed a drink and then went back into the dining room. 'So, what've you been up to?' I asked, trying to muster as much enthusiasm as I could.

  'We've been swimming,' said Celia.

  'Really, I didn't think you could swim-'

  'Der!' said Celia, sneering at me, her horsey mouth contorted like she was about to neigh, 'Of course we haven't been swimming. We've been looking at wedding stuff.' She said the last words really slowly like I was hard of hearing, but then, I had just walked straight into it.

  'Right,' I said.

  'Yeah, look at this,' said Cassie, pushing a magazine over to me. It was a picture of a stick thin model dressed in an ivory taffeta gown.

  'That's nice.'

  'Nice? What kind of word is "nice"?' asked Celia.

  'That's better,' I said, sitting down and pulling another magazine towards me. I was not going to let Celia get the better of me. Not this time. 'That would really suit you, Mom.' I presented the open magazine to Cassie, it had a picture of a model in a simple vintage silk dress. 'Simple and yet elegant. You'd look like a movie star.'

  Cassie's eyes widened as she took the magazine to get a better look at the dress, 'I love it!'

  'You'd look like Ava Gardner or Rita Hayworth,' I said, adding the last name in hope of a response. My dad loved the old black and white movies, especially Rita Hayworth in Gilda.

  'That would be a great theme,' said Cassie, putting the magazine on the table, so that she could spread her hands in the air, 'The Golden Age of Hollywood.'

  'A theme? That's a bit last Century, isn't it?' said Celia, her face looked like she was sucking a lemon. Not much different to normal.

  'Oh Celia, come on, it'd be fun!' said Cassie, placing her head playfully on Celia's shoulder. 'No,' she said, raising her head from Celia's shoulder, her eyes brimming with excitement, 'even better, what about fancy dress at the party?'

  'A party?' I asked. My voice sounded like I'd sucked the helium out of a ten balloons, it was that high.

  'Yeah, next Friday,' said Cassie, looking up at me through her eyelashes, her head tilted to the side, 'it's Celia's present to me and Dan, an engagement party at the club where Carl works. You up for it?'

  'Yeah,' I said, trying to sound really excited. I wasn't. But what else could I say? I could feel Celia's eyes boring down on me. I didn't look at her.

  'What about an Eighties and Nineties disco-'

  'Really?' asked Celia.

  'Yeah, come on Sis, let's dance like we used to! Let's forget all the bad stuff and just dance!' Cassie looked at Celia with her pleading "lost puppy" face. 'Come on, it'll be fun!'

  'And fancy dress?' asked Celia.

  Cassie didn't say a word, but her face lit up with a huge smile and I knew Celia didn't stand a chance.

  'Okay,' said Celia, finally cracking a smile, 'It'll be fun, I'll sort it with Tom the DJ and I'll text or e-mail everyone to say it's fancy dress.'

  'Thank you!' said Cassie, flinging her arms around her sister.

  This week was now feeling more like a war zone - my first counselling session, a fancy dress party, and somehow I had to pin down Dexter, to arrange a time to work on our English presentation, due in first Monday after the holiday, even though he was one of the last people I really wanted to talk to right at that moment, but time was ticking and I couldn't afford to fail English.

  How the hell was I going to get through it all?

  Evie

  The demonic beast inside me was growing fat, feeding on my fears and anxieties that I dragged around like a ball and chain. The idea of the engagement party was filling me with horror, and every day as it drew closer, I could feel the dark cloud above me growing stronger. Even worse, Celia had told me not to worry about the costume for the party because she'd sort it out, but as Celia hated me, I knew I should do the complete opposite and worry like Hell. Celia was never nice, not to me. But before I even got to the party, I had counselling to get through and, more worryingly, I had to try and sort out study time with Dexter for our mixed pairs English presentation, because he didn't look like he was going to make the first move and we only had a few weeks left before the half-term holiday.

  We were back in our usual seats for English (we were supposed to be working on the presentations in our own time which was proving a little bit difficult). We had English together on Tuesday afternoon so I decided I'd grab him then, at the end of class. I didn't want to, and the thought of speaking to him actually made me feel sick, but I couldn't fail English, I didn't need any more crap in my life.

  When the bell went for end of school, Mrs Jones dismissed us, but before Dexter could run off I was ready. I leapt out of my seat at the back of the class and bounded over to where he sat with Amber.

  'Er...Dexter?' I said. He looked up and I could feel myself blushing. Amber sneered at me from under her thick lashes. Suddenly I felt very hot. I pulled at t
he neck of my jumper, feeling as though the eyes of the world were watching me, not just Dexter, Amber or any of the sixth formers still loitering in the class. 'We need to work out a time to work on the presentation, I was thinking, we could do it in our free period, tomorrow-'

  'He's busy,' said Amber, quickly jumping in, her arm sliding across Dexter's shoulder.

  'Well, we need to sort it out,' I said, focusing on Dexter, on being strong and just standing on the spot rather than running away, which is what my legs really wanted to do. I just kept telling myself that I couldn't fail, I had to get this presentation done, one way or another, even if it killed me. 'It needs to be done by the Monday after half-term, and I can't do it over half-term-'

  'Like I said, he's busy.'

  Dexter huffed. He stuffed his paper and books into his bag.

  'I was speaking to Dexter, not you,' I said, sounding a little bit angrier than I had intended. I just wanted to get the goddamn assignment done. I didn't need this, I'd got too many things going on in my life and I could feel it all churning around in my stomach. 'After all, it's Dexter that I'm doing the presentation with, not you.'

  Amber's mouth dropped open and she stared at me with incredulous eyes. She looked like she was trying to find something nasty to say. 'Dexter,' she said, finally, but the venom in her voice was purely for my benefit.

  Dexter stood up quickly and grabbed his bag off the table. Amber's face fell as he let her arm fall away roughly from his shoulders. He rummaged around in his bag before fetching out a wodge of folded, dog-eared, paper. 'Here,' he said, thrusting it into my chest. 'It's all my stuff for the presentation, you can work around it.' He brushed passed me, leaving Amber sitting alone at the table.

  ‘But we’re supposed to be working on this together,' I called after him. 'How are we going to pass if we don't-‘

  He stopped abruptly in the middle of the room, and spun on the spot to face me. ‘Yeah, well, that's not my problem. I tried to get us new partners but Mrs Jones isn't having any of it. I might have to work with you in class, but that doesn't mean I want to spend time with you outside of it, does it?'