‘Jessie!’ he shouts after me, but I’m already gone.
That was a bit stupid, I think to myself as I fling my backpack over my shoulder and walk out of the small close and away from the 1970s townhouse where we live. Now I’m going to have to walk, and school is flippin’ miles away.
I have to pass by Libby’s on my way, and I make sure I’m on the other side of the street so there’s less chance of her spotting me. I keep my gaze trained on the footpath, but instinct takes over and I can’t help shooting a look up at her home. Libby’s large, detached house is beautiful compared to our shabby little terrace. Her mum likes gardening and it shows, the hedges neatly trimmed, flowers bursting with colour in the beds. Her dad’s grey BMW glints in the sunlight on the driveway. I glance through the kitchen window and can see Libby, with her bobbed, ginger hair, sitting with her back to me at the kitchen table, flanked by her similarly ginger-haired brothers. Suddenly her mum appears at the window and her face lights up as she spots me. I quickly look away before she has a chance to wave.
My heart is pounding as my footsteps quicken, the pit of my stomach sick with sadness and regret. Libby’s mum always used to make me feel like I was a part of their family. But now Libby and I have nothing in common. I wonder if we ever really did. Just look at her house, look at her dad’s car, look at the happy little gathering around her kitchen table. I’m not a part of their family. I’m not a part of anyone’s family.
The trouble with having a stepdad who works at my school is that I can only avoid him for so long. I manage it until after first break, but then he corners me in the corridor outside Physics.
‘Well, at least you had the courtesy to turn up for school,’ he says.
I roll my eyes.
‘Don’t disappear anywhere at home time. We need to talk.’
‘OK, but I’m going out tonight,’ I inform him.
‘You’ve had too many nights out recently – you’re not going anywhere,’ he replies sternly, giving me a hard look as he sets off along the corridor towards his classroom.
We’ll see about that.
I turn to go into my Physics lesson and see Tom and one of his football mates, Chris, heading in my direction. I quickly put my head down. I wonder if they saw me barf in the car park last night. How freaking embarrassing.
‘Hey, Jessie!’ Tom calls. I hesitate outside the classroom door, glancing back to see him grinning at me cheekily. He jerks his head in the direction of Stu’s departing back. ‘You in trouble?’
I shrug. ‘Might be.’
He reaches me and Chris peels off, raising an eyebrow at Tom as he goes. I wonder what that’s supposed to mean.
‘Is he grounding you?’ Tom asks me, bringing my attention back to him.
‘Let him try.’
‘So you’re still coming to the party tonight?’
‘Of course.’ Does he want me to come?
‘Cool. See you later,’ he says with another grin, then jogs off to catch up with his mate.
I realise I have butterflies in my stomach and I want to be annoyed at myself, but I’m not. Does Tom Ryder, the hottest boy in school, like me? I turn around and bash straight into Libby.
‘Oof!’ she gasps as I knock the breath out of her.
‘Watch out,’ I snap, pushing past her and into the classroom.
Her hazel eyes crease with hurt and I instantly feel guilty. I hate how she makes me feel like this. I hated how she sometimes made me feel when Mum was alive, too, always siding with her when we argued and never with me. Telling me that I shouldn’t pick fights so much, that I should be grateful my mum was so cool. Now Libby just reminds me of how much I took for granted, and I don’t want to be reminded. Another reason I’ve been trying to stay clear of her.
I pull out my chair with a loud screech and slump into it, steeling myself for the misery that is my Physics lesson. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Libby quietly go to take a seat next to Amanda Blackthorn. Amanda smiles brightly up at her and Libby shakily returns her smile. Amanda’s closest friend Maria recently moved up north, so her BFF position is up for grabs. I bet Libby takes it. Amanda only lives around the corner from Libby and her life is just as perfect. They’re much better suited to each other than Libby and I ever were. I’d say I didn’t care, but the truth is, I’d be lying.
After school, I wait beside Stuart’s white Fiat in the staff car park. I see him come around the corner with a black look on his face, and he’s momentarily surprised to see me standing there. I guess he expected me to split. I will, soon enough. First I’ll lull him into a false sense of security . . .
God, when did I become such a bitch?
When my mum failed to turn up for my birthday party, that’s when.
Pain hurts my heart and I try to steel it into anger instead. I push off from the car and glare at Stu as he approaches.
‘Take your time, why don’t you,’ I say.
‘Get in the car,’ he replies, unlocking it.
I begrudgingly do as he says.
‘How was your day?’ he asks.
‘What, so now we’re doing small talk?’
‘Fine,’ he says abruptly. ‘Forget the small talk. Instead, why don’t you tell me when you’re going to stop hurting yourself like this?’
I scoff. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
He turns to stare at me. ‘You know, no one can hurt you as much as you can hurt yourself.’
‘Are you taking the piss? A serial killer could tear my heart out!’ I raise my voice. ‘Literally, I mean,’ I add, because sometimes I feel like my mum’s death did that metaphorically. ‘I could get raped or murdered or . . . or . . .’ hit by falling glass from a loose fourth-storey window on my way to pick up a birthday cake . . .
Suddenly I’m gulping back my sobs and I want to get out of the car and run, run, run far away from here, but Stuart’s hand is on my arm. I can see pity in his eyes and I want to shake him off, but I don’t have the energy so I sit there and cry out the remains of my torn-out heart instead.
‘Jessie . . . It’s OK. I miss her too,’ Stuart says gently. ‘I’m here for you,’ he adds.
For how long? I think to myself. Why should he look after me, now? He owes me nothing. He was only ever in it for my mum.
That’s not true, a little voice inside my head says, but I quash it. Because he’s not my dad, much as my mum tried to tell me he was as good as one. I have never called him ‘Daddy’. He’s just Stu.
I roughly drag my arm across my nose and wipe away the tears from my eyes, sniffing loudly. I stare sullenly out the window. ‘Are we going home, or what? If anyone sees me sitting here with my Maths teacher, I’ll never live it down.’
Stu starts up the ignition, but before he pulls away he says, ‘You can keep pushing me away, but I’m not letting you go. Just so you know that.’
Hot tears sting my eyes as we drive out of the car park.
Stuart and I settle into an uneasy truce that night. He’s smart enough not to make me eat at the kitchen table with him and force polite conversation. Instead we take our bowls of spaghetti bolognese into the living room and sit and eat in front of the telly. He barely raises an eyebrow when I drop a strand of red spaghetti on the carpet. He even lets me watch one of my trashy reality TV shows, which is so not his thing. I want to say that I feel reasonably content, except that at the back of my mind I’m constantly aware that I know I’m going to go to the party at Natalie and Mike’s tonight, even if it starts World War III. I wonder if I can persuade Stu to agree on his own terms. Me having a meltdown earlier might have softened his heart a little.
‘Thanks for dinner,’ I say graciously.
‘You’re welcome,’ he replies, giving me a wary look.
‘Stu . . .’
‘You’re not going out.’
‘Stu, please,’ I say, muting the TV.
‘No, Jessie,’ he says firmly.
‘Why not?’ I try to remain calm. He’ll be less likely to agree if I go of
f on one.
‘Because you’ve been burning the candle at both ends for far too long. You could do with a night in. Natalie and that new crowd you’re hanging out with are a bad influence.’
‘No, they’re not,’ I scoff.
‘I’m worried about you,’ he adds.
‘You don’t need to be worrie—’
‘Don’t I?’ he interrupts with a hard look.
‘No. You don’t.’ I look down at my hands, studying my chipped nail polish.
‘You’re only fifteen, Jessie.’ He points out the obvious. ‘I’m responsible for you, and you might not like it, but I need to make sure you’re safe.’
‘I will be safe!’
‘What, by going out drinking and smoking and doing God knows what else?’
‘It’s only a party at my friend’s house.’ I’m trying so hard not to raise my voice. It won’t get me anywhere. ‘I know I’ve been difficult lately, but it’s hardly surprising . . .’ A lump forms in my throat, which is handy because I don’t have to act. ‘I could do with some cheering up.’
‘So we’ll watch a movie, eat some ice cream.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, Stu! I’m not a child!’ I say crossly.
His brow furrows.
‘I’ll be careful. I won’t drink.’ Much, I add silently. ‘You can even give me a lift there and back.’
‘Oh, well, thank you very much,’ he says sarcastically. ‘Lucky me, spending my evening being your taxi driver.’
‘Please.’ One more try to get him onside and then I’m giving up and going out anyway.
He takes the remote from me, unmutes the TV and glares at the screen.
‘Please,’ I say again.
He doesn’t reply, so I’m taking that as a yes. ‘Thank you,’ I breathe, getting up and planting a so-rare-it-should-be-in-a-museum kiss on his cheek. I run upstairs to get ready and thankfully, he doesn’t stop me.
Chapter 3
‘Remember, no smoking and no drinking,’ Stu says firmly from the driver’s seat. We’re at Natalie’s house, but I’ve asked him to pull up a little way down the road.
‘I promise,’ I reply and reach for the door handle.
‘Call me. I’ll come get you by eleven-thirty, latest. I’m trusting you, Jessie. Please don’t let me down.’
Bugger, now he’s only gone and put a guilt trip on me.
‘OK, OK,’ I say with a roll of my eyes as I step out on to the pavement. I turn back to look at him. ‘Thanks for the lift.’ I force a smile, but can’t ignore the doubtful look on his face as I shut the door.
I set off quickly before he can change his mind, the heels of my ankle boots clicking on the pavement as I go. I’m wearing my caramel-coloured shorts that make my legs look really brown and a cream top with lace detail on the long sleeves. My blonde hair is down and blow-dryed messy. I’m wearing dark eye make-up and pale pink lipstick. Tom had better appreciate the efforts I’ve gone to.
The party has already started from the sound of the bass vibrating through the walls as I walk up the footpath to Natalie’s house. I hope the neighbours are away. Her parents are pretty laid-back, which is partly why I like her. They don’t hang around like a bad smell and try to mother you and make you feel like everything is going to be alright. Unlike Libby’s parents. It wouldn’t surprise me if they’d actually given permission to have this party, even though the neighbours have been known to complain in the past about the noise levels. Spoilsports.
I ring the doorbell and a minute later Natalie opens the door, a fag in one hand, a can of cider in the other. I’m relieved Stu drove off in the other direction.
‘Jessie!’ she squeals, dragging me inside and slamming the door shut behind me. She’s twisted her hair up into a messy bun with a few strands falling loose around her face. She’s wearing a sheer black top and black shorts with wedges.
‘Snap!’ she says, noticing my shorts. ‘You look amazing!’ she shouts over the music.
‘You too,’ I shout back.
‘I thought you were grounded!’
‘Stu changed his mind. But I would have come anyway. He can’t stop me doing what I want.’
‘Sorry, I should know you better than that.’ She laughs and leads me through to the kitchen. I glance into the living room as I pass, and can see a few bodies lounging on the sofas while a guy wearing headphones hangs over the DJ decks set up in the corner. I wave at Natalie’s brother Mike and he lazily waves back. No sign of Tom.
‘Are many people here yet?’ I ask.
‘No, but it’s only eight o’clock,’ she replies.
I’m instantly on edge. What if he doesn’t come?
‘What do you want to drink?’ she asks.
I could really do with something to chill me out. Cider or vodka usually does the trick, but then an image of Stu’s face pops into my mind. I did promise . . .
‘Cider?’ she tempts me.
‘I’ll just have a Coke,’ I say decisively.
She laughs and passes me a can of cider from the fridge.
‘I’m serious,’ I tell her with a grin, handing the can back to her. ‘My liver needs a night off.’
She gives me a weird look and glugs some Coke into a glass. Then she reaches for a bottle of vodka and jokily tilts it over my drink.
‘Maybe later.’ I nab my glass before she can spike it.
‘Let’s go outside,’ she says, putting the bottle down on the worktop and steering me towards the French doors to the garden. ‘I’ve been telling everyone they can’t smoke inside, yet here I am.’ She steps over the threshold and flicks her ash at a shrub.
Dougie and Em are sitting at the table, their faces lit by the candles in multi-coloured glass holders in the centre. We exchange hellos and I sit down next to them.
It still surprises me how relaxed I feel in the company of this lot, considering they’re that much older than me. I used to see them around school – Dougie and Em, too, before they went to sixth form college – but didn’t speak to any of them. Libby was always a bit scared of them, but they didn’t frighten me.
In a weird way, the reason that we started hanging out at all was kind of because of Libby. About a year ago, Libby’s mum took her out of school for a dentist’s appointment and she told me she saw Natalie and Aaron bunking off and smoking. She said Natalie gave her evils. I thought she was probably overreacting until the next day at school, when Natalie slammed into Libby’s shoulder in the corridor. Then she’d spun around and pointed two fingers at her eyes and then at Libby, as if to say, ‘I’m watching you.’ The look on Libby’s face – she was terrified. I was so furious on her behalf that I stormed after Natalie.
‘What the hell are you playing at? If she was going to tell on you, she already would have!’
Then Mrs Rakeman came out into the corridor and we all broke away from each other.
That weekend, we’d gone to a party for one of our friend’s birthdays – the whole year group was invited. His parents were pretty wealthy so they put on a big do at the rugby club, and loads of people from the year above came as well. Libby wasn’t that fussed about going – she wanted to stay in and have a girl’s night at home instead – but I convinced her to go. Looking back, we had already started to want different things. I just couldn’t see it at the time. I thought she’d grow up, too, follow in the same direction as me. But she never did.
Anyway, Natalie and the others were at this party, and Libby was freaking out when she saw them, thinking Natalie was going to start on her. I said I’d have her back and told her not to worry, but later, when we went to the bathroom together, Natalie was coming out of a cubicle. She was still there in front of the mirror doing her make-up when I re-emerged from the toilet myself. I ignored her and applied some lipstick and then I felt her eyes on me in the mirror.
‘What?’ I snapped, glaring at her.
‘I like that colour on you,’ she said, to my surprise.
‘Have some if you want.’ I offered up the lips
tick begrudgingly.
‘Thanks.’ She took it from me, applied some and handed it back as Libby came out of her cubicle looking stupidly pale-faced and worried. But Natalie didn’t give her another glance as she walked out.
Later, I saw her at the bar. ‘Have you got any fags?’ she asked me.
‘Nah, I don’t smoke.’
‘Try it. You might like it,’ she said with a cheeky grin.
I just shrugged.
After that, she was friendlier to me at school, smirking at me sometimes if we passed each other in the corridor. Then one day I saw her handing out what looked like little leaflets, and as I passed, she gave one to me. It was an invite to a Halloween party at her house. Word got around that Natalie’s parents were out of town and Libby didn’t want to go, but I dragged her along.
She was miserable that night. The people there were in the year or two above us, and a lot of them were smoking and drinking. Libby just wanted to go home, but I was having a good time. It was different from the norm. These guys were cool, the music was good, and I was proud of the fact that we – well, I – had been invited.
Libby needed the loo and didn’t want to walk through the house looking for it on her own, so I went with her, even though I thought she was being ridiculous. I saw Natalie and asked her where it was.
‘Upstairs,’ she replied. ‘Hey, I like your horns,’ she said, pulling me back with a grin. I was wearing sparkly red devil horns and a black dress.
Libby went on up the stairs, glancing nervously over her shoulder at me.
‘I’ll catch you up,’ I called after her, turning back to Natalie. ‘I like your tattoo,’ I said, nodding at her arm. It was a fake one of a spider. ‘Did it hurt?’ I kept a straight face.
‘It’s not real,’ she scoffed.
‘No shit, Sherlock,’ I replied with a grin.
She laughed. ‘You got me. I do want to get one, though,’ she said flippantly. ‘My parents are laid-back, but they’re not that laid-back . . . Hey, come and meet some people,’ she said suddenly.