‘I see,’ I said. ‘I thought you didn’t want to do anything because you didn’t like me,’ I finished up lamely.
Devlin said, ‘Yeah, I realised that after I got home. I thought you must think I was really rude and ungrateful, you know – because you didn’t know about my problem and why I kept saying I didn’t want to do any of those things.’
‘It must be awful,’ I said. I didn’t like spiders much, they made my skin crawl but it wasn’t a full-blown phobia. I couldn’t imagine what that would be like.
‘I get by okay most of the time. Of course, I have to see a shrink. That’s the best thing about coming here. I get a break from that. The last one I had was terrible; she tried to get me to face my fears. If anything it made it worse. It just fuelled my nightmares. I can avoid water all I want in the day but I have nightmares and I don’t sleep much.’
I remembered that nightmare I’d had about the water and Lily looking at me and not being able to breathe. I jumped up and took his mug.
I wanted to tell him about The Incident and how I understood about not sleeping and nightmares. I think I might have told him but he got in first.
‘I came to apologise and I thought I might be able to make it up to you. I thought we could go out again, to a movie or something, and I promise not to behave like a jerk.’
‘Okay,’ I said, ‘that would be great. I’d like that. Let’s do that.’ Shut up, I thought. Don’t overdo it.
He was grinning at me again. ‘It’ll be great as long as they’re not showing Titanic or Jaws.’
‘Or The Little Mermaid.’
‘Enough!’ said Devlin, laughing and shuddering at the same time. He got up to go.
‘How about Saturday, then? I’ll come down and get you after lunch.’
‘That’s fine,’ I said.
He opened the kitchen door. ‘See ya,’ he said, and was gone, taking the steps two at a time. I had that happy feeling again. Had he just asked me out? Was it a date or was he just being polite? I decided that this was probably just his way of saying sorry so there was no point in getting carried away. But he had said he liked me, hadn’t he?
I pulled my homework towards me. Must concentrate. This was due in tomorrow. Mrs Clark had said something about reading them out in class. I didn’t have a clue what to write. I knew it wasn’t all that important; it wasn’t going towards our grade or anything, but I’d have to come up with something in case she picked me. I’d written The Worst Day at the top of the page and it was taunting me.
I thought about my journal and how I’d nearly finished it. I was going to see Ted tomorrow after school. Suddenly I wanted to get it done; I wanted it out of the way. I wanted to be able to tell him I’d faced up to it. Damn Mrs Clark and her stupid homework. I’d just have to tell her I hadn’t done it. What was the worst that could happen? A detention? Well, big deal.
I stuffed my school books back into my bag and got out my journal. I wrote The Worst Day at the top of the page and began to write.
It wasn’t much of a lunch. Archie sat dipping his banana into his yoghurt while Lily and I peeled our boiled eggs. We tore off pieces of bread and squirted salad cream onto them. Lily missed and the salad cream ran down her wellie boot, which Archie thought was hilarious for some reason, so Lily squirted some onto his chocolate biscuit, which he didn’t find so funny. But he did let us share his packet of biscuits. Then we realised we’d forgotten to bring a drink and we were all claggy from the chocolate biscuits. Lily ate the apple and I shared the satsuma with Archie, which helped a bit. Then we rolled down the bank. Archie wanted to do it again and again. Lily and I left him to it and we lay on our backs in the grass watching the clouds and trying to find pictures in them.
‘There’s a face,’ said Lily, pointing at a shifting, thin cloud. ‘Oh, it’s gone, did you see it?’
‘That’s a dragon, look! There.’
Archie had stopped rolling and was looking for stones in the long grass which he could throw into the muddy bowl.
‘No, it’s not a dragon, it’s a train,’ said Lily.
I was trying to see what she meant when I heard a crashing from the woods. I sat up so I could hear it better. I remembered the sign on the gate saying No Admittance. Was it the boys or was it an irate farmer?
Lily heard it too and obviously decided it was Blue Hoodie and his mates.
‘Let’s go back now,’ she said. I knew what she was thinking. She wanted to flaunt herself at the boys again. As if they’d be interested. She seemed to have forgotten that she was wearing wellies and an old duffle coat.
‘Let’s wait a bit,’ I said, unsure what to do. It hadn’t been much of an adventure and I was getting worried in case no one at home had found the note we’d left. Mum wasn’t the neurotic type and wouldn’t have worried about me and Lily going off for the day, but I wasn’t so sure about Archie’s parents. We might be in real trouble when we got back. On the other hand, I didn’t really fancy entering the woods if the boys were in there. I don’t know why; they just made me nervous.
‘Well, I’m going,’ said Lily, standing up. She picked up the rucksack and put the stone that we’d got for Mum into it and then handed the bag back to me.
‘I’m not carrying that,’ I told her. ‘The stone was your idea so you can carry it.’
Lily tried to put the bag on but it wouldn’t fit over her duffle coat.
‘You’ll have to lengthen the straps,’ I said. She pulled them until they were at their longest and tried again. She got it on but it was a tight fit.
I turned round to call Archie, but I couldn’t see him anywhere.
Chapter Sixteen
I didn’t finish writing in my journal until three o’clock in the morning. Then I slept until my alarm went off at seven forty-five. Tired doesn’t begin to describe how I felt. I wondered about telling Mum I wasn’t feeling well and taking the day off. But in the end I dragged myself out of bed and got ready for school. I put the journal in my bag because, although I knew Ted didn’t want to read it, I wanted to show it to him anyhow.
Writing the final bit last night was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do, but now I’d done it and it felt like I’d done something important. I worried briefly about the fact that I hadn’t done my homework, but that seemed so unimportant in the light of what I had managed to do that I brushed it aside and went to get the bus.
At lunchtime I nearly told the others about the visit I’d had from Devlin and the fact that he’d asked me to go to the cinema with him. I didn’t, though, because I knew they’d get all excited, thinking I had a date with him and I didn’t want to have to explain. It would mean telling them about the disastrous day we’d had and about his phobia and everything, so in the end I decided to keep quiet.
The last lesson of the day was RS with Mrs Clark. Effy and I got there a bit late because our previous lesson had run over. Mrs Clark was already there and she told us to hurry up and sit down. My hopes of sitting at the back and dozing off were ruined because the only two seats left were on the front table and one of the seats was next to Amy. I sidled in first so that Effy didn’t have to sit next to her.
The lesson was about worldwide disasters, political and celebrity scandals and how they were portrayed in the media. I think we were meant to be thinking about ‘truth’ and the angles the media chose when narrating the stories and whether or not they could be trusted. Then we were meant to think about how the internet had changed reporting and how the public were now all involved with mobile phone cameras and social network sites.
To tell the truth, I wasn’t listening that closely because I was so tired. Then it occurred to me that the longer Mrs Clark talked, the less time there’d be to discuss our homework. There’d never be time for everyone to read their stuff out, so I asked a couple of questions to try and prolong the discussion. I’d tell Mrs Clark at the end of the lesson that I hadn’t done the homework; I just didn’t want to have to explain in front of the whole class.
When she finally asked who was going to start by reading out their own ‘worst day’ there was very little enthusiasm. So she picked on a girl who’d written about how her mum had gone into hospital and her dad had forgotten her tenth birthday because he was too busy and worried about her mum. She said she kept waiting for him to say something or give her a present, but he never did and she didn’t like to ask. Then she started thinking that maybe there was going to be a surprise party or something so she got all dressed up, but it never happened and she went to bed and cried herself to sleep.
The spin, or up-side of the story, was that her mum got better and then she got double presents when her mum found out she hadn’t had a birthday.
Then it was the turn of the girl who’d got fake goods for Christmas.
After that was a girl who started going on about her boyfriend and how she’d found out he was seeing someone else when she’d walked in on them at a party. There was a bit of sniggering during this one, but the girl wasn’t taking it very seriously and I began to wonder if it was even true. I suppose that was the point. We were meant to be questioning what we were told by the media after all. The girl ended up throwing her drink all over the couple.
I was watching the clock and trying to keep a low profile so the teacher didn’t pick on me. But then her gaze fell on our table. I held my breath.
‘Amy, let’s hear your contribution.’
I let my breath out, but I didn’t relax because Amy never did her homework so she was unlikely to have anything. I slid down in my seat so Mrs Clark wouldn’t move on to me next. But Amy was standing up and looking pleased with herself. I hoped whatever she had was long because it was ten minutes until the end of the lesson. Amy started to read.
‘The Worst Day,’ she said in a dramatic voice. Then:
‘I called Archie’s name, looking round wildly for him.
‘“Milly, help!” The voice was coming from beyond the bank, from inside the bowl. Lily and I scrambled up the slope and peered over the edge.
‘It was instantly clear what had happened. Archie’s yoghurt pot had rolled down the inside of the bowl and come to rest on the black sludge where its whiteness stood out starkly against the black. He’d obviously thought he could retrieve it and had gone down after it, but there was no footing on the slimy bricks and he was pressed against the side with his feet resting in the mud.’
It took a minute for me to realise what Amy was reading. I couldn’t believe it. I could hear the words coming out of her mouth and I knew they were mine but I was gripped by a horrible fascination to hear them coming from somebody else, like it didn’t have anything to do with me any more.
‘“Oh, Archie, for heaven’s sake,” said Lily. She sat on the rim and leaned over the edge and tried to reach him.’
A small part of my brain was thinking dispassionately that Amy had a very good reading voice for someone who pretended to be so stupid.
‘“Listen, Archie. I want you to raise one of your arms above your head.” Archie was as stiff as a board with his arms firmly clamped by his sides.
‘I joined Lily and lay on my front, carefully keeping most of my weight behind me. I didn’t intend to end up with my head in the muck.
‘I couldn’t help myself from twisting round and taking one more look towards the wood. I definitely saw a flash of blue against the green. The boys had followed us after all. I was about to tell Lily. Perhaps we could call to them and they could help us get Archie out. But then I thought, they’ve been in the pub and probably had a couple of pints. I remembered how they’d pointed and leered at us.’
Amy sniggered. I immediately snapped out of my daze.
What was Amy doing with my journal? She must have taken it from my bag which was on the floor between our chairs. She was holding up the turquoise notebook with the butterflies and flowers on the cover. She was reading out my private journal.
‘Hey, that’s mine!’ I said, making a grab for it.
‘Girls!’ said Mrs Clark.
‘She’s got my . . . that’s my work.’
‘Is this Emily’s?’ said Mrs Clark. Amy was grinning like she’d done something really clever. ‘Give it back,’ sighed the teacher.
Amy made a face, threw the notebook onto the table in front of me and sat back down.
‘Right, perhaps you could have your turn now,’ Mrs Clark said to me.
‘I’m sorry,’ I told her, ‘I haven’t done it.’
‘Come along,’ said Mrs Clark as if I hadn’t said anything. ‘Stop holding everyone up.’
‘It was rubbish anyway,’ said Amy. ‘What was it anyhow? The Day I Lost My Yoghurt? No, don’t tell me – it was The Day I Lost My Virginity. To some drunk, randy boys.’ The rest of the class were sniggering now, except Effy who looked worried.
I could feel the tears welling up but there was no way I was going to start crying. How dare she make fun of it. If only she knew! Glaring at Amy, I grabbed the journal from the table and started reading.
We could do this without any help from the boys.
‘Archie,’ I said. ‘Just put one of your hands up so we can pull you out.’
Archie tried to look up at us and twisted slightly. He immediately slid a bit further into the sludge.
‘Archie! Don’t move!’ Lily yelled.
‘You told me to,’ wailed Archie.
‘Milly said to put your arm up. Just do it!’ Lily shouted.
Archie didn’t move. She was scaring him. If he put his right arm up I could grab him. If it was his left, Lily would get him. I decided I probably had a better hold than Lily because I was lying down.
‘Archie,’ I said as calmly as I could, ‘lift your right arm.’
Archie didn’t move.
‘I don’t know which one that is,’ he said.
I tried to remember back to when I was seven. ‘Your right hand is the one you write with,’ I told him.
Archie raised his left arm. I’d forgotten – he was left- handed. His arms seemed impossibly short. Lily lunged forward and managed to grab a handful of his sleeve and she pulled hard. The feeling must have given Archie courage because he raised his other arm and I got hold of his hand and yanked him up. I got a hold of his chest and shuffled backwards until we were both lying on the top of the bank. I sat up. Archie’s feet were soaking wet and covered in a thick layer of black mud. He’d begun to cry.
I turned to Lily. ‘Have you seen the state of his feet? How are we going to . . .’ I stopped. Lily wasn’t there.
‘Milly, I slipped.’
Oh, great. Now we’d have to do it all over again, I thought as I peered over the side just in time to see Lily gently sliding down the bricks. At least she’s got wellies on I thought as her feet hit the sludge. I expected her to come to a stop like Archie had, but she didn’t. She just carried on; she was a lot heavier than Archie and she’d been leaning forward slightly. Her wellies disappeared beneath the surface.
‘Oh, yuk,’ she said, ‘this isn’t mud, it’s water!’
I could see now that the layer of leaves and mud and twigs wasn’t solid like I’d thought, it was just a covering on top of the water.
I sat on the edge and leaned over but I couldn’t reach Lily.
‘I’m coming down,’ I told her.
‘No, don’t! Don’t go in there.’ Archie was sobbing.
‘He’s right, don’t,’ said Lily. ‘He won’t be able to get us both out.’
Lily was up to her knees and still sinking. Her wellies must have filled with water by now and the added weight was pulling her in faster. She just kept going. I remember how slowly everything seemed to be happening but it was so quick at the same time. One minute she was sliding and the next she was in up to her waist.
I turned round and started yelling at the wood. ‘Help!’ I yelled it three times. Nothing. No flash of blue, no sound at all. I turned back to Lily.
She was trying to turn round so she was facing the bricks. I suppose she thought she could get a better ho
ld that way, but there was no hold on the slope and by the time she was facing me she was in up to her armpits. She was trying to keep her arms out of the water but trying to reach forwards towards the slope at the same time. I could see the water soaking into the heavy wool of the duffle coat, and all the time she was slipping further in.
‘Lily, take the rucksack off.’ My voice came out as a sob. This couldn’t be happening.
Lily tried shrugging the bag off but it was too tight. As she reached back to pull it off she disappeared under the water.
‘Archie, quick! Listen to me! I want you to run to the woods, as fast as you can, and get a big stick. Like a branch. And Archie,’ I added in desperation, ‘if you can find those boys we saw on the bus, bring them back with you.’
Archie stared at me, his eyes wide and terrified.
‘Go!’ I yelled at him and he ran, slipping down the bank and stumbling over the long grass of the field.
Lily came up gasping. She had leaves and twigs stuck in her hair.
‘I . . . There’s mud on the bottom . . . except it’s not the bottom. Milly, I can’t . . .’ She went under again.
I started to move down the inside of the bowl. My trainers had a grip on the top part where the bricks were driest but they wouldn’t hold on the slimy part. Lily came back up.
‘Milly, don’t! Please.’
I hesitated. We stared at each other. I was crying but Lily looked strangely calm. There might have been tears on her face but I couldn’t be sure. A strand of wet hair was stuck to her face. Our eyes were locked for what seemed like a lifetime. It was a lifetime; our lifetime, together. Then she was gone.
I waited for her to come back up. The sun came out from behind a cloud and a flock of rooks rose up. Their cawing filled my head. It sounded urgent and harsh.
I waited.
Nothing happened.
‘Lily!’ Could she hear me, under there? ‘Lily, please.’ In my head I was running into the woods, looking for Archie, telling him to hurry up, grabbing the branch off him, running back. But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t take my eyes off the pond. Every second that passed I thought would be the one where Lily reappeared. I’d kill her. She was playing a trick on me. It wasn’t funny.
Me Myself Milly Page 11
