Undone(24)

I kept fiddling with my hair, running my fingers through it, tucking it behind my ears. I wanted to know if people were staring because of Kai or staring because of the stupid new look. Probably a bit of both. I kept my head down, not wanting to catch anyone’s eye. Not wanting to see the sympathy or curiosity or disdain plastered across their faces.

Time crawled by. I went to the canteen at lunchtime because it seemed sensible to get the hard stuff out of the way first. My hands were shaking as I paid for a packet of prawn-cocktail crisps. No one was sitting at the table – our table. I sat in my usual chair and focused every last bit of my attention on the crisps. I forced myself to eat slowly, determined to brave it out for as long as possible. I kept my gaze away from his empty chair. Then I folded the packet into a tiny little square and stood up to leave.

I could feel them watching the whole time. All of them watching, judging. But I refused to give them the satisfaction of knowing they were getting to me.

The route to the bin took me past Team Popular’s table. They were quieter than normal too, or maybe that was just my imagination. Max and Louise were nowhere to be seen, so the ranks were depleted.

Lessons were just about bearable because I didn’t have an empty chair next to me, reminding me of what was missing. Kai had been in the top set for everything, so we hadn’t shared any of the same classes. Somehow I managed to focus on equations and past participles and neutrons, taking notes and trying to keep my handwriting as neat as possible. Two teachers kept me back after class to tell me that they were ‘here for me’, like I was supposed to find that reassuring. A couple of girls came up to me to say they were ‘sorry’, which was nice of them, I guess.

History was the last lesson of the day. I’ve sat next to Jasmine James in history for two years and I’ve known her ever since primary school. She’s a nice girl, but we’ve never really been what you’d call ‘friends’, not exactly. More ‘people who talk to each other in a friendly manner but would never dream of seeing each other outside of school’. Mum had long since given up on nagging me about being friends with her.

When I sat down next to Jasmine she said a timid ‘hi’, followed by, ‘It’s good to see you,’ then finished off with, ‘I’m really, really sorry about Kai.’ It was the first time I’d heard his name all day and it very nearly broke me. I thanked her and stared straight ahead, hoping she’d get the hint without thinking I was a hideous bitch.

At the end of the lesson she rummaged in her bag (the type of rucksack you might take on a Duke of Edinburgh expedition) and handed me an envelope. For a bizarre, heart-stopping moment I thought it might be from Kai, but then she said, ‘I . . . er . . . wrote this a couple of weeks ago. I’ve been carrying it around because I wasn’t sure when you’d be back. Um. OK, see you tomorrow, bye.’ Then she scarpered.

The envelope was dog-eared and the blue ink that my name was written in was a little smudged. It was a card with white flowers on the front. The words ‘With sympathy’ were embossed in gold flouncy lettering. Inside Jasmine had written, ‘Jem, I know we’re not exactly best friends or anything, but I just wanted you to know that if you ever need to talk to someone, or just sit beside someone and not say anything, or copy someone’s homework, I’m available for any of these things. And if you don’t want any of these things, that’s OK too. I’m sorry about Kai. He was a good person.’ She’d written her mobile number at the bottom of the card.

The classroom was empty by the time I scrunched up the card and envelope and put them in the bin.

It’s not that I didn’t appreciate the sentiment, and the effort she’d gone to; I just couldn’t deal with it. I couldn’t deal with this girl who I’d never really made an effort with, other than to talk vaguely about the TV we’d watched at the weekend. I couldn’t bear the thought of her being nice to me.

The first day back was the hardest, but every day after that was awful in its own way. Being at Allander Park without Kai was suffocating. I sank into some kind of altered, robotic state where I didn’t let myself feel. I went from lesson to lesson to lunchtime to lesson with one thought in my mind: the letters. I just had to get through each day until I could open his next letter. That was all that mattered.

I saw Louise a few times, but she was always with Max – never the rest of Team Popular. If I’d been a better person I would have stopped her and asked how she was doing. But I didn’t. And it would have been pointless because anyone with eyes could see she wasn’t doing well. She didn’t look good. She’d lost weight, her roots were really bad and she just looked washed-out and exhausted. She didn’t swan down the corridor like she used to; she just walked like a regular person. I felt bad for her, but there was nothing I could do to help her, just like there was nothing she could do to help me. We had to bear our grief alone. At least she had Max. All I had was Kai’s letters, but I clung to the thought of them so tightly there was no room to think of anything or anyone else.

Mum and Dad gradually stopped treating me like I was going to break and by mid-December they’d even started nagging me about chores and homework. Noah stopped watching me carefully and being so quiet and polite. And he never missed an opportunity to tell me he hated my new hair (‘You don’t look real!’), but it was oddly reassuring that he’d resumed his role as annoying little brother.