Authors: Sharon Sant
‘It’s grimy and
pointless. There’s nothing to do apart from some rusty old swings and a
graveyard. My house is a
dump,
all the houses are
dumps –’
‘Hey, not all
the houses are dumps. Mine’s nice.’
‘Then you’re
lucky. You should try being one of the council house kids in a village
where there are only ten council houses.’
‘So it’s a bit
rundown and we only have a couple of shops and a pub. It can be a laugh
sometimes.
Me
and Matt used to turn the road
signs around so that the tourists would get lost on the way through.’
‘Thrilling,’ she
says. For the first time her voice really shows how much she hates
Matt. How much she must have hated me.
‘It’s not so
bad, is all I’m saying. There’s not much to do, but you can make it fun.’
‘Easy to say
when you have friends.’
‘You must have some
friends,’ I say. But I know that she doesn’t.
She just sniffs.
‘No one’s allowed to be different here. Being different doesn’t get you
friends.’
‘Like you?’
‘Yeah, I suppose
like me.’
‘So, you’re
going to leave forever?’
‘Yep, and never
look back.’
The
thought of her leaving makes me feel scared for some reason, but I don’t say
it. ‘Won’t you miss your dad?’
‘I can come back
and visit, if I want to. Show everyone that I did ok after all.’
‘So… what are
you going to do?’
She shrugs.
‘Maybe university.’
‘That sounds
like fun,’ I say, and I suppose she hears the longing in my voice.
‘Sorry.’
‘What for?’
‘For being able to go to university.’
‘It doesn’t
matter. It’s not your fault I’m dead.’
‘Who am I
kidding?’ she says, plunging her hands deeper in her pockets. ‘There’s no way
I’m going to
uni
. I have to look after my dad.’
I hesitate. What
mental age is this guy if he needs a fifteen-year-old girl to look after him?
‘Can’t he manage without you?’
She doesn’t
reply and stops walking. I look up to see that we’re standing by the wall
across from her house.
‘Want to do
something tomorrow?’ I ask.
‘Maybe,’ she
says. ‘Are you going to hang around school?’
‘Maybe.’
‘So… maybe I’ll
see you tomorrow?’
I grin. ‘Maybe
you will.’
She
smiles. It’s that unfamiliar Bethany
again. ‘Maybe it’s goodnight, then,’ she says, turning for the house.
I tip my
forefinger to my temple in a salute. ‘Maybe it is,’ I say, and I watch her
climb the steps to her dirty yellow door.
I stayed outside Bethany’s
house for a while last night, watching the windows. I saw lights go on and off
in different rooms, and in other houses along the row. All of the people
in those houses were safe, all of them happy and alive. In the end, I couldn’t
stand it and I ran to Dad’s grave and stayed there until the sun came up,
watching the stars and singing
Radiohead
songs.
In the morning, I walked into school with Bethany
but she said I couldn’t talk to her so I just listened to the sound of her
boots hitting the pavement and her breaths in the freezing air. When we
got to school, Ingrid saw us – no, she saw Bethany
– come in through the gate, looked her up and down and pulled a disgusted face.
She turned to her cronies. I don’t know what she said, but a couple
seconds later, they all laughed.
‘Forget about
it,’ I said to Bethany. But she
looked straight through me, just like the others do, and went into class.
It’s lunchtime
now. All the kids pour out of class and go to the canteen, or get a table
outside where it’s cold but at least it’s dry today and the hot stench of
bodies and food in the cafeteria doesn’t get in your nose and put you off your
food. Some of them just wander around and don’t eat anything, preferring
to chew gum and save the lunch money their parents give them. Matt does
that sometimes, when he needs some extra cash. Once or twice, I did it
too, but I always got home and went on a fridge raid and Mum would know what
I’d done. Matt’s mum never seems to figure it out. But she lets him do
whatever he wants anyway.
I wonder whether
to wait for Bethany but I think
about her warning and decide not to. If I annoy her by talking to her in
school, she might not go to see my mum for me. I’m pretty sure if I play it
right, I can still persuade her to do that. Instead, I’ve found Matt and Ingrid
behind the science block again. It’s like torture, but something in me
can’t leave them alone. He’s all over her again but she doesn’t look like
she’s happy about it today.
‘Get off!’ She
slaps Matt’s hand away but he doesn’t stop. ‘I said, get off me!’
‘You weren’t
complaining last night,’ he sniggers, trying to get under her shirt
again.
She grabs his
hand and throws it off, then does up her jacket. ‘Last night wasn’t in broad
daylight at school.’
‘Ok, I won’t do
it again,’ he says, pulling her in by the small of her back to kiss her.
‘You’d better
not,’ she says before he gets his gob round hers.
Straightaway,
his hand is under her coat again.
‘I told you to
stop it!’ Ingrid pushes him away.
‘Yeah, but I
thought you were just being shy.’
‘Shy? Are
you simple or something?’
‘No,’ he says,
trying to grab her waist again. She shoves him away. ‘I can’t help it, I fancy
you like mad.’ He throws her a look that he thinks is going to get him into her
knickers. I can only stand here and watch when I want to punch his face in and
it makes me want to scream.
‘I thought you
were nice,
y’know
? Sensitive,’ she says.
‘Sensitive?’ I
go up and stand between them and look her right in the eye. ‘I could have done
sensitive if I’d known that was what you were into!’
She stares
through me at Matt. ‘But I’m beginning to wonder if you aren’t the same kind of
arse that your mate was.’
‘Arse?
I hope you’re not talking about me, you bitch!’
I shout. My God, I thought people only said nice stuff about you when you were
dead. That’s what my mum used to tell me:
don’t speak ill of the dead,
David
. When was I an arse, anyway?
‘I can’t believe
you’ve just said that about my best friend,’ Matt says. His face contorts
into a pained frown and his lip wobbles.
‘Oh, grow up,’
she snaps. ‘You weren’t missing him when we were at the graveyard last
night. In fact, he couldn’t have been further from your mind.’
‘You were at the
graveyard? Did you go to my grave?
Together
?’ Something makes me think
they weren’t putting flowers on there. ‘What time was this?’ I ask. I’m just
thankful it wasn’t when I was there with Bethany.
But then something bothers me… what if they were in the churchyard at the same
time I was there with Bethany? I
didn’t hear anyone else but I can’t be sure. What if they saw her talking to
me?
‘He wasn’t
exactly on your mind either,’ Matt says. ‘You keep going on about how upset you
are about
Cottle
being dead all the time but you
didn’t even like him.’
‘I knew him,
though. Things like that get to you. Besides, it’s hard to have someone on your
mind when his best mate is sticking his tongue down your throat,’ she says with
ice in her voice.
‘You weren’t
putting up much of a fight,’ Matt says to her.
‘I felt sorry
for you.’
‘Do you do that
for everyone you feel sorry for? If David ever comes back from the dead, he’ll
be well in your knickers.’
‘You shit! I
thought you were upset.’
‘Did I say I was
upset?’
‘Well, no –’
‘I just said I
wanted to go the churchyard. I didn’t say I was upset.’
‘So, why did we
go, then?’ she asks.
‘Where else were
we going to go in this place?
The swings?
Your house?
My house?
It was
just somewhere quiet to go.’
‘But I thought… we
looked at his grave.’ She looks like she might cry now.
‘
You
wanted to look.’
‘But then you…’
He tucks his
shirt in and looks at his watch. ‘Forget it. Come and find me when
you’re less
narky
.’
He walks back
down the narrow passageway that leads away from the science block and to the
main school yard. The sudden silence is filled with the dull hum of chatter
from the grounds beyond the new blocks. Ingrid straightens her jacket and
leans against the wall, tipping her face to the sky and taking deep breaths.
Then she begins to cry, just quietly, small tears sliding down her
cheeks. Part of me wants to do something for her. But part of me is
too angry to care that she’s crying. I hate Matt. I hate Ingrid too
for being shallow enough to fall for him.
Suddenly, I feel
like we’re not alone and I turn around to see Bethany
unravelling some earphones and not looking what she’s walking in to. Ingrid
looks up and rubs her eyes clear.
‘What do you
want?’ she says to Bethany.
Bethany
fires a quick glance at me and then looks back at Ingrid. ‘Nothing,’ she
says. I just came to listen to some music.
‘What, behind
here? You know you’re a freak, don’t you?’
‘You’re behind
here,’ Bethany replies, not looking
at me, though I can feel her questions as though she’s beaming them straight
into my head.
Ingrid marches
towards her and pushes her out of the way as she goes back to the main yard.
Bethany
waits for her to go.
‘What was going
on there?’ she asks when the coast is clear. Not suspicious, just concerned.
I shrug. ‘Not
sure. But they were at my grave last night.’
Bethany
looks puzzled for a moment.
‘Who’s
they?’
‘Ingrid and Matt.’
‘Oh.’ She winds
the earphones back up and stows them in her rucksack before coming to sit on
the floor against the wall. I slide down next to her.
‘Do you think
they saw us? I mean you talking to me?’ I ask her.
She shakes her
head. ‘I don’t know. But I don’t think so.’
‘How can you be
so sure?’
She gives me a
sideways look through her long fringe. ‘Do you really think they would
have missed an opportunity to take the piss out of me? If they’d seen us last
night, it would have been halfway around the school by now.’
‘I suppose
you’re right.’
‘Does it make
you sad?’ Bethany asks.
‘What?’
‘Ingrid and Matt.’
I shrug. ‘I
don’t know what I feel. I’m angry about what they might have been doing
right near my grave. I don’t think they were leaving flowers.’
‘Probably not,’
she agrees.
‘You’re supposed
to argue that and make me feel better,’ I say.
‘What’s the point?
You know what the truth is as well as I do.’
‘It doesn’t seem
fair.’
‘Life isn’t
fair.’
‘Death isn’t
either.’
She gives me a
small sideways smile. ‘Why was she crying?’
‘I got here
halfway through the conversation,’ I say. ‘She told Matt that he was an arse
like me,’ I say, suddenly remembering.
‘He is,’ Bethany
says. ‘And so are you.’
‘You’re only
saying that to me now because I can’t hit you,’ I laugh, feeling a bit awkward.
‘Yes, I am.’ She
pulls out a plastic box. ‘Would it bother you if I ate my sandwiches?’
‘I suppose not.’
She opens it up
and unwraps her lunch.
‘What’s on
them?’ I ask.
‘Ham and pickle.’
‘I think I like
ham and pickle.’
She sees me look
at her food longingly. ‘I suppose you can’t eat,’ she says.
I shake my head.
She looks
thoughtful. Then she says, ‘Try to imagine what it tastes like while I eat
mine. Then maybe it’ll feel like we’re eating them together.’
I stare at her
for a moment. Then I close my eyes and think about salty ham and the
fruity sharpness of pickle and I can almost remember the flavours.
When I open my
eyes she’s smiling at me.
‘How was that?’
‘Good,’ I say.
‘I think I know
why Ingrid is so upset,’ she says suddenly.
‘Why?’
‘Maybe she gave
something away last night, something she can never get back.’ She snorts.
‘To Matt Spencer, of all people.’
‘What does that
even mean?’
She sighs and
takes another bite of her sandwich. ‘Do you think they’ve split up?’
‘Don’t
know. I hope so.’
‘Why should you
care now?’ she says carefully.
‘I still like
her. Just because you’re dead you don’t stop fancying people.’
‘Does everything
like that stay the same? Do you still get emotions and…
urges
,’ she says
the word quickly, like it’s embarrassing, ‘and stuff?’
‘Sort of.
But it feels like I’m forgetting those
things as well, slowly.’
‘Maybe you’re
not forgetting them, exactly… just changing. You still seem pretty human
to me.’
‘Thanks… I
think.’
‘We still need
to figure out what’s happening to you,’ she says. I feel like it’s a very
deliberate change of subject.
‘Any more thoughts?’
Bethany
looks up sharply as a group of year seven boys race past the opening to our
narrow entryway. It seems to remind her that although it feels like we’re alone
here, we’re really not.
‘You shouldn’t
be talking to me now,’ she says.
‘I seem to
recall you started it.’
‘You took me by
surprise; I didn’t expect you to be here. I can normally come here and be
alone.’