Torn (6 page)

Tara looked around, well aware that she was looking like an idiot, and that if she carried on, Daley might humiliate her further. She shrugged. ‘Whatever. Who cares, anyway? This whole trip is a joke.’ She flicked her salon-perfect hair as she meandered over to stand next to me.

Daley smiled at us. ‘Right, so everyone’s happy then? Marvellous! Off you go to your cabins. I think you’ll find your names already on the doors.’

Tara shook her head, hardly able to believe what had just happened.

I smiled at her in what I thought was a sympathetic way. She didn’t smile back.
Bitch.

Our cabin was … cabin-y. More pine. Five uncomfortable-looking beds with matching tartan blankets which looked mega-scratchy. At least there was a bathroom. That was another thing I’d been dreading: some kind of outdoor shower/toilet-block situation. So the bathroom was a big relief, and it was actually pretty nice too.

Of course Tara was the first to bagsy a bed. She went for the one nearest the door, all the better to make her escape. She dumped her rucksack on the bed and did just that – escaped. No prizes for guessing where she was going – the witches were in the cabin next to ours.

I took the bed furthest away from Tara’s. Not on purpose, it just worked out like that. Cass had the bed next to mine. Polly started unpacking her stuff straightaway, laying out clothes on her bed and
carefully refolding them before putting them away in the drawers underneath. If you listened carefully, you could hear her singing under her breath.

I started to unpack, just dumping the stuff from my rucksack straight into the drawers. Nothing was ironed anyway. I always ironed Dad’s clothes because he needed to look semi-presentable for work. But by the time I’d finished with all his trousers and shirts (shirts were the worst), I could never be bothered to do mine.

Cass lay on her bed, alternating between muttering about having to share a cabin with
that bitch
and getting excited about the potholing tomorrow. She’d done it a few times before. Cass and her family never go on normal holidays like normal people. They always have to
do
stuff, like horse-riding or climbing or sailing. Weird.

Potholing was probably near the bottom of my list of things I ever wanted to try in my life. I get claustrophobic in lifts, so underground caves and tunnels and tiny crevasses are hardly my idea of a fun time. Cass tried her best to convince me that it was ‘a total rush’, but I wasn’t buying it.

Cass stopped mid-babble and shouted, ‘Oi! Rae!’ across the room. I had no idea why she was shouting until I saw that Rae was plugged into her iPod.
Huh?
She was lying on her bed and staring at the ceiling.

Rae turned to Cass and pulled off her headphones. ‘What?’

‘How did you manage to get that past Daley?’

Rae smiled. I don’t think I’d ever seen her smile before. ‘Brought a spare. Nicked it off my sister last night. She’s gonna kill me for wiping her music, even if it was just a lot of electro-crap.’

‘Nice one,’ said Cass, as Rae plugged herself back in. I was annoyed I hadn’t thought of smuggling in a spare phone. I could have brought Mum’s. I keep it in my desk drawer – not sure why.

I noticed that Polly had stopped unpacking and was watching us. As soon as she realized that I’d noticed her, she looked away. She arranged an alarm clock, some moisturizer and a book on her bedside table, then went into the bathroom, probably to arrange some stuff in there.

We didn’t see Tara again till dinnertime. As I was tucking into my not-too-bad tuna bake I saw her making a beeline over to a table in the corner. A table where Duncan was sitting, alone, with a book propped up behind his plate. He didn’t seem bothered at the interruption. Why would he? What hot-blooded male could resist the charms of Tara Chambers? None that
I’d ever met, that was for sure. Tara’s posse wasn’t far behind, and he didn’t seem to mind that either. I couldn’t stop watching them: the way Tara touched Duncan’s shoulder on more than one occasion; the way her hair fell in front of her face before she oh-socoyly tucked it behind an ear; the way she took dainty bites of her salad and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin.

I was so intent on watching Tara’s table that a great big dollop of cheesy tomatoey tuna escaped from my fork and landed on my lap. Cass laughed so hard she choked on her water. I watched as she coughed and spluttered.

‘Serves you right for laughing at me. And don’t think I’m going to Heimlich you. If you die, it’s your own fault … I might come to your funeral though – if I’ve got nothing better to do.’ This made her laugh and choke even more, so I gave her a couple of half-hearted pats on the back, which did precisely nothing. Eventually Cass was able to breathe again. She punched me on the arm. It hurt.

‘
Thanks!
Some friend you are. Next time you’re dying, I’ll be right there … not caring.’

‘Whatever. I’ve got a serious tuna-crotch situation going on here.’

Cass wrinkled her nose. ‘Gross. You’d better go
and change before Tara notices and gives you a new nickname.’

I stood to leave. ‘A
new
nickname? What’s the old one?’

But Cass wouldn’t tell, and I didn’t push her. Sometimes ignorance is bliss, I guess.

They put on a film for us later that night – not my cup of tea at all. Tara and her posse sat directly behind me and I had to listen to them whispering all the way through. I tried to ignore it and concentrate on the painfully predictable events unfolding on-screen, but it was impossible. Duncan seemed to be the main subject of the conversation, which started like this:

Danni
: He totally fancies you.

Tara
: Do you reckon?
(Could no one else hear how disingenuous that sounded?)

Danni and Sam and Gemma:
Totally!
(Did they practise speaking in chorus?)

Tara:
He
is
pretty hot, I suppose.

Danni:
You should
totally
go for it. You know, his cabin is the one just behind yours …

Tara:
How do you know that?

Danni:
I make it my business to know the exact location of all hot men within a one-hundred-metre radius.
(This
was perhaps the funniest thing I’d ever heard Danni say. Except she wasn’t joking.)

Sam:
I reckon you should pay him a visit one night … say, if you had an insect bite that needed some lotion rubbing on it …?

Gemma:
Yeah! You SO should!

Tara (sounding thoughtful):
We’ll see.

The thought of Tara creeping into Duncan’s cabin made me feel sort of sick.
He wouldn’t actually do anything with her … would he? He’d lose his job for sure. And probably get arrested or something. Maybe I should warn him? Don’t be so ridiculous. What would you say? ‘The hottest girl in our school wants to get in your pants. And I don’t think you should let her.’ Yeah, that’d work.

I looked to see if Cass was listening too, but she was engrossed in the film. She has a bit of a penchant for lame rom-coms, a fact that never fails to surprise me. I can’t stand them – there are only so many ridiculous coincidences a girl can take.

I was the first one back to the cabin after the film. At least I
thought
I was – but Polly was there, scrabbling around on the floor near Tara’s bed.

‘Lost something?’

‘What? Oh, yes.’ She stood up and went over to her bed and started fluffing up the pillows. ‘It doesn’t matter though. It was just a hair grip – I’ve got lots.’
She was wearing a long nightgown, the sort my nan wears. I felt bad for her; Tara would have a field day.

The rest of us were all in bed by the time Tara swanned in. No doubt she’d been busy planning her assault on Duncan. Without a word, she started stripping off her clothes. Not an ounce of self-consciousness. I was kind of jealous of that. She seemed to take ages getting changed, like she was enjoying showing off her body.

‘You can stop staring at me now, Cass,’ she said as she pulled a teeny-tiny vest over her head. ‘I’m decent.’

‘Fuck you, Tara.’ Cass looked over the top of the map she was studying.

‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’ She laughed and blew a kiss in Cass’s direction before flouncing into the bathroom.

‘Bitch,’ Cass muttered.

‘Just ignore her,’ I said.

‘Easier said than done. You know, one of these days she’ll get what she deserves.’ Cass was always saying things like this. I never thought anything of it.

Cass was in the foulest of foul moods the next morning. At breakfast she munched her cornflakes in such an aggressive way that I thought she might break a tooth. She hadn’t bothered to wash her hair and it was all over the place. I’d shampooed my hair twice, conditioned it, straightened it … and then tied it back in a boring old ponytail.

The more I thought about it, the more freaked out I became.
What if I get separated from the group somehow? What if they leave me down there? What if I can’t find my way out and I starve to death after days and days lost in the darkness?

I tried to talk to Rae, who was scrawling something in her notebook in between bites of toast.

‘God, I’m not looking forward to today. Have you done potholing before?’

It took her a moment or two to realize I was
talking to her. She shut her notebook and put it on her lap. ‘Nope.’

‘I don’t know why anyone in their right mind would want to do it. Anything could happen down there. But I suppose they wouldn’t let us do it if it wasn’t one hundred per cent safe, would they?’

Rae shrugged. ‘You’d be surprised. Accidents are always happening on trips like this. You hear about it all the time.’

‘What? Seriously?’ It was hard to tell from her expression whether she was joking.

‘Yup.’ She wasn’t joking.

‘Great. Thanks. I feel so much better now.’

‘You’re welcome.’ And with that, she got up and left.
That’s what you get for making an effort with people.

‘I … I’m nervous about it too.’ Polly. I’d forgotten she was there. Easy to do.

‘Well, we can be nervous together.’ I smiled at her and she smiled back shyly.

Neither of us had any idea just how bad it was going to be.

It started off OK. The caves were a couple of miles away from the camp, so we had to trek through the woods. The rain had yet to put in an appearance, and
the sun was at least making an effort to shine through the grey. The forest floor was covered in a thick bed of pine needles; I liked the way it felt springy under my feet. I almost managed to forget that we were headed into the bowels of hell. Almost.

Tara was up ahead with Duncan, who was carrying a massive rucksack. Miss Daley walked a few steps behind, dwarfed by her own rucksack. If she fell over she’d never be able to get up again. We’d leave her there, flailing and floundering like a distressed tortoise.

Everyone was wearing waterproofs and helmets with lights on – like miners’ hats. Some people managed to carry off the look better than others. Cass was practically born to wear this stuff. Her mood had improved and she was prattling on about the last time she’d been potholing and how deep she’d gone and stalactites and stalagmites and other subterranean things I had no interest in. I just wanted to get the morning over and done with as quickly as possible.

Duncan ran through his safety spiel again and Paul checked the lights on our helmets, but my mind was elsewhere. I was weighing up my options:

a) Tell Daley you can’t do it. You’re claustrophobic. This is your worst nightmare. You should go back to camp and help make lunch or something.

b) Just get on with it and stop being so pathetic.

No matter how tempting option a) was, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

I refused to look that weak in front of the others, no matter how scared I was.
It’ll be fine it’ll be fine it’ll be fine. Nothing bad is going to happen. You are NOT going to die.