She missed Hannah. Suddenly. Sharply. Hannah would have been able to calm her down. If Hannah hadn’t died then none of this shit would even be happening. Maybe she and Aiden would still be together. She took a deep breath before her overwhelming self-pity started to make this all Hannah’s fault. It was her own fault. Her fault for being mental. And Aiden’s for being a lying bastard. And Tasha’s for being the sort of girl who always got what she wanted so easily.
She hated them all. She hated herself. No more overthinking it.
She dragged herself down for dinner, pretending to eat and avoiding conversation, and when her mum asked what was the matter, she just shrugged and said she missed Hannah. It was the easiest way to get them to stop talking to her. Her parents were as shit at talking about their emotions as she was. The last thing she wanted was to tell them Aiden and Tasha had been on a date. She could manage without their pity.
Later that night she got a text from Casey saying she should know she was getting trashed again on Twitter. Vicki and Jodie’s feeds were full of stuff saying she’d gone properly mental over Aiden. Facebook, too. She buried her head in the pillow and hated herself all over again. Why would Casey tell her that? Admittedly, Casey was almost the only person who was still civil to Becca – probably because she’d been through that whole Is Casey Morrison a dyke? stuff back in Year Ten so knew how it felt. But still: why tell Becca that shit was going on? Maybe Casey thought Becca should man up about it. Get back online and face it.
She stared at her phone. She didn’t care what people were saying about her, not so much, anyway, but her curiosity about Tasha and Aiden was overwhelming. Would their Facebooks say in a relationship? Did she want to see? Maybe they’d see she was online again and immediately unfriend her. Would that be such a bad thing? The thought of Aiden ditching her on Facebook made her stomach flip again. She’d look quickly and then deactivate again. Two minutes, she promised herself. Just to know.
So she took a deep breath and logged in.
Fifty
‘So, do you fancy doing it again?’ Jamie said as they strolled up the gravel path to the house. Although their evening had been good, the tension easing after the first glass of wine, he felt like a teenager now, awkward and stumbling. He’d just suggested a drink and maybe some food, a vague request that didn’t have to be seen as a date, but asking her a second time stripped that pretence away. He was way too out of practice at all this. But at least they had the law in common, even if she’d been more interested in his music, which was a pleasant surprise.
‘Sure,’ Caitlin Bennett said, and smiled at him. ‘Why not?’
He grinned. ‘Great. I could do this weekend?’
She was about to answer when the arguing from inside his house distracted them both.
‘You got visitors?’ she said quietly. Her demeanour had changed, a tension in her stance that made her suddenly a policewoman again.
‘Aiden’s staying for a while, but that’s it.’
‘Girl trouble?’
‘Sounds like it.’
They were nearly at the front door when it opened and Aiden almost shoved Becca out through it. She was sobbing, and under the security light Jamie could see that her face was blotchy.
‘You are all over her on Facebook!’ she shouted. ‘Liking everything. You added her even before we’d broken up! I knew you still liked her! I knew it!’
‘She added me,’ Aiden sounded weary. ‘But you’re not listening. I didn’t still like her. But at least she’s not mental. She gives me some space.’
‘You guys okay?’ Jamie said. It was a stupid question. Okay was something they clearly weren’t. Aiden had told him they’d split up and that Natasha had been messaging him, but apparently Becca was still really hurt.
‘I’m going,’ Becca said. She saw Caitlin and in her surprise almost said something, then stopped herself. Their arrival had taken the wind out of her anger, though, and she turned to leave, nearly tripping over Biscuit, who was hovering by her ankles, unhappy at her upset. She crouched and fussed him for a second, hiding her face, before storming past them all. Biscuit whined, watching her go. Yeah, Jamie wanted to say, I wish we could make it better with a face-lick and a waggy tail. But life’s not quite like that.
He was glad he wasn’t a teenager. He might be out of practice at the dating thing, but at least both he and Caitlin were old enough and cynical enough to know that sometimes things work and sometimes shit gets in the way. There were no promises of love forever after, not really.
‘Sorry,’ Aiden mumbled as Caitlin said goodnight and left them to it. She’d only drunk one glass of wine and her car was still here. What had started as a routine follow-up visit had turned into a great evening, and part of him had hoped maybe she’d come in for coffee and they wouldn’t have to say goodbye quite yet, but Becca’s histrionics had put paid to that. Still, she’d said yes to another date, so it wasn’t all bad.
‘What happened?’
‘Just Becca being Becca.’
‘She still getting all that hassle on the Internet?’ Jamie felt a bit sorry for her – she’d had a rough ride and now somehow she’d become almost as vilified as the two girls who were guilty, and that was crazy.
‘A bit. She’s not on there much, though. I don’t know why she went on tonight. She’s just going to make herself feel worse by looking at it.’ He lit the butt of a joint and inhaled.
‘And what about you and Natasha?’ He felt like a parent more than a friend, carefully navigating the minefield of teenagers’ lives to see what was going on. ‘Is that turning into a thing?’
Aiden shrugged. ‘She’s hot and everything, but I don’t know. It’s not a thing. But she’s different. Confident. And she totally came after me; I didn’t chase her, whatever Becca thinks.’ He paused, then the shadows clouding his face cleared and he looked at Jamie through the smoke. ‘What about you and the detective, then? Where have you two been till this time of night?’
Jamie laughed at the sudden role reversal. ‘It was just a friendly dinner.’
‘Yeah, right,’ Aiden said. He looked like he was about to say more when his phone buzzed.
‘Becca?’ Jamie asked. Aiden shook his head.
‘Tasha.’
‘I’ll leave you to it, Casanova,’ Jamie said and headed with Biscuit to the sitting room. He should probably send Caitlin a text himself. Just a Thanks for a great night. Something like that. Something casual. Something that hopefully didn’t make him sound like too much of an idiot. He smiled to himself. Maybe he should ask Aiden’s advice.
Fifty-One
Anyway, I’m sorry. Feel like
it’s my fault. I’m totally going
to kill Jodie and Vix
tomorrow. They shouldn’t
stir shit up online. It’s so year
six. X
I press send and wait. I’m sitting on my bed in the dark, but the curtains are open and the moon is full and low, throwing a fractured pool of light onto the carpet, splintered into white streaks by the thick branches of the tree outside.
11.45
Aiden
Not your fault! U’ve done nothing wrong. She’s mental. Just unlucky she saw us. Forget it. X
11.46
Tasha
As long as you’re OK. X
11.49
Aiden
Yeah just embarrassed she was so mad in front of Jamie and that policewoman. At least she left then. X
11.49
Tasha
Bennett was there? X
I’m surprised by this. What did she want? Why is she still hanging around here?
11.50
Aiden
Think they were on a date. Pretty sure Jamie’s hot for her.
11.51
Tasha
Gross!;-)
I smile, relieved. It is pretty gross. Caitlin Bennett probably doesn’t even shave her legs. But it’s also kind of perfect. Bennett seeing Becca’s hysterics – that’s a lucky bonus.
11.51
Aiden
Yeah!
I bite my bottom lip and my fingers fly over the keyboard.
11.52
Tasha
If you want to do coffee and
whatever again, just let me know.
Really enjoyed it;-)xx
11.55
Aiden
Me too xx
Like he has to tell me he enjoyed it. Of course he did. I know this already. Like everyone else, he’s so predictable.
11.57
Tasha
Night;-)
11.58
Aiden
Night xx
I think about how I kissed Aiden this afternoon after Becca saw us in Starbucks. He drove me home and I leaned across in the car that smelled of leather and sweet weed and tobacco, and then his lips were on mine. It was easy. And it wasn’t as bad as I’d expected. He didn’t try and force his tongue down my throat like Mark Pritchard had. Maybe he was just surprised, but he was gentle. I don’t know quite what to make of it. Perhaps I shouldn’t think about it at all.
I should go to sleep, or at least try to. I need more than the three or four hours a night I’m getting and it’s wearing me down. I’m sure Dr Harvey would have plenty to say about it if I went back to her, but I have no intention of doing that. I look over at the chessboard, the white and black pieces neatly lined up and ready for battle again. Becca doesn’t know it but I finished the game against her a while ago – me against me. I tried to think like her for her pieces. My side still won. Now that game is over. Done.
Becca has unsettled me, though. That question about the bracelets first. I could see she was upset but that’s no big deal. It doesn’t really mean anything – we’re not friends now, anyway. But the green dress? I’d forgotten about that. Why bring it up? Why suddenly remember something I did all those years ago? If she misses hanging out with me so much, why bring that up? Hardly our happiest friendship memory. What did she want from that text? What did she expect me to say in reply? Was it a warning shot?
I stare at the neatly organised chequered board. In my head I make my opening gambit, thinking through all the eventualities, my mind always at least three moves ahead, constantly studying the board, deciding which pieces to sacrifice and which to save. It’s second nature to me. I almost text Becca, but I don’t. Silence is golden. If this is a fresh game we’re playing, then I’m already winning.
My eyes itch with tiredness and I lie back and stare up at the ceiling. Moonlight slashes across the paintwork. I count the shards of light. Thirteen. Of course. Everything I count always comes to thirteen. I force my eyes to stay open. The darkness is waiting for me in my sleep, whispering to me, and I won’t go there. I won’t. I count to thirteen again and wonder why I’m so afraid.
Fifty-Two
After drifting off in a pool of shameful tears for an hour or so when she finally got home and into bed, Becca barely slept. In her restless dreams she relived that moment over and over – seeing Aiden and Tasha together through the Starbucks window. The hand-touching. That look from Tasha. In her dreams she was filled with rage, beating her anger against the glass until her fists bled. The glass held. She was kept from them and her frustration made her murderous. She wanted to kill them. She burned to.
She woke in a sweat, confused and disorientated in the dark, but her brain was fizzing. A moment of clarity amidst all the stupidity – her stupidity. That look on Tasha’s face when she saw Becca. That small smile.
As if she’d been expecting her.
She opened the window and rolled a cigarette and lit it with shaking hands. She needed to think clearly. Maybe she was getting paranoid or actually going crazy or something, but her mind was knotted and needed untangling. What had Aiden said to her last night? When she was screaming and shouting at him, trying to punch him, before Jamie and Bennett came back? She ignored the instinct to cringe at her own behaviour and focused on his words instead.
Natasha had added Aiden to Facebook.
Natasha had asked him to go for coffee.
She’d started liking his photos first.
Maybe he was lying. Maybe. But Becca kept thinking about that look on Tasha’s face through the glass. A quiet self-congratulation. A triumph. What had Miss Borders said?
I suspect that in Natasha’s eyes, everyone else on the board is a pawn.
Wide awake now, Becca flicked her bedside light on and grabbed some paper and a pen. She needed to try and put her thoughts in some order.
We’re all pawns was the first thing she wrote.
Aiden, Me.
Hayley? Jenny???
Hannah??
She lied about the bracelets. Why? To make me her friend.
Hayley says, ‘She used Becca.’ Maybe not talking about Tasha but who else could it be?
After catching the bracelet lie, I texted about the green dress incident. No answer.
BUT then she has coffee with Aiden. I saw them.
She paused, dragging hard on the tobacco until she heard the paper crackle as it burned. The big Why? kept itching at her but she ignored it. This wasn’t about reasoning or figuring anything out. This was about putting events in order. Looking behind the scenes of those events. Behind the scenes was her skill.
But not by chance. I heard Vicki and Jodie talking about it. Exact details of where. Enough so I know it’s Aiden. Guitarists’ fingers. Did she tell them to do that? Make sure I heard? Maybe slagged me off? Everyone hates me anyway.
But they’d do it just to please her.
WHY???
She leaned back against her pillows. Always the whys. The big whys and the little ones – all her suppositions led to nothing without an answer. Maybe she was just seeing things that weren’t there. Making crazy connections between coincidences. Maybe it was crazy—
She froze and her eyes widened slightly, a chill creeping across her skin as pieces of the puzzle locked into place in her mind. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Becca gripped the pen tightly as she scribbled, her words all haste and sharp angles.
Tasha knew I’d go mental when I heard about Aiden.
I call her out about the bracelet lie. She feels threatened. I send her the text about the green dress. She thinks I’m making a point/threat? She’s worried I know something.
So she makes her move: she plans me catching her with Aiden. She gets her new Barbies to make sure I know they’re at Starbucks and will go there to see for myself. (BITCHES.) Then they stir all that shit up on the Internet about my freak-out.
She knows I’ll hear about the shit-storm online. That I’ll look like a crazy jealous ex-girlfriend. That no one will believe a word I say.
IS THAT THE POINT?
She doesn’t know what I know (what does she think I know??) so she’s made me look totally mental.
It’s like a game of chess. All her pieces in place in case of attack.
Pawns. We’re all pawns to her.
So what is it she’s afraid I know?
Satisfied, the jumbled thoughts out of her head and on the paper, she let the pen drop. To anyone else it would look crazy. She knew that. But she also knew Natasha. The real Natasha, not just the charismatic veneer. She’d forgotten her for a while, for a long while, in her envy and desperate need to be back in the pack. And Natasha had hidden that part of herself away. But Becca knew her. Maybe that’s what Natasha was afraid of?
She thought of Aiden for the first time without wanting to spit nails in his eyes. Poor bastard. He was just another pawn like the rest of them.
She finished her cigarette but didn’t roll a fresh one. She left the window open, though, enjoying the col
d breeze. The curtains fluttered and the bright moon shone in streaks across the ceiling. She stared at them, her mind both calm and whirring as she ran over and over events. She thought of Jenny in the psychiatric ward, or wherever they’d taken her. Hayley, broken and afraid and refusing to see her mother. No one listening to a word they said. Natasha, queen of the hive again with new Barbies in tow. Becca discarded, her purpose served.
It didn’t make sense yet – she knew that. And she knew she should go to sleep. She should at least try. But her heart was racing with adrenaline, her body willing morning to come around faster so she could move forward with these clues, so instead she just lay there, staring into the murky darkness and waiting for everything to become clear.
Fifty-Three
The dawn had brought clarity, and by six a.m. Becca was up and dressed and sitting at her computer, the house silent around her. She didn’t check her social media – Aiden and Natasha had both unfriended her on Facebook, and there was nothing else of any use. She’d seen all she needed to see – was maybe meant to see – anyway. And the rest of the hive could go and jump off a cliff like the lemmings they were for all she cared. She’d make her peace with Hannah her own way.
Her notes from the night before were on the desk beside her as she searched the Internet. She knew what she was looking for: newspaper articles relating to the case. More importantly, some hint of Hayley’s version of events. Everyone knew Tasha’s – Becca had heard it from the horse’s mouth – but in the whirl of Hannah’s death and Mr Garrick’s suicide, anything else had been drowned out. Maybe the papers weren’t even allowed to publish Hayley’s and Jenny’s versions of events? Maybe their lawyers had told them not to say anything? Maybe, in light of what happened with Hannah – and that was a massive sticking point for Becca, Hayley sabotaging the light – it was all considered pretty much a done deal.