Unspeakable (6 page)

‘It’s too tight,’ she complains, crossing her arms over her stomach.

But I barely notice. I’m fascinated by a little mole on Jasmine’s shoulder. It’s exactly the same shape as a fir cone.

‘Hey, how about this?’ Jasmine giggles, pairing the dress with a green rain mac.

I laugh and give her the thumbs-up.

At the end of the day, we go for a burger. As we eat, Jasmine checks out the cool new hoodie and purple canvas shoes she’s bought.

‘Are you sure about the hoodie? It doesn’t make me look like a lump?’

I shake my head emphatically.

‘Shame you didn’t get anything, Megan. You really did look hot in those jeans. You should’ve got them.’

There’s no way I could’ve afforded the jeans. I felt bad enough asking Mum for a tenner for the bus fare and food.

Jasmine moans about her burger with every mouthful, though it’s obvious she’s enjoying it. ‘I really shouldn’t be eating this. I’m never going to be an actress if I don’t lose weight.’

I frown, grab a napkin and write:
What are you talking about? You don’t need to lose weight
.

She reddens. ‘I just feel massive, you know?’

Well, you’re not
, I insist, underlining it twice.
You look great
.

Jasmine quickly changes the subject and starts to make up stories about other people in the burger place. ‘That bloke trims his toenails by biting them … That couple are on a first date; he likes her, but she keeps checking out the Indian guy behind the till …’

We’re so busy messing about, we almost miss the last bus home, and have to run through the rain to catch it. By the time we board the bus, we’re out of breath, soaking wet, and helpless with laughter.

I dream that Jasmine is on the edge of a ridge, looking over her shoulder at me. Her eyes are wide and fearful. Sadie stands behind her, ready to push the small of Jasmine’s back and send her plummeting over the edge. Grace is there too, as quiet as ever, but she fixes me with a look that smoulders with anger.

‘All you have to do is ask,’ Sadie sings. ‘Just one word to save her life. Why won’t you do that for your friend?’

I shake my head.
I can’t
.

Grace’s eyes narrow:
You can talk
, they say.
I know you can
.

Sadie presses her hand further into Jasmine’s back. ‘If you don’t talk, she’ll die. All you have to do is say just … one … word.’

Jasmine whimpers, her eyes begging me to help. I start to cry. Great, wracking sobs.
Please don’t hurt her. Please!

‘You can save her, Megan. You’re just choosing not to,’ Sadie says with a smug grin.

Grace takes a step towards me, her jaw clenched. She thinks I’m selfish. Cruel. Cowardly.

No, no, I’m not. I just can’t. Please don’t take her away from me!

But Sadie is slowly shaking her head, as if she’s disappointed. Her elbow juts out as she pulls back her hand and thumps it into Jasmine, who pitches forward in slow motion, arms wheeling, before hurtling out of sight.

I open my eyes. I’m on my bed. Can’t breathe. Can’t move. I tell myself to turn on the light, but my arm is locked. Why can’t I move?

Because you’re weak. Pathetic.

A strangled sound escapes from my mouth. I try to stop it, but it scratches across my throat, tears a trail over my tongue.

My fingers twitch. I can move! I swipe a hand through the darkness and it collides with my lamp, which crashes to the floor. I fumble for the switch. Finally, it clicks and light sweeps away the shadows.

Nausea rolls around my stomach. I gulp in more air, trying to slow my thumping heart.

I just about make it to the bathroom before I’m sick. I lean against the toilet bowl, blood roaring in my ears.

A cold hand rests on the back of my neck. ‘You OK?’ Mum mumbles, her head turned away from the smell.

I don’t respond.

You’re evil.

‘Megan?’ Mum asks. ‘Are you all right?’

I nod. My brain thuds around like a ping-pong ball.

You deserve to be punished.

‘Are you going to be sick again?’ Mum asks, taking a step back.

I flush the toilet.

‘Do you want some water or mouthwash or something?’

I shake my head.

‘How about heartburn tablets? Think I’ve got some in the cabinet.’

I shake my head again, almost smiling. Mum thinks that any illness can be solved with heartburn tablets.

‘All right,’ she says softly. ‘I’ll just go back to bed then.’

I know what she wants. She wants to be a mumsy mum: the type who would tuck me into bed with a kiss and a cup of hot chocolate. But that’s not her. I’m OK with that. I just wish she was.

Mum pats the top of my head and returns to her bedroom,
but doesn’t quite pull the door shut. I hear her open the window, then there’s the flick of a lighter. She’ll spray deodorant afterwards, thinking it will mask the smell.

I stumble back to my room and into bed. Remnants of the dream buzz around me like wasps. Every time I close my eyes, I see the look on Jasmine’s face, just before she fell. I know what she was thinking:
You betrayed me
.

CHAPTER NINE

When my alarm goes off the next morning, my eyelids are leaden and there’s a slow beat drumming on my temples. I wrench my eyes open but everything is unfocused. I can’t have had more than a couple of hours’ sleep. I wait for my vision to clear before shuffling into the corridor.

The bathroom door is open and a cloud of lemon-scented steam is curling out. Mum’s standing in front of the mirror with a towel wrapped around her, pulling odd faces as she puts mascara on.

When Mum sees me watching, she starts to talk, but her voice hasn’t quite woken up yet. She clears her throat and tries again. ‘Are you still ill? Do you want me to call school?’ She looks at me properly and actually gasps. ‘Look at the state of you! You can’t go out like that!’ She reaches out to try to flatten my hair.

I jerk away from her.

‘Oh, come on, I’m only joking!’ And she laughs, just to prove it.

Ha bloody ha
.

Mum stops laughing and her eyes harden so fast they almost crack. ‘Fine,’ she snaps. ‘Are you staying or going, because I’ve got to leave for work. Make your mind up quickly.’

I’m so tired. I just can’t face it today. I point to my bed.

Mum nods once, then heads downstairs.

‘I’ll ring Jasmine’s mum too,’ she says. ‘Tell her not to call for you today.’

I wake mid-morning. My room feels stuffy so I push the window open, taking deep breaths of the air that wafts inside, bringing the scent of rain with it.

I spend the day flicking through rubbish on TV. I’m on my fifth episode of some dining/dating show when Mum comes through the door. She calls out, ‘Hiya. I was let off a bit early because we were quiet. Have you been sick again?’

I reach for the remote, my arm heavy and languid. I mute the TV, lift my head and shake it at her.

Mum looks mischievous. ‘You’ve got a visitor!’ she announces.

What? Please don’t tell me you mean Jasmine!

I’ve been in these pyjamas all day. I didn’t even bother to have a shower this morning. My skin feels greasy, my hair lank. I
so
don’t want her seeing me like this!

Jasmine’s earrings tinkle as she pokes her head round the door. ‘Hi! How are you feeling? What is it? Stomach bug? Or did you eat something bad? We went to this Chinese buffet in
Cyprus. Oh my God, Megan, I was so ill. I can’t even touch prawns now. Just the thought of them makes me queasy. At least, I think it was the prawns. There was this beef dish as well … I’m not sure.’

‘I think she’ll be OK to go back tomorrow,’ Mum says. ‘I don’t think I can keep her in another day. She’s like a wild animal – always wants to be outside!’

Great. Thanks for that, Mum
.

Jasmine grins. I manage a flicker of a smile in return, then retreat behind my hair.

Mum ushers Jasmine into the living room, then hovers just outside the door as she takes off her coat and shoes.

Jasmine sinks into the sofa next to me. I breathe in her lovely, incensey smell. She taps her lap. ‘Do you want to put your feet up?’

A blush devours my face and I shake my head.

‘Come on, silly.’ Jasmine laughs, pulls my legs up and rests them across her thighs. I stare in horror at the pink bunny rabbits dancing across my pyjamas, but Jasmine doesn’t seem to notice.

‘I sat with Luke on the bus today. He was telling me what you were like, you know, before …’ Her words trail off, then she says, ‘I wish I’d known you then.’

I look away.

‘Fancy a cuppa, Jasmine?’ Mum asks.

Jasmine nods. The moment Mum leaves, she leans forward eagerly. ‘Someone was waiting for me at the bus stop tonight.’ She lets a pause hang for a few dramatic seconds, before gushing, ‘It was Owen!’

I stiffen.

‘I mean, I’m quite flattered that he likes me, but I’m not sure how I feel about him. I don’t know if the whole rebel thing is sexy or scary.’

Scary. Definitely scary. And he’s blatantly just interested in one thing
.

As soon as I think it, I feel bad. There are loads of reasons why boys would be interested in Jasmine. I’m just bitter.

You’re a cow.

I jump. Breathe. Tell myself to act normal.

Jasmine misreads my expression. ‘Don’t you think he’s good-looking?’

I snort.

‘Does that mean you don’t?’

I shrug. I’m no good at this type of thing.

Mum rushes in. I wonder how long she’s been eavesdropping. ‘Oh, that whole family’s a bad lot. Dad went to prison, you know,’ she utters in a scandalised whisper. ‘I’m telling you, Jasmine, some of the things we’ve heard through the walls … Well, just steer clear of him if you want my advice. He’s trouble.’

For once I’m grateful for Mum’s loose tongue.

Jasmine doesn’t know what to say. She pauses, then offers Mum a vague smile. ‘Thanks for the warning. I’ll think about it.’

‘Do you want to stay for dinner?’ Mum asks. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll make Megan have a shower first.’

For God’s sake! I’m not five!

Jasmine smiles. ‘That would be great, thanks. I’ll just text my parents.’

Mum leaves and the microwave starts to hum in the kitchen.

Jasmine whips round, her eyes shining. ‘Guess what?’ she whispers, casting a quick glance behind to make sure Mum’s not there. ‘Owen asked if we want to meet them in Lyndhurst on Friday night.’

I’m already shaking my head.

‘Oh come on, Megan. Please. It’ll be fun! He’s going to get us some booze and we’ll just hang out in the park.’

Brilliant. So he wants to get you drunk. This is a bad, bad idea. We can’t go. No way
.

‘There’ll be boys there. Owen’s mates.’

As if that will convince me!

‘Or bring Luke if you like.’

I don’t think so
.

‘Don’t make me go alone, Megan.’

Alone? You can’t go alone
.

Jasmine pouts. How can I be angry with her when she looks like that?

You’re not leaving me much of a choice
.

She sees me wavering and makes one last effort. ‘Pleeeeaaaase!’

OK. But I’m not drinking. And I’m not going any further than Lyndhurst. Even for you
.

I nod, feeling slightly sick. Jasmine stifles a squeal as she claps her hands together. ‘It’s going to be great, I promise! You tell your mum you’re at mine, and I’ll tell my parents I’m at
yours! We’ll get the last bus back to Brookby at half eleven.’

She’s already planned it out. Despite myself, I smile.

On Friday, Jasmine and I huddle together on a dark street. It’s a cold, damp night and the bus is late. Lindsay and Josh are a few feet away. They’re so engrossed in each other, they don’t even realise we’re here.

I don’t know Lindsay that well. In primary school, our little gang consisted of me, Hana, Sadie and Grace. But it all changed when we started secondary school. It was just Sadie and Grace for a year or so, until Lindsay showed up. Then the three of them were inseparable. I can see why Sadie wanted Jasmine to join the group – four was always a good number.

It’s strange to see Lindsay without Sadie. I wonder if they’re all meeting somewhere. God, I hope they’re not coming to the park with us. No, that wouldn’t happen. Everyone knows that Sadie and Owen haven’t spoken since their break-up in the summer.

I try not to stare at them. It’s really hard! Jasmine sniggers and tries to disguise it as a cough.

Lindsay disentangles herself. ‘What you staring at?’

‘Nothing,’ Jasmine says coolly, moving a little further down the road.

‘Yeah. You’d better not be. Don’t think you can steal my man, like your mum stole my dad’s job. I’m watching you, new girl.’

‘Welcome to Brookby,’ Jasmine mutters, ‘where everyone’s so friendly.’

I rub her shoulder and she manages a quick smile. Jasmine’s
wearing a short denim skirt and leather boots. Her large earrings tumble through her hair: two tear-shaped amber stones hanging above several silver twists. Every few minutes, she tugs at her skirt self-consciously. I wish I could tell her how nice she looks.

I find my phone and hold it up to take a selfie. We put our heads together, grinning like idiots, then blink away the dots of light after the flash. I study the photo. I look so pasty next to Jasmine. My hair falls in unruly waves, in contrast to her tight curls. My eyes just seem dull next to the rich brown of hers.

Jasmine points at the bus trundling towards us. ‘Finally. About bloody time.’

Inside, the heating’s on, but we’re both frozen, so we shuffle close together. I shut my eyes, enjoying the feeling of her warm body against mine, trying to forget where we’re going and who we’re meeting.

Jasmine nudges me and I open my eyes. ‘Look what I’ve got,’ she says with an impish grin, holding up a bottle of water.