Lost for Words (4 page)

Poor Zara had a horrible day. Alec dumped her THIS MORNING. She was sobbing when I got into school. Apparently he’s been seeing this other girl for SIX MONTHS. Abigail tried to cheer Zara up all day; she was really sweet. Even though she’s loud and bossy sometimes, she has another side where she’s thoughtful and kind. I haven’t seen much of that side of her recently.

This evening I clambered onto the roof and thought about Valentine’s Day two years ago. Emily was getting ready to go on a date with Ian. She was with Ian for the last two years of school. I was jealous of him because she never wanted to be with me anymore. Then, when she went to art college, she broke up with him anyway.

She was putting on this blue dress that emphasized her blond hair and dark eyes. I went to my room and searched through my drawer until I found my silver and sapphire
necklace. I came back to her room and dangled it out.

“What?” she said.

“Wear this. It’ll look good.”

“What do you know about looking good?” she said, taking the necklace.

“Granny gave it to me,” I replied.

She held up the necklace, then put it around her neck and pouted at the mirror. She smiled slightly, and I thought she was imagining Ian’s face when he saw her later.

Oh God, I wish I could be back in that room with her. I’d give up everything—not that I have anything to give up. I’d cling to her so tightly, she wouldn’t be able to breathe.

I looked at her. I said, “It suits you.”

“Why didn’t Granny give it to me?”

“You weren’t here,” I said.

And she’s not here now. She’s not here. How is that even fair?

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 15
^TH

Everything has gone wrong.

School was okay; Rosa-Leigh and I hung out. She showed me another poem and we talked about that. We got the bus home and when I got in, Mum had collected supper, even though it was only takeaway pizza. We even talked a bit about school and stuff, although I only told her
what I thought she’d want to hear. Then she asked who I’d been speaking to the other night, who’d made my voice go all soppy, and for about half a second it felt like old times when she was interested in me, so I told her that his name was Dan and I was going to his house on Friday.

She said, “But you can’t. We have a long-standing arrangement with the Haywoods to go for dinner.”

“I didn’t know.”

“There’s no way you can get out of it.”

“Just this once?”

“No, Sophie.”

“I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting. I just don’t want to go.” I pushed my plate to one side and stood up.

“You have to go.”

“What for?”

“Do you think we need to argue about this?”

“I’m not going.”

“You don’t have any choice.”

I knew there was no point to it, because once she’d said it was the Haywoods’ house we were going to, there was no way I’d change her mind. Katherine Haywood is Mum’s best friend from school, and they’ve been family friends forever, and their daughter, Lucy, is supposed to be my friend because we’ve known each other since we were little kids. Normally I wouldn’t mind seeing them but not this Friday.
I leaned on the table to stop my hands shaking. “Please don’t make me go. Please, Mum,” I begged.

She shut her eyes. “We can’t go on like this.”

“Don’t make this into something it’s not. I just don’t want to go to the stupid Haywoods’.”

Mum said, “I’ll take your phone and cancel whatever plans are suddenly so much more important than your family.”

“What family?” I yelled.

“Give me your phone. If you don’t do it yourself, I’ll call.” She was yelling, too.

“You’re INSANE.” I took my phone, went into my room, and slammed the door. I don’t see why I have to go. They’re Mum’s friends. Lucy Haywood and I don’t even have much in common these days. It’s always uncomfortable when we hang out because we used to be so close when we were little. I even named one of my teddy bears after her when I was five. It’s not that Lucy doesn’t like me (I don’t think) or I don’t like her; more like once we were in the same fairy tale. The story had both of us in it, and all the magical adventures that happened, happened to us both. Now, we’re not even in the same book: her book’s more like a beach novel—conventional, ordered, following a predictable plot (boyfriend, school, great family)—and my book is like, well, it’s not like that, anyway—not a romance, not a fairy tale, not easy reading for a summer day.

And the worst of it all is that Emily never had to go to
the Haywoods’ when she had other stuff to do. But she always got away with everything, stuff I couldn’t get away with if I tried.

I pressed in Dan’s number. He didn’t answer. I had to leave a message on his voice mail. Then Abigail rang and said she was going to Dan’s house with some people on Friday and was I going? I felt stupid because I hadn’t realized it was a
thing
—I thought it would be mostly just me and Dan, even though he said his friends would be there. I had to tell her no. Then we had nothing to speak about, because all I could think of was her sitting on the side of the sofa at her party, drunkenly flicking her hair and smiling at Dan.

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 16
^TH

In Religious Studies today we talked about Muslims and the Koran. Megan, who I happened to be sitting next to, started saying that we should be careful how many of “Them” we allow into the country, and the way she said it was really nasty. And Kalila, who is a Muslim, got upset and said we were all racists. Zara sighed loudly and said we should all think about what we were saying. I wished I wasn’t even in the room. If I could have made myself as small as an almond, I would have shrunk right down and sealed myself in a hard shell.

Megan said, “I’m not racist. I’m just looking at the facts. I’m talking about terrorists. We’ve got to keep ourselves
safe—it’s dangerous for all of us if we don’t.” She nudged my arm, “Sophie, you agree with me?”

My heart began to beat faster and my mouth went dry. All the colors in the room got brighter. I was thinking about terrorists and bombings and wars, and I wondered how someone could become a terrorist. An ordinary guy, going about his ordinary life, who is persuaded he’ll get to sleep with however many white-clad virgins and live forever in some fluffy cloud if he just does this one thing. One murderous act. It makes as much sense to me as firing bullets into a crowd of strangers.

Kalila was looking at me, waiting for me to answer.

I stammered, “I don’t know. Why would I know?”

Anger sliced through me. Not at bad things in the world like terrorists but at stupid, vicious Megan. I thought I might throw up. I had to run out of the lesson to the bathroom down the corridor. I was sick until there was nothing left inside.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 17
^TH

Dan STILL hasn’t called me back. I wish he would. I thought he might. I keep checking my phone.

We’re staying the night at the Haywoods’. I so don’t want to go. I tried to say to Mum that I felt sick and shaky, but she told me to “Stop trying to evade your responsibilities.” I want to go back to bed and sleep, because I’ve never felt so exhausted.

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 19
^TH

The times when Emily came with us to the Haywoods’, we filled one whole side of their huge mahogany table that sits in their GORGEOUS room with big windows that look over their cool garden. When Emily was allowed not to go, Mum and I took up only two seats, and the Haywoods spread themselves out to fill the gap like they did this weekend. Trying to fill the gap.

Their house always smells of fresh baked bread and whatever else Katherine has been cooking—she’s an amazing cook. Mum is much prettier than Katherine Haywood and thinner, and I wonder if when they were at school Mum thought her life would be better than her friend’s. Maybe Mum never thought mean things like that. Katherine has yellow horsey teeth and a nonexistent chin. She tells jokes that aren’t funny, but everyone laughs anyway. She’s like a glowing hearth: she makes anyone who’s near her feel warm. She works as a radio producer. Her husband, Mark, is brilliant and even I think he’s good looking (although he’s at least fifty). He always ensures Katherine has what she needs, even if it’s only the salt. And then, as well as Lucy, there are the twin girls, Molly and Meredith, who are eleven now and SO ANNOYING but who make Katherine smile even more.

Lucy has bobbed hair, dyed purple right now, and lovely mahogany eyes that she puts perfect makeup around. I want to ask her how she learned to use makeup so well because
one day she just seemed to have nailed it. She gets great marks at school and now has this really cute boyfriend called Kai. He was there for dinner last night, so it wouldn’t have even mattered if I hadn’t come. Lucy sat next to him all evening, their hands laced together. She seems to know what to say to guys (all of a sudden), and she’s totally herself with him—I kept looking over and remembering how it was with
me
that she used to share all those little looks and giggles.

Mum must wonder why her family went so wrong. She must feel splattered with bad luck. As if there were a person sitting near us on the train journey of our life and this person ate too much from the buffet car. The buffet car on this particular train served up luck, both good and bad (on polystyrene plates). This person sitting next to us ate nothing but bad luck. And then, because he was totally full and because the train jolted going over a particular bump, he vomited bad luck all over us.

So, we were at dinner, sitting there, splattered with bad luck, and Katherine asked Mum how she was doing. Mum did this funny bright smile, glanced over at me, and said we were fine, much better.

Katherine looked at Mark and leaned over the table to put her hands over Mum’s. She said, “You can always both come and stay here for a while, anytime—”

“No,” Mum said. “Thank you, though.”

I thought about staying in their beautiful house, looking
out over their beautiful garden, hearing the noise of all that family. I said, “I’d rather stay at home.” I didn’t say it loudly or anything.

Mum flashed a smile my way, but it didn’t hide how tired she looked, like she hadn’t slept in months. I wanted to reach out to her like Katherine had, but there was no way I was going to with everyone else there. Then I remembered that if it wasn’t for Mum, I’d be at Dan’s house, so I turned away.

Mark said to Lucy, “Why don’t you take Sophie and Kai and show them the pool table?” Lucy jumped up. Then Mark said, “Molly, Meredith,” and he didn’t say anything else, and the twins skittered out of their seats.

A nerve flexed along Mum’s jaw.

I said, “I’ve seen the pool table.”

Katherine nodded. She waved a hand in my direction, but she was looking at Mum. “It’s really wonderful. Lucy and Kai hang out there all the time.”

Lucy tugged on my jumper sleeve, and I had no choice but to get up, too. My cheeks tingled as I reddened with irritation because I didn’t want to leave. I’m sick of being treated like a kid, and they were so obviously trying to get rid of us. I followed her and Kai out. Just before the dining room door clicked shut, I heard Katherine say
my name
. I lied and told Lucy I was going to the bathroom.

She, wrapped up with Kai, went to the cellar. The twins had gone, so I was alone. I pressed my ear to the dining
room door. What were they saying about me?

I couldn’t hear very well.

Katherine: “You should. Sophie’s obviously bottling everything up. She’s doing a good job of pretending, but she’s clearly not herself. And you need someone to help you.” She said the next bit very gently. “You’re both clearly struggling.”

Mark: “We’ve talked about this. Let us help, please.”

Mum: “It’s so hard. I know what you’re trying to do. I’m just so tired. And so alone. And so angry.”

Mark: “We’re angry, too.”

Katherine: “Sophie seems completely disconnected. Does she talk to you at all? I can’t imagine it. Poor darling is trying so hard to—Well, I’m not sure what she’s trying to do. It’s as if she wants to pretend nothing’s happened. Have you talked to her? I can’t imagine what this has done to her, but keeping it all inside is going to make things much worse.”

Mum: “I can’t bear it. I can’t help her. I can’t even help myself.”

Then I missed a bit because someone put on the coffeemaker, and it whirred and percolated some of the words. As the mechanical whirring sound filled my brain, I imagined the coffeemaker blowing up and shards of glass and grains of coffee spraying all over the room, covering Mum, Katherine, and Mark with residue. I heard imaginary screaming, and I put my hands over my ears. My stomach clenched. Then Lucy scared the life out of me by clutching
my elbow and spitting, “Don’t.”

The tops of her cheeks were red. She looked like she did when she was a kid. Once we spent an afternoon listing all the things we wanted for our tenth birthday, and it wasn’t just material stuff; it was things like
nice nails, an end to nuclear arms, a boyfriend
. I couldn’t imagine being that close to her again. She’d become a stranger I knew everything about. Like Abigail. Like all of my friends.

She tightened her grip. “Don’t listen.”

“I have the right to. They’re talking about me. Why do they think I’m not coping?” I raised my voice. “I’m fine.”

She gave me a long cool gaze. “Do you really think you’re fine? How could you be?”

“What do you know?”

She blushed and lowered her eyes. When she looked back up, she acted like nothing had just been said. “Sophie, come with me. Come and have some fun. Kai’s too good at pool—you can help me.”

What I wanted to ask Lucy was if she missed Emily. If she missed the hours we used to spend playing together as children in her garden. And suddenly I felt really grown-up. And really, really sad. Mutely I followed her downstairs.

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 20
^TH

School was deathly. On the journey home I got soaked. Mum was out. I made myself a cheese sandwich with the
last of the bread. I finished all my homework. No one called. I was so sick of my thoughts going around and around, I ended up writing a prose poem. It’s a stream-of-consciousness thing. I’ll show it to Rosa-Leigh tomorrow and maybe she can help me with it.

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 22
^ND

I was supposed to hand in a personal essay for English today. The topic could be anything I wanted. Except I didn’t do it. Now I have detention for tomorrow. If I get another detention, Mum will be called in to school to discuss my behavior. I don’t feel like going to school ever again. I wouldn’t care if I got expelled, but if I did, I’d have to deal with Mum, and that would be awful.

At break I gave Abi a top I’d bought her for her birthday. She said, “Can you come over early for my birthday thing the weekend after this?”

“You’re having another party?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. It’s just, I don’t know, you’re having a lot of parties, but no, it’s good. Yes, I’ll be there.”

She smiled when I said that, like I’d given her a gift voucher for a spa rather than a top.

I smiled back at her. My clockwork cuckoo smile.

“Is something wrong?” she said.

“Nothing. No.” I wanted to ask her how it had been at Dan’s when I was stuck at the Haywoods’. I wanted to moan about being given detention. But it was like the words got stuck along with all the other things I haven’t said to her. To anyone. I thought of what Katherine had said about me being disconnected. But Katherine doesn’t understand that it’s better this way. I smiled brightly, too brightly, judging from the surprise in Abi’s eyes. I said, “Everything’s fine. I just haven’t done that personal essay thing.”

Megan came over. She must have overheard because she started talking about her stupid essay. She wrote about her dog dying. I couldn’t believe it. Then she and Abi started talking about Dan’s house. Even though I thought I wanted to hear about it, when Abigail said she spent all evening talking to Dan, my stomach churned. I wished she’d shut up.

Kalila was sitting by herself at the next table. Even though her head scarf shadows her face, I swear I saw her glance over, and she looked sorry for me.

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 26
^TH

Last night I went to Emily’s room, opened the door, and stood there for a while before I went in. She has square mirrors all over one wall. I could see myself reflected in all those squares, and it was like lots of TV screens staring at me. I felt like I was waiting for something, like Emily might come out of the little bathroom in there, her hair flipped up in a towel, and yell at me to get out.

I went to her CDs all lined up on the blue wooden shelf and started looking through them. I hadn’t even had two minutes looking at them when Mum came in. She said, “What are you doing in here?”

I shrugged.

She whipped around and started screaming, “Leave things alone. Don’t touch anything.
DON’T!
”

I just stood there; I was so shocked.

She grabbed hold of my arms and pulled at me. I yelled at her to get off and tried to tell her I only wanted to borrow a CD. We got to the doorway, and I held on to it. She tugged at me, but I clung on. She went limp. Then she let me go and stared at me like I was a stranger.

I sobbed, “I wanted to borrow a CD.”

She said, “Don’t take anything out of there.”

“Why?”

“I mean it,” she said.

“You wish it was me,” I replied, but really quietly.

Her face folded in on itself like I’d winded her and she couldn’t catch her breath. Before she could say anything, I ran back to my room, slammed the door, and lay on the bed, frozen.

Mum knocked gently, and then, when I didn’t answer, said through the door, “You know that’s not true, right?”

I couldn’t speak.

She said, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry about just now. I wish I could make this easier for you.” I thought she said, “For both of us,” straight after, but she must have started crying, because it was hard to make out her words. “Look, I know I need to do better for you. I promise I’ll do better, Soph.”

I wanted to say something; I really did.

She knocked again and said, her voice choked, “Can I come in, Sophie?”

I thought she might push open the door but she didn’t. She didn’t come in. I hate her. And I hate Emily for making all this happen. I can’t believe I just wrote that. But it’s true.

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 28
^TH

Rosa-Leigh and I decided to walk home today because it wasn’t quite as cold as it has been. She asked me to come to her house on Friday, but I’m going to Abigail’s thing, so I had to say no. It was a looooooong walk. We came up
through the park and went through the maze and got lost, which was kind of fun. Afterward we sat on the grass and watched the grey skies darken. She started talking about how the air glitters with specks of frost in Canmore in winter. She spoke about sun dogs. I made her describe them to me: some weird weather thing where the sky looks like it has three suns. Then she started talking about her mum. She doesn’t remember very much, just stuff from photos mainly. She asked me, “Could you listen to a poem I wrote about her? Can I read it to you?”

I nodded. She read to me quietly. As I listened, I started thinking about my mum and the terrible fight on Sunday night. Mum is obviously insane. She clearly hates me and can’t cope with Emily not around. She doesn’t seem ever to want to go back to work. She used to love designing. She made people’s homes beautiful with soft fabrics in shades of green and earthy orange. Her style was very organic, Emily told me once. Emily had a jazzier artistic eye. She would mix all sorts of colors and make everything come together; she loved the texture of oil paint. I never knew what to say when they talked “
Art
” together; I don’t have an artistic eye at all.

Rosa-Leigh finished her poem. I made her read it to me again, and I concentrated harder. The cold seeped like misery into my bones. The grass smelled damp, composty. With her poem Rosa-Leigh conjured a picture of her mum in the earthy air. I shivered as she finished the poem for the second time. I said, “That was beautiful.” I felt stupid for saying it
straight out like that, but it was true and Rosa-Leigh didn’t seem to mind. Then I took a deep breath and said, “My mum collects things that other people have lost.”