Undone(28)

‘Cool. OK. Fine.’ How many words could I use to say exactly the same thing? ‘I’ll . . . see you then. Then.’ I gave an awkward little wave and turned away, walking smack bang into Mr Franklin, who grabbed my arms to steady me and said, ‘Where’s the fire?’ I apologized and scurried away, blushing furiously no doubt.

That night I was feeling pretty good about things. I’d made progress; I congratulated myself on my bravery. I was finally doing something instead of just thinking about it. I wasn’t one hundred per cent convinced that Max would be able to help, but I had to give it a go.

I hardly slept – playing out possible conversations with Max in my head, unable to imagine what it would actually be like to sit down and talk to him.

Mum knocked on my door when I was doing my makeup. ‘Morning, love. Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer . . . bit early for Valentine’s Day though, eh?’ She held out an envelope. My name was written on it in blue biro: Jem Halliday.

Mum hovered over me, swigging black coffee from her ‘Number One Mum’ mug that Noah (well, Dad really) got her for Christmas. ‘Aren’t you going to open it?’

I gave her The Look, which was all it took for her to retreat. ‘Yes, yes, you need your “space” . . . Promise you’ll tell me later though? I do love a bit of intrigue.’ She kissed me on the forehead and left me in peace.

The envelope was one of those long, business ones. More a reminder-for-a-dentist-appointment sort of envelope rather than a secret-admirer sort of envelope. There was no stamp or address, which was obviously what had made Mum jump to conclusions.

Inside was a piece of lined notepaper torn out of an exercise book. The same blue biro had been used to write the words on it in unremarkable neat capital letters.

There were six words, evenly spaced in pairs:

STUART HICKS

LUCAS MAHONEY

DEREK BUNNEY

It took me a few seconds to realize who Derek Bunney was.

It took me a few seconds more to realize what the names meant.





chapter eighteen


There was no need to talk to Max now; I knew who was to blame. Finally. It was obvious who’d written the note. Jon must have seen something at the party after all – he just didn’t want to say anything in front of his new girlfriend.

There was no shock, no surprise. Which was shocking and surprising in itself, really. As soon as I’d processed what the names meant, I realized I’d already known. Stuart Hicks. It made perfect sense. It was as if my brain had hidden the answer from me until I was ready to deal with it . . . slipped it down the back of the sofa or something, until this piece of torn paper jolted it free.

Stuart Hicks. It didn’t take a genius to work out why he’d done it, and that was what made it hard to accept – the knowledge that if I’d had sex with Stu none of this would have happened. Because it was obvious he’d done it to get back at me. I’d wounded his pride or ego or whatever, and he’d filmed Kai to punish me.

My first instinct was to blame myself for everything. But after a couple of hours of sobbing and self-loathing, that started to lessen somehow. It was like Kai was there, talking me through it, soothing my conscience. Yes, Kai might still be alive if I’d had sex with Stu. But that didn’t mean that having sex with Stu would have been the right thing to do. Maybe I shouldn’t have headbutted him, but what happened afterwards was down to him. He decided to humiliate Kai. He made it happen. It was his fault. Not mine.

I repeated this mantra over and over until I almost believed it.

His fault. Not mine.

I couldn’t help thinking the whole thing must have been a set-up. Maybe he’d got one of his poxy mates to try it on with Kai, and Kai had been too drunk to say no. Or maybe Stu had paid some pissed-up lad to take one for the team. That would explain why the mystery boy’s identity had been hidden. It didn’t really matter. I wasn’t even interested in the mystery boy any more; there was nothing to be gained from tracking him down.

I didn’t doubt for one minute that Stu had been the ringleader. But every ringleader needs his loyal sidekicks. Ruining someone’s life was no fun unless you had someone to laugh with about it. Maybe Bugs and Lucas hadn’t done the filming or uploaded the video or sent the emails – but that didn’t make them any less guilty in my eyes. Or maybe they had been more involved. Maybe one of them had held the door open while Stu filmed, or kept a lookout in case anyone caught them in the act. But it was almost irrelevant. Either one of them could have stopped him. My Kai would still be alive if one of them had stopped him.

When I thought back to that night, things that had seemed meaningless now seemed to be coloured with red flashing lights and maybe a neon sign saying: PAY ATTENTION. Bugs pretending to f*ck Lucas as he bent down. Stu smirking at his phone. How could I have been so stupid?

I told Mum I’d make my own way to school and she tried to hide the relief on her face. She didn’t think I knew that the lifts she’d been giving me had made her late for work more than once. It didn’t occur to her for a minute that I would walk halfway to school, turn around and walk right back home again, letting myself into the now empty house.

Stuart Hicks. Lucas Mahoney. Derek Bunney.

How on earth was I supposed to punish them? They ruled the f*cking school, for f*ck’s sake. They were as close to royalty as you got at Allander Park.