A MILLION ANGELS (11 page)

T
he shower is not terrible. It does freeze all the nerve endings under my skin and make me jangle with pain, but I manage to turn my back on everyone so they can't really see. If I don't make a fuss hopefully they'll leave me alone. I even manage to say, “Yay! You're a good teacher, Tory. This is actually quite good fun.” I flick a few drops of icy water out to them and make a fake laugh. They squeal! Squealing is good. Maybe this is how you make friends. Maybe this is what messing about is like. Maybe this is what they want! I take a deep breath and cup my hands, then I fill the cup with freezing water and throw it out of the shower.

Tory Halligan shrieks!

“You've soaked me!” she screeches. “Look at what you've done!” She grabs a towel. “Look at me! I'm soaked through!”

“I didn't mean to soak you,” I say. “I was just having fun.”

“I am so getting you back for this, Jemima Taylor-Jones.” Her eyes scald my skin. “
Nobody
does that kind of thing to
me
!”

I turn the shower off and lean out for a towel. My hand grabs the corner of one, but Tory snaps it away. She clucks and clucks like mad and starts grabbing armfuls of towels.

“Let's throw them out the window,” she shrieks. “All of them! That'll get you back.”

She opens the window and bundles them into the night.

Jess squeals like a fat pig. She grabs my clothes from the floor and stuffs them into Tory's hands. Tory turns back to the window. I shiver. Beth and Sameena stand on the edge with wide glass eyes.

“You can't do that!” I shriek. “It's not fair. I've done my dare, now it's someone else's turn.”

“I can do what I like,” snaps Tory. “I always do!”

Jess runs to the bedroom for the rest of my stuff. I'm freezing to death. I try to cover myself up with my hands and pull my stuff from Tory at the same time.

“Stop it!” I scream. “Give me back my clothes.”

Sameena and Beth squeal. They're in a frenzy now and Tory is up on the window ledge. She hangs out of the window, flapping my clothes like flags. I edge in next to her. My damp cold skin slips on the tiles and the chill night air whispers over my skin.

I reach for my top. It's in her hand. Shining angel white under the moon. Flapping wildly in the wind. I don't like the wind.

“Sorry, freak,” taunts Tory Halligan. “You can't have them back unless you go out and get them. Ha! Ha! Ha!”

And one by one she drops my things.

“Give them back, Tory,” I shout. “This isn't fun. You can't do this.”

“Watch me!” she says, leaning further and further away.

Jess brings my sleeping bag and pyjamas and rucksack in. She passes them to Tory. I'm piggy-in-the-middle
and I reach and stretch to grab something,
anything
to cover me up.

“Please!” I say. Tears prick the back of my eyes. I stand up on the window ledge and shout, “DON'T DO THIS TO ME! PLEASE!”

They all freeze for a moment, then Tory's eyes flame like wildfire. She dangles my knickers in front of my eyes and laughs.

“Want them?” she squawks.

Sameena and Beth giggle. Jess has gone mad. She's ready to throw the contents of the entire house outside.

I grab for my knickers. Tory flicks them away. Armies of goosebumps march on my skin. I climb off the window ledge.

“Just give them to me,” I scream, flying at her. She jerks backwards, waving them out in the wind. Showing them off to the stars.

“Stinky knickers!” she taunts. “Stinky knickers! Stinky knickers! Stinky knickers!”

Then the others join in. I'm drowning in sound.

“Stinky knickers! Stinky knickers! Stinky knickers!”

“Give them here,” I shriek. I climb back on the window ledge and stretch my arm out towards her hand.

“Stinky knickers! Stinky knickers!”

I reach further and further out. Tory Halligan stretches further and further away.

“I
hate
you, Tory Halligan,” I scream. “I wish you were
dead
!” My words slice the air like a kite string. “Give them back to me! Please!”

And then she stretches just one millimetre too far and for a moment I think we're both going to fall. Then an idea rips through my brain like lightning. A smooth sense of calm settles like snow on my skin.

At last! I've found a way.

This is it!

The
final
most
perfect
piece of my Bring Dad Home mission.

I glance at the others, then at Tory. I can do this. I have to.

I have no choice.

Dark moon shadows loom on the lawn below. A gnarled black-silhouetted tree cracks and creaks in the wind.

Imagine you're an angel
, I say to myself.
Come on! You can do it! Come on, Jemima…

Fly!

This is the bad-enough thing I've been looking for. This will
definitely
bring my dad back home.

I stretch my arms out wide and imagine a million soft feathers fluttering on my wings. My skin is alabaster white. I'm dazzling under the stars.

And I'm about to fly towards the silvery moon when Tory grabs hold of my leg.

“GET OFF!” I shriek, pushing her away. “LEAVE ME ALONE!”

She grips me tighter.

“Stop it!” says Tory. “You're mad!”

I grip her shoulders to push her away.

“Come down from the window,” screeches Sameena. “Both of you! You're scaring me.”

The wind catches the window and rips it wide open with a howl. Shampoo and conditioner bottles clatter and skid like skittles on the tiles. We wobble and topple. I try to push Tory back indoors. I edge myself out. She pulls me back.

“What are you doing?” I scream. “Leave me alone!”

My foot slips on the tiles. I crash into Tory. She clings on to me. I need to shake her off.

I have to close my eyes…

I have to fly.

The wind whirls and whips my skin and a huge gust swallows us whole. We topple. We catch each other's gaze. Terror blazes in our eyes as I slip off the window ledge and thud on the tiles and Tory Halligan tumbles through the night and into the garden below.

A deafening silence fills the room.

Then Jess screams.

Her shrill voice drills the air and bounces off the walls. We scrabble to the window. We peer out and look down at Tory Halligan's body. She's lying crooked and deathly still on the ground.

We're white as statues, as pale as the moon. I'm freezing. Icy cold.

Georgie bump, bump, bumps up the stairs.

“What on earth's going on?” she shouts, coming into the bathroom. Her eyes flicker around the room looking for clues. When they land on the open window, she pushes us out of the way, leans forward and gasps.

“OH! MY! GOD!” She screams.

She peers down into the garden. Horror sweeps up her face. Then suddenly everyone clucks and screeches
and scrambles downstairs. I'm left in the bathroom alone. Icy tears stream from my eyes. My teeth chatter. I'm so cold I might die from hypothermia. I run into Jess's room, wrap myself in her duvet and rush downstairs.

Under the stars Tory Halligan is lying perfectly still. Her face is as white as the moon. Her blonde hair is splayed out around her head, shining like a halo. Her leg is jutting out sideways, like it doesn't belong to her body any more.

“Stay back!” screams Georgie, throwing her arms out wide. “We mustn't move her. Jess, call an ambulance! Quick!”

Jess leaps into the house and makes the call.

My clothes and sleepover stuff are sprawled around the garden. Hanging from bushes. Dripping from the trees. Georgie cups her face in her hands. She rubs her eyes and scrapes her hands through her hair.

“OH! MY! GOD!” she says again. “What on earth happened?”

She turns to me.

“Give me the duvet, Jemima,” she says, grabbing it. “We need to keep her warm. OH! MY! GOD! I'm going
to have to call her mum. OH, MY, G—! Jemima, why are you naked?”

Her eyes spin around the garden photographing my clothes.

I stare at her. I'm speechless and my whole body is juddering with cold.

“I asked you a question, Jemima,” she says. “Can you answer me, please?” She crouches down next to Tory Halligan. She strokes her face. She prods her neck for a pulse.

I scrabble around trying to gather my stuff, I grab my knickers from a bush and slip them on.

“What on earth was going on, girls?” shrieks Georgie. “I need to know. I thought you were having a disco or something. I thought the racket was you having fun. Not this!”

“We were playing Truth or Dare,” I say, sliding my top over my head. “I was in the shower and everyone took my clothes…”

Jess joins us in the garden and whispers into the night. “The ambulance is on its way,” she says. She stares at Tory. “Is she dead?”

“GET BACK!” screams Georgie, flapping her arms
wildly like the possibility of true death in her garden has only just occurred to her. “Get back indoors and stay away!”

I stare at Tory. That could be me. That
should
be me.
I
was the one who wanted to fall. Not Tory. Now I'll
never
get my dad back home.

We tumble indoors and wait in silence. The clock on the wall tick, tick, ticks. When the paramedics arrive we follow them outside. We can't stay away. We watch them swarm on Tory like bees.

“They're like actors on a hospital programme,” whispers Beth. “It's like being in
Casualty
.”

“It's scary,” says Sameena. “What if she really is dead? I've never seen a dead person before.”

The paramedics test her pulse. They stick something down her throat for oxygen and plug her into a machine.

“Is she dead?” asks Jess again.

“No,” says a paramedic, “she's not dead, but she's seriously injured and we need to get her to hospital as soon as we can. Are you Mum?” he asks, looking at Georgie.

“Yes,” says Georgie. “I mean, no. I'm Jess's mum. Tory's here for a sleepover.” She casts her hand over us.
“They all are. They were having fun and… I don't know what happened!”

Another paramedic brings a stretcher. They lift Tory on and clip her to a special thing to keep her head straight, then they carry her through the back gate to the ambulance.

Sameena runs along next to her. “Get better soon, Tory,” she says. “We love you.”

Beth waves. I'm still frozen with shock. I can't believe what just happened.

Jess's eyes are glassy and wide. “She still might die, you know,” she says. “We might have to do an interview with the police and be on the telly.”

Georgie paces around the garden. She holds her head in her hands. She stabs the grass with her spiky high heels.

“Thank God she's not dead,” she repeats over and over again. “Thank God she's not dead!” She turns to Jess. “Your father's going to be furious when he finds out about this. We're both going to be in BIG trouble.”

Jess closes in on herself. “It wasn't
my
fault,” she says. She casts her eyes round the garden. “It was…”

“Will you be coming with us, madam?” a paramedic asks.

“Yes! No!” she says, looking at us. “I can't leave this lot alone. I need to drop them all off home, then go to Tory's parents. OH! MY! GOD! How am I going to explain this to them?” She looks at the man. “I'll go and tell them, then bring them along.”

 

When the ambulance pulls away, silence drapes a heavy black cloak over us. I creep around the garden and gather up my things.

“This wasn't supposed to happen,” shrieks Georgie, looking at us all. “WHAT ON EARTH WAS GOING ON?”

Sameena and Beth are silent; their heads droop low with shame.

“Tell me, Jemima,” says Georgie, “why exactly were you naked?”

Jess slips into the shadows. Slides into the dark.

“We were playing Truth or Dare,” I say. My voice wobbles, like a small wriggling mouse is caught in my throat. “And Tory dared me to shower in freezing cold water. And then when I was in the shower everyone stole all the towels and my clothes and started throwing them out the window so I couldn't get dressed.”

“Is this right?” Georgie asks, looking at the others, swivelling her head from one to the next. Then, without waiting for their answer, she signals for me to continue.

“And then Tory was dangling my knickers out of the window…” My voice cracks, sharp diamond tears nip my eyes. “And then… and then… I suddenly thought… and then…”

“And then you said…” says Jess, stepping into the light. “You said, ‘I hate you, Tory Halligan and I wish you were dead.' And that was when you pushed her.”

Her words fall from her mouth like dangerous rocks and everyone's eyes crush me.

“
What?
” shrieks Georgie.

“That was when she pushed her,” repeats Jess.