Good Me Bad Me(26)

Eleven weeks today your trial begins. Eleven weeks, the same building as you, same air. I want to know what it was June told Mike on the phone. Something you’ve said. Something they don’t want me to find out. Go slow and tell the truth, that’s all you have to worry about, Mike said to me last week. Easy for him to say.

I sit up in bed, take one of the elastic bands from my wrist, pull my hair into a high ponytail, it’s how the other girls wear it at school. Once I’m dressed I roll up the sketches I did over the weekend to show MK. I’m looking forward to seeing her again, I feel like I get it right when I’m with her. Just before I leave my room a text comes through. Morgan, saying she had fun on Saturday, see you soon, followed by a host of emojis. A star, a thumbs up. Two girls dancing in unison and a red balloon. She likes me, I think. Has seen only the good parts. Certain things should never be disclosed, that’s what you used to say to me. Show only the side you know they’ll like. Trust.

‘Morning,’ Mike says as I enter the kitchen.

‘Morning.’

Phoebe is there, arms crossed over her chest, turns her face away when she sees me.

‘Phoebe,’ Mike says.

She looks up at him, exhales noisily and says, fine, then turns to me.

‘Sorry about Saturday.’

I nod, reply.

‘Thanks, it’s okay.’

‘No, it wasn’t okay and she knows it. I’ve been very clear that if anything like that happens again, there’ll be consequences. Right, Phoebe?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good,’ Mike says. ‘Now let’s draw a line under this. Why don’t you guys walk to school together? It’s not often you leave at the same time.’

‘I’m meeting Iz, we’ve got stuff to talk about.’

‘As mentioned at dinner on Saturday, Phoebe, I’m sure you could include Milly from time to time. No?’

‘It’s okay, I like walking on my own, gives me a chance to clear my head.’

He looks disappointed, but lets it go. We finish breakfast at the same time and end up leaving together anyway, but when we exit the driveway, on to the main road, she says, ‘Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to, but for the record, Mum and Dad never keep anyone longer than a couple of months. Pretty soon you’ll be sent back to where you came from.’

She jogs away from me, rucksack bouncing, and joins Izzy, who’s waiting at the end of the road. Back to where you came from, she said. I want to shout after her, ask where does a person go if they can’t stay where they are, or go back to the place they’ve come from. Where will I go after the court case is over? A temporary placement, that’s what June said when I met her at the unit. Mike and Saskia have decided I’m the last foster child they’ll take until Phoebe finishes her A levels. She has no idea how lucky she is and how much I wish there was room for us both.

When I get to school I check my timetable inside my locker. First period I’m supposed to have maths but as I walked past the office on the way in, there was a note pinned up outside announcing that Miss Dukes, our teacher, was off for the day, Year Elevens to work in the library. I decide to go to the art room first to see if MK is around. Her room is empty when I arrive, a tasselled cardigan hanging on the back of her chair, an art textbook open, face down on the desk. I want to turn it over, see what it is she’s looking at, but the door to the corridor opens and she comes in carrying a pile of paper plates decorated with felt faces. She smiles when she sees me.

‘This is a nice surprise. How was your weekend?’

‘It was good, thank you. How was yours?’

‘Pretty quiet, to be honest,’ she replies. ‘If it’s me you’re after you’re in luck, I’ve got half an hour spare before the little ones pile in.’

‘I wanted to show you some drawings I did over the weekend.’

‘Wonderful, let’s have a look then.’

I slide the roll of sketches out of my rucksack flap, hand them to her.

‘Wow, you have been busy.’

‘There’s only three,’ I reply, enjoying the way her enthusiasm makes me feel.

‘Let’s flatten them out on the table.’

We use pots of felt-tip pens to hold down the corners of the pages, she steps back when all three are laid out. Nods.

‘These are great, particularly the girl with the eagle wings. Have you always liked to draw?’

‘I think so, yes.’

‘Are either of your parents artistic?’

How to tell her, how to explain that you believed what you did was art.

Skin, not paper.

‘My mum left when I was young, so I’m not really sure.’

‘Sorry, that was insensitive of me to ask, I know you’re staying with the Newmonts.’

I tell her it’s fine, but it’s not. It’s not what she said, it’s what I can’t.

‘You’re very talented. Have you thought about studying art once you finish school?’

‘Maybe, but I also really like science.’

‘Better money in science, that’s for sure. Thanks for sharing them with me, I love to see what you girls come up with. If you don’t mind I have to reply to some emails but feel free to stay and do some drawing for the next twenty minutes or so.’