Saving Daisy

by Phil Earle

  ‘Do you know?’ she whispered, but as I leaned over to fill her in, we were interrupted.

  ‘Miss Riley!’ came his voice, a hint of irritation in it. ‘Do you already know the answer?’

  Donna stared at me pleadingly, but what was I going to do? Send her a text? I just shrugged and mouthed ‘Sorry’.

  ‘What about you, Daisy?’ I thought I heard his voice soften, but could’ve been wrong. ‘Come on. Share it, will you?’

  I felt my cheeks burn as eyes spun towards me, waiting for me to make Donna look stupid. I was ready to shake my head and blend in, when he interrupted again.

  ‘I think you know the answer to this, Daisy, don’t you? Even if you don’t, give it a go.’

  And before I could stop myself, I spoke up.

  ‘Because in cinema dialogue is all you have? You haven’t got prose, so you have to let the characters fill in the gaps with what they say.’

  ‘Hallelujah,’ he shouted. ‘Spot on. Take a bow. Now, all of you, I need you to watch this scene. It’s only three minutes long, but it tells you more than ten pages of description could.’

  And as he dropped the blinds and hit play, I felt a buzz of appreciation ripple through me. As well as a fierce glare from Donna.

  She found me during the lunch hour. She didn’t take me aside to a quiet place and give me a slap. That wasn’t the way she rolled. She was into ritual humiliation, the thing I feared most.

  ‘Everything OK?’ I asked, already knowing the answer, feeling eyes falling upon me, sensing a battle.

  ‘OK?’ she barked, with an expression usually reserved for the kids she despised. ‘What do you think? I looked like a complete twat in there. How do you think I feel?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I offered, feeling my guilt levels rise. ‘I tried to give you a heads up, didn’t I?’

  ‘Not very hard, though, eh?’

  ‘What do you mean? He was looking right at us. I could hardly write it down for you, could I?’

  ‘Obviously!’ she huffed. ‘But there is such a thing as saying nothing at all, you know.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You could’ve done what I did. Said nothing and looked stupid.’

  I couldn’t help but laugh. ‘But that’s crazy.’

  Before I knew it, the gap between us shrunk to nothing.

  ‘No, I’ll tell you what’s crazy. It’s crazy that I asked for your help and that you chose to throw it back in my face. Doesn’t that seem like an odd choice to you?’

  It did. I knew it did, as I’d seen what she’d done to other kids who’d done the same. I couldn’t let that happen to me, not if I wanted to hold everything together and keep everyone at a safe distance.

  ‘I’ll sort it out,’ I gabbled, wiping a mixture of my sweat and her spit from my face. ‘He’ll have forgotten all about it by the next lesson and I can throw you some good examples of dialogue working. He’ll love that.’

  She looked at me like I was talking Japanese.

  ‘Too late for that now,’ she sneered. ‘They mark your card soon as they meet you, this lot. Best thing you can do now is keep a low profile. Stay out of my eyeline and out of his good books. I’ll be watching you. You hear?’

  I didn’t have a chance to nod before the bell rang and the corridor swelled with other kids, leaving me to fight my way against the tide, towards the exit. I knew where I had to go to sort out my head and it wasn’t here.

  Chapter 6

  Taking refuge in a cinema wasn’t a new experience. Dad and me had been hiding in them for as long as I could remember, but doing it during school time? It was risky, but it had to be done.

  I shaded my eyes as I approached the exit doors, preparing for a rare blast of sun on the other side. There was nothing worse after a film than a bad case of sun blindness.

  Although the screening finished twenty minutes after school did, I still had to be careful as I left. Didn’t want anyone clocking me, wondering how I’d got into town so quickly. This was the fifth time I’d risked bunking off and so far everything had worked out tidily. No one, it seemed, suspected a thing.

  I wasn’t daft about it. I registered in the afternoon before ducking out, had even forged a letter from Dad once about a hospital appointment. Didn’t want anyone getting suspicious or anything. Plus I was canny about what I was wearing when I arrived at the Ritzy. One sniff of a school uniform and I’d be shown the door, so I always switched my jumper and school shoes as I left, adding this flowy scarf I had, plus a shed-load of lip gloss. The hope was that I passed for a sixth-former on a free period, and despite sweaty palms each time I bought my ticket, no one seemed to look twice.

  By the time I hit fresh air, I’d forgotten all about the film I’d seen. For the first painful time in my life, it was unimportant. What mattered was that I was out of the glare at school, my absence limiting the damage I could do by simply being there, especially in Hobson’s lessons.

  The run-in with Donna had scared me, made a nonsense of the balancing act that I thought I’d perfected. I couldn’t risk another cock-up in front of Hobson: Donna never gave second warnings. I’d been lucky to get a first.

  Hobson didn’t help things either. He’d continued using films in a number of his lessons, and when no one came up with the answers quickly enough, I was his default setting. Not that I gave him anything. Not a single answer. It wasn’t worth the risk, regardless of how easy the questions were.

  He was bemused by my sudden lobotomy. He looked at me in such confusion, like he knew that I was doing it on purpose. After a couple of lessons where I refused to answer, he kept me back on my own, earning me a glare from Donna for my trouble. I couldn’t win.

  ‘Is everything OK, Daisy?’ he asked.

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘I’m slightly worried about you, how you’ve been these last couple of weeks. You’ve seemed a bit, pensive. Not the same person you were when I arrived.’

  ‘Don’t know what you mean, sir. Everything’s fine.’

  Donna’s head appeared in the window of the door, irritation plain to see.

  ‘I got the feeling that film was your thing,’ he added, looking for a way in. ‘I was surprised, given what you’d said before, that you didn’t know the answers this time.’

  ‘Must’ve got lucky, I suppose.’ My feet were shuffling towards the door.

  ‘I’m right, though, aren’t I? Films are something you love, aren’t they?’

  It seemed an odd question, but I shrugged it off, not wanting to give him anything to lengthen the conversation.

  ‘They’re all right,’ I mumbled. ‘Can I go, sir? I’ve got to get home quick. I’ve something on.’

  Still frowning, he nodded, and after checking the coast was clear I made a swift exit towards the river path and home.

  That’s when I’d decided on doing the occasional bunk. It seemed the safest option, away from either Donna or Mr Hobson. And the cinema was the perfect place to disappear.

  Or at least it had been, but as I walked down the cinema steps I crashed headlong into someone, bumping them off balance, jarring my scarred arm in the process. They seemed to bounce back in slow motion as I recognized them.

  It was Mr Hobson.

  I’d have bolted if I thought it would do me any good. And if he hadn’t launched into a conversation.

  ‘Daisy? What are you doing here?’

  There seemed no option but to tell him the truth.

  ‘I presumed when I didn’t see you in class this afternoon that you were ill. I certainly didn’t expect this.’

  I braced myself for a lecture, or for him to drag me back to the head’s office, but that wasn’t what I got.

  ‘Is the lesson so bad that you felt you had to do this?’ he asked, almost hurt.

  ‘It’s not about the lesson, sir. There’s nothing wrong with the lesson.’

  ‘So why bunk off? It’s hardly
what I expected of you. You always seemed so … keen?’

  It wasn’t a question I could answer. Not without unpicking all my hard work and leaving me with a slap from Donna. Strangely, neither option appealed, so I came up with a complete lie.

  ‘Just couldn’t face it today, sir. It’s the first time I’ve done it. Really.’

  ‘And was it worth it?’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘The film. Was it any good?’

  There was a smile on his face. It didn’t belong there, not in these circumstances, but he genuinely looked amused and interested.

  ‘It was … pretty, well, average really. Just some rubbish rom-com.’

  ‘Nothing worse than a disappointing film. It always seems like such a waste. And there are so many brilliant romantic comedies as well. Have you ever seen When Harry Met Sally?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘And you call yourself a film fan? That’s more disappointing than finding you bunking off! You should do something about it.’

  The whole conversation was baffling. I didn’t know if that was my cue to smile and walk off or what, but he had one more thing he wanted to say, the smile disappearing as he started.

  ‘Daisy, all jokes aside, you’ve put me in a difficult position. You know I have to think of your welfare and let the school know what’s gone on. What would we have done if something had happened while you were meant to be in our care? I know you’re nearly fifteen, but you’re still vulnerable. There are people about who would still look to take advantage of you.’

  Shit. Dad was going to be asking a lot of questions now, ones I didn’t want to answer.

  ‘But I see your potential as well, Daisy. And I don’t want you getting a reputation in school for a one-off mistake. And this is a one-off, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is, definitely.’

  ‘OK. So let’s chalk this one up to experience, shall we? I can keep a secret if you can.’

  The relief was so great I wanted to kiss him. Naturally I stifled that feeling.

  ‘That would be magic, sir. I won’t do it again.’

  His grin was back. ‘Make sure you don’t. We have to trust each other, you hear? Otherwise I’ll be in as much trouble as you. There’s one thing you need to do, though, Daisy. And that’s really think about why you’ve done this. And if you need help in doing that, then ask. There’s something special about you and no one wants to see you struggle when there’s no need.’

  His words punctured me slightly, because he’d been honest when all I’d done was lie. They made me realize what I’d been storing up and how heavy it suddenly all felt. In an instant tears came to my eyes and I lifted up a hand to shade them.

  ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ he asked.

  ‘Sure, thank you,’ I gabbled, before walking slowly away.

  ‘You know where I am,’ he yelled as a parting shot.

  I did know, because each time I glanced back he was still there, smiling kindly.

  Chapter 7

  Dad realized there was something wrong when I didn’t wolf my tea down. We both knew there was a DVD to follow, which was usually enough to get me past a plate of beans on toast in minutes. Spearing them individually must have said a lot.

  ‘You all right?’ Dad asked.

  ‘Yeah, course.’

  ‘I put chilli powder on them, the way you like it.’

  ‘Cheers.’ I skewered another one.

  ‘And Marmite on your toast too.’

  ‘I know. It’s perfect, ta.’

  He studied me and I could feel his concern, but didn’t know what to do about it. Not without making him uncomfortable.

  That’s how it worked every time I brought Mum up: he’d sweat, mumble and eventually get so fidgety that I’d let the subject drop. Usually, I couldn’t put him through it, as much as I needed to hear about her.

  It was his reluctance that had forced me behind his back and into the loft. I’d been desperate to find something that pulled me a bit closer to her – photos, letters, anything. But I hadn’t expected to find the report from the hospital, a single piece of paper that turned everything on its head and pointed the finger directly at me.

  The thought of it now made my arms prickle and pulse race, but as much as I wanted to burn the report or bin it, anything to deny its existence, I couldn’t. Instead it sat in my drawer, ready for the next time I needed to punish myself.

  ‘Daisy, are you listening to me?’ His hand on my scabbed arm pulled me back into the room and out of my chair. My sudden movement was enough to get him on his feet too. ‘What is wrong with you tonight?’

  ‘Nothing’s wrong. I’m just tired, that’s all.’

  ‘Has something happened at school?’

  ‘No, of course not. School’s fine.’

  ‘Is it something I’ve done, then?’

  He looked so wounded before even hearing an answer that I shook my head.

  ‘Is it the film I chose? You know we don’t have to watch it tonight.’ His eyes sparked up. ‘We could go out. There’s a new comedy on at the Ritzy, the one you wanted to catch. Why don’t we go see that instead? A midweek treat.’

  I couldn’t do the Ritzy, not after being there a couple of hours ago. What if someone recognized me, commented on me being back so soon?

  Anyway, that wasn’t the point. I couldn’t do any film tonight. I didn’t want to escape. I wanted to talk about Mum for once, instead of pretending she’d never lived.

  ‘Do we have to?’

  He clutched at his chest, feigning a heart attack, a desperate bid at humour. ‘What. Did. You. Say?’ he gasped, which made me testier than I should’ve been.

  ‘Jesus, Dad,’ I snapped. ‘Don’t make me out to be some kind of freak. I just don’t fancy it for once, that’s all. We could do something else, you know. Other people do.’

  He tried to look confused, but I reckon he knew what I wanted to talk about. Walking to the kettle with his back to me confirmed it. He’d do anything he could to not chat about Mum, and for once I wasn’t prepared to let him.

  ‘You know what we could do?’ I said, too much steel in my voice to sound anything but antagonistic. ‘We could go up into the loft and dig out some photos of Mum. Find pictures we could put around the house.’

  He didn’t turn as he stirred his tea mechanically. ‘We already have photos of her out.’

  ‘We have two, Dad,’ I yelled, ‘and one is by your bed! She’s hardly everywhere we look. Why can’t we spend an hour, thirty minutes even, choosing some pictures I could put in my room or in the lounge.’

  I realized what my brain was doing. It was trying to force him up there, not to find photos, but for him to notice that the hospital report had gone and that I’d found it, to back him into a corner so he had to acknowledge what I’d done to her. I wanted him to get angry with me and shout at me, because then it would be out there and maybe in time he might forgive me. Perhaps then I could fight the fear away, maybe then I could stop hurting myself.

  But he wasn’t going to give. I saw his shoulders slump as he turned to me, his brow creased deeper than ever before.

  ‘I can’t, Daisy. Not tonight.’

  ‘Then tomorrow maybe. Or the weekend. I don’t mind when it is.’

  ‘Stop HASSLING me!’

  The volume blew a gust past my ears.

  He never shouted. At anyone, never mind me. Part of me wanted to turn and throw a strop out of the room, to show him how upset I was, how much this meant. But I never got the chance, because he was through the door before me, each footstep on the stairs an avalanche.

  Chapter 8

  The landslide didn’t stop at home. It became more and more difficult to keep my feet at school too, especially now my cinema trips had been rumbled.

  I tried hard to keep a lower profile than ever, but seemed only to find ways of drawing attention to myself.

&nb
sp; In a single day I managed to walk into an open locker door (almost decapitating myself) and embarrassed myself hideously in a PE lesson (me and hockey sticks never did go together) before dropping my lunch tray in front of the whole school. It was like someone had a humiliation magnet trained on me, and to cap it off we had English last period, another pitfall that I doubted I could avoid.

  To help me further Donna cranked up the pressure as we marched in.

  ‘I’m expecting great things from you today, hear me?’

  After ten minutes I could feel the sweat pooling on my back. I had to feed her some info that would help, because the alternative didn’t bear thinking about.

  Salvation eventually came about half an hour in when Hobson asked a question about a prologue. I scribbled the answer furiously in my exercise book, almost breaking the page with my nib, before thrusting it under Donna’s nose. Her hand shot up instantly, blurting the answer out proudly despite not having the foggiest what it meant.

  Mr Hobson stood in shock for a second before beaming widely.

  ‘Excellent answer, Donna. Spot on.’

  Modest as always, she stood and curtsied to the class, quickly unpicking the work she, or rather I, had done. She didn’t stop beaming for the rest of the lesson, except to grill me for more answers.

  ‘Good to see you pulled yourself together,’ she said as we stood to leave.

  ‘I’m doing my best,’ I answered, trying to act casual, though I must have sounded desperate.

  ‘Well, you’ve a long way to go yet. Don’t forget that.’ And with a final snarl she upended my bag on to the floor, its contents skimming over the tiles, including the case that held my scissors and lint.

  Fortunately she didn’t look back, soaking up giggles from the others as she paraded out. I was on my knees in a flash, scuttling around until I spotted my tin.

  I was unravelling quickly. I needed to get everything in the bag and home before anything else went wrong.

  ‘You’ve missed some stuff over here,’ sighed Hobson, bending to retrieve my gym kit. I took it meekly, not daring to look at him. ‘Oh, and there’s this too.’