Sasha's Secret

by Cathy Cassidy

  Jake is the last to take a turn.

  ‘Why is he even in this?’ Matt whispers. ‘It’s pointless!’

  ‘He’s doing it because he wants to,’ I say.

  Jake says he loves the band along with everyone in it, and is glad we treat him as part of it even though he can barely play the triangle. His life has been chaotic at times, he says, but things are better now and a lot of that is down to the Lost & Found. Jake’s set up an amazing light show with one of the Lost & Found’s tracks for backing, and I want to get lost in it but I can’t, because it’s my turn next and I am actually shaking with fear.

  ‘Over to you, Sasha!’ Jake says as the lights fade away. ‘We saved the best till last!’

  Matt whispers. ‘Break a leg!’

  I think I might. My legs are shaking as I stand and walk over to the stage. They feel so weak it seems impossible they will hold me up. I don’t understand why my stage fright gets worse and worse, when my friends – even the shy ones – seem to be able to handle their moment in the spotlight. Perhaps it’s fear of blanking out in front of everyone that makes my stomach churn? Standing here alone is even worse than when the band is behind me.

  ‘So … Sasha?’ Ked prompts, smiling.

  My mouth feels dry as sawdust, the words I want to say tangled together in my head.

  ‘I … never wanted to be a singer,’ I begin, and I see Ked’s frown and Marley’s glare and know I’ve started this whole thing off on the wrong foot, veered way off course before I’ve even begun. ‘I mean, I did – I used to pretend I was in a band when I was little, but I never actually planned for it to happen. What I mean is … I auditioned to play uke, and I’m quite good at keyboards but not as good as Soumia was … our first keyboard player. But Marley must have heard me singing somewhere along the line, because he asked me to audition for vocals, and here I am. Lead singer of a band!’

  Ked and Camille are listening intently. My band mates look a little confused, unsure where I’m going with this. That’s not surprising. I have no idea myself.

  ‘What I’m trying to say is … I was always more of a background person, but now I’m here, fronting a band full of people who are probably – definitely – the best friends I’ve ever had. It’s not always easy for me. Sometimes I think I’m just not good enough …’

  I realize too late that I’m still wearing the blue jumper. A trickle of sweat slides down my neck and between my shoulder blades. I wish I could stop talking, stop digging a hole for myself. Somehow, away from Millford, the confident mask is slipping, revealing little glimpses of the way I really feel. This was not meant to happen.

  I want to rewind, erase, put the anxious words back in their box and slam the lid tightly, but I can’t. The words are out there now.

  I take a deep breath and conjure a smile out of nowhere, the brightest, most dazzling smile I can find. I see Romy, Lexie, Sami, Happi, Bex and Jake looking back at me, smiling, worried, willing me on. I see Matt, stupidly handsome, raising his camera to capture the smile, and Ked and Camille and the other adults watching me.

  ‘You’ll never know what the Lost & Found means to me,’ I plough on. ‘I can’t believe how lucky I am to be a part of it! I’ve chosen to sing a sad song because it’s one I’ve known since I was little, and it’s beautiful, and because the Lost & Found are all about heartfelt, emotional music. It’s an old sixties track by Skeeter Davis, and it’s called “The End of the World”.’

  And suddenly it feels like the end of the world for real. I’m standing in the middle of the performance space and everyone is looking at me, and for a moment I have no idea why. In the background, a retro backing track is playing, and I remember that it’s a track I’m supposed to be singing.

  ‘Sasha?’ Camille is saying. ‘Is everything OK?’

  ‘I don’t know … I …’

  ‘Start again?’ Mike is asking, as the backing track fades into silence.

  My cheeks are burning and every bit of me is shaking. It’s not just myself I’ve let down, it’s everyone, and the shame is heavy on my shoulders like the weight of the world.

  If this is the X Factor, I’m out.

  ‘I can’t do this,’ I whisper, and I turn and run.

  Mum, I’ve tried calling but there’s no answer on the house phone and your mobile’s going straight to voicemail. Maybe you’re out of battery or something? Feeling homesick. Can you give me a call back when you get this? Sash xx

  Mum? Please? xx

  16

  Search Party

  Where do you run when you’re in a strange place far from home? I slip out through the back door into the darkness. I head away from the house and across the grass and over towards the copse of trees where Matt and I had breakfast earlier.

  That feels like a million years ago.

  Slumping down beneath a tree, I lean my head back against the rough bark, close my eyes and wish it would all go away.

  My invisibility superpower only seems to work when it feels like it.

  It takes a while for the panic and shame to subside, a while for the self-pity to kick in. If zone-out moments are caused by stress, I should be able to stop them by trying not to get wound up. The trouble is there’s so much on my mind – fear of messing up, fear of being ill, of letting down the band. The worry that I’m getting into something I’m not quite sure about with Matt. And underneath, the crippling fear that things are going wrong again with Mum and Dad.

  I hate feeling so helpless. Maybe Camille can help me to ditch the stage fright, ease the anxiety? Maybe Sheddie’s yoga would help? And maybe when I get home I will find the courage to tell Mum and Dad what’s going on with me – and ask them to tell me what’s happening with them.

  Maybe.

  I’m shivering, chilled to the bone by the time I hear voices and spot a couple of moving torch beams coming closer in the darkness. My friends … what do I say to them? I rake the sleeve of my fluffy jumper across my eyes, but my breathing’s still ragged and I’m way too embarrassed to talk to anyone.

  I stay very still, hug my knees and press my face against the strands of ivy.

  ‘Sasha? Sasha!’ Romy’s voice cuts through the velvet dark and my friends emerge from the gloom, picking their way through the undergrowth towards me.

  My hiding skills are clearly not as good as they used to be.

  ‘She’s here!’ Matt yells, bounding up to me and perching on a flat rock at my side. ‘Sasha! Are you OK?’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Bex demands, close behind him. ‘What’s up, Sash?’

  ‘You can tell us,’ Lexie promises.

  ‘We can help,’ Happi adds.

  Jake doesn’t say anything, just looks at me sadly. He’s not going to tell anyone my secret, and for that I am glad.

  ‘Was it … stage fright?’ Romy asks gently. ‘Because we’ve all been there. It was kind of odd being in the spotlight without the rest of the band.’

  ‘I didn’t like it,’ Happi chips in. ‘I pretended it was a science fair presentation, bluffed my way through.’

  ‘Nobody cares,’ Bex says with a shrug. ‘Forget it, Sash. It was just a get-to-know-you exercise, nothing important.’

  ‘Maybe,’ I say.

  But I know that I’ve given Ked, Camille and Mike the worst possible impression. They probably think I’m careless, cowardly and useless under pressure, with a tendency to run away when the going gets tough.

  ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ Lexie asks. ‘I mean, you looked a bit lost for a minute back there. I thought you were going to faint …’

  ‘Maybe it’s a bug?’ Matt suggests. ‘Are you feeling ill?’

  ‘Not really,’ I tell him. ‘Maybe. It’s hard to explain.’

  ‘We’re happy to listen,’ Romy says.

  I sigh. ‘I know,’ I say. ‘You’re lovely, all of you. But I can’t really explain … and I really, really wish it hadn’t happened. Ked must be wondering what he’s let himself in for, mentoring a band with a lead singer w
ho wimps out at the slightest thing. As for Marley – he’ll be raging. He’ll never forgive me!’

  Bex rolls her eyes. ‘Ked won’t care as long as you deliver the goods in the studio,’ she declares. ‘And Marley will get over it, trust me. He needs you – we all do, Sasha. Seriously … forget what happened. There’s not one of us here who hasn’t messed up big style at some point!’

  ‘C’mon, come back up to the house,’ Lexie says.

  ‘In a bit,’ I promise. ‘I suppose … my pride’s taken a knock, that’s all. I just need a bit of time to get my head straight …’

  ‘You want us to go?’ Romy asks, frowning.

  ‘I just … need a few minutes. I’m OK, honest!’

  ‘I’ll stay with her,’ Matt states, throwing an arm across my shoulder. ‘I’ll bring her back. No worries.’

  So the others head back to the house, and I’m left with Matt. I am not as thrilled about this as you might think, because over the last day or so I’ve had a few insights into Matt’s character and I’m not sure he’s quite as perfect as I first thought. Then again, I’m not exactly in a position to judge.

  ‘Bit cold out here,’ he says now, brushing twigs and leaves from his jeans and boots. ‘No worries, though. I’ll look after you!’

  I force a smile, but the weight of Matt’s arm is heavy on my shoulders. It doesn’t feel comforting, warming or even romantic. It just feels like an extra burden.

  Tears sting my eyes. What’s wrong with me? The boy half the girls in my year group are crushing on is sitting beside me in the dark, his arm round me, and still I’m not happy.

  ‘You said you thought that Marley would be angry,’ Matt is saying. ‘Do you think so? Do the two of you not get along?’

  ‘We get along fine,’ I tell him, weary now. ‘I just feel stupid, that’s all. Embarrassed.’

  ‘Could happen to anyone,’ Matt says, but nobody else has messed up this way – panicked, blanked out, gone to pieces. Nobody but me.

  ‘Do you think Marley’s pushing you too hard?’ Matt persists. ‘He’s very much the driving force behind the band, isn’t he? Do you feel he’s expecting too much? Being heavy-handed?’

  I frown and shift slightly, shrugging off Matt’s embrace. I feel all kinds of uncomfortable. I don’t want to be hugged, although he’s not exactly being huggy; it’s more like he’s acting a part, staking a claim. I can’t help thinking he’s fishing for dirt on the band, looking for an angle to write something dramatic.

  He wouldn’t do that, though, surely?

  I bite my lip. I’d like to trust Matt, but I can’t.

  I’m not sure I even like him.

  ‘What is it, Sash?’ he wheedles, nudging me playfully. ‘I know Marley can be a bit of a slave driver. Have the two of you had a row? A disagreement? You can tell me.’

  The arm is back, round my waist this time, pulling me close.

  ‘You and me, Sasha, we’re a great team,’ Matt is saying. ‘You’re sensitive, I get that, but I’ll look out for you … stick up for you. I don’t think you even know how gorgeous you really are.’

  This is something I’ve been imagining for weeks. The coolest boy in Year Eleven falling for me, telling me I’m gorgeous … my heart is racing, but not in a good way. I feel out of my depth, alarmed, even slightly scared.

  What is it with me and my dreams? The minute they start to come true, they turn to dust in my hands.

  Matt lunges at my face, his mouth on mine, too warm, too wet, tasting of the tuna pasta we had for tea. He’s pushing me back against the tree trunk, one hand buried in my hair, the other tugging at my jumper. I feel like I might suffocate, or possibly scream.

  This is my first kiss, and it’s nothing like the movies say it is. It’s rough and clumsy and frightening.

  My hands curl into fists, pushing against his chest, shoving him away from me.

  ‘No!’ I yell, and I’m surprised at the force of the push, the volume of the yell.

  Matt seems surprised too. I watch the shock on his face turn slowly to disdain.

  ‘Look … I’m not ready for anything like this,’ I say, and my voice is shaking. ‘I like you … but as a friend, y’know?’

  ‘A friend?’ he echoes, his mouth curled into a sneer. ‘What are you, five years old?’

  ‘Matt, please!’

  ‘Forget it,’ he says, a little stiffly. ‘Maybe I was getting mixed messages, Sasha, but I don’t think you actually know what you want. I was trying to be a friend. I thought maybe you could use one, but it looks like I was wrong. Sorry I bothered!’

  He looks angry, and I am pretty sure he won’t be calling for me tomorrow to go for a breakfast picnic. Way to go, Sasha.

  Matt strides away into the darkness and I am left shaking, unsure whether to laugh or cry. Did I really have a crush on this boy? He’s mad at me because I haven’t dished any dirt on the band to feed his craving for some kind of shock-horror scoop, and because I didn’t like being pawed and slobbered on. What a creep!

  The first tear is sliding soundlessly down my cheek when I hear the sound of twigs cracking, leaves crunching. Looking up, I see the silhouette of someone approaching – a boy.

  ‘Matt, just leave me alone!’ I snap, exasperated.

  The figure halts, hands held high in a gesture of surrender.

  ‘Not Matt – Jake,’ a familiar voice says. ‘It’s OK. I get the message … I was just checking you were OK.’

  My breath huffs out with relief.

  ‘Jake … sorry! I thought it was Matt. He just wouldn’t leave me be!’

  Jake steps into a little pool of moonlight, keeping his distance, huddled in his jacket. As usual, his hair is sticking up in three or four different directions.

  ‘I saw him marching back up to the house,’ he says. ‘He looked pretty hacked off. I won’t stay, I just … dunno, I wanted to make sure you were OK. I worry about you.’

  ‘Don’t,’ I tell him. ‘I’m fine. And … well, you don’t have to go, not unless you want to. Matt was bugging me, that’s all.’

  Jake sits down beside me, cross-legged in the fallen leaves. He hands me a clean tissue from his pocket and I dry my eyes, blow my nose. I cringe to think what I must look like … panda eyes, smeary eyeshadow, pink nose. Right now, I don’t even care.

  ‘Did he do something to upset you?’ Jake asks quietly. ‘If he did …’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ I say, although it does, of course. Every time I think of my first kiss I’ll remember horrible Matt Brennan trying to stick his tongue in my mouth. Yuck.

  ‘I just didn’t want to talk to him, that’s all,’ I say to Jake. ‘He’s not the person I thought he was.’

  ‘Arrogant, selfish, ruthlessly ambitious,’ Jake quips. ‘What’s not to like?’

  I laugh, in spite of myself. ‘You had him sussed from the start, didn’t you?’ I say. ‘Sadly, I didn’t. I wish he wasn’t here with us … I don’t think I trust him.’

  ‘I definitely don’t,’ he replies. ‘But he’s here now, so we’d better get used to it.’

  ‘I guess …’

  There’s a silence, and I shiver, hugging myself against the cold. Jake shrugs off his jacket and hands it to me, and I don’t even try to argue. I take it and pull it round my shoulders.

  ‘Thank you,’ I whisper. ‘Next time I go running off in a strop I’ll pick better weather.’

  ‘Yeah, good plan,’ Jake says. ‘Last time I ran away, I timed it for the summer holidays. Wall-to-wall sunshine …’

  I blink. ‘You’re joking, right?’

  ‘Sort of,’ he says with a grin. ‘It rained some of the time. I did run away, though. I’ll tell you about it sometime. So … what happened back there? You blanked out again?’

  I can feel my cheeks burning. ‘Don’t tell anybody! Please!’

  He rolls his eyes. ‘I won’t,’ he tells me. ‘I’d have done that already if I was going to, wouldn’t I? You know what I think, Sasha. You can’t just pretend this isn’t h
appening.’

  ‘I can,’ I argue. ‘At least – I’m trying!’

  ‘Is it working?’

  ‘Not exactly!’

  The two of us huddle side by side beneath the trees. Above us, through the branches, the sky is a dark inky blue pierced with a scattering of stars, the moon a sliver of cool silver-white.

  Jake is a much easier person to be with than Matt. He doesn’t ask ridiculous questions or paw me as if he owns me. He just sits quietly, not hassling, not judging. A silence settles around us, peaceful, calm. Inside the silence, I can feel my anxiety peeling away.

  ‘Look!’

  I follow Jake’s glance, gazing across the darkened hollow of grass. My eyes focus on the silhouette of a fox moving quickly, tail flicking behind. The breath catches in my throat and a surge of pure joy rises up inside me.

  The world is more than thinking you have a crush on a boy, then freaking out when he tries to get up close and personal. It’s more than some get-to-know-you game, more than the band, more than the tasks set out for us this week. The Lost & Found are just a tiny cog in the machinery of it all, and I am just one small part of that cog.

  Maybe I’m not perfect. Maybe I’m too anxious to perform on stage and maybe there is something going on that makes me blank out every now and then.

  Whatever that old sixties song says, maybe it’s not the end of the world.

  Sorry, Mum. Ignore those last few messages. Was having a drama queen moment and feeling homesick and sorry for myself. I’m OK – better than OK, actually. Love you. Give Dad a hug from me. I’ll ring you in the morning. So much to tell you! Sash xx

  17

  The Midnight Meeting

  When we get back to Fox Hollow Hall, we’re ambushed by the others and dragged into the living room for a council of war.

  The adults have tactfully disappeared, but the whole band is here, plus Matt with his camera and his slightly sneering smile. It’s a calculating smile – how come I’ve never noticed that before?

  ‘Better now?’ he asks coldly. ‘Chatted it all through with Jake, have you?’