‘All you have to do is ask,’ Sadie sings. ‘Just one word to save her life. Why won’t you do that for your friend?’
I shake my head. I can’t.
Grace’s eyes narrow: You can talk, they say. I know you can.
Sadie presses her hand further into Jasmine’s back. ‘If you don’t talk, she’ll die. All you have to do is say just … one … word.’
Jasmine whimpers, her eyes begging me to help. I start to cry. Great, wracking sobs. Please don’t hurt her. Please!
‘You can save her, Megan. You’re just choosing not to,’ Sadie says with a smug grin.
Grace takes a step towards me, her jaw clenched. She thinks I’m selfish. Cruel. Cowardly.
No, no, I’m not. I just can’t. Please don’t take her away from me!
But Sadie is slowly shaking her head, as if she’s disappointed. Her elbow juts out as she pulls back her hand and thumps it into Jasmine, who pitches forward in slow motion, arms wheeling, before hurtling out of sight.
I open my eyes. I’m on my bed. Can’t breathe. Can’t move. I tell myself to turn on the light, but my arm is locked. Why can’t I move?
Because you’re weak. Pathetic.
A strangled sound escapes from my mouth. I try to stop it, but it scratches across my throat, tears a trail over my tongue.
My fingers twitch. I can move! I swipe a hand through the darkness and it collides with my lamp, which crashes to the floor. I fumble for the switch. Finally, it clicks and light sweeps away the shadows.
Nausea rolls around my stomach. I gulp in more air, trying to slow my thumping heart.
I just about make it to the bathroom before I’m sick. I lean against the toilet bowl, blood roaring in my ears.
A cold hand rests on the back of my neck. ‘You OK?’ Mum mumbles, her head turned away from the smell.
I don’t respond.
You’re evil.
‘Megan?’ Mum asks. ‘Are you all right?’
I nod. My brain thuds around like a ping-pong ball.
You deserve to be punished.
‘Are you going to be sick again?’ Mum asks, taking a step back.
I flush the toilet.
‘Do you want some water or mouthwash or something?’
I shake my head.
‘How about heartburn tablets? Think I’ve got some in the cabinet.’
I shake my head again, almost smiling. Mum thinks that any illness can be solved with heartburn tablets.
‘All right,’ she says softly. ‘I’ll just go back to bed then.’
I know what she wants. She wants to be a mumsy mum: the type who would tuck me into bed with a kiss and a cup of hot chocolate. But that’s not her. I’m OK with that. I just wish she was.
Mum pats the top of my head and returns to her bedroom, but doesn’t quite pull the door shut. I hear her open the window, then there’s the flick of a lighter. She’ll spray deodorant afterwards, thinking it will mask the smell.
I stumble back to my room and into bed. Remnants of the dream buzz around me like wasps. Every time I close my eyes, I see the look on Jasmine’s face, just before she fell. I know what she was thinking: You betrayed me.
CHAPTER NINE
When my alarm goes off the next morning, my eyelids are leaden and there’s a slow beat drumming on my temples. I wrench my eyes open but everything is unfocused. I can’t have had more than a couple of hours’ sleep. I wait for my vision to clear before shuffling into the corridor.
The bathroom door is open and a cloud of lemon-scented steam is curling out. Mum’s standing in front of the mirror with a towel wrapped around her, pulling odd faces as she puts mascara on.
When Mum sees me watching, she starts to talk, but her voice hasn’t quite woken up yet. She clears her throat and tries again. ‘Are you still ill? Do you want me to call school?’ She looks at me properly and actually gasps. ‘Look at the state of you! You can’t go out like that!’ She reaches out to try to flatten my hair.
I jerk away from her.
‘Oh, come on, I’m only joking!’ And she laughs, just to prove it.
Ha bloody ha.
Mum stops laughing and her eyes harden so fast they almost crack. ‘Fine,’ she snaps. ‘Are you staying or going, because I’ve got to leave for work. Make your mind up quickly.’
I’m so tired. I just can’t face it today. I point to my bed.
Mum nods once, then heads downstairs.
‘I’ll ring Jasmine’s mum too,’ she says. ‘Tell her not to call for you today.’
I wake mid-morning. My room feels stuffy so I push the window open, taking deep breaths of the air that wafts inside, bringing the scent of rain with it.
I spend the day flicking through rubbish on TV. I’m on my fifth episode of some dining/dating show when Mum comes through the door. She calls out, ‘Hiya. I was let off a bit early because we were quiet. Have you been sick again?’
I reach for the remote, my arm heavy and languid. I mute the TV, lift my head and shake it at her.
Mum looks mischievous. ‘You’ve got a visitor!’ she announces.
What? Please don’t tell me you mean Jasmine!
I’ve been in these pyjamas all day. I didn’t even bother to have a shower this morning. My skin feels greasy, my hair lank. I so don’t want her seeing me like this!
Jasmine’s earrings tinkle as she pokes her head round the door. ‘Hi! How are you feeling? What is it? Stomach bug? Or did you eat something bad? We went to this Chinese buffet in Cyprus. Oh my God, Megan, I was so ill. I can’t even touch prawns now. Just the thought of them makes me queasy. At least, I think it was the prawns. There was this beef dish as well … I’m not sure.’
‘I think she’ll be OK to go back tomorrow,’ Mum says. ‘I don’t think I can keep her in another day. She’s like a wild animal – always wants to be outside!’
Great. Thanks for that, Mum.
Jasmine grins. I manage a flicker of a smile in return, then retreat behind my hair.
Mum ushers Jasmine into the living room, then hovers just outside the door as she takes off her coat and shoes.
Jasmine sinks into the sofa next to me. I breathe in her lovely, incensey smell. She taps her lap. ‘Do you want to put your feet up?’
A blush devours my face and I shake my head.
‘Come on, silly.’ Jasmine laughs, pulls my legs up and rests them across her thighs. I stare in horror at the pink bunny rabbits dancing across my pyjamas, but Jasmine doesn’t seem to notice.
‘I sat with Luke on the bus today. He was telling me what you were like, you know, before …’ Her words trail off, then she says, ‘I wish I’d known you then.’
I look away.
‘Fancy a cuppa, Jasmine?’ Mum asks.
Jasmine nods. The moment Mum leaves, she leans forward eagerly. ‘Someone was waiting for me at the bus stop tonight.’ She lets a pause hang for a few dramatic seconds, before gushing, ‘It was Owen!’
I stiffen.
‘I mean, I’m quite flattered that he likes me, but I’m not sure how I feel about him. I don’t know if the whole rebel thing is sexy or scary.’
Scary. Definitely scary. And he’s blatantly just interested in one thing.
As soon as I think it, I feel bad. There are loads of reasons why boys would be interested in Jasmine. I’m just bitter.
You’re a cow.
I jump. Breathe. Tell myself to act normal.
Jasmine misreads my expression. ‘Don’t you think he’s good-looking?’
I snort.
‘Does that mean you don’t?’
I shrug. I’m no good at this type of thing.
Mum rushes in. I wonder how long she’s been eavesdropping. ‘Oh, that whole family’s a bad lot. Dad went to prison, you know,’ she utters in a scandalised whisper. ‘I’m telling you, Jasmine, some of the things we’ve heard through the walls … Well, just steer clear of him if you want my advice. He’s trouble.’
For once I’m grateful for Mum’s loos
e tongue.
Jasmine doesn’t know what to say. She pauses, then offers Mum a vague smile. ‘Thanks for the warning. I’ll think about it.’
‘Do you want to stay for dinner?’ Mum asks. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll make Megan have a shower first.’
For God’s sake! I’m not five!
Jasmine smiles. ‘That would be great, thanks. I’ll just text my parents.’
Mum leaves and the microwave starts to hum in the kitchen.
Jasmine whips round, her eyes shining. ‘Guess what?’ she whispers, casting a quick glance behind to make sure Mum’s not there. ‘Owen asked if we want to meet them in Lyndhurst on Friday night.’
I’m already shaking my head.
‘Oh come on, Megan. Please. It’ll be fun! He’s going to get us some booze and we’ll just hang out in the park.’
Brilliant. So he wants to get you drunk. This is a bad, bad idea. We can’t go. No way.
‘There’ll be boys there. Owen’s mates.’
As if that will convince me!
‘Or bring Luke if you like.’
I don’t think so.
‘Don’t make me go alone, Megan.’
Alone? You can’t go alone.
Jasmine pouts. How can I be angry with her when she looks like that?
You’re not leaving me much of a choice.
She sees me wavering and makes one last effort. ‘Pleeeeaaaase!’
OK. But I’m not drinking. And I’m not going any further than Lyndhurst. Even for you.
I nod, feeling slightly sick. Jasmine stifles a squeal as she claps her hands together. ‘It’s going to be great, I promise! You tell your mum you’re at mine, and I’ll tell my parents I’m at yours! We’ll get the last bus back to Brookby at half eleven.’
She’s already planned it out. Despite myself, I smile.
On Friday, Jasmine and I huddle together on a dark street. It’s a cold, damp night and the bus is late. Lindsay and Josh are a few feet away. They’re so engrossed in each other, they don’t even realise we’re here.
I don’t know Lindsay that well. In primary school, our little gang consisted of me, Hana, Sadie and Grace. But it all changed when we started secondary school. It was just Sadie and Grace for a year or so, until Lindsay showed up. Then the three of them were inseparable. I can see why Sadie wanted Jasmine to join the group – four was always a good number.
It’s strange to see Lindsay without Sadie. I wonder if they’re all meeting somewhere. God, I hope they’re not coming to the park with us. No, that wouldn’t happen. Everyone knows that Sadie and Owen haven’t spoken since their break-up in the summer.
I try not to stare at them. It’s really hard! Jasmine sniggers and tries to disguise it as a cough.
Lindsay disentangles herself. ‘What you staring at?’
‘Nothing,’ Jasmine says coolly, moving a little further down the road.
‘Yeah. You’d better not be. Don’t think you can steal my man, like your mum stole my dad’s job. I’m watching you, new girl.’
‘Welcome to Brookby,’ Jasmine mutters, ‘where everyone’s so friendly.’
I rub her shoulder and she manages a quick smile. Jasmine’s wearing a short denim skirt and leather boots. Her large earrings tumble through her hair: two tear-shaped amber stones hanging above several silver twists. Every few minutes, she tugs at her skirt self-consciously. I wish I could tell her how nice she looks.
I find my phone and hold it up to take a selfie. We put our heads together, grinning like idiots, then blink away the dots of light after the flash. I study the photo. I look so pasty next to Jasmine. My hair falls in unruly waves, in contrast to her tight curls. My eyes just seem dull next to the rich brown of hers.
Jasmine points at the bus trundling towards us. ‘Finally. About bloody time.’
Inside, the heating’s on, but we’re both frozen, so we shuffle close together. I shut my eyes, enjoying the feeling of her warm body against mine, trying to forget where we’re going and who we’re meeting.
Jasmine nudges me and I open my eyes. ‘Look what I’ve got,’ she says with an impish grin, holding up a bottle of water.
I frown. What’s so special about water?
‘It’s Archers and lemonade, Megan.’
I blush. I’m such an idiot!
‘Want some?’
I shake my head, my stomach lurching.
‘Go on!’
Jasmine takes a swig, then waves it under my nose. I get a sickly-sweet whiff of peaches and lemon. I wonder how much is Archers and how much is lemonade. It smells pretty strong.
You don’t know what I’m like when I’m drunk.
I pull my notepad out and scribble: I don’t drink.
‘But you have drunk before, right?’
I nod, wincing slightly. Please don’t drag that up. Just don’t.
‘Then you know it’ll make you feel good. Help you relax.’
I said no! I think, turning away. I can’t, OK? I can’t lose control. Stop pushing.
‘All right,’ she says quickly. ‘Sorry. It’s up to you. Guess I’ll have to drink both of these myself.’ Jasmine pulls another bottle from her bag, her eyes glinting.
There’s a flutter of panic in my chest. I can’t let her drink both! She’ll be wasted. I bet Owen would love that. I grab the unopened bottle.
‘Yes! Good girl!’
But I shove it straight in my bag.
Jasmine sighs. Great. She thinks I’m boring now. I’m completely spoiling her night.
Why does she bother with you?
‘If you’re not going to drink it, can I have it back, please?’ Jasmine asks, her voice flat. She’s going to ditch me as soon as we get there. I’ll be left behind, just like before. All because I can’t let go.
‘Megan?’ Jasmine asks, a trace of irritation in her voice.
No. I won’t let you drink all that on your own.
I yank the bottle out of my bag, unscrew the lid in a few rapid, jerky movements, and take a massive gulp before I can change my mind. The Archers stings my throat. It almost comes back up again, but I make myself swallow. Jasmine grins, then drinks some more.
Half an hour later, when we reach Lyndhurst, my bottle is empty and my head feels fuzzy. Jasmine’s got this happy, dazed expression on her face and I’m pretty sure I look the same. We get up just before the bus stops, swaying and giggling down the aisle, arms linked to stop each other from toppling over.
Outside, it doesn’t seem as cold any more. I keep my arm hooked through Jasmine’s. Not just to steady myself. I like it. I’m having fun now. I wonder what the hell I was worrying about. I wonder why Mr Harwell doesn’t prescribe alcohol to help me relax, instead of stupid breathing exercises.
We stagger up the High Street, towards the park where we’re meeting Owen. Dunno where Lindsay and Josh went – must’ve gone the other way. Unless they were too busy snogging on the back seat and missed the stop!
We take a load of comedy pictures on my phone. One with Jasmine flaring her nostrils, one of me crossing my eyes. One of the ladder in Jasmine’s tights, which is so, so funny, even though we don’t know why.
Can’t believe how dizzy I am! Mustn’t drink any more. But Jasmine’s right. I’m so chilled out now. I’m never chilled out. It feels good.
We reach the park gates and Jasmine drops my arm to wave at someone. I hold back, my nerves sobering me, as she weaves across the path. There are several lads and a couple of girls standing beneath a lamp, their cigarette smoke wafting up into the orange light.
‘All right?’ Owen peels off from the group and saunters towards Jasmine. Cocky bastard! ‘Want a drink?’
‘Yeah, what have you got?’
‘Vodka.’
‘Fine. Great.’
I wonder if Jasmine’s ever had vodka before. I haven’t.
‘OK with you, Megan?’ Jasmine asks, looking back at me. She gives me a reassuring smile and holds out her hand. Without hesitation, I step forward and take it.
>
Owen introduces us to the others, though Jasmine has to remind him what my name is. ‘Megan’s your next-door neighbour and you don’t even know her name!’ She giggles.
I blush. I feel like she’s laughing at me.
Owen stands really close to Jasmine, making sure everyone knows he’s interested. One of his mates winks and throws him a leery look. I loop my arm through Jasmine’s again, pretending I’m cold.
Jasmine asks, ‘Where’s this vodka, then?’
Someone hands her a bottle with a cheap-looking label. She takes a tentative sip, then her face screws up. Jasmine hands me the bottle. There’s a lipstick smudge around the rim that’s not hers. It makes me feel sick, but I resist the urge to wipe it off. What am I doing? I promised I’d never drink again. I swore.
The others are looking at me. ‘Go on,’ Jasmine whispers. I don’t want to embarrass her, so I drink.
It’s foul! Don’t spit it out, Megan. Keep it down. Swallow. That’s right. Just swallow.
I force it down. It blazes a hot trail through my windpipe before settling in my stomach. Actually, now it’s there, it doesn’t feel so bad. Warm. Comforting. Maybe, in a bit, I’ll have some more.
I can’t stop laughing. I dunno why I’m laughing. Can’t remember. The ground is moving, but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything. I just feel so good. So happy. And everything’s hilarious.
Are there trees in the park? I don’t remember. Doesn’t matter. I like trees. Trees are my friends. I’m going to hug one.
‘Megan!’ Jasmine shrieks from somewhere in the darkness. ‘What you doing? Tree-hugger! Hippy!’ She grabs my hand. ‘C’mon.’
Jasmine’s hand is nice. I want to hold it all the time.
‘Owen wants to show us this really cool place.’
Owen. Oh yeah. I remember. Sort of. He drove us here. His driving’s crazy. I was almost sick.
‘C’mon! He wants to show us.’
Show us what? I can’t see anything! It’s too bloody dark!
Just trees. Loadsa loadsa trees. Where are we? Whatever. I don’t care. I like being with the trees.
‘This way, hurry up.’
Unspeakable Page 5
