The Boyfriend Dilemma (19 page)

He's as still as the dead animal beside him. There's blood on his head, seeping into his light brown hair, and a jagged gash on his cheek. “Are you all right?” I gasp. “Ben –
please
say something.” I turn to Zoe. “Look at that cut on his face…” It's seeping blood, livid red against the paleness of his cheek.

“Ben, can you hear us?” I crouch down and gently touch his forehead.

“Uhhh…” He utters a groan as, slowly, one eye opens. “Layla?” He peers at my face as if amazed to see me here.

“Are you OK? D'you think you've broken something?”

“I … dunno.” He moves his right leg and flinches with pain. “Yeah, think so…”

“We need to get you out of here,” Zoe murmurs, pulling her mobile from her pocket. “What's your home number?”

He groans again.

“Ben,” I urge him, “we need to phone your parents or an ambulance or the police…
Someone
will have to get you out of here…”

“No,” he mutters.

“But …” I glance up at the quarry's steep, jagged sides, “there's no way we'll be able to get you back up there.”

I study his lovely face, now smeared with blood and already beginning to swell around the right eye.

“Can I have your phone?” Zoe asks. “If you've forgotten your home number, we can find it in your contacts…”

Ben doesn't respond.

“Let me get it,” I say, carefully pulling it out of his pocket and peering at the screen. “It's locked, Ben. Can you manage to unlock it for me?”

This time, he shakes his head. “Not my parents,” he mutters, real fear shining in his clear blue eyes. “Please, call someone else … anyone else.”

“They've got to know,” I insist. “They'll come and help…” Without thinking, I reach out to hold his hand. “Are you worried that they'll be mad at you?”

“You did it for the best reason,” Zoe points out. “You were helping to look for Layla's gran…”

“Please tell me your home number,” I whisper.

The silence seems to stretch for ever. I glance around the quarry, which seemed so amazing when we were little, when we'd sit up at the top, waiting for the fox to come. Sometimes Gran would bring us all here at dusk, when there was a better chance of spotting him.
Foxes are nocturnal
, she explained,
because they
like to go about their business in secret.

Ben touches his face and inspects the blood on his hand. I glance down at the dead creature beside us. It's huge – a burnt-orange colour, and looks perfect, like nothing bad should have happened to it.

“You can't call my parents,” Ben says softly.

“Why not?” I don't get it at all.

“I lied. I don't live with them.” Fat tears fill his eyes and I squeeze his hand. I've never seen a boy cry before, apart from Jude, when someone accidentally trapped his hand in the door at primary school. This is different. Ben isn't crying because something hurts, like a finger or a foot. He's crying like this is the saddest thing ever.

“I'm sorry,” Ben says, “I lied about everything. Nothing I told you is true.”

Chapter twenty-five

“Right,” Mum says when I call her, “listen to me. It's really important that you don't try to move him…”

“Yes, Mum,” I murmur, wishing she was here right now.

“Is anyone else with you?”

“Just Layla…”

“OK – so the two of you keep him calm. You're at the bottom of the quarry, right?”

“Uh-huh…”

“I'll leave Matty with Annalise,” she goes on. “I'll call an ambulance, and I'll be with you myself in a few minutes…” Even though I know she deals with emergencies every day, I'm still amazed at how calm she is.

“You mean y
ou're
coming?” I exclaim.

“Of course I am, darling. I'll probably be there before the ambulance… Now, look after Ben, keep talking to him, keep him alert – and I'll be with you as soon as I can.”

So we sit and wait and, rather than asking what he lied about exactly, we talk about the fox. “Why do people hate them so much?” I murmur.

“It doesn't seem fair,” Layla agrees. “I mean, I know they kill chickens and stuff, but that's just to survive, isn't it?”

She breaks off as Ben mumbles something we don't quite catch. “They have a reputation,” he offers, more clearly this time.

“Yeah.” I nod. “People think they just want to cause trouble…”

“When they're just trying to live their life,” Ben adds. I look at him, wanting to ask so much. Then, as if reading my question hanging in the air between us, he adds, “Things didn't work out with my parents so they sent me to live with my aunt.”

“Oh,” I whisper, glancing at Layla.
Why did you lie then?
I want to ask.
What were you trying to prove?

Mum's voice cuts through the damp spring air. “Careful!” I call up as she makes her way towards us, somehow managing to step on only the solid rocks, the ones which don't shift or send a shower of stones tumbling down towards us.

“Ben,” she says, crouching beside him. “That's a nasty cut on your face – but don't worry. The nearest hospital's not too far away…”

“Mum works there,” I add.

“I'm Alison,” she says gently. “I'm a surgeon—”

“Will I need surgery?” Ben exclaims.

“Don't worry, whatever happens you'll be in good hands.” I watch her hands as she gently lifts away a strand of hair that's stuck to the blood on Ben's cheek. “I'll come to hospital with you,” she adds. “Have your parents been told what's happened?”

He shakes his head. “It's complicated.”

“But they
have
to know…”

“Ben lives with his aunt,” I explain.

“Has anyone called her?”

He sighs heavily. “Aunt Mary doesn't have a phone.”

“So where does she…?” Mum trails off. “Oh, never mind. We'll get in touch with her somehow. Zoe, d'you think you and Layla can climb back up safely?”

“Yes, of course…”

“Off you go then,” she says. “And, Ben, don't worry – you'll be out of here very soon.”

Layla and I don't talk as we make our way up towards the trees. When we stop and glance back, Mum and Ben seem a long, long way down. The only sounds are the swish of branches and the rustle of a bird in the undergrowth.

Then another sound breaks through the stillness – a whirr, growing louder and louder, the black speck not a bird but a helicopter, turning in a wide arc. At first I assume it'll land in the field, but it tips on its side and soars down over the edge of the quarry, sending up clouds of grey dust. Layla and I watch in silence as two men jump out. Ben is lifted onto a stretcher and carried into the helicopter, followed by Mum.

Within seconds, it's taken off again, and the boy we know nothing about is soaring above our heads against a dark metal sky. We stand by the twisted trees and watch until the helicopter's out of sight.

 

It turns out that Layla's gran's adventure didn't take her out into the hills after all. She'd just strolled through town and gone into the old ladies' boutique – the one that had thrown out the shop dummy whose arm Matty had brought home to torment me with in the holidays. It's one of those shops where they only see a customer about twice a week, so who can blame the woman who works in there for dozing at the till? She wasn't even aware of Layla's gran choosing an armful of cardigans to try on, and slipping into the changing room.

“Apparently, she only discovered Gran when she was about to lock up, and noticed a pair of feet in the gap under the curtain.” Layla's mum can laugh about it now. “You must have been in there
hours
, Mum.”

“Well,” Layla's gran retorts, “I'm not good at choosing colours. Not like Layla. And I just couldn't decide.”

“I can't believe no one knew you were in there,” Kyle says, shaking his head. His gran chuckles as if this has all been a fuss over nothing. We've agreed not to mention that one of our friends – can we even call Ben that now, a
real
friend, I mean? – fell down the quarry because of her, and that my mum's still at the hospital with him now.

As Layla helps her mum make a stack of sandwiches in the kitchen, Kyle appears by my side. “Pretty dramatic day, huh?”

I smile. “Can't believe we mistook a dead fox for your gran's cardie.”

We plonk ourselves down on the sofa in the living room. “Yeah. I'm glad you're OK, though. You were lucky…” Kyle's eyes meet mine, and out of nowhere, my long-ago crush flickers back into life. I thought I'd got over that. Crushes on best friends' brothers aren't allowed, I kept telling myself.

“That quarry's really dangerous,” he adds.

I nod. “Well, we didn't have much choice.”

“Yeah, I know. Anyway, at least Gran turned up. God, Zoe – my family. I hope you realize how normal yours is.” He laughs, sending a cloud of butterflies fluttering around my stomach.

“You really thinks so?” I ask. “What about Annalise?”

“Yeah, but she's not family, is she? She doesn't count.”

I sigh and check the clock on the living-room wall. “Well, Mum seems to think she's great.”

Kyle gives me a wry smile.

“Anyway,” I add, “speaking of Annalise … she's looking after Matty right now, and they're not exactly the best of friends, so I'd better go.”

There's a flurry of hugs as I leave – even from Kyle, which causes my heart to flip over. I'm sure it doesn't mean anything. He's probably just relieved that his gran's been found.

Even so, I can't keep the mile-wide grin off my face as I run home.

Chapter twenty-six

I can't sleep for thinking about Ben.
Nothing I told you is true
, he told us. What did he mean? That his dad doesn't work in the music business? That he didn't go to boarding school? I sit up in bed, pulling my duvet around me like a cape. 3.21 a.m, the clock says. I feel chilled to the bone.

Danny, Harris and Jude showed up at our house soon after Gran had been found, and we told them what Ben said about his parents. “There must've been some reason why he lied,” Kyle suggested, while Harris claimed he'd known all along that Ben just wanted to be the centre of attention. “It was better before he came here,” he announced.

Do I believe that? I'm not sure. Nothing ever happened in this town, and now it has.

Jude was the only one who didn't say much when all of this was being discussed. In the morning I run into him on the landing. I'm wearing my scruffiest T-shirt and my oldest jeans. He's a bit quiet and bleary-eyed.

“Did everyone stay over last night?” I ask.

“Yeah.” He smiles. “You're up early…”

I nod. “Couldn't really sleep last night—”

“Look,” he says, pointing to the angry-looking bruise on my arm. “You hurt yourself.”

“Yeah, must have happened yesterday. I didn't notice it at the time…”

“Too much other stuff going on?” he suggests.

“Just a bit.” I shrug. There's a pause, but it doesn't feel awkward between us. I want to tell Jude how impressed I am about how he's handled the whole Ben thing. But now Kyle's calling him back into his room, saying, “Jude, you've got to see this! It's meant to be the scariest film ever made…”

Jude rolls his eyes at me and laughs. “A horror film, first thing in the morning? I hate them anyway…”

“You hate horror films? I never knew that!”

He nods and laughs. “I'm always a bit envious of you and Zoe, to be honest – holed up in your room, watching a comedy…”

“Really? Well, next time, come watch it with us.” As Jude's face lights up, it dawns on me how I'd love that. I've never felt tense or self-conscious around him.

“Layla?” Mum calls up. “Zoe's here!”

It feels too hectic in the kitchen, what with Gran and Mum busying about, and the screams from the film are kind of off-putting in my room, so Zoe and I head to the park. She fills me in on what's happened overnight. “Ben's broken an ankle and his right arm,” she tells me, “so he won't be playing guitar any time soon.”

“He'll hate that,” I murmur as we install ourselves on a bench.

“Yeah, well, Mum says he's lucky it wasn't worse. That cut on his face was pretty bad, but she treated him herself…”

“What did she have to do?”

Zoe smiles. “Nothing with cow skin. Just stitches – it was a really ragged wound, though, so it took her ages…” She breaks off. “He'll have a scar.”

“Really?” I try to picture his face, and it's a little less vivid already. “Scars are nice,” I add.

“Interesting,” Zoe agrees.

We make our way towards the swings, which are still damp with dew, and start swaying gently back and forth. “Mum managed to track down his aunt,” she adds. “She phoned around until she found someone who knows her, and they drove out to her place to tell her what'd happened. Can you believe she doesn't have a phone? Anyway, she visited him in hospital last night.”

“Where does she live?” I ask.

“Out in the hills, way past Dean House, down a lane that doesn't go anywhere else, Mum said. It's called Rowan Cottage. Ever seen it?”

“Don't think so,” I say, jumping down onto the soft, springy grass. “But how about having a look?”

 

We set off on this crisp, bright Sunday morning before our town has properly woken up. There's the sound of power saws as we speed past Dean House, and someone's inside the tree house, hammering away.

“Hope they're not taking it down,” Zoe muses.

“Me too,” I say, feeling a little nervous all of a sudden. Neither of us has talked about why we're doing this, or what we'll say when we get there. It just seemed like the right thing to do.

Now, though, as we turn into the lane and spot the tiny white cottage in the distance, I'm not so sure.

There's no bell or knocker so I just rap on the door. The door is so old and worn there's hardly any paint left on it, and the small window beside it is cracked. We're miles from town now. I check my phone; there's not even a signal out here.

“Maybe we should go back?” Zoe whispers.

“No – c'mon, we have to find out what's been going on.” I knock again, harder this time. My breath catches in my throat as the door opens.

“Yes?” A small, thin woman is standing before us. Her fine brown hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail, and her pale blue eyes are guarded.

I clear my throat. “Erm … hope you don't mind us just dropping by. We're friends of Ben's—”

“Are you his Aunt Mary?” Zoe asks in a timid voice.

Her face softens. “Yes, I am.”

“Erm,” I start, “we were with him yesterday when he had the accident…”

“Oh.” She blinks at us, as if not quite knowing what to do next.

“And we wondered how he is,” Zoe murmurs.

Mary musters the tiniest smile. “Come in,” she says.

Zoe and I glance at each other, and she edges closer to me as we follow Mary into the cottage. The windows are so dirty daylight barely struggles through, but there's something cosy about the place. The living room is even smaller than ours, and crammed with too much furniture. The old, worn-out sofa is strewn with brightly coloured cushions, and three guitars gleam from their stands in the corner.

“Are they Ben's?” I ask.

“Yes, of course,” Mary says. “I can't play a thing. I love to hear him play, though. That's what I'll miss when he leaves.” She motions for us to sit down and settles into the armchair opposite.

“He's leaving?” Zoe asks.

Mary nods.

“Where's he going?”

“We're not sure yet,” she says. “We still have to sort things out.”

I look at Zoe, wondering how to find out what we need to know. “And, er, how
is
he?” I ask tentatively.

“He's doing fine,” she starts. “He's broken his ankle and arm, of course, but the main worry was that terrible cut on his face. Luckily, the paediatric surgeon was there and did an amazing job at stitching it. She's one of the best in the country, apparently…”

“That's my mum,” Zoe says, flushing a little.

Mary's eyes widen. “Really?”

Zoe nods, and this snippet of information seems to make Mary relax.

“I gather, from the doctor – your mum, I mean – that Ben hadn't told anyone he lives with me.”

We both shake our heads and wait for her to explain.

“The thing is, Benedict's had a difficult time…”

“
Benedict?
” I exclaim.

Mary smiles wryly. “I know he prefers to be called Ben. His parents don't like it, though … well, they don't like a lot of things.”

So many questions are milling round in my head, I don't know what to ask first. “Is Ben's dad in the music business?” I blurt out.

“No,” she says with a laugh. “What made you think that?”

“Er … no reason,” Zoe says, unconvincingly.

Mary shakes her head. “Benedict's –
Ben's
– father is the deputy head teacher at his old school…”

“Boarding school?” I ask.

“It's a boarding school, yes, but Ben was a day pupil there, like his two older brothers. It's one of the top private schools in the country.”

I nod, taking this in. “Why did he leave?” I ask.

Mary presses her lips together, as if unsure how much to tell us. “He was
asked
to leave.”

“You mean suspended?” I ask.

“Temporarily, yes. But you can imagine how awkward this was for his father. You see, Ben's brothers had been top students. The whole family's very academic. Their father, my brother – was a pupil there too. Sorley College is a huge part of their lives.” She tugs out her ponytail and rakes at her hair with her fingers.

“So why was he suspended?” Zoe asks.

“It wasn't his fault,” she says firmly. “That school was completely wrong for him, I always said. Exams, exams, exams. Nothing else mattered. Can you imagine being viewed as a perpetual disappointment? You know how creative he is. No wonder he wanted to stir things up…”

What did he
do,
though?
I'm not sure if it's OK to ask.

“So, after he was suspended,” I say hesitantly, “what happened next?”

Mary exhales. “Well, it was very embarrassing for his father, of course. He fought to keep Ben in the school, but there was only so much he could do without it looking like favouritism. But he couldn't forgive him for it. Said it had damaged the family's reputation, and from then on, things went downhill at home. They
couldn't
live together…” She tails off and regards us sadly.

“So he came here,” Zoe prompts her.

Mary nods. “He needed a fresh start.”

“Did you want him to?” I ask.

She pauses, as if unsure how to answer. “He is a good boy, you know. Helpful, did lots of errands for me. And the company was nice…” She looks first at Zoe, then me. “The thing is,” she adds, “he doesn't have anyone else.”

Silence fills the room. Now I
sort of
get it – how desperate he was to fit in around here. In a small way, I know how hard that can be. Ben needed a fresh start, Mary said, and he used moving here as a chance to reinvent himself. Don't I want to do that too sometimes? I mean, how often have I imagined having Zoe's life, with her gorgeous bedroom and balcony overlooking a garden, and not a stinky back yard?

As we say bye to Mary, I still don't understand everything. But I know I'm going to try.