It’s eleven o’clock. Mum and Dad went to bed hours ago, though it only feels like five minutes, but I can’t sleep. I’ve been lying in bed, tossing and turning, thinking about Josh and everything that happened today. I can’t go to Pakistan in the summer. I can’t let Mum and Dad force me into anything. But I’m not sure what to do.
And I keep thinking about what Josh said when I was at his earlier today. No one’s after you, he said. Has he got it wrong? Or have I?
I wish someone could tell me it’s all in my imagination. But I can’t trust Fi – she might even tell my parents that I know what they’re up to. And I could call Josh, but I’m not sure he’ll get it. The only person who’ll really understand about Pakistan is Raheela.
I wanted to speak to her earlier, to tell her about Mum and Dad and ask if she remembers the film we watched. I kept picking up my phone while I was revising and then bottling out: she’s made it clear that she’s not willing to help me. But now I’m thinking of those sleepless nights after Akash disappeared; she slept on the floor by my bedside for weeks. And I remember spending every lunchtime in the toilets at school after her dad left when we were younger, hugging her as she cried into my shoulder day after day.
You can’t just forget that stuff, can you?
When you’ve shared times like that, you can’t just stop being friends because things have changed.
At the art centre, she said she still cared about me. And I believe her now, because you don’t just stop caring about someone, do you?
I grab my phone and dial her number. She doesn’t answer. I call her again. And again.
‘What!’ she snaps, on the third call.
My heart lifts. ‘Please, don’t hang up. I … I need you.’
She sighs. ‘What is it, Neena? I’m trying to sleep.’
I swallow. ‘My parents want to send me to Pakistan for the summer,’ I tell her. ‘You think it means anything?’
‘Really? The whole summer?’ She sounds surprised. ‘They wouldn’t do that, would they?’
‘That’s what they said.’
‘Oh God … Are you … are you thinking about that weird film we watched with my mum?’
My heart races. ‘Yes!’ I knew she’d understand, but I’m even more afraid now.
‘Shit, Neens,’ she whispers. ‘What’s happened? Tell me everything.’
I try to stay calm as I fill Raheela in, but her reaction is making me even more worried.
‘Crap,’ she says, when I finally stop talking. ‘You reckon they know about Josh?’
I think about the ambush at school. The feeling that they were spying on me. If they have somehow found out, it would explain things. ‘Maybe,’ I say, my chest becoming tight.
‘Shit, Neens. Maybe you should end things with Josh?’
My chest gets even tighter. I feel like I’m in that film me and Raheela watched. I think about never kissing Josh again, never sitting under the willow tree and talking about stars or the meaning of life, or about Akash, or Josh’s dad. This makes me very, very sad. No. I won’t let that happen.
‘I need to live my life. I need to be happy,’ I tell Raheela. My head’s pounding.
‘Neens, I really think –’
‘No,’ I say. I can’t bear for one more person to tell me I’m doing something wrong. It feels like it’s Josh and me against the world.
She sighs. ‘OK, Neens. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
After we hang up, I stare into the darkness. I have this weird feeling that someone’s in my room. My heart misses a beat. ‘Akash,’ I whisper. ‘Are you here?’ But there’s no reply. I switch on my lamp and look around. He’s not there. Maybe I imagined it.
I climb out of bed and walk over to my easel. A half-finished painting of a castle is sitting there, and it’s absolutely awful. It looks like a child drew it. I did it after revising this evening and, although I tried my absolute best, I just couldn’t get it to work. There’s no way I can hand that in for my art homework.
‘Akash,’ I whisper again, looking around my room. ‘Are you here? I really need your help again …’
No answer. I check under my bed and find some whisky. So he has been here. My chest buzzes. He’ll be here again soon, I know he will. I take a few gulps of the whisky and stow it under the bed again. Maybe it will help me sleep … Then I walk over to my dressing-table drawer and put on my brother’s cap. I look in the mirror, at the small, pale version of myself. The cap is like sunshine on my head. It lifts me. I smile.
Be happy, Neens. That’s what Akash said. You deserve that.
‘Yes,’ I say to Akash because I know he’s listening. ‘I do deserve to be happy, don’t I?’ Sneaky thoughts slip into my head, and I know that Akash has put them there …
Mum and Dad are asleep. Go out to see Josh. He makes you happy.
I smile at the mirror. Yes, I could, couldn’t I?
I look over at my bedroom window. No, I’m being stupid. Mum and Dad could catch me again. And, after what happened at school today, they’ll really hit the roof. They’ve already taken art school away from me. What if they try to get me married off sooner?
But he makes you happy, Neena.
On the other hand, this might be one of the last times I see Josh. I should see him as much as I can before the summer. I could have one last happy night with him. Not think about all the crap in my life. And Josh will still be awake: he said he was going to revise until midnight, and it’s only 11.20.
Already the sadness is fading away. I’m grinning now. We can go on an adventure together! A happy adventure. Another idea slips into my head …
My stomach’s buzzing with excitement as I rummage through the cupboard next to the kitchen sink. I dig out an old grey wicker picnic basket. Mum used to pack it with treats, like spicy spring rolls, when we went on family day trips. But that was a long, long time ago. From the fridge, I grab samosas, pakoras, chicken curry and rice. My hands are shaking. I’ll be in so much trouble if I get caught. But I think of Josh’s deep kisses, how safe I feel with his arms round me, and it spurs me on. I find leftover rotis in the bread bin. I pile it all into the basket without heating it – that’s too risky, making all that noise. Finally, I close the kitchen door and tiptoe back to my bedroom.
I sit on my bed, the picnic basket at my feet, and text Josh, telling him to meet me for a midnight picnic at the park.
Be happy. That’s the last thing my brother ever said to me.
‘I’m trying, Akash,’ I whisper. ‘I’m trying my best.’
Then I wait, searching the internet for any more information about Jay, any more clues about Akash’s disappearance, as I wait for Josh to reply.
The moon is full and bursting with brightness. Akash speaks to me. Keep going, he says. This way, this way. I clutch my wicker basket and keep walking. The streets are quiet. Still. Houses are darkened. There’s no noise other than the occasional passing car. The silent air carries the beat of my desperate heart.
Boom-boom. Boom-boom.
I pass a row of shops: an old post office, hairdresser’s, charity shop. Traffic lights change for no one but me. Street lights illuminate the road ahead. And the moon, he holds my hand, holds it tight. You can do this, Neena, he says. You deserve this.