Bang Bang You're Dead (13 page)

Mine.

I don't believe it. I
won't
believe it. But over the course of our sessions, Dr Macdonald's slow yet effective
drip-drip-drip
technique has silently been wearing away at what I thought I knew, like acid eating away metal.

'If I'd done all that stuff, I would remember, wouldn't I?' I blurt out. My mind seems to have fractured into tiny pieces that are flying off in all directions, and I can't seem to hold one thought long enough to examine it before I'm racing on to the next. 'I'd remember setting fire to my father's house, I'd remember breaking Michael Riley's arm, I'd remember wrecking Doctor Zeelander's car and all the rest of it?'

'Not necessarily, Mia,' Dr Macdonald replies evenly. 'The mind has a way of playing tricks on us. It has fantastic abilities to fool us and make us think that black is white and vice versa.'

'But I
saw
Jamie going to the annexe before the siege,' I burst out. There are
so
many reasons why this cannot be true, and why I don't want it to be true. But Dr Macdonald's calm, controlled logic has crept up and caught me unawares in its stifling, vice-like grip.

'So you said,' she replies. 'And then what happened?'

'I thought Jamie was going to do something drastic to make Mum realize we'd had enough,' I reply slowly. 'I didn't know
what,
but I thought he might target Kat Randall because she was bullying me. So I went out of our classroom because—'

I stop for a second. I feel so confused, but I try to go on. 'I was going to the annexe because . . .'

My voice falters again.

It wasn't Jamie who was going to the annexe to take revenge on Kat Randall in some way that would get everyone's attention, including Mum's. It wasn't Jamie who couldn't go ahead, in the end, because Lee Curtis had had other plans.

It was me.

I can't remember what I had in mind, what I was planning to do.

But it was me.

I am shaking. I curl myself into a tight ball, hugging my knees, my hair falling over my face.

'Am I very ill?' I ask haltingly.

Dr Macdonald is speaking and the tone of her voice is reassuring, but I'm not listening to what she is saying. I am replaying the last fourteen years in my head. Ms Kennedy has always told me that I have a wonderful imagination, a writer's imagination, but now it has been my downfall.

I look back into the past and wonder wildly if it is possible that 'Jamie', reckless, wild, quick-tempered, is the other side of meek and mild little Mia. Have I always had that other personality inside me?

It would explain how I found the courage and the nerve to fight my way into the annexe and outwit Lee Curtis. The intense rage I felt when Ms Kennedy tried to make me leave the school and when Leo Jackson and Dr Zeelander refused to help us; that anger was mine and it was Jamie's. It was Jamie's idea to force Mum to get help by whatever means possible, but it was mine too.

I am Mia.

I am Jamie.

I'm lying in my hospital bed, out of sight under the blankets, and I am crying.

I cannot hold back the tears for the brother I thought I knew, but who only existed in my head and nowhere else. The brother I used ruthlessly to show the rage and loathing and fear that mouse-like Mia did not dare to express. Could all those explosive feelings have been hidden deep inside me for so many years without me realizing?

It appears that I
am
very ill, even more sick than Mum.

'I'm sorry, Jamie,' I murmur.

But what's the point?

I am only apologizing to myself.

Night is falling and the nurse has not come in yet to draw the blinds. My little room is dimly lit by the lamp that stands on my locker and the air is scented with the freesias Mum brought today. She is subdued and still very anxious about me. But her anxiety has made her determined to seek help, and Dr Macdonald has already set the wheels in motion.

An astounding thing happened today. Mum told me that Leo Jackson had been in touch. What a shock. Mum looked immensely awkward and embarrassed, and it took her at least five minutes to get the words out. I did not tell her that I have already met him, and I don't think Leo has told her either. I shall tell Mum later, though.

No more secrets.

Leo has seen the newspapers and is now offering to pay Mum child support. Guilty conscience? Who knows? I wonder if he'll backdate it fourteen years. But, anyway, it will be a big help.

I did not ask Mum if Leo wants to have any kind of relationship with me. I shall find that out later, though, and it will only happen if I want it to, and it will be on my terms.

Bree can't wait for me to come back to school. There's to be some sort of ceremony and I'll be awarded a medal for my bravery during the siege. I shall apologize to Ms Kennedy and ask for her help in planning my future career as a writer.

There's so much to look forward to when I am finally well.

I curl my knees tightly towards me so that I'm in the foetal position, a baby in the comforting, womb-like warmth of the bed. Then I wipe away the tears with the back of my hand; I know for sure that I am stronger now, just as Jamie wanted.

'Goodbye, Jamie,' I murmur softly as hope for the future floods through me and my heart lifts. 'I don't need you any more.'

Narinder was born and brought up in Wolverhampton, with two younger sisters. She studied English at Birmingham University and then worked as a primary school teacher, but always loved writing. After winning several short story prizes, she was encouraged to take the leap and devote herself to writing. Her very first book was accepted by a publisher and she's now been a full-time author for several years.

To relax, Narinder loves reading murder mysteries and watching football (she supports Wolves); she also loves travelling and is learning Italian. She lives with her husband and their three cats in Cambridge. For more information, visit
www.
narinderdhami
.com
.

by KEITH GRAY

Shortlisted for the Costa
Children's Book Award

'It's not really kidnapping, is it? He'd have to be
alive for it to be proper kidnapping.'

Kenny, Sim and Blake are grieving for their best
friend Ross and angered by his inadequate memorial
service. So they steal his ashes and set out to take
Ross to Ross – a tiny hamlet in Scotland – to give him
the send-off his family failed to provide.

Driven by black comedy and packing a massive
punch,
Ostrich Boys
takes readers
on an unmissable road trip.

'I loved it . . . a wonderful book'
Jacqueline Wilson

'Reminiscent of
On the Road
and
Catcher in the
Rye
. . . a profound work, instantly worthy
of the label "modern classic"'
Bookseller

'A remarkable book!'
Carousel

'Funny, page-turning and profound'
The Sunday Times

ISBN: 978 0 099 45657 5