He strokes my hair some more. ‘Everything’s OK. I promise.’
I look him in the eyes. I know I can trust Josh. He’s the only one I can trust.
‘I promise,’ he says again. ‘You’re OK.’
He’s so sure that I begin to believe him. His words crowd out my other thoughts. The image of Mum and Dad and the teachers and Mr Butler’s orange jumper slowly fades. No one is here. I’m with Josh. They can’t get me here.
‘So we’re not in hell?’ I ask, just to make sure.
Josh presses me closer to him. I feel his heart, beating, strong.
‘Feel that?’ he says. ‘We’re definitely alive.’ I smell his wonderful, familiar scent – shower gel and apples. His fingers stroke the back of my neck and he kisses me.
His touch, his kiss, his breath – they all calm me, soothe me. I kiss him back. The world stills around me. My breathing steadies. The twitching eases.
After we stop kissing, Josh presses his forehead against mine. ‘We wouldn’t be able to do that in hell, now, would we?’ he says, smiling.
‘No,’ I say, managing a smile too. ‘No, we wouldn’t.’
I’m calmer after seeing Josh, but I’m furious with Fi. I’ve had a message from her while I’ve been at Josh’s house. She wants to know where I am. As if I’m going to tell her.
Liar. Traitor.
I dial her number while I hurry home, ready to demand some answers, when Dad’s car pulls up beside me. It screeches as it stops. I freeze. Were they following me after all? I hang up the phone before Fi answers.
Dad winds the window down. ‘Get in,’ he says. ‘Now.’
I don’t know what to do. I want to go back to Josh, but how can I without Mum and Dad seeing me? ‘I … I’m fine walking …’ I tell him.
He glares at me. ‘GET IN!’ he shouts, which makes me jump.
I see Mum in the passenger seat beside him. Her face is swollen and blotchy, tears running down her cheeks. She looks genuinely worried. I try to hold on to what Josh said … They aren’t trying to hurt me. No one is trying to hurt me. I believe Josh. I can trust Josh. I climb into the back seat. Wait for one of Dad’s lectures. But he doesn’t say anything; he just drives. I peer out of the window to see where he’s taking me – but luckily it’s in the direction of our house, not the school. So maybe Josh was right.
Mum peers back at me from the front passenger seat and sniffs. She wipes her cheeks with a tissue. ‘We’ve been so worried, Neena. Driving around, looking everywhere for you. You can’t just … disappear like that. After … after the other day as well. It’s too much, Neena …’
Disappear.
I’m forced to think about Akash, as I know she’s thinking about him too, but this isn’t the same. She needs to realize that. They both do.
‘I just needed some space,’ I say. ‘I needed to think.’ And you and the teachers were trying to trap me. But I don’t say anything about trapping or following. If they are planning it, they can’t know that I know.
Mum’s eyes fill with tears again. ‘Space? No,’ she says. ‘Not space like that. Not between us.’
I cross my arms. No space for me. Mum’s allowed to stay in the house and cut off the whole world. Dad spends all day out. But I can’t want some space. I stare out of the window. Hypocrites. They’re all hypocrites.
Dad’s still scowling as he reverses the car down the driveway. I watch his reflection in the mirror. Why isn’t he saying anything? What’s he planning? He parks the car and turns off the engine. My body tenses.
‘Your behaviour today was unacceptable,’ he says. His voice is calm and controlled, but deeply furious.
I think about this. I’m beginning to see just how badly I behaved. I shouted at Mr Butler in front of Mum and Dad. I threw a chair across the classroom. I stormed out of the meeting. It sounds weird, but I don’t even know how I ended up at Josh’s house. I have a vague memory of meeting Josh’s mum, of her hand being warm and soft, of her voice being soothing and calm. She has green eyes and long lashes like Josh. I remember that. What did I say to her? But I do remember Josh kissing me, feeling his breath against my ear, his arm round my waist, as secure as a seat belt. I remember his words as I left his house: ‘Your parents and teachers aren’t out to get you, Neens.’ I’m still not completely sure I believe it, but I try to hold on to it.
‘Yes, Dad. I’m sorry.’
‘Your poor mother,’ Dad continues. ‘She had a panic attack in the middle of your school. Do you ever think about her, Neena? Do you ever think about anyone other than yourself?’
I feel so small, like I’m shrinking. I’m always thinking about everyone else, but I don’t tell him that. And I’m surprised he even knows what a panic attack is. He’s never used that term before.
I glance at Mum. It seems maybe the baby hasn’t cured her after all. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, even though I really don’t think any of this is my fault.
She nods. ‘It’s OK, Neena. I’m OK.’
No, you’re not, I want to say. None of us are OK. But I know that won’t go down too well right now.
‘Here’s what’s going to happen,’ Dad goes on, loosening his tie. ‘You’re going to write a letter of apology to your teachers. I don’t know what you’ve been up to, but absolutely no more getting help with your artwork or English –’
‘But I –’
‘And you’re going to catch up on all your work.’
‘They’ve got it in for me,’ I tell Dad. ‘I haven’t been cheating! They’re picking on me!’
Dad shakes his head. ‘No! No more excuses! You’ll work extra hard, understand?’ He turns and glares directly at me. Mum looks at me too.
I know the answer to Dad’s question, the right one to get this over with. ‘Yes, Dad.’
‘The teachers aren’t out to get you,’ Mum says. ‘No one’s against you.’
That’s exactly what Josh said. I’m so confused. Everything’s so confusing. Maybe I’m the one who’s got it all wrong. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say.
Dad’s face falls. ‘I just … I don’t know what to do any more,’ he whispers.
We all sit in silence until Mum undoes Dad’s seat belt and takes him into the house, her arm round him. I follow them in and go to my bedroom. It seems the right thing to do. No one tries to stop me, and again I realize I must have got it all wrong. No one’s trying to trap me.
I sit down at my desk, ready to work, ready to try to make things right. I’m exhausted. Today has been very confusing. But I know I need to work hard to get back on track.
I hold on to Josh’s words. I say them to myself quietly, under my breath. ‘No one’s after you, Neens. You’re safe,’ I whisper. I say it until I believe it. ‘You’re safe. You’re safe. You’re safe.’
Mum comes into my room later that evening, just as I’m finishing an English essay. I’m surprised by how well it’s gone, considering what a shitty day it’s been, and I’m feeling good, ready to prove to Miss Taylor that I’m not a cheat. Well, at least not when it comes to English. A bit of hope fills me. Once Miss Taylor tells Mum and Dad I haven’t been cheating, Dad might even change his mind about art college.