Missing Abby (8 page)

The bus trundled slowly up Salt Hill. I had purposely placed the box so that I couldn't see Abby's photo on the poster taped to the front, but now I nudged it around, looking at her round-cheeked face.

I wanted to help, I really did. But how was I supposed to put up posters? What if someone from Balden saw me doing it?
What's wrong, Emma? Lost your freaky friend? Ooh, I hope that nasty Esmerelda hasn't magicked her away!

I slumped down in my seat, hating myself for being so craven.

Finally I sent a text to Jo, saying I'd be late, and then got off the bus at my stop, dragging the heavy box the ten-minute walk to my house. I had sweat stains under my arms when I got there. But at least Jenny and Dad were out in the garden, so I was spared the interrogation. I could see them through the back door, along with Nat, who was dancing around in her bathing suit with a hose.

I took the box upstairs and shoved it under my bed.

I didn't know what to do with the dragon. I held it in my hand for a long time, feeling its weight. Finally I hid it in the drawer of my bedside table, shutting it away with pens and an old journal. And then felt a pang of sadness, like he might get lonely in there, all by himself.

I shook my head, blowing my breath out in an irritated puff. Get a grip!

I changed my shirt and left to go meet Jo and Debbie.

‘What do you think of this?’ Debbie leaned her sketchbook towards us. The three of us were sitting in Café Nero later that afternoon, drinking cappuccinos. Or fiddling with them, in my case.

‘Excellent! That's a complete award-winner!’ Jo sat propped forward in the silver café chair, inspecting Debbie's drawing. She had decided on a sort of harem theme, with hip-hugging swirly trousers and a scanty top.

‘Completely brilliant, Debs. I love the, um – purple bits.’ I looked down, stirring the chocolate into my coffee.

There was a pause, and then Jo let out a breath. ‘Look, Ems, enough of this, OK? You're obviously really upset about Abby, and we don't think you should … pretend everything's OK.’

Debbie nodded, snapping her sketchbook closed. ‘We're worried about you,’ she said flatly. ‘We think you need to talk about it more. We're your friends; we want to help.’

Warmth radiated through me, and suddenly I was ridiculously close to tears. Maybe I could talk to them, really
talk
to them, and it would be OK. Maybe I could even tell them – everything.

‘Thanks, you two.’ I drew my sleeve across my face, and Jo dived into her handbag to hand me a tissue.

‘OK?’ she asked gently.

I nodded, dabbing at my leaking eyes. ‘Um, it's just been so – I mean, I'm worried about her all the time, and – I keep imagining all the things that might have happened to her, or
be
happening to her …’

Jo and Debbie sat very still, nodding as I spoke. Behind us, I could hear someone ordering a café latte. I looked down, clicking my spoon against my saucer. ‘But the worst thing is – well, the way I, um … treated her, after I left Balden. See, we—’

‘Emma?’ As Jo and Debbie's gazes flicked behind me, I turned around in my seat – and almost passed out, right across the table and our cappuccinos.

Karen Stipp was standing there.

She looked just the same – tall and confident, with wavy golden-brown hair and dark eyes. And dressed perfectly as usual, in tight black trousers and a shiny white top.

She smiled at me, just like she hadn't completely ruined my life at Balden. ‘Emma, hi … I haven't seen you in ages.’

No, what a surprise! I tend to avoid people who make my life an utter misery.

‘Oh … hi, Karen.’ Suddenly I felt like a neon sign was blazing on my forehead: pathetic Emma,
the freak of Balden. I bit my lip and glanced at Jo and Debbie, who were looking at Karen with interest. Somehow I managed to introduce everybody.

Karen scraped a chair over to our table, sitting down uninvited with her coffee. ‘Emma, listen, are you OK? We're all really worried about Abby at Balden, so I can imagine how
you
must feel.’

She actually sounded concerned. I gripped my coffee cup warily. ‘Um – yeah, I'm OK.’

Karen glanced at Jo and Debbie. ‘Emma and Abby used to be really close. It's so awful, not knowing if she's OK or not. I have Abby for a few classes at school, and now it's like there's this gaping space where she sat …’

I took a slurp of coffee as emotions crashed inside me like tidal waves. This could not be true – Karen Stipp being nice!

Jo nodded. ‘We were just talking about Abby … it's really scary.’

‘Yeah, it is.’ Karen took a pack of chocolates from her handbag and offered us all one. Her eyes were wide and innocent as she looked at me. ‘Emma, doesn't it just seem really
freaky
to you? The way it's all happened?’

I froze in my seat, splinters of terror icing through me. A tiny, questioning smile hovered on Karen's face. Oh, god – any moment now, she'd tell Jo and Debbie what had happened at Balden; she'd
tell
them.

‘Um – yeah.’ I strangled the words out. ‘It just … yeah.’

‘It's sort of hard for her to talk about,’ said Debbie, unwrapping a chocolate.

‘Oh, of course.’ Karen stirred her coffee, looking down like she was embarrassed to have even brought it up. She glanced over at Debbie's sketchbook, which had some drawings on the front cover. ‘Hey, whose is this? These are really good.’

Before I knew it, Debbie was showing Karen her drawings for the fashion contest, and Karen was gushing all over them, saying things like, ‘Wow, that's
fantastic –
but have you thought about making this bit in gold? I think gold would go
so-o
well with the turquoise.’

And Jo and Debbie were smiling, chatting away to her, with Debbie scribbling down Karen's ideas like they were precious coins of wisdom. When they weren't looking, Karen smirked at me over her coffee.
Freak,
she mouthed.

My stomach lurched as I clutched my cappuccino. Oh my god, how could this be
happening
? Why couldn't she just leave me alone! And now Jo and Debbie liked Karen; they
liked
her. They had forgotten all about me, they were too busy matey-ing it up with a girl who despised me to even notice how upset I was!

Finally Jo glanced over at me, and had the grace to look guilty. ‘Oh, Ems, I'm sorry! You were talking about Abby.’

‘No, that's OK. I don't really feel like talking about it, anyway.’ I rotated my coffee cup on the saucer, carefully aligning the handle at a perfect angle. Karen was sitting back in her seat smiling sadly at me, like she
so
understood what I was going through.

Debbie shut her sketchbook, shoving it down into
her bag. ‘Listen Ems, I've got a great idea … why don't you and Jo come around to my house Monday night? Kirsten is coming over for tea, and we could all sit around and work on my designs. You know, sort of get your mind off things.’ Kirsten is her older sister, who's studying art at Southampton University.

‘Well – yeah, OK. Sounds good.’ The knots in my stomach relaxed enough for me to smile at her, and she and Jo looked really pleased. Bollocks to Karen. These were my friends; she couldn't ruin it for me.

But then Debbie said to Karen, ‘Hey, you could come too, if you like. You had some great ideas.’

I probably looked like I had swallowed a flapping great moth. No one noticed; Jo and Debbie were too busy smiling at their new best buddy. She grinned back at them, brushing a strand of her honey-coloured hair off her face. ‘Oh, I'd really like to, but we're having a birthday party for my gran on Monday night. Some other time, OK?’

And the next thing I knew, the three of them were exchanging mobile numbers.

When I got home I escaped upstairs, scooping Pippin up from his favourite perch on the landing and shutting myself in my room. I popped a CD in and curled up tightly on my bed. Pippin cuddled beside me, purring, and I stroked him, trying not to cry.

I hated Karen. I hated her. It wasn't enough that she had made my life hell at Balden; she had to ruin things for me now, too! And Jo and Debbie—

I blinked back tears as my gaze lingered on Darth
Vader in his menacing pose, black cape swirling. And I remembered the first time Jo and Debbie came around to my house last year, and how they had thought Darth was just a scream. Like, that I was being
post-ironic
or something, having a Darth Vader alarm clock.

So of course I had to go along with it. Flip my hair back and drawl, ‘Yeah, pretty sad, isn't it?
Use the force …
It makes me cringe so much every morning that I get up just to avoid it.’

I wiped my face on Pippin's fur, sniffing. Well, now that they were best mates with Karen, they'd soon figure out the truth – that I was light years away from being the person they thought I was. Because Karen was sure to fill them in on a few things, wasn't she?

I saw Abby's round face, crinkling up in confusion
. Just don't let her get to you. Why do you let her get to you so much?
Ha, easy for her to say! Miss Confident. Miss Bolshy Goth Maiden.

I cringed, remembering the worst time of all – Karen's voice ringing around the tiled walls of the changing rooms as she read my notebook, while I huddled by the lockers, trying to hide, trying to disappear. A sickening flush raced over me, remembering how everyone had laughed.

It had all been Abby's fault, in a way, that was the
really
ironic thing. Because if I had never been friends with her, Karen wouldn't even have noticed me.

I buried my face in Pippin's fur until he meowed and twisted away. Wiping my hand across my eyes, I slowly opened my desk drawer. I took the dragon out
from its hiding place, and ran my fingers over its spiny wings.

Oh, Abby, I miss you so much! I miss being friends with you. I'm sorry, I'm really sorry; I just couldn't take it any more. But it's all gone wrong anyway, somehow.

So what are you going to do about it?
asked the tiny dragon's eyes.

‘My god, poor Ann,’ murmured Jenny for about the thousandth time, staring at the paper.

‘Is that the story about
Crimewatch
?’ Dad glanced up from where he was sitting on the floor with his cup of coffee.

We were all sprawled around in the lounge, finishing up our ‘Townsend Traditional Sunday Brunch.’ Well, it's ‘traditional’ whenever Dad decides he feels like cooking it. I think he thought he was cheering me up, having it today.

Jenny sighed, snapping out the newspaper and folding it over. ‘Hundreds of calls, and not one that's come to anything so far.’

‘Come to what?’ Nat's eyes were wide. I wasn't sure what Jenny had told her about Abby – something suitably non-traumatic, probably, like Abby was off on holiday and was just a
tiny
bit late coming home – but she was always hinting about, trying to get more details.

‘Nothing – finish your sausage,’ ordered Dad. Nat made a face, picking at the remains of her breakfast.

I tried to take another bite of toast, and then put it down. ‘So – so no one else saw her, then? After I did?’

Dad grimaced and patted my arm, leaning across the coffee table. ‘Someone might still come forward with something definite, love – the show only aired a few days ago. Or maybe the police just aren't releasing everything they know to the press.’

‘Oh, absolutely,’ put in Jenny quickly, looking worried. She was obviously remembering that she was a child-psychologist in training, and that doom and gloom weren't really the way to go.

Nat was wide-eyed, desperate to know what was going on. I looked down, thinking that doom and gloom felt more realistic, actually.

Suddenly Dad jumped up, brushing crumbs from his trousers. ‘Right, enough of this – what do you say we all go out and do something? Go see a National Trust place, enjoy the sunshine.’

‘Yeah!’ yelped Nat, wolfing down her last bite of sausage.

A look of consternation crossed Jenny's face. ‘Oh, but I've got homework to do.’

‘It's just for an afternoon.’

Jenny stood up too, and started piling our breakfast things onto the big wooden tray. The juice glasses clinked together. ‘No, really, I'm afraid I can't … take Emma and Natalie, though.’

‘Oh, come on, Jen. It's a gorgeous day—’

‘Tom,
I've got homework.
It's due tomorrow; I need to get it done. This is important to me, all right?’ She
turned and carried the tray into the kitchen, her curly hair bouncing against the old black cardigan she wore.

Shaking his head, Dad let out a short breath and swung Nat up in his arms, perching her on his shoulders. She shrieked, clutching his neck and giggling. He glanced at me. ‘What about you, Emma? Are you up for it?’

It actually sounded tempting; how sad is that? Wandering around an old manor house with my dad and Nat, peering at dusty furniture.

I shook my head. ‘No, thanks. There's something else I need to do today.’

I started out with about a hundred posters, along with a box of plastic sleeves I bought at the stationery store. And a staple gun I nicked from Dad's toolbox, and a roll of masking tape and a pair of scissors. My carrier bag dragged at my shoulder like I was carrying a load of cement.

Jenny had looked like she was going to cry when she found out what I was doing. Not that I had wanted to tell her; she caught me coming downstairs with the posters. At first she wanted to help, but finally she settled for giving me a lift into town, saying that she'd pick me up at four o'clock.

My bag became lighter after I had gone to a few dozen shops, asking if I could put up posters of Abby in their window. Everyone was incredibly nice, practically falling over themselves to say yes. The worst part was that they all acted like I was a complete saint. The woman in the shoe shop had tears in her eyes as she
told me how wonderful it was of me to help the family. I felt like such a fraud, but at least I was finally doing something.

I tried not to think about what would happen if Karen saw me.

Around two o'clock, I came to a shop near the library that had only opened the year before. The front of it was just a bare metal door, with THE DUNGEON in jagged red letters. A display window to the left had a full-sized Darth Vader, and an arrangement of anime comics.