She nods, and I pull away. ‘I’d like that a lot. I know the neighbours are a bit weird but we all really miss Dorette.’
I take one last glance around the room where a lifetime of work is filed on her many bookshelves, along with her notebooks full of ideas. I’ll have to sort through this treasure trove soon, but not now. As I walk towards the door, I realise Quinn isn’t following me.
The sound of the clip on her handbag makes me turn around. I’m sure she took something and put it in her bag, but I can’t see if anything’s missing. The desk is still cluttered with paper and notebooks.
Quinn unravels her hand to produce a lipstick which I’m thinking she took out of her bag. She glides the pink glossy substance across her lips, then she presses them together and smiles but that smile isn’t extending to her eyes.
As she rearranges her bag over her shoulder, I recognise the look on her face. Guilt.
Sixteen
Morgan
The food doesn’t look too bad here but it’s not as good as what my last school dished up. I think of our cupboards with the nuts, seeds and marmalade. No… Mum can’t be pregnant and given that she seems to be struggling with Cora, there’s no way on earth they’d have another baby.
I glance at the huge clock at the far end of the dinner hall. Harry said he’d meet me here for five past twelve, but he’s not here. Maybe he’s still upset that I pushed James.
‘Budge up, bitch bag.’ James pushes in front of me and knocks me against the wall.
I hate that he called me that but he has three friends with him. My chest is bursting with anger. I’m almost palpitating as I clench my fists. I hate it here. That word again. Hate. Hate, hate, hate.
James licks his finger, points at me and pokes my forehead. ‘Shit hair by the way.’ They all laugh.
Gross. I feel the wetness of his spit on my head and I don’t want it to happen again, so I step back onto the foot of a girl who frowns at me and pushes me back into James. So much for female solidarity. It looks like I’m on my own here. Without thinking, I kick him in the shins.
‘She fights back,’ James says in a mocking squeaky voice.
Yes, I fight but I’m also scared. There’s nowhere to run. I can’t see any teachers and what good would they do anyway? If I get bailed out by a teacher, the bullies will be worse next time. I have to stand up to them but I don’t know how. ‘Just leave me alone.’
‘Leave me alone,’ he repeats in that voice again.
Every sound around me is elevated. Every time one of the dinner staff clangs a metal tray down, it makes me flinch. The strip lights are bright and one flickers, and the scent of cheese is too much to bear. I’ve lost my appetite. I go to leave the queue but James blocks me with his arm. His friends laugh. I’m trapped. Don’t cry, Morgan. I won’t cry but I can’t control my trembling body.
‘What your lot wrote in that letter to my Aunt Tessa was gross.’
Harry mentioned that Tessa is James’s aunt and that James had put worms in his boots too. James has to be behind the letters but I don’t have proof. Unlike him, I’m not going to blindly accuse him. I try to think back to what was in Tessa’s letter. It said that her husband would rather f… have sex with my mum. ‘We didn’t write those letters.’ He knows we didn’t because it was him. I look for a glint of guilt but he’s good at hiding it. Then again psychos don’t feel guilty – that’s what makes them psychos.
‘Well, why did they start as soon as you moved in? We’re from here and you are an outsider. No one knows you.’ He nudges me backwards into that girl again and grins at his friends. He’s not bothered by the letters; he’s using them as an excuse to have a go at me.
The girl scoffs and pushes me back.
‘Sorry, it wasn’t my fault,’ I say to her, hoping that she’ll help.
‘You know, we used to hang about in your house after your aunt jumped off the balcony. It’s an old place, so easy to get into.’
I feel uneasy knowing that James has been in our home; it had been vacant for ages before we moved in and it was a mess. I’m not surprised they got in, and I know my dad probably made it more secure when he came to fix the apartment up. ‘You’re a turd.’ Did I say that aloud? I did.
His friends laugh, then James joins in.
‘And you stink of turd, just like your house.’
I try to ignore the icy shiver dancing across my neck. I haven’t always felt alone in the house and now I’m wondering if there is another way in, apart for the obvious doors and windows, because there have been noises. Was it them in our house? It freaks me out when I have to leave or come back to the apartment. ‘Stay out of my house,’ I say, and the girls behind me stare.
James leans forward, almost pressing his nose on mine. ‘Make me. Maybe it won’t only be your aunt going over the balcony next time.’
I need to get out of here. I can’t stand it any longer. The pans are clanging louder, the light above still flickers and chairs are being scraped faster across the parquet flooring. A boy sitting at the table by us accidentally nudges a chair into James’s leg before darting away. More pans clang. I clench my fists harder, and the smell makes me nauseous. Let me out, I want to yell but I can’t speak.
James turns slightly to move the chair out of his way, so I take my opportunity. I shove him with all the strength I have and he tumbles backwards over the chair and onto the floor with a sickening thud.
