Unspeakable (13 page)

Sadie glances up. She wraps her slender arms around Rob’s waist. ‘Hi, Megan.’ Her voice drips with syrup. ‘Have you come out to play with us?’

I don’t respond. The letter is on my side of the fallen oak, in the shadows just beneath it. I don’t think they can see it. My heart is pumping too fast.

Sadie says, ‘No offence, but I don’t think you’re Rob’s type.’

Lindsay throws back her head and laughs. Grace just blushes and looks down at her trainers.

‘What’s your problem?’ Sadie snaps.

Grace’s eyes widen. ‘Nothing!’ She lets out a fake laugh. ‘But it’s boring here. Let’s go somewhere else.’

‘What’s wrong with here? I like it here.’

‘But Megan’s here,’ Grace murmurs, her head tilted down.

Sadie smiles and her lip gloss glistens, soft and sticky as strawberry jam. ‘I thought Megan was just leaving.’

I take a step towards her. Towards the letter.

‘Have you forgotten something?’ she asks with fake, mocking concern.

My eyes flit to the envelope. Stupid! Sadie’s gaze follows. She leans over the tree trunk so she can see what I’m looking at. I start to move, but she pounces, snatching it up and scrunching it in her fist. A choking sound falls out of my mouth and I stretch out my arm.

Shut up!

Sadie waves it before me, her eyes alight. Cruel. ‘Is this yours, Megan? It’s got your name on it. Do you want it back?’

I nod once, my expression pleading.

‘All you have to do is ask,’ she says in a singsong voice.

I glare at the ground, my blood boiling.

Sadie draws her voice out, relishing each sound. ‘Just … one … word.’

Enough! A coil of rage winds through me. With a raw cry, I grab Sadie’s arm and yank her forward, slamming her hips into the tree, leaving her doubled over it. She shrieks, thrusts her arm back and shoves the letter at Rob, who takes it and stares at it dumbly.

‘Bitch!’ Sadie yells, brushing down her jeans. ‘You’re not ever having that letter back now.’

I shake my head. I need that letter. How can she not realise how important it is? I look up, letting her see how close I am to tears.

But Sadie just shakes her head. ‘No. It’s mine.’

What can I do? Short of wrestling them all to the ground, there’s nothing. I had it in my hands and now I’ve lost it. I blink and a tear spills over my eyelid and trails down my cheek.

Rob is still staring at the letter, turning it over and over in his hands. ‘Let’s give it back, Sades,’ he grunts.

Sadie rolls her eyes. ‘It’s just a stupid letter.’

It’s not a stupid letter. You have no idea what it is, what it means
.

Should I tell her who it’s from? But what if she opens it? Reads it out in front of everyone so they can all laugh at me?

No one says anything. Sadie stares at Lindsay, but Lindsay looks away, nibbling one of her nails.

Sadie sighs. ‘All right, Megan. I’ll give it back.’ She takes it from Rob and holds it out. I gasp and reach for it, but Sadie whips it away. ‘When you stop hanging around with Jasmine.’

What? No. You can’t ask me to do that. You can’t take her away from me!

Sadie arches an eyebrow. ‘I’ll give her a second chance. I’m nice like that. You know you’re just dragging her down. If she hangs around with us, she’ll be popular, have loads of friends. Don’t be selfish. She’d be much happier with us.’

How can I choose? How can she ask me to do that? Those are the last words that Hana ever wrote to me. I have to read them. I need to know what she was thinking. All this time, it’s been tormenting me, eating me up, and now I have a chance to get inside her head.

But Jasmine. I can’t give up on Jasmine. Hana’s gone. She’s … she’s gone. I can’t change that. But I can protect Jasmine from Sadie, who’ll probably just use her, then turn on her when it suits her. If Jasmine’s right about Sadie sending the notes, I have to do everything I can to keep Sadie away from her.

I shake my head and back away.

Sadie shrugs. ‘Fair enough. I gave you the choice. Now get lost, Megan.’

I walk away slowly. It takes everything I’ve got to hold myself together until I’m a safe distance away, then I slam my palm against a tree. It hurts, but – in a weird way – feels kind of good. With my face pressed against the bark, I sob into it, wrapping my arms around the trunk like it’s a person, clinging to it to stop myself from sinking to the ground.

When I’m done, I stand up straight, brushing my cheeks with fierce strokes. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I’ll get that letter back from Sadie. I
will
get it back.

I walk along the road to collect my bike, then I ride home
quickly, taking my frustration out on the pedals. By the time I arrive, I’m a little dizzy, and shaking so much I struggle to get the key in the lock.

Mum comes to the door, takes one look at me, plucks a leaf from my hair and says, ‘What the hell happened to you?’

I nudge past her to get inside.

‘Megan!’ Mum calls after me.

I put my bike in the utility room, scattering crumbs of mud across the floor. I stare at each dry piece of dirt, trying to count them all, trying to steady myself. But there are too many. My head starts spinning. I need to clean them up.

Mum stands in the doorway, folding her hands across her chest. ‘What happened?’

I shake my head.
I can’t
.

Mum follows me to the kitchen. She breathes in slowly through her mouth, drawing on an imaginary cigarette. ‘Can you write it down?’

No. I’m sorry, Mum. You wouldn’t understand
.

I grab a dishcloth and start to clean the work surface. It’s filthy.

‘Can you leave that, please?’

No. It’s gross
.

‘Come on, Megan. I’m your mum, for God’s sake.’

I scrub at a soup stain on the cooker, my hand moving in rapid, angry swipes.

‘I never know what you’re thinking.’ Mum’s working herself up. Her eyes are red, her mouth scrunching as she tries to hold back tears. ‘I want to make it better, but I don’t know how.’

You can’t, Mum. No one can
.

She studies me for a moment, desperately searching my face for … I don’t know what. Then the tears overflow and she yells, ‘God! I’m not a mind reader, Megan. I wish you’d just talk to me!’

My mouth drops. She realises her mistake in an instant. I think she’d like to take her words back. But they hang in the air, dangling like twisted toys from a child’s mobile.

I slam down the dishcloth, flicking dirty water over both of us.
This isn’t a choice. Do you think I do it just to spite you?

I stomp up to my room. How dare she? Mum has no idea.

I pause. Sigh. She has no idea because I haven’t told her. She has a point. How is she supposed to know how I’m feeling? I know it’s been hard for her too. Mum didn’t want a baby when she was sixteen. She wanted to be out clubbing with her mates. She wanted to do her A-levels. She didn’t want to be judged by every middle-class snob in the village. But I ruined everything.

You always do.

I wish I could call Hana. I wish I still had the letter. I imagine what it might have said, rewrite it a thousand times in my mind. It kills me that I had it in my hands and now I’ve lost it.

As soon as Jasmine and I arrive at the bus stop the next day, Sadie peels away from her crowd and heads towards us. My eyes flick to her massive handbag. I wonder if the letter is in
there. How am I going to get it back? She’s not exactly going to wander off and leave her bag alone. What if she just chucked the letter away last night? My throat thickens.

Sadie ignores me and goes straight for Jasmine. ‘Your mate attacked me in the woods last night,’ she announces.

Jasmine looks at me uncertainly. I shake my head, struggling to swallow.

‘I’m telling you, she’s unstable. I’ve got two massive bruises on my thighs and my jeans are ruined. You want to watch out. She’s dangerous.’

Jasmine looks away. ‘Seriously, Sadie. I’m not interested.’

Sadie thrusts her face into Jasmine’s and hisses, ‘Well, don’t come running to me when you realise what a psycho she is. And tell
her
,’ she barely looks at me, ‘that if she ever touches me again, I’ll slap her so hard her ugly nose will straighten.’

‘What happened last night?’ Jasmine asks softly, after Sadie has flounced back to her friends.

I can’t tell her everything. She’ll feel bad if she finds out I lost Hana’s last letter because of her. I scribble:
She found me in the woods last night and took something from me. I tried to get it back
.

Jasmine stiffens. ‘Were you writing to Hana again? I thought we talked about you not doing that.’

I glare at the ground.
Just because you think I should do something doesn’t mean I have to do it
. I take a deep breath. It’s OK. It’s better she thinks that than knows the truth.

Jasmine looks like she’s going to say something more, but the bus arrives, so she lets it drop.

Luke isn’t waiting for us on the bus today. When Jasmine asks Simon why, he looks out the window for a moment, starts picking at some loose stitching in the back of Jasmine’s seat, then finally says, ‘He’s off sick.’

‘Oh no!’ Jasmine replies. ‘What’s up with him?’

Simon blushes and mumbles something.

Jasmine leans closer. ‘What did you say?’

Simon looks straight at her. ‘Promise you won’t tell?’

Jasmine and I exchange a glance. ‘Okaaaay,’ she agrees.

‘He had a fight with Dad, then he broke a mirror, then he went out and didn’t come back all night. Sometimes he just gets really mad, and he can’t calm down.’

I frown. That doesn’t sound like Luke. But I know he finds things tough where his dad is concerned. I hope he’s OK. Maybe I should text him?

I have to clear my head and concentrate on a Maths exam in the morning, but I poke a note through a slit in Sadie’s locker at lunchtime, asking her to return the letter. It’s completely pointless. I know it is. I just need to do something. I try to reach the Sadie I used to know, the Sadie I liked and trusted. I remind her that, if our friendship meant anything, she’d give it back. I loiter round the corner, waiting, then watch helplessly as she glances at it, rolls her eyes, and screws it into a ball. I guess the Sadie I used to know is gone for ever.

Jasmine tries to cheer me up on the way to the bus after school. She tells me about the time she got in a pickle with her PE kit, forgot to put her knickers on, and spent the whole
basketball lesson trying to shoot without jumping, in case someone saw up her shorts. I smile vaguely, but she can tell I’m distracted.

On the walk home, I can’t really keep up with what Jasmine’s saying. Something about a play she wants to see in London. Maybe if I can get hold of Sadie when she’s not with the others, I can explain that the letter is from Hana, that I really need to read it. She must understand!

Jasmine drops me off at home and I rush inside to write Sadie another note. She can’t just walk all over me because I don’t have a voice to answer back. She’s not getting away with this. That letter is mine!

My heart flips as I head up the path towards Sadie’s front door. It’s been a long time since I’ve been here. I remember having water fights in the front garden, her mum smiling at our shrieks as she washed her car in the drive. I glance up at the window we broke during a game of rounders. We had to save up our pocket money for weeks to replace it. And there’s the spot we buried her hamster, Hugo, beneath the rose bush, along with a poem Sadie wrote for him.

The door swings open. Crap. Lindsay and Grace are with her. They’ve all changed out of their school uniforms, sorted their hair, and reapplied lipstick.

Grace delicately sidesteps me. When I catch her eyes, they seem to say: ‘What are you doing here? Are you mad?’

Lindsay thuds her shoulder into mine. ‘Where’s your lesbo friend? Don’t you need her to talk for you?’

Sadie’s mouth puckers. She doesn’t break her stride. ‘I told
you, you’re not having it back. You can’t now, anyway. I burnt it.’

What? No. You can’t have. Surely even you wouldn’t …

This is what happens to people like you. You brought this on yourself.

Sadie walks straight past, leaving me standing in the middle of her lawn, blinking tears away and trying to gather the strength to leave.

How could she? I can’t believe it. My last link to Hana.

I’ve lost her all over again.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

My sessions with Mr Harwell are irregular at the moment, because of the exam timetable, but I think he’s trying to fit more in before I finish at Barcham Green. He seems to be on some kind of personal mission to get me talking before sixth form. Like that’s going to happen. I’m touched that he’s still trying, though.

‘How are you, Megan?’ he asks.

Fed up of exam stress
.

He leans forward. ‘Listen. As much as I’d like to, I won’t be working with you when you start college, so I think this will be our last session.’

Oh, really? OK
.

‘I’m going to push you a little today, Megan, but I think you can handle it.’

You mean you hope I won’t hit you again?

‘Now, I know there are some things you don’t want to revisit.’

No. We’re not going there
.

‘You’ve spent a long time building up a dam in your mind to hold all these memories, these emotions back. And I’m not suggesting that we try to access them all at once. That would be too much. But perhaps we can remove a tiny piece of the dam today. And you could work on taking a few more down over the summer?’

No
.

But he’s not giving in. ‘Can you write down something you remember about Hana’s death? Just a little detail.’

I can’t
.

‘I want you to try, Megan. In fact, we’re not leaving this room until you do.’

Mr Harwell sits back, folds his arms and watches me.