The Taming of Lilah May (10 page)

Jay's losing weight.

He says it's because he's not been bothering to eat anything much at band practice, and it's true, when I once went to watch them rehearse, they spent the whole evening existing on cans of lager and a bag of red liquorice.

But Mum's getting a bit worried about him.

‘He doesn't talk to me any more,' she says to me when we're washing up together at the sink. ‘And
when he does, it's only in words of one syllable.'

I scrunch my tea towel into a glass and squeak it around inside until it's smudge-free and shiny.

‘Maybe he's just being a typical teenage boy?' I offer. ‘And to be fair, Mum, you're not exactly here very much, are you?'

Mum flushes, and turns back to her washing-up.

‘You're too young to know what you're talking about,' she snaps. ‘Somebody has to pay the bills around here.'

I shrink away from her. I'm only twelve, going on thirteen. And I wasn't at all moody or angry back in those days. I was a sunny child, or so my parents were always saying.

‘She's got a lovely sunny nature, our Lilah,' they'd say to anybody within earshot, and then whoever it was would turn around and stare at me with a sort of bemused fondness, and I'd go all embarrassed and squirmy.

‘I don't know,' sighs Mum. ‘You never know how your children are going to turn out. I mean, you're no trouble. Not yet. But Jay was a lovely little boy. Really sweet. And now he just bites my head off if I ask him a question.'

I carry on wiping the plates dry and I don't
say anything, but I'm thinking that I actually know exactly how Mum is feeling, because Jay's started being a bit weird with me too. And my brother being snappy with me is the most horrid and unexpected thing that's ever happened, and it's too upsetting to talk about, so I just carry it around inside me like a big, mould-covered, heavy lump of rock that won't go away.

‘Go and talk to him, Lilah,' says Mum. ‘I can finish the drying-up. He always seems to prefer talking to you.'

She doesn't sound bitter when she says this, just a little lost and wistful.

I don't really want to go and disturb Jay and risk getting snapped at, but I'm still at that age where I obey my parents, so I put down my plate and go upstairs.

Jay's bedroom door is shut, as usual, but there's no music pumping out, which is kind of unusual, so I give a soft tap on the door and then hover in the hallway with my ear pressed to the wood.

There's a rustling, shifting sort of noise, and then Jay pads over to the door in socks and opens it.

‘Not now, Liles,' he says.

His face is pale, and you can see his cheekbones
where the weight's come off his face. There's a stench coming out of the room behind him. Sweat, stale air and something else. Something I don't know, but it's sweet and sour all at once and strong enough to make me cough and back away.

‘Are you ill?' I say, because he doesn't look very well. Jay used to have ruddy cheeks and a glow about him underneath the thick brown curly hair.

Now his face is stripped of all pinkness and his hair is dead straight and jet-black.

‘I'm fine, Liles,' he says. ‘I don't feel much like talking, though. Sorry. Maybe tomorrow?'

He shuts the door in my face, gently, but in a way that doesn't invite me to push it open again.

The smell hangs around in the corridor for a moment.

I put my ear to the door again and listen. I can't hear a thing.

Maybe he's gone to bed.

I go down the hall to my own room and lie on my pink duvet and stare up at my own glow stars for a bit, and then I dig out my homework and do it at the desk, all the time listening for any signs of life in the bedroom next door.

Just after I've gone to bed, I hear Jay creep out
of his room and down the stairs, and then there's the slam of the front door and a shout of protest from Mum and the sound of her and Dad talking in low urgent voices, but I can't work out what they're saying.

Jay doesn't come home at all that night.

Phew. Adam Carter still likes me. Shame it's only as a mate, though.

And Bindi still looks like she wants to kill me. I wish she'd give me one of her wet-eyed smiles. I miss her. She's got quite friendly with Adam now. I think she feels sorry for him.

It's the evening after I've had the chat with Adam at school, and I've come home not exactly full of joy, but feeling a bit better now that we've agreed to be mates. I go upstairs to write in my diary and things feel at least a bit better.

I've still got a lot of sucking-up to do to Bindi, though. She didn't even say goodbye to me after school, and I don't get it. To add to my feelings of doom, I saw her making a special effort to be nice to Adam Carter, so now I feel even more horrible.

I only got her to stay by the phone for one evening. I mean, I didn't ask her to commit murder or anything, did I? But she's gone all sulky and quiet on me, so I guess I've got to buy her a present or something, and I'm just thinking about what to get her as I close my diary, when Dad comes in and announces that it's time for Taming Lilah, Session One.

‘OK,' I say. I know when I'm beaten. Dad's rolled up his shirtsleeves to reveal his tattoos and put on his scariest black glasses. He's got a no-nonsense vibe coming off him. I can kind of see why the lions and tigers do whatever he says.

‘Right,' he says, all business-like. ‘Lions get angry. They need a release for their anger, kind of like you do. So I'm going to make you angry and then we're
going for a run down the street. OK?'

I roll my eyes and cast a longing look at my bedroom door, but Dad's blocking it.

‘So,' he says. ‘How ARE you, Lilah? Tell me how you are.'

Dad has somehow picked up on the fact that I hate this question, and now he's using it to taunt me, like waving a stick in front of an angry tiger.

I'm not going to give in yet, though.

‘Fine,' I say, with a big bright smile. ‘I am absolutely fine. As fine as the finest person in Fineland.'

Dad gives a knowing nod.

‘So there's nothing bothering you, then?' he says. ‘That's great. So you're absolutely thrilled that your brother has gone missing, your school life is suffering, your best friend is fed up with you, and you hate being at home with your screwed-up parents, right?'

‘Right,' I say, but my voice has faltered just a tiny bit, and Dad pounces on this as if
he
were the lion and I've just thrown a tasty piece of dead deer into the enclosure.

‘Life just couldn't be better for you, could it?' he continues. ‘In fact, I'm quite envious. You get all your meals here for free, your rent paid, while Mum and
I have to go out and earn loads of money so that you can sit about doing nothing and moaning about silly little things. Wish I was you!'

Damn. It's starting to work. I've got an itchy feeling going up my legs, and they're all hot and stuck together. Dad's got a really irritating smarmy grin on his face, and just looking at him is starting to annoy me now.

‘Don't,' I mutter. ‘I don't want to play this any more. It was a stupid idea.'

‘Pardon?' says Dad. ‘Speak up. I can't hear you.'

I flip my chin up and glare at him.

‘I SAID, I don't want to play any more!' I shout back at him.

Dad's eyes begin to glint and spark.

‘That's more like it!' he says. ‘Feeling a bit angry, are we? Losing our temper a bit, are we?'

I'm seeing great big sheets of red in front of my eyes.

I swear that a
growl
escapes from my mouth! I hope I'm not actually turning into a lion.

‘That's it,' says Dad. He's enjoying himself. ‘Just let it out, Lilah. Scream if you want. Howl. Hit me. I don't really care. I can take it.'

I lunge towards him but I stop just at the last
moment because there's something deep and stern and kind in his eyes, and it reminds me that this is Dad and that he's quite scary.

Instead, I turn to the wall and start to kick it with my foot. Hard.

Water rushes into my eyes and the bones in my ankle ache and throb, but I can't seem to stop kicking.

Dad comes over and pulls me away from the wall.

‘OK,' he says again. ‘Downstairs. Out of the front door. Run up and down the street three times, as fast as you can. I'll race you, right?'

I don't know what he's doing to me, but I find myself obeying and running downstairs and down the hall, straight out of the front door and along the pavement, with my trainers pounding on the ground and the night air rushing past me in cold draughts and my breath coming all jagged and short and painful as I run my anger away. Dad runs along next to me, super-fit and fast, and my body feels so cold and breathless and
alive
that for once I don't think about Jay at all. I just focus on what I'm doing, and Dad keeps me going until I can't run any longer, and I collapse in a heap over our front wall.

‘Good girl,' he says, handing me a bottle of water. ‘How do you feel?'

I sit up, still panting, and pour the water over my head.

We sit together on the wall, and it's really weird, because I don't feel so angry any more.

A bit of me is still cross at the way he's bossing me about and making me leg it up and down our street in full view of all the neighbours, but there's all this buzzy adrenalin pumping around my head, and it feels clear and cool and good, and I don't feel like I want to kick anything any more.

Not that I'm going to tell Dad that.

Not yet.

‘I feel OK,' I say in a small voice. ‘But I think I need to go to bed now. You've worn me out.'

Dad gives a knowing smile and nudges me gently with his elbow. I very nearly turn round and smile at him, but I just manage to keep it under control.

‘We'll try it again soon,' he says. ‘Session Two. You in?'

I give a deep sigh and get up from the wall.

‘Yeah,' I say. ‘If it makes you happy, I'm in.'