Good Me Bad Me(44)

‘This time, no mercy,’ says Jack, played by Marie.

Her spear goes down to the right of me, hits the floor hard. To the audience, through the smoke and the strobes, it’ll look like I’ve been speared through the heart. I’m carried off stage by my legs and my arms but here in my new life, without you in charge, I’m placed on my feet and nothing bad happens. I wish I could cheer and join in with the laughter and jokes backstage, but instead I go to the toilet in the dressing room, peel off the pig’s head, splash my face with cold water, count backwards from fifty. The numbers slowly cast their spell, the flashbacks recede, and after a while I feel safe enough to leave.

As I come down the stairs from the stage, into the hall, Ms James is waiting for me. She invites me to take a seat at the front, away from the girls, she’d like a word.

‘How are you enjoying your first play at Wetherbridge?’

‘Good, thank you, Ms James.’

‘You gave a very convincing performance, Milly, but I was a bit concerned to find out it was you playing the pig.’

‘I’m not, I was standing in for Aimee, she’s on the Paris trip.’

‘I see, and I can also see it might have been tricky to say no, but still, you do need to be aware of situations that could trigger something unpleasant for you, given – you know.’

I want to put the pig’s head back on and cry. There isn’t a minute goes by at school when I don’t feel reminded.

Given – you know.

‘There’s a couple of other things I wanted to chat to you about, Milly. Mr Newmont emailed me to let me know you’ll be going to court, the week after next I believe.’

I nod.

‘Have you been managing to concentrate at school?’

‘Mostly, yes.’

‘You’re clearly very bright, Milly, so it’s not a huge concern if you need to take some time away, we can arrange for work to be sent home to you.’

‘I’d rather be busy, if that’s okay.’

‘Of course. But if you change your mind, just ping my PA an email and ask her to book an appointment for you to see me.’

‘Thank you.’

‘The other thing I wanted to talk to you about is Miss Kemp. I understand you’ve been spending a bit of time with her. The difficulty, Milly, is that Miss Kemp doesn’t know about …’

She nods rather than says it, waits for me to nod back, show her I’ve understood, then continues.

‘So we need to be careful, if you like. I’m aware you tried to give her a gift, which really is very sweet but not something we encourage – in fact, it’s against school rules. However, in your particular case I can perhaps see where the confusion has come from.’

That’s why she hasn’t answered my emails.

‘Miss Kemp is a wonderful teacher, very committed, but that said, one must be clear where one draws the line.’

‘I’m not sure I understand what you mean, Ms James.’

‘What I mean is, if you’d find it easier we can look at assigning you a new guidance teacher.’

‘Why?’

‘I’ve asked Mr Newmont to talk this over with you during half-term, I’m sure he will. Okay?’

‘Yes, Ms James.’

‘There’s no need to look worried, we’re all on your side and I’m sure we can work something out. How does that sound?’

Patronizing.

‘Fine, thank you.’

‘Great, keep up the excellent work with the play, no doubt it’ll be a glorious performance on the night.’

I stand when she does, as we’re expected to.

I wake up crying, halfway through the night. I dreamt I was in court.

When the defence lawyer turned round to face me he shrank to the size of a boy, asked me why I let you hurt him. Tears in his eyes.

I’m sorry, I said.

We don’t believe you, said the jury in reply.





20


After school yesterday Mike told me he’d booked us two nights at a hotel, a place called Tetbury. We’re going on Monday. He mentioned he’d like to catch up with me, about Miss Kemp, but it could wait until the weekend.

Phoebe and I are about to leave for Matty’s party, the same one Joe mentioned on the bus. Mike agreed to let Phoebe go on the condition she took me too, plus, he added, if you go together, I’ll let you walk home on your own. You wouldn’t want me turning up at his door now, would you? Before we leave he reminds us our curfew is midnight, no later, and no drinking, okay?

‘Yes, Dad, okay.’

Phoebe calls Izzy as soon as we leave the house, says it’s a bummer she can’t come, how much longer does she think she’ll be grounded for. Izzy’s reply makes her laugh and before she hangs up she says, don’t worry, beatch, I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. Poor Izzy, she must have been delighted when Prof West returned her make-up bag, but not so when she realized he’d seen the cigarettes inside. No room to wriggle out of that one, her name written in Tipp-Ex on the bottom of the bag, left slightly open on Prof West’s desk when his room was empty, all the hearts tidied away.

We arrive at another large white house and Phoebe rings the doorbell. A boy answers, tall, six foot, maybe more. He smiles when he sees who it is and says, ‘Party is on.’