Follow Me Back (13 page)

A
T SCHOOL THE
next day, my mouth tastes sour and of berries, no matter what I do. I check my phone but no more messages come from Autumn. I look again and again at the one she sent last night.
I know the truth
.
I know what really happened
. I feel like throwing up.

I skip registration because I’m late and I can’t face walking into a full form room. Instead I loiter outside Ladlow’s classroom,
ready for first period maths.

Outside the draughty, iron-framed window, the sky is grey and looks like rain. But all I can think of is blue sky over a meadow, gold hair in my hand. All I can think of is the smell of summer grass and sun cream and strawberry sweets. I can hear Lizzie’s breath in my ear, feel it on my skin. I’ve lied, I’ve lied, I’ve lied. And someone
knows
.

I try to rationalise
it. What difference does it make if Autumn Thomas knows that Lizzie and I were, for a few short weeks last summer, more than just friends? What difference does it make if anyone knows that?

How
does she know that?

‘You’re keen.’

I’ve been too wrapped up in my thoughts to notice Scobie coming along the corridor. I manage to give him a weak smile.

‘Was late. Thought I’d come straight here.’

‘Me too.’ He leans up against the wall beside me. ‘You okay?’

‘Yeah. Just a bit of a late night.’ I hate lying to Scobie, especially as right now I can tell I’m not doing a very good job of it.

He doesn’t call me on it, though; he’s too polite. He just nods and changes the subject. ‘You had a look at the chapter he asked us to do?’

I haven’t. I totally forgot. And this is the second time
I’ve forgotten work Ladlow’s set us. He’s not going to be happy. Scobie takes one look at my face and immediately pulls his folder out of his bag.

‘Have a look at my notes now. It’s easy, you’ll pick it straight up.’

Scobie’s idea of ‘easy’ tends to be vastly different from the rest of the world’s, but this time he’s right. It’s a straightforward chapter on algorithms and it’s nice to lose
myself in it for a while; Scobie’s small, neat handwriting, the precise wording and formulas. It calms me and for at least three whole minutes I don’t think about Autumn’s message.
I know what really happened
.

It’s just us at first; me reading, Scobie playing a game on his phone which, judging by the sounds and the way he keeps tipping himself from side to side without realising it, involves
flying a fighter jet. But then the bell goes for first period and people start coming out of classrooms, heading for their lessons. It’s all Year 7s and 8s in this part of the school, and they are loud. They surge around us like a river. Me and Scobie raise our eyebrows at each other.

‘We weren’t that small, were we?’ Scobie asks.

‘I wasn’t here, don’t forget,’ I say. ‘You might well have
been.’

‘I’m sure we weren’t.’

‘Give it here!’ one kid yells at another one, and they have a little scuffle over the phone he’s clutching. They look like kittens playing. It almost makes me laugh.

And then I remember.

I know what really happened.

The Year 7s disappear off down the stairs, their voices fading into the distance. I turn my attention back to the last page of Scobie’s notes,
trying to make as much of it go in as possible.

Two girls come along the corridor; we hear the clacking of their heels before they’ve even rounded the corner. But it’s not until they’re walking past us and I hear someone say ‘Lizzie’ that I look up and see that it’s Lauren Choosken and Maisie Diggins, one of her hangers-on. They’re whispering, but I can’t help thinking that Lizzie’s name was
said just that bit louder for my benefit. Lauren meets my eyes as she strolls past, totally shamelessly staring at me while Maisie looks away and giggles.

It comes out before I realise I’ve said it.

‘What’s your problem?’

Lauren stops in her tracks, blinking at me, all wide-eyed and innocent. ‘Problem?’

The blood is thumping in my temples. ‘If you’ve got something to say to me, say it
to my face.’

Lauren spreads her hands wide, like,
Who, me?
‘I haven’t got a problem with you, Aiden.’

I can feel Scobie move closer to me, like he’s trying to get me to back down, ready to tug me away. I can practically hear his thoughts:
It’s not worth it
. But it’s too late. I remember seeing her stupid fake tears on
Spoilt in the Suburbs
last night and I see red.

‘You’re disgusting!’ I
yell at her. ‘Pretending to care about her just to get on telly!’

Lauren raises a pencilled-on eyebrow while Maisie half sniggers, half shrinks away. ‘I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Aiden,’ Lauren says calmly. ‘Lizzie and I were friends. Can you say the same?’

There’s something in the way she says it; just a little edge, an almost-smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, that turns
me hot with rage and yet makes my blood run cold. And as she spins on her heel, I lose it totally.

‘You’re a bitch, Lauren! You’re a slag!’

‘
Aiden
,’ Scobie says, tugging me back, and I wheel around just in time to see Ladlow appear at his classroom door with a face like thunder.

‘Are you finished, Kendrick?’ he asks, and without waiting for a reply, he thrusts the door further open. ‘
Get
in here
.’

Uh-oh.

Mr Ladlow is famously bad-tempered and although he can be good fun, his lessons fast-moving and full of jokes, nobody wants to get on his bad side. Everyone’s far more careful about teasing Ladlow than they are Selby or Radclyffe. He’s younger than them, but more old-fashioned, too.

He’s probably the worst person who could have seen that.

He stalks over to his desk, and
I follow, the rage that just a second ago burned through me quickly shrivelling.

‘Want to tell me what that was all about?’ His voice is calm again, his dark hair in place, but I can hear the anger beneath the surface. I’ve always liked Ladlow and worked hard in his class, and before today, I might’ve hoped he had a pretty decent opinion of me. Now I feel about six inches tall.

‘Sorry, sir.
I lost my temper.’

‘You don’t say. Unfortunately, Kendrick, that’s no excuse for speaking to
any
of your classmates in that way, male or female.’

I turn away, stare out of the window. Ladlow’s classroom looks out over the school playing field and the greenhouses that back onto the science block. Grey clouds creep in, low and heavy. ‘Sorry,’ I say again.

Ladlow’s quiet for a minute too, both
of us just looking out at the rain rolling in. ‘Are you friends with the Summersall girl?’

I look levelly back at him. ‘I knew her.’

‘You were in the play together,’ he says. ‘I remember now.’

I nod.

‘Has that got anything to do with what happened just now?’ he asks, but before I can answer the door opens and a couple of girls from my class walk in. Scobie hovers in the doorway looking
uncertain. Ladlow looks from them to me, and says, reluctantly, ‘Sit down, Kendrick. I don’t want to see you behaving like that again.’

‘I’m really sorry, sir,’ I say, and I make for my desk, relieved to be off the hook. The anger’s still there, small and tight like a knot, somewhere deep down, but I’ve got it under control again. Scobie pulls out the chair next to mine.

‘Mate,’ he says. ‘
What
is going on with you?’

I shake my head. ‘Lauren. She just winds me up.’

‘Look, I get that you’re mad about the show –’

I look up at him in surprise. Scobie’s the last person you’d expect to watch
Spoilt in the Suburbs
.

‘My mum,’ he says, apologetically. ‘She’s got really into it.’

Most of the class is in now and Ladlow has started prowling round, tossing handouts onto the end of
each row of tables. ‘Take one, pass them along,’ he says. He’s even brisker than usual, not making his little teasing asides to people, and I guess I’ve put him in a bad mood.

‘I just hate that she’s using it to get famous.’

Scobie nods. ‘Yeah, it’s pretty shitty. But it’s Lauren, Aiden. You can’t be surprised.’

‘I know, but then when she walked past… She was doing it on purpose. She probably
knows I turned them down.’

‘Turned who down?’

‘
Spoilt in the Suburbs
.’

Scobie’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘No way.’

‘Right,’ Ladlow says, closing the door. ‘Let’s get started. Who can fill us in on the chapter I asked you to read?’

‘Yes way,’ I hiss at Scobie. ‘Obviously I said no.’

‘Well, they’re scraping the barrel with Lauren,’ Scobie says, and as he sees Ladlow’s eyes sweep across the
classroom and lock on me, he raises his hand.

‘The function of x is greater than zero for all real values of x, and the function of x increases at an accelerated rate as x increases,’ he says, and Ladlow gives his weird, painful-looking smile and turns to the board.

‘Excellent work, dear Thomas,’ he says. He starts writing on the whiteboard, the pen squeaking as his hand flies back and forth.

‘Look, this Lizzie stuff… The way you’ve been acting… Is there something I don’t know?’ Scobie’s giving me one of his earnest looks, his eyes scanning my face.

I almost,
almost
, tell him. But even as the words bubble up, I remember. I remember Lizzie in the grass, Lizzie’s hands on my face, and I can’t. I can’t share it because it’s so perfect and private. So perfect and private and ours.

‘Has anything happened with the Facebook page?’ I ask instead. ‘Has anyone posted anything?’

He looks awkward. ‘Not anything useful,’ he says. ‘Mostly, just… People messing around.’

I get out my phone under the desk and look for myself. Our page has thirteen followers. There are three posts. One from Kieron Decker, one of Deacon’s mates.
Last seen in my bed!
he’s put, and I want to smash his
face in. Another from a girl whose name I don’t recognise. She’s just written
So sad
.
The last one is a kid writing in Japanese, so I have no idea what it says.

The sponsored ads down the side are equally depressing. One for some kind of online dating service –
A
RE YOU LOOKING TO MAKE FRIENDS IN YOUR AREA? 1000S OF COOL SINGLES WAITING!
– and one for
some kind of security app for Facebook
–
D
O YOU KNOW WHO YOU’RE REALLY TALKING TO?
T
RUE
F
ACE CAN TELL YOU!

I grimace. ‘Brilliant.’

‘Aiden,’ Scobie says, looking at me over his glasses now, his most serious face. ‘You don’t have to tell me. But is there something I can do to help?’

I shake my head. I wish talking to Scobie
would
help, but there’s only one person I need to talk to now.

And unfortunately she isn’t around to ask.

I
MAKE IT
through maths and then English, but by breaktime I know I can’t take this any more. Too many thoughts, too many memories, and still everybody talking about Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie. Clothes folded on a bench. Lying beside me in a field. And Autumn’s last message beating behind it all like a horrible drum beat.
I know what really happened
.

I’ve got a free third period, and then sports
studies in the afternoon. Connolly won’t check up on me if I don’t show, he trusts me. I just need to get out of here – I can’t cope with the claustrophobia of Aggers right now.

I get to the bottom of the steps to the Rec, checking my phone – no new messages – when a hand hits me hard in the chest. I look up, stupidly expecting to see Connolly waiting to catch me out even though his lesson isn’t
for another two hours. Instead I see Deacon blocking the bottom of the steps. His arms are folded and he does not look happy.

Which makes two of us.

‘I hear you’ve got a problem with Lauren,’ he says, and that’s when I notice all his hangers-on crowding round behind him. Someone comes down the steps behind me and I turn to see Kieron Decker, super sidekick. He’s obviously followed me from
English and let them know where I am.

‘No idea what you’re talking about,’ I say, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of trying to push past.

Instead, he takes a step closer to me, until he’s right in front of me, toe to toe, and when he speaks, he jabs at my chest with two fingers after each word. ‘You – call – my – girlfriend – a – bitch – again – and – I – will – kill – you.’

I shouldn’t
rise to it, but I do. ‘Oh, you mean Lauren?’ I say. ‘Is she still your girlfriend? Hard to keep track of who she’s sleeping with.’

His top lip lifts into a snarl and I can practically feel his fists twitching at his sides. ‘Watch your mouth.’

It’s childish and lame but all I want is to goad him and so I say it anyway. ‘What you gonna do about it?’

He pulls back a little and laughs; a half
laugh, a sarcastic one. ‘Give me a reason, Kendrick. Make my day.’

‘Oi!’ A girl’s voice, shrill with anger. We both look round to see Marnie pushing through the crowd. ‘Pack it in! Leave him alone.’

Deacon sniggers again. ‘Aww, look. His little girlfriend’s come to protect him.’ He turns to look at me. ‘Kind of sick, though, don’t you think? Her best mate?’

The anger is pumping back through
me properly now, my face twisting with it. ‘Shut up.’

‘Aww, don’t like it when we talk about Lizzie, do you?’

The words come out of my mouth in a hiss this time. ‘Shut
up
.’

‘You heard him!’ Marnie yells. She’s right up next to Deacon now, having shoved her way past his goons. ‘Come on, Aiden. Let’s go.’

‘Yeah,
come on, Aiden
,’ Deacon says, mocking her voice.

‘Stay out of it, Marnie,’
I mutter, and she looks at me like I’ve slapped her. I look at her and then I look away. She melts back into the crowd.

‘Oh, don’t feel bad,’ Deacon says to her, putting on a fake-friendly voice. ‘He’s just scared of what I might say –’

I hit him. My hand flies out, the fist so tight it hurts, and it connects squarely with his jaw, knocking his head backwards. There’s a moment of total silence
and then there is a roar.

We launch ourselves at each other, animal noises forced out of us as we hit the ground. I aim punches at him blindly, feeling his skin turn wet under my fists. His blows land on my neck, my head, my ribs, but I don’t feel pain, just the thumps as they travel through me like shots. We hit each other, again and again, and we’ve only hit each other like this once before
–

He catches me in the throat with one of his swings and the pain is bright and white and for a minute I can’t breathe. I flop away from him, onto my elbows on the gravel, and try to draw air into the tiny pinhole my throat has shrunk to.

Just as oxygen starts returning to my lungs the buzzing in my ears fades, and I’m vaguely aware of Deacon scrabbling to his feet beside me.

‘You see
that?’ he’s yelling to everyone who’s gathered to watch the show. ‘You see that? He’s crazy, man. He’s a psycho.’

I pull myself onto my hands and knees and spit onto the playground. There’s a spool of red unfolding in the saliva. I hope it’s just my lip or tongue and not a tooth come loose.

‘Psycho.’ Deacon aims a last kick at my ribs, but it’s just for show; or at least I can’t feel it any
more.

I heave myself to my feet and spit again, this time within a centimetre of Deacon’s box-fresh Jordans. ‘Stay away from me.’

He lets out a harsh laugh and I notice for the first time his split lip, the way his eye is starting to swell. ‘You hear that? He wants
me
to stay away from
him
. With pleasure, psycho.’

As he says it I see Marnie in the crowd, white-faced. When her eyes meet
mine, she looks away. She looks horrified. Terrified.

Terrified of
me
.

‘Just… stay away,’ I say, staggering a few steps back.

‘I’ll stay away after I’ve reported you,’ Deacon says, but most of the fight has gone out of his voice. I feel lightheaded and I turn, start to head for my car. There’s a path clear for me now – most people heading for lessons now the bell’s gone, and those who are
left only too keen to get out of my way.

‘Have fun getting kicked out!’ Deacon yells after me. I turn back to look at him. He says the next part a little quieter as he turns to follow the dispersing crowd up to the school, but I still hear it.

‘Just like you did at your last school.’