Authors: Eleanor Wood
After all the stresses and dramas, you’d think I’d be glad to get this school week out of the way. But something feels wrong from the very start of the weekend. I suppose it starts on Friday morning, when I’m packing my weekend bag to take to school with me – I’m going to the twins’ house straight after school and, as usual, I’ll be gone for most of the weekend.
‘Oh dear, Sorana – are we ever actually going to see you again?’
I look up and my mum’s standing in the doorway. She says it like she’s joking, but with enough sad undertones to make me feel absolutely terrible. I’m not sure if she’s doing it deliberately or not – but she’s always been of the ‘disappointed’ rather than ‘angry’ school of parenting, and it’s way more effective.
Although I’m relieved that Mum hasn’t found out about my afternoon out from school, it’s making me feel strange to be around her. I don’t like having secrets; I’m rubbish at it. Even though I know I’m in the clear, I am well aware that I’m still not acting like my usual self at the moment.
‘Of course!’ I say, a bit too over-emotionally. ‘I’ll be back in time for Sunday lunch, obviously. It’s just that Elyse and Mel live way over on the other side of town so it’s easier for us all to stay there. You know, it’s probably good for us as they’re practically out in the country…’
Mum smiles thinly. I’m sure she doesn’t buy the idea that I’m suddenly spending my weekends being all
outdoorsy
, but it’s easier for both of us if we pretend she does, and I keep my fingers crossed that she agrees with this theory.
‘Fine. As long as you’re having a good time. I know you, that’s all. You
are
allowed to say “no” sometimes – just remember that. You seem to have got awfully close with these girls very quickly, and I haven’t heard you mention Nathalie for ages…’
‘It’s all cool. Um, Nathalie will probably come at the weekend. I’m not sure.’
‘OK, OK. I get it. You’re a sensible girl so I’ll say no more. No sex and no drugs, and I’ll mind my own business. Deal?’
‘Deal.’ I grin and it’s my turn to pretend that everything’s fine as I watch my mum disappear down the hall and out of view.
Her mention of Nathalie gave me an extra jolt of anxiety. Nathalie hasn’t turned up at school the last couple of days and isn’t answering her phone. I can make a good guess at why this is, and I suspect it isn’t because she’s sick.
I’m waiting for the others outside the gates at the end of the day, and reflecting on the fact that we’ve made it through the week relatively unscathed. I should be pleased but it’s unsettling. The other three absconders were hauled into the headmistress’s office for a severe talking-to. Thanks to Miss Webb, my part in the ‘unfortunate events’ was played down so they all got a phone call home while I mercifully didn’t. Of course, while I am grateful, the whole thing is making me feel pretty awkward and I let them think that my punishment was the same. If anything, the consensus is that I got off the worst because I was singled out to talk to Miss Webb alone – my penance for being the good girl gone off the rails. Elyse and Mel somehow managed to intercept the message left for their dad. While Shimmi wasn’t quite so lucky, at least the headmistress spoke to her mum – and, most importantly, Shim convinced her mum not to tell her dad.
I’ve asked Elyse again and again what happened that afternoon when they left us. Elyse swears blind that she tried to tell me they were leaving, when the lads said they’d give the twins a lift home – but I was passed out in a drunken, stoned haze with Jago, and so they asked Shimmi, who said they should go and she’d sort it out. Shimmi backs this up, but I know it’s only because she’s embarrassed and probably has no recollection of what happened that afternoon – it’s completely obvious to me that she was too wasted to have a clue. Then again, maybe so was I.
Shimmi refuses to talk about any of it, except to bang on about how she had ‘the most awesome time’, which I might believe if I didn’t know her. I am still troubled by the mental picture of her slumped on that bed, but she just acts as though it’s me with the problem. It’s like, because no one else saw it, I’m her only obstacle in convincing herself that it never happened.
I’ve had no choice but to let the subject drop – especially as I know that I was in the wrong on the Jago front. Elyse hasn’t mentioned it outright, but has made it subtly clear to me that I wouldn’t have a leg to stand on if I pushed this argument too far.
Jago hasn’t been in touch – not that I really expected him to – but every time I think of him now, I feel ashamed of myself. I was being a crap friend to Elyse by hanging out with him as long as I did. I’m lucky she’s speaking to me at all, when I really think about it. Jago might be the hottest and most interesting boy I’ve ever met, but that’s not the point. I have no reason to doubt that everything Elyse said about him is true, so more fool me for being swayed by a pretty face. I have to forget the entire thing.
I’m relieved when I see the twins and Shimmi approaching.
‘Come on,’ Elyse commands, rushing past me although I’m the one who’s been waiting. ‘We have to hurry or we’ll miss the bus – they don’t exactly run regularly out our way. If we miss this one, then we’re stuck.’
Without their dad to give us a lift, it’s quite an epic trek to the twins’ house. We have to walk into town, then catch a bus, and from there it’s another walk at the other end. Even though their house is not technically a million miles away, it feels like it is. I don’t even get phone reception there.
The bus is almost empty so we sprawl out in a double seat each and can be as loud as we like. Shimmi is already thoroughly overexcited, shouting and whistling at any vaguely age-appropriate boys. She’s gone a bit nuts since what happened the other day. Everyone else thinks it’s really funny and cool; I think she’s trying too hard to prove she’s OK when she’s not. It breaks my heart a little to watch, but I know I’m the only one who can see it. Although I’m trying to convince myself otherwise, I’m getting more and more worried about her; I can’t help feeling that what should have been a wake-up call is being ignored. She’s refusing to think about it and this strikes me as dangerous – and, in trying to forget, it’s like she’s opening herself up for worse. I don’t even know what really happened in that room, but I can’t forget finding her there alone and running out of the flat – I don’t want to be in a situation like that ever again.
‘Woo-hoo!’ she screams, banging on the window at some hapless paperboy. ‘Break me off a piece of that!’
‘What,
that
?’ Elyse laughs, chucking a screwed-up bit of paper at Shimmi.
Mel starts giggling too, and pushes her hair out of her face. It’s only then that I suddenly notice she has an enormous, livid black eye. It’s shocking – all blue and black and shiny, angry and tinged with green. It’s on the same side as her scar and so gives her face a lopsided look, like two sides of a mask.
‘Oh my God, Melanie! What have you done to your face?’
Mel’s expression goes blank and I’m instantly sorry that this came out so much louder than I meant it to.
‘Mel sleepwalks,’ Elyse says, when Mel remains silent. ‘She hadn’t done it in ages, but she seems to be going through a real phase of it again. Last night she fell down the stairs. Didn’t you, Mel?’
‘It’s not that bad,’ she says softly.
The last thing I wanted to do was to upset Mel, but I seem to have managed it. She stays quiet for the rest of the journey.
When we finally arrive at the twins’ house, we’re not exactly delighted to find Gareth Next Door sitting on the doorstep. He’s reading some sort of graphic novel, looking chilly despite being swathed in an enormous Cannibal Corpse hoodie, and not a little bit desperate.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Elyse demands.
‘Hello to you, too,’ he grunts back. ‘Don’t bother being polite or anything.’
‘Um, OK, I won’t,’ she shoots back sarcastically. ‘Seriously, why are you sitting on our doorstep like some kind of stalker?’
‘God, Elyse, why do you have to be like that? You were the one who texted me earlier and asked what I was doing tonight.’
‘As if that was what I meant, you weirdo! If I need you, I’ll call you – OK? And it definitely won’t be a social call.’
‘Anyway, your dad had to go away for work for the weekend and he asked me to keep an eye out for you…’
‘Gareth, that is so lame. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re seventeen and are left alone in a free house all the time. I think it’s safe to say that you can go back to your own home now.’
‘You don’t have to be such a bitch about it, Elyse.’ Gareth looks more embarrassed than anything else.
Elyse ignores him. ‘Right! We’ve got lots to do; I’ve got it all planned and ready. ‘Scuse us, Gareth.’
As we troop indoors, Gareth has no choice but to disappear, but he still calls after us with an invitation to come round later if we want anything. Elyse slams the door and runs ahead of us up the stairs. She shouts instructions for us to wait outside her door and not to come in until she says we can. This might seem geeky and over-keen if it weren’t so properly mysterious. Being Elyse, who knows what she might have planned in there? Even Mel doesn’t seem to know what’s going on.
When Elyse eventually opens the door, the waft of smoke and the smell of incense hit us with force. Elyse has filled the room with so many candles that the combined effect feels more like a solid wall of roaring flames than mere points of delicate light. The heat is palpable and surprisingly strong. It should be really pretty, and it is, but somehow it’s much more than that. Trouble Every Day’s softest, most sinister song – Elyse’s favourite,
My Own Winter
– is playing. In the centre of the floor, circled by four cushions, and a candle burning at each corner, I recognise the same Ouija board that we were mucking about with the other weekend. This time, though, everything is laid out so perfectly that it really doesn’t look like mucking about any more.
Next to the board is a stack of old books, some of which I recognise from Elyse reading them at school, along with an unlabelled bottle of thick-looking red liquid and four glasses. This is most definitely not mucking about.
‘What do you think?’ Elyse asks. ‘Isn’t this awesome? I just thought, you know, let’s do something different, let’s make something happen. The four corners, remember? Who wants a drink?’
Mel and Shimmi giggle as they settle into their seats, each already gulping at the glasses that Elyse has handed them.
‘What’s in this drink?’ I ask.
‘Oh, it’s just some weird home-made wine that our dad makes; he won’t notice if we drink a bottle or two. It’s super-alcoholic and actually tastes quite nice.’
‘Yeah, but what’s actually
in
it?’
‘I don’t have an official list of ingredients! Seriously, it’s just some home-made cherry wine recipe. It’s good stuff.’
‘Elyse, it’s not…laced or something, is it?’
‘For God’s sake, Sorana! If I wanted to date-rape you I could have just stuck a roofie in a Bacardi Breezer – I don’t need some weird-looking home brew to do it.’
‘You’d better not be effing with me – that weed I smoked with Jago the other day completely messed me up. I don’t think smoking pot agrees with me, so anything else would probably be even worse.’
‘Expert now, are you? Well, it serves you right for getting mixed up with Jago. I did warn you. What’s going on with that, anyway?’
‘Nothing! We were just talking.’ I should never have brought him up. I’ve still got him on the brain – I can’t help myself.
I take a tiny taste while she watches. I don’t know if it’s just my paranoia, but I’m sure it has a weird, metallic taste. I silently resolve to get rid of the rest later on, when no one’s looking. I wonder fleetingly if I should get so wasted I don’t care, like the others, but there’s something in me telling me not to this time.
‘I’ve been looking at our charts,’ Elyse explains excitedly, ‘and today is a day when we could really make something happen. It’s the start of a new phase for us, especially with the four of us together – our charts are so complementary it’s ridiculous. With all of us combined, there’s this sort of
power
just waiting for us to do something with it. I’ve been reading on the Internet about the power of four. North, south, east, west. Earth, air, fire, water. Four! That means real power!’
Everyone’s kind of laughing along and only getting excited in a silly way, but I’m not sure it’s a joke. Suddenly I don’t
want
anything to happen, now that for the first time it seems like it might. Like it actually
could
.
‘All right, then,’ Shimmi says combatively as she downs her second glass of dodgy home-brewed wine. ‘Let’s do the Ouija board, just for a laugh.’
‘Get into the corners then, girls. We call on the spirits with the power of the four! Let’s go!’
‘Elyse,’ I mumble, feeling like an idiot. ‘Can we just get this straight? Are you talking about black magic or something?’
‘Sorana, you’re such a drama queen! It’s astrology, not exactly voodoo. The other stuff’s just fun, we’re just mucking about. Maybe we can even find out who grassed us up about ditching school the other day – although I’ve already got a pretty good idea…’
My stomach lurches as I picture Nathalie’s face in the doorway that day. I wonder what Elyse might do if she suspected the same thing. Although this is making me feel uncomfortable, after what happened with Jago, I know I have to prove to Elyse that I’m on her side.
I take a deep breath and a small gulp of cherry wine. We all put our fingers on the pointer and straight away it starts to spin around the board wildly. I look around through half-closed eyes and, if anything, this actually relaxes me as it reminds me that it is all complete nonsense – if Elyse isn’t pushing it herself, then my money’s on Shimmi.
‘Spirits, we call on you to answer our questions from the mortal realm…’ Elyse begins.
This may be a grand opening, but I am comforted by the fact that she then asks questions as banal as I might have thought up myself. Mostly hinging on the burning issue of Trouble Every Day, whether we will meet them soon and who from the band is going to fall in love with one of us. The pointer always swings around to the perfect answer, so it’s hardly the spirit world telling us this, so much as it’s wish fulfilment on Elyse’s part. We might just as well be working out ‘love percentages’ or writing the names of random boys we fancy on the covers of our homework diaries, like we did when we were thirteen. Just as I’m sort of having fun and about to chip in with my own silly question, she speaks over me.