by Nicci Cloke
‘He likes you,’ the woman said, as the dog carried on licking Lizzie’s face and hands, his tail beating at the grass. She looked down at our bottles of cider and smiled. ‘Just finished exams?’
‘Yeah.’ We both grinned at her. She was nice. A lot of people in Abbots Grey would’ve had something to say about teenagers drinking in public in the middle of the day, but she just told us ‘Well done’ and let Lizzie stroke the dog, who was lying on his back now with his paws up in the air, for a while longer, before she clipped his lead on and said goodbye. We watched them head off up the meadow and Lizzie said, ‘I wish I had a dog.’
‘Get one.’
She shook her head. ‘Not allowed.’
‘Parents don’t like them?’
‘Cheska’s allergic.’
‘All the more reason,’ I said, and she laughed and elbowed me.
‘Oh, the sun’s so nice,’ she said, sighing, leaning back on her hands and turning her face up to it.
‘We can do this all day now.’
She looked over and grinned at me. ‘Until drama school starts.’
‘I can do this all day now,’ I corrected myself. ‘Jealous?’
She closed her eyes again. ‘Totally.’
‘What’s on the menu at drama camp again?’
‘A Winter’s Tale, I think. And The Crucible.’
‘Can totally see you as a Puritan,’ I said. ‘You burn those witches.’
‘I am a witch,’ she said. ‘Didn’t you know?’
‘Talk about stating the obvious.’
‘Speaking of witches and/or words that rhyme with them.’ Lizzie sat up a little, drank some more of her cider. ‘Did I tell you about Lauren Choosken messaging me?’
‘Again?’
‘She’s so obvious, it’s ridiculous. Every time she speaks to me at school, it’s like she’s looking round for the cameras.’
‘Yeah, well, I heard a rumour that her and Deacon have been using cameras for something very different,’ I said, laughing.
‘You did not! Did you see it?’
‘Oh, yeah.’ I took another long pull of my cider. ‘Deacon showed it to me on one of our boys’ nights in. And then we hugged and played Xbox and had a sleepover.’
She gave me a ha ha smile. ‘You know, sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.’
‘And yet you keep coming back for more.’
We sat like that for a long time, talking, the sun sinking slowly but always on us. And then, without really thinking, I did it; I leaned over and kissed her. It was a soft kiss, slow and long, and I let my hands get tangled in her hair. Her mouth was sticky with cider; I guess mine was too.
I pulled back and she looked up at me and she smiled, a really small, soft smile, and I could see every detail of her face; the way her eyelashes got lighter near the top, the way the sun brought out freckles across her nose. I could smell the strawberry sweets smell of her and the green smell of the grass, and before I had time to think anything more, she leant back up and kissed me, harder this time, much harder, her hands on my face holding me there, more insistent.
We ended up in the grass, Lizzie on her back, me half next to her, half over her. I ran my hands over her skin, let my fingers trail over her thighs. Her hands moved over my back, pushing my t-shirt up and tugging it over my head. There was no sound apart from the hardness of our breathing and the soft rushing of the river. She pulled her own t-shirt off and I stopped and looked at her, at the way the sun made her skin glow. Her bra was white and plain and it just made her more golden. I kissed her shoulders, moved across her chest. I pushed the straps of her bra down and kissed the soft skin under them and I heard her moan.
When it happened, it was perfect. I’d like to say that it was my first time, but it wasn’t. That had been the week before I moved to Abbots Grey, just after I turned fifteen, with a girl I hardly knew, at a party with some people I hardly knew either. That was what London Aiden was like. But if he could have known about Lizzie, and the river, and the last day of term, I think he would have waited. Waiting would have been so worth it.
I’d like to say it was my first time, and maybe I do, maybe it is – because it felt like it. It felt like nothing else, in the green grass, the sun above us, looking down at Lizzie, Lizzie looking up at me, and everything glowing.
I don’t say it was my first time because I don’t say anything about it to anyone. It’s a secret, perfect moment that I’ve kept from my friends, and now from the police. It’s something that only we know happened; me and Lizzie.
Me and Lizzie and Autumn.
AT SCHOOL THE next day, my mouth tastes sour and of berries, no matter what I do. I check my phone but no more messages come from Autumn. I look again and again at the one she sent last night. I know the truth. I know what really happened. I feel like throwing up.
I skip registration because I’m late and I can’t face walking into a full form room. Instead I loiter outside Ladlow’s classroom, ready for first period maths.
Outside the draughty, iron-framed window, the sky is grey and looks like rain. But all I can think of is blue sky over a meadow, gold hair in my hand. All I can think of is the smell of summer grass and sun cream and strawberry sweets. I can hear Lizzie’s breath in my ear, feel it on my skin. I’ve lied, I’ve lied, I’ve lied. And someone knows.
I try to rationalise it. What difference does it make if Autumn Thomas knows that Lizzie and I were, for a few short weeks last summer, more than just friends? What difference does it make if anyone knows that?
How does she know that?
‘You’re keen.’
I’ve been too wrapped up in my thoughts to notice Scobie coming along the corridor. I manage to give him a weak smile.
‘Was late. Thought I’d come straight here.’
‘Me too.’ He leans up against the wall beside me. ‘You okay?’
‘Yeah. Just a bit of a late night.’ I hate lying to Scobie, especially as right now I can tell I’m not doing a very good job of it.
He doesn’t call me on it, though; he’s too polite. He just nods and changes the subject. ‘You had a look at the chapter he asked us to do?’
I haven’t. I totally forgot. And this is the second time I’ve forgotten work Ladlow’s set us. He’s not going to be happy. Scobie takes one look at my face and immediately pulls his folder out of his bag.
‘Have a look at my notes now. It’s easy, you’ll pick it straight up.’
Scobie’s idea of ‘easy’ tends to be vastly different from the rest of the world’s, but this time he’s right. It’s a straightforward chapter on algorithms and it’s nice to lose myself in it for a while; Scobie’s small, neat handwriting, the precise wording and formulas. It calms me and for at least three whole minutes I don’t think about Autumn’s message. I know what really happened.
It’s just us at first; me reading, Scobie playing a game on his phone which, judging by the sounds and the way he keeps tipping himself from side to side without realising it, involves flying a fighter jet. But then the bell goes for first period and people start coming out of classrooms, heading for their lessons. It’s all Year 7s and 8s in this part of the school, and they are loud. They surge around us like a river. Me and Scobie raise our eyebrows at each other.
‘We weren’t that small, were we?’ Scobie asks.
‘I wasn’t here, don’t forget,’ I say. ‘You might well have been.’
‘I’m sure we weren’t.’
‘Give it here!’ one kid yells at another one, and they have a little scuffle over the phone he’s clutching. They look like kittens playing. It almost makes me laugh.
And then I remember.
I know what really happened.
The Year 7s disappear off down the stairs, their voices fading into the distance. I turn my attention back to the last page of Scobie’s notes, trying to make as much of it go in as possible.
Two girls come along the corridor; we hear the clacking of their heels before they’ve even ro
unded the corner. But it’s not until they’re walking past us and I hear someone say ‘Lizzie’ that I look up and see that it’s Lauren Choosken and Maisie Diggins, one of her hangers-on. They’re whispering, but I can’t help thinking that Lizzie’s name was said just that bit louder for my benefit. Lauren meets my eyes as she strolls past, totally shamelessly staring at me while Maisie looks away and giggles.
It comes out before I realise I’ve said it.
‘What’s your problem?’
Lauren stops in her tracks, blinking at me, all wide-eyed and innocent. ‘Problem?’
The blood is thumping in my temples. ‘If you’ve got something to say to me, say it to my face.’
Lauren spreads her hands wide, like, Who, me? ‘I haven’t got a problem with you, Aiden.’
I can feel Scobie move closer to me, like he’s trying to get me to back down, ready to tug me away. I can practically hear his thoughts: It’s not worth it. But it’s too late. I remember seeing her stupid fake tears on Spoilt in the Suburbs last night and I see red.
‘You’re disgusting!’ I yell at her. ‘Pretending to care about her just to get on telly!’
Lauren raises a pencilled-on eyebrow while Maisie half sniggers, half shrinks away. ‘I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Aiden,’ Lauren says calmly. ‘Lizzie and I were friends. Can you say the same?’
There’s something in the way she says it; just a little edge, an almost-smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, that turns me hot with rage and yet makes my blood run cold. And as she spins on her heel, I lose it totally.
‘You’re a bitch, Lauren! You’re a slag!’
‘Aiden,’ Scobie says, tugging me back, and I wheel around just in time to see Ladlow appear at his classroom door with a face like thunder.
‘Are you finished, Kendrick?’ he asks, and without waiting for a reply, he thrusts the door further open. ‘Get in here.’
Uh-oh.
Mr Ladlow is famously bad-tempered and although he can be good fun, his lessons fast-moving and full of jokes, nobody wants to get on his bad side. Everyone’s far more careful about teasing Ladlow than they are Selby or Radclyffe. He’s younger than them, but more old-fashioned, too.
He’s probably the worst person who could have seen that.
He stalks over to his desk, and I follow, the rage that just a second ago burned through me quickly shrivelling.
‘Want to tell me what that was all about?’ His voice is calm again, his dark hair in place, but I can hear the anger beneath the surface. I’ve always liked Ladlow and worked hard in his class, and before today, I might’ve hoped he had a pretty decent opinion of me. Now I feel about six inches tall.
‘Sorry, sir. I lost my temper.’
‘You don’t say. Unfortunately, Kendrick, that’s no excuse for speaking to any of your classmates in that way, male or female.’
I turn away, stare out of the window. Ladlow’s classroom looks out over the school playing field and the greenhouses that back onto the science block. Grey clouds creep in, low and heavy. ‘Sorry,’ I say again.
Ladlow’s quiet for a minute too, both of us just looking out at the rain rolling in. ‘Are you friends with the Summersall girl?’
I look levelly back at him. ‘I knew her.’
‘You were in the play together,’ he says. ‘I remember now.’
I nod.
‘Has that got anything to do with what happened just now?’ he asks, but before I can answer the door opens and a couple of girls from my class walk in. Scobie hovers in the doorway looking uncertain. Ladlow looks from them to me, and says, reluctantly, ‘Sit down, Kendrick. I don’t want to see you behaving like that again.’
‘I’m really sorry, sir,’ I say, and I make for my desk, relieved to be off the hook. The anger’s still there, small and tight like a knot, somewhere deep down, but I’ve got it under control again. Scobie pulls out the chair next to mine.
‘Mate,’ he says. ‘What is going on with you?’
I shake my head. ‘Lauren. She just winds me up.’
‘Look, I get that you’re mad about the show –’
I look up at him in surprise. Scobie’s the last person you’d expect to watch Spoilt in the Suburbs.
‘My mum,’ he says, apologetically. ‘She’s got really into it.’
Most of the class is in now and Ladlow has started prowling round, tossing handouts onto the end of each row of tables. ‘Take one, pass them along,’ he says. He’s even brisker than usual, not making his little teasing asides to people, and I guess I’ve put him in a bad mood.
‘I just hate that she’s using it to get famous.’
Scobie nods. ‘Yeah, it’s pretty shitty. But it’s Lauren, Aiden. You can’t be surprised.’
‘I know, but then when she walked past… She was doing it on purpose. She probably knows I turned them down.’
‘Turned who down?’
‘Spoilt in the Suburbs.’
Scobie’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘No way.’
‘Right,’ Ladlow says, closing the door. ‘Let’s get started. Who can fill us in on the chapter I asked you to read?’
‘Yes way,’ I hiss at Scobie. ‘Obviously I said no.’
‘Well, they’re scraping the barrel with Lauren,’ Scobie says, and as he sees Ladlow’s eyes sweep across the classroom and lock on me, he raises his hand.
‘The function of x is greater than zero for all real values of x, and the function of x increases at an accelerated rate as x increases,’ he says, and Ladlow gives his weird, painful-looking smile and turns to the board.
‘Excellent work, dear Thomas,’ he says. He starts writing on the whiteboard, the pen squeaking as his hand flies back and forth.
‘Look, this Lizzie stuff… The way you’ve been acting… Is there something I don’t know?’ Scobie’s giving me one of his earnest looks, his eyes scanning my face.
I almost, almost, tell him. But even as the words bubble up, I remember. I remember Lizzie in the grass, Lizzie’s hands on my face, and I can’t. I can’t share it because it’s so perfect and private. So perfect and private and ours.
‘Has anything happened with the Facebook page?’ I ask instead. ‘Has anyone posted anything?’
He looks awkward. ‘Not anything useful,’ he says. ‘Mostly, just… People messing around.’
I get out my phone under the desk and look for myself. Our page has thirteen followers. There are three posts. One from Kieron Decker, one of Deacon’s mates. Last seen in my bed! he’s put, and I want to smash his face in. Another from a girl whose name I don’t recognise. She’s just written So sad . The last one is a kid writing in Japanese, so I have no idea what it says.
The sponsored ads down the side are equally depressing. One for some kind of online dating service – ARE YOU LOOKING TO MAKE FRIENDS IN YOUR AREA? 1000S OF COOL SINGLES WAITING! – and one for some kind of security app for Facebook – DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU’RE REALLY TALKING TO? TRUEFACE CAN TELL YOU!
I grimace. ‘Brilliant.’
‘Aiden,’ Scobie says, looking at me over his glasses now, his most serious face. ‘You don’t have to tell me. But is there something I can do to help?’
I shake my head. I wish talking to Scobie would help, but there’s only one person I need to talk to now.
And unfortunately she isn’t around to ask.
I MAKE IT through maths and then English, but by breaktime I know I can’t take this any more. Too many thoughts, too many memories, and still everybody talking about Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie. Clothes folded on a bench. Lying beside me in a field. And Autumn’s last message beating behind it all like a horrible drum beat. I know what really happened.
I’ve got a free third period, and then sports studies in the afternoon. Connolly won’t check up on me if I don’t show, he trusts me. I just need to get out of here – I can’t cope with the claustrophobia of Aggers right now.
I get to the bottom of the steps to the Rec, checking my phone – no new messages – whe
n a hand hits me hard in the chest. I look up, stupidly expecting to see Connolly waiting to catch me out even though his lesson isn’t for another two hours. Instead I see Deacon blocking the bottom of the steps. His arms are folded and he does not look happy.
Which makes two of us.
‘I hear you’ve got a problem with Lauren,’ he says, and that’s when I notice all his hangers-on crowding round behind him. Someone comes down the steps behind me and I turn to see Kieron Decker, super sidekick. He’s obviously followed me from English and let them know where I am.
‘No idea what you’re talking about,’ I say, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of trying to push past.
Instead, he takes a step closer to me, until he’s right in front of me, toe to toe, and when he speaks, he jabs at my chest with two fingers after each word. ‘You – call – my – girlfriend – a – bitch – again – and – I – will – kill – you.’
I shouldn’t rise to it, but I do. ‘Oh, you mean Lauren?’ I say. ‘Is she still your girlfriend? Hard to keep track of who she’s sleeping with.’
His top lip lifts into a snarl and I can practically feel his fists twitching at his sides. ‘Watch your mouth.’
It’s childish and lame but all I want is to goad him and so I say it anyway. ‘What you gonna do about it?’
He pulls back a little and laughs; a half laugh, a sarcastic one. ‘Give me a reason, Kendrick. Make my day.’
‘Oi!’ A girl’s voice, shrill with anger. We both look round to see Marnie pushing through the crowd. ‘Pack it in! Leave him alone.’
Deacon sniggers again. ‘Aww, look. His little girlfriend’s come to protect him.’ He turns to look at me. ‘Kind of sick, though, don’t you think? Her best mate?’
The anger is pumping back through me properly now, my face twisting with it. ‘Shut up.’
‘Aww, don’t like it when we talk about Lizzie, do you?’
The words come out of my mouth in a hiss this time. ‘Shut up.’
‘You heard him!’ Marnie yells. She’s right up next to Deacon now, having shoved her way past his goons. ‘Come on, Aiden. Let’s go.’
