Bang Bang You're Dead (9 page)

All last week the level of tension was building relentlessly inside our house. It was rocketing to the point where just to step through the front door put my nerves on edge and gave me an instant pounding stress headache. My last hope, Leo Jackson, was gone, and there was nothing more I could do. Jamie was in a constant black mood and Mum was still as high as a kite.

There was a sense of imminent danger hanging over me. It was vague and undefined, but it was
there.
And I knew that the threat came from Jamie himself.

By this time I had given up trying to talk Mum into seeing the doctor. In fact, I had given up on
everything.
There was nothing I could do. I could not fight the overwhelming feeling that I was running out of time, that Jamie was already secretly laying his plans. I had no idea what he was going to do but, knowing Jamie as I did, I was very, very afraid. All I could do was wait helplessly.

This was a week of disasters, when emotions boiled up and spilled over, and I finally realized that I was too late, that everything was hurtling out of control and that Jamie would have his way.

It began on Monday when I was rushing to get ready for school. As I was lying awake worrying most of the night instead of sleeping, I was finding it difficult to get up in the mornings. Yawning, cleaning my teeth and trying to strap my watch to my wrist at the same time, I managed to drop the watch into the overflowing bathroom bin.

I swore mildly under my breath as I rooted through used cotton-wool pads and tissues and Mum's half-used, expensive make-up pots. The rubbish would stay there until I got around to emptying it because no one did any housework except me. I found my watch at the bottom of the bin, and there I also found the pregnancy test.

I sat back on my heels, gaping at the white stick in complete disbelief, knowing instantly that Jamie must
not
find out about this.

'Christ! Is that what I think it is?'

Jamie was already there, in the doorway. My heart plunged. I hadn't heard him come up behind me. Jamie's whole body, even his voice, was rigid with fury. If it was possible, he was even angrier than he'd been with Dr Zeelander.

'Jamie, it's negative.' I scrambled hurriedly to my feet, thrusting the stick at him so that he could see for himself. 'She's not pregnant.'

'Maybe not – this time.' Jamie slapped the stick from my hand and it clattered to the floor. 'But what about next time? I am
not
going to let her do this, Mia.'

'It might have been a good thing,' I said weakly. 'If she
was
pregnant, she'd have had to go to the doctor.'

Jamie gave me a look of utter scorn and went out without a word.

By now I had forgotten all about the essay competition. I had written my entry three or four months ago and sealed it in an envelope which I'd given to Ms Kennedy, and she had sent it off. So when I arrived at school that March morning, and Ms Kennedy popped out of the staffroom as I went by, smiling and saying, 'I have a surprise for you today, Mia,' I did not think of the essay competition at all. I didn't have any idea what she was talking about, although I did wonder if perhaps she'd got engaged to her boyfriend. Sharp-suited and handsome as a male model, he occasionally picked her up outside the school gates in his black Porsche.

Stupid me, I didn't even guess when we were sitting in assembly, and Mr Whitman announced that the school had just heard the results of the writing competition.

'I know that several of our students entered this competition, prompted by our head of English, Ms Kennedy,' Mr Whitman said, smiling broadly. 'And so I am absolutely delighted to announce that Mia Jackson of Nine A has won first prize.'

Mr Whitman directed his 100-watt smile, the one he usually reserved for the governors, straight at me, but I swear that at first I thought he meant another Mia Jackson. I wanted to sink straight through the floor as half the school turned to stare at me. The other half probably didn't even know who I was. In fact, I was surprised that Mr Whitman himself was able to pick me out in the crowd.

'Mia, that's fabulous!' Bree whispered warmly in my ear, leaning over to give me a big hug as Ms Kennedy led the applause from the back of the hall. 'Clever you!'

Instantly I turned to Jamie, who was near me, for his approval. He nodded at me and smiled, but he said nothing and there was a look in his eyes that I did not understand.

Just for a moment though, I forgot my problems, I forgot about Mum and not having any money and all the hours spent worrying and wondering about what Jamie might be planning.

Just for that one moment I savoured my victory. Someone somewhere thought that what I had created inside my own head was worthy of a prize. A
first
prize. I had never been first at anything in my whole life. Until then I'd never even felt that I was really part of the human race.

Bree was poking me in the side, and I realized vaguely that Mr Whitman had asked me to go up onto the stage to collect my prize. I stumbled to the front of the hall, which suddenly seemed around two miles long, and shook hands with the headteacher, wishing my fingers didn't feel so sweaty.

I almost snatched my book tokens from Mr Whitman and then scuttled back to my place as fast as I could. I was torn between regret that I hadn't won cash I could use to pay off some of Mum's bills, and avaricious glee that I had a whole one hundred pounds to spend on books. Grandpa had bought me new books occasionally in previous years, but most of what I read had come from the library and gone back there. The thought of going into bookshops and choosing brand-new novels, opening them and smelling the fresh scent of clean white paper, had me gloating like Scrooge over his moneybags.

'And now I'd like to read you Mia's moving and sensitive winning essay called
My Life and the People Most Important to Me.
' Mr Whitman cleared his throat.

Oh, my God.

No.

This was
not
supposed to happen.

I twisted round to look at Ms Kennedy, a dumb, horrified appeal in my eyes. But she simply gave me an encouraging smile as Mr Whitman read out the words that hadn't been meant for anyone but the judges of the competition to see.

'When Ms Kennedy came to Hollyfield School to teach us about English literature, everyone could see how beautiful she was. But what I didn't realize then was that Ms Kennedy is just as beautiful inside as she is on the outside
. . .'

I slumped down, my head hanging. I was literally burning with embarrassment, and so hot I thought I might faint. In fact, I wished I
would
faint, and then Mr Whitman would have to stop reading. But I had to sit there, listening to my own words, the words that had looked so meaningful on paper but now sounded shallow and ridiculous. How Ms Kennedy had been so kind to me and had encouraged me to write and had lent me books, and so on and so on and all the rest of it . . .

The essay seemed twice as long as when I originally wrote it. With every word I was willing Mr Whitman to get to the end, and only when he finally did so could I breathe a little more easily again. There was more applause, and it made me squirm. I wanted to run away and find a paper bag and stick my head in it so that no one could recognize me.

'Oh, Mia,' Bree said, staring at me with a kind of nervous wonder as we all left the hall. 'That was
amazing.
It was
fantastic
. . .'

I felt a little comforted by Bree's words. I had put myself out there, and wasn't that what a real writer would do, regardless of their own embarrassment?

Was
I a real writer?

Could I ever be one?

It was a revelation to me, standing there outside the canteen with the smell of cabbage hanging in the air, that a writer was exactly what I wanted to be more than anything in the entire world. I wondered what Jamie would say when I told him.

'Are you a lezzer, Jackson?'

The harsh voice broke into the daydream that had gone from the essay competition to winning the Man Booker Prize in about three seconds.

'What?'

I turned. Bree was trying to pull me away but I was slow to react, still caught up in my fantasy.

Kat Randall stood there, smirking at me, her friends gathered in a half-circle around her. She and I were in different classes and different sets and this was the first time she'd ever spoken to me in three years. I knew about her, though. When we were all in Year Seven she'd been suspended for two weeks for throwing a book at a French teaching assistant.

'You fancy Ms Kennedy, don't you, Jackson?' she said with a dirty laugh as the other girls tittered.

I stared at her. 'Don't be stupid,' I blurted out.

What?!

Get a grip, Mia!

There was simply no way I would ever have said such a thing to anyone like Kat Randall in the past. But I was pleasantly surprised to find that my confidence had instantly and effortlessly soared beyond the stratosphere since finding out I'd won the competition. 'She's been kind to me, that's all.'

'Oh, so that's what they call it these days, is it?' Kat sniggered and her friends all said,
'Oooooooh!'
in high-pitched voices, thick with innuendo, as if they were extras in a
Carry On
film. 'And what about Jamie?' Kat went on. 'Don't you want to tell us more about how much he means to you?'

This time Bree did manage to pull me away, and that was lucky because my new-found fame seemed to have gone straight to my head and I might well have said something that I would later deeply regret. As it was, I didn't worry as much about Kat Randall as I would have done previously. I reasoned that as long as I kept my head down, people at school would have something else to talk about quite soon and I would be forgotten again.

That was my thinking.

You know by now that I am a fool.

But for a day or two I revelled in the new Mia Jackson who had scooped first prize in a writing competition, won one hundred pounds worth of book tokens and now planned to become a writer. I had gone from guaranteed loser to acknowledged winner in one day. I didn't even care when other kids teased me about the essay. I laughed the comments away or simply ignored them. Even Jamie commented on the difference in me.

'Isn't this what I've always told you, Mia?' he challenged me, his dark eyes bright and hopeful for once.
'Now
do you believe me? You can sit back and let life pass you by, or you can step up and grab it with both hands.'

'I know,' I replied. I was brimming with new hope and it was intoxicating, like feeling the warm sun on my face after years in the dark. 'I understand that now, Jamie.'

I was flying high. For once I was able to hold my head up proudly and look at my brother as an equal. I could now imagine a glittering future lying ahead of me, and it seemed easily attainable, just there, almost within my grasp.

'There are only two things that will drag you down.' Jamie's voice held a stark warning. 'One is your own fear. The other is Mum's illness. Just remember that, Mia.'

I didn't reply. In fact, I was hardly listening at all because I stupidly believed that, simply by winning the competition, I had already triumphantly obliterated all traces of the old mouse-like Mia.

I had never felt so confident and so sure of myself.

As for Mum, I decided what was to be done with lightning speed.

Mia Jackson can't make decisions?

You think?

Give me any number of decisions right now, and I'll make them without any hesitation at all.

My intention was to get Mum to the doctor's all on my own, and I had already made the appointment at the surgery. While my plan wasn't foolproof, I thought I could pull it off. I was going to try, anyway. I imagined how amazed and admiring Jamie would be when he found out, and that spurred me on.

I think it was the ancient Greeks who had a word for the way I was feeling then.

Hubris.

It means overweening arrogance, exaggerated pride or self-confidence.

As I'm sure you can guess, my hopes were to come crashing down around my ears.

'Oh my God, Mia, this is awful.' Mum crumpled the letter in her hand and stared anxiously at me. There were tears in her eyes. You see, despite everything, I know she loves me and because of that, I thought this might work. 'Surely there can't be anything seriously wrong with you, sweetheart?'

The letter was forged, of course, which had been a simple task using one of the computers in the school library. At the top, the school's crest made it look official and I had even copied the real signature of the school nurse at the bottom.

'I don't know, Mum,' I said, sighing a little but not
too
much. I was hoping to give the impression that I was worried, but trying to hide it. I'm no actress, but the confidence I felt after my competition win a few days before was still driving me on. 'I just mentioned to the nurse that I feel tired all the time and my head doesn't feel quite right, and – anyway, she thought our GP should see me for a check-up.'

I was counting heavily on the well-developed sense of melodrama that was so much a part of Mum's illness, and it did not let me down.

'Oh, Mia.' Mum drew me into her arms. 'I hope there's nothing serious wrong with you, darling. I don't know what I'd do without you – honestly, I really don't.'

'I managed to get a cancellation appointment for this afternoon,' I said. Jamie had vanished straight after school as usual and hadn't come home yet. In fact, he was out more and more at the moment and I'd hardly seen him for the last few days. I was glad about this for once, because it played right into my hands. 'Will you come with me, Mum? I don't want to go alone.'

Mum was still holding me and I felt her stiffen and draw back ever so slightly. She stared down at me and our eyes met, hers wide and horrified, mine innocent and unblinking.

'Oh, Mia, honey . . .' Mum seemed at a loss for words. Tears trembled on her lashes. 'Mia, you know that I—'

'Mum,
please,'
I broke in, trying not to appear as if I was deceiving her, which of course I was. 'I'm getting these terrible headaches and they give me bad dreams, and then my head feels like it's stuffed with cotton wool and I can't think straight. And it's getting worse.' I shivered and buried my face in my hands. 'I didn't want to tell you this, but I'm
really
frightened.'