Burning Bright (16 page)

I looked away.

Dad sighed again. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Okay.’ He squatted down by the hen hutch and we carried on with our mending. Gemma came out with some water for us a few minutes
later. I gave her a big hug, not knowing how to tell her I was sorry about the baby. I think she understood. She said thank you as she gave me a big squeeze back. I sat, resting against the hutch,
and watched as she talked quietly with Dad about some shopping that was needed.

I picked up the long nail I’d noticed on the ground earlier and rolled it over my palm. The metal was warm in my hand. How could Dad possibly know what I was going through? He was so
settled in his life with Gemma. Plus, for all his concern, he had still stood right beside Mum and agreed I shouldn’t see Flynn anymore.

I shoved the nail into the earth at my feet and turned back to the hen hutch.

Two days later Dad drove us home.

I went straight upstairs, retrieved my phone and switched it on. My heart stopped as I scanned the voicemails and texts. At least six from Flynn, plus several from Emmi and Grace.

I played Flynn’s calls – a series of increasingly desperate messages, ending with him asking if I was dumping him:

‘. . . and please listen, I love you and I’m so sorry and please call me . . .’

My heart hammered as I sat on the edge of the bed and rang Flynn’s number. The mobile was out of range.
No.
My heart sank. I couldn’t even leave him a message. Before I had
time to think about it too much I punched in a text:
Been away. No phone. Back now. Call me.
I hesitated then added:
I love you.

I pressed ‘send’. There. It was done.

I went back downstairs to say goodbye to Dad. Mum was full of how healthy I looked from all my time spent outdoors at the commune.

‘And River did loads of GCSE work,’ Dad said proudly. ‘She’s really turned things around, you know.’

Mum sniffed, but I could tell she was pleased.

I clutched the phone in my pocket. How could my parents be so unaware of what I was going through? I suddenly felt horribly alone. I said goodbye to Dad and slunk off back upstairs. I tried
Flynn several more times, but his phone stayed out of range.

I slept badly all night, drifting in and out of anxiety-fuelled dreams. I woke up late, all bleary, to the sound of my mobile ringing.

I seized it up from beside the bed before I was even properly awake. ‘Hello?’

‘River? Thank God.’ His voice broke as he spoke.

‘Oh Flynn.’ I burst into tears. Maybe it was the relief of speaking to him at last. Maybe it was all the stress of the past few days. Maybe it was just the sound of his voice.

‘I’m so sorry I got so cross,’ Flynn said. ‘When I thought about it, I realised you had every right to go to any stupid party you wanted to. I tried to get hold of you
the next day, but you didn’t answer . . .’

‘I . . . I was at my dad’s commune,’ I sniffed. ‘I left my phone at home.’

‘I missed you so much.’ Flynn’s voice sounded miserable and heavy. He sighed. ‘This is so awful, River. Being apart like this.’

‘I know.’ I sat up in bed, wiping the tears off my face. ‘So where were you last night?’ I said. ‘How come you were out of range?’

‘Just out,’ he said. ‘Nothing special.’

I frowned. There was something guarded about his voice. Flynn was such a good actor it was hard to be sure, but I sensed there was something he wasn’t telling me.

‘Out where?’ I said.

‘Just out. With a few mates. Some stupid thing . . . It doesn’t matter.’

‘What happened?’

A long silence.

‘I just . . . did something stupid,’ Flynn stammered.

‘What kind of stupid?’

‘Nothing that affects us,’ he insisted. ‘Look, it doesn’t matter, Riv, all that matters is that we’re okay and I’ve got a job and I’m going to save my
money and we’ll see each other soon, yeah?’

‘Okay.’ I smiled at the earnestness in his voice but, a few minutes later, I came off the phone feeling troubled. There was something Flynn was keeping from me about what he’d
been up to. What was the ‘stupid’ thing he’d done? Had he got into another fight? Was it something to do with another girl?

I called Emmi and she invited me round on Saturday night. Her parents were away and she, Alex and a few other friends were hanging out in their house. I made out I had to go to a family party
with Mum and said I’d see her at school on Monday. I couldn’t face Emmi and Alex and their loud, show-off friends. I didn’t belong with those people. I didn’t belong here at
all.

I only belonged with Flynn.

And that’s when I decided: I was going to go to Ireland and see Flynn. I’d already saved quite a lot from my job at Café Yazmina. To make up enough to pay for my ticket,
I’d pretend I needed money for a school trip, maybe forge a letter from school to convince Mum. However I did it, I was going to get myself to Ireland and see Flynn, face to face. I sat there
all evening, planning it out. I even started on the fake school letter, sneaking into Mum’s files to find an old one I could use to scan the letterhead. Once I had the cash in my hand, I
would simply tell Mum I was spending the weekend with Dad. Then I’d just leave. By the time they realised I wasn’t with either of them, I’d already be on the plane.

Yes.

Suddenly the whole world seemed brighter. I went to bed on Sunday night not even minding about going back to school the next day.

And then, on Monday morning, the bombshell dropped.

‘What’s the matter with Grace?’ Emmi whispered.

We were in the middle of our first lesson – English. Emmi had spent ten minutes before class telling me again that I’d missed a great night with her, Alex and their friends on
Saturday. We’d noticed that Grace hadn’t shown up for registration and assumed she was probably just a bit late. But now, as I followed Emmi’s pointing finger, it was clear
something was very wrong.

Grace was standing in the doorway, ashen-faced. Mrs Bunton waved her impatiently to her seat. Grace’s cheeks remained pale as she crept past everyone towards her desk. That, in itself, was
odd. Grace normally went red if someone asked her what the time was, let alone if she had to cross a crowded classroom with everyone staring at her. I peered more closely. Was she wearing really
heavy make-up? Grace drew nearer, her head bowed.
Jeez
, she was. Masses of foundation, then loads of black eyeliner. She looked like a different person. She glanced at me as she took her
seat.
Whoa.
Close to it was obvious that she had been crying. Her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. Was the make-up an attempt to disguise that?

I raised my eyebrows at her. ‘What’s the matter?’ I mouthed.

Grace shook her head and bent over her bag. She didn’t look up again.

After English she rushed off to her next class without speaking to either me or Emmi.

‘Where’s she going?’ I said.

‘Geography,’ Emmi said. ‘I’ve got it too. I’ll find out what’s going on. See you lunchtime, yeah?’

I nodded, wondering what the matter could be. From the state Grace was in it looked serious. I couldn’t believe it was anything to do with James. I couldn’t imagine him either
dumping her or cheating on her. Maybe it was something at home, something to do with her parents.

It niggled away at me throughout the rest of the morning. I felt guilty as well as worried. Grace had been so generous recently, letting me borrow her phone to call Flynn when Mum was still
checking my call log. How was it possible that I had no idea what was upsetting her now? The more I considered it, the more I realised how selfish I’d been. So wrapped up in my own problems I
hadn’t thought about anyone else.

As soon as the bell rang for break I went to look for Grace. She was probably still with Emmi, but they weren’t in any of the places I’d have expected: not the cafeteria nor the
patch of garden outside the gym nor our form room. I checked out the toilets on every floor too. There was no sign of them – and both their phones were switched off.

I wandered around the school, hoping I’d bump into them. I tried the cafeteria one last time then headed across the playground.

There.
I saw them in the distance. Even before I could hear them it was obvious they were arguing. Emmi was poking her finger in Grace’s face and Grace was weeping and gesticulating
with her hands.

As I got closer I caught Emmi saying, ‘Of course you can. You
have
to.’

‘I can’t,’ Grace wailed.

They didn’t notice me until I was just a few metres away. As they turned in my direction it was obvious Grace had been crying again. Her black eye make-up was in streaks down her face.

Both of them looked embarrassed at having been seen.

‘What’s going on?’ I said uncertainly.

Emmi looked across at Grace.

‘No,’ Grace hissed.

‘Are you all right?’ I said, feeling all my old insecurities twisting in my stomach. What was going on? Why didn’t Grace want to talk to me? Why was it okay for her to talk to
Emmi but not to me?

Emmi shuffled impatiently. ‘James did something she’s annoyed about so . . .’

‘Not
here
,’ Grace hissed again.

The bell rang.

Grace grabbed Emmi by the wrist and started dragging her towards the school building. ‘Hurry up, you need to help me with my make-up before I’m late for something else.’

As Emmi let Grace pull her away, she looked over her shoulder.

‘My place after school, Riv? Okay?’ she said.

I nodded, feeling confused. The sun came out as I walked across the playground. It sounded like Grace was upset over something James had done, but maybe Emmi was making that up to stop me from
guessing what the real problem was.

Was it something to do with my friendship with Emmi and Grace? Neither of them much liked Flynn. I’d refused to see Emmi on Saturday and I’d hardly talked to Grace about her life for
weeks.

I felt desperately torn. On the one hand, when I imagined the moment I’d tell Flynn I was coming to see him, a warm glow spread through me. But, on the other hand, when I took a step back
from my relationship, I could see how it was creating a big distance between me and my friends.

I drifted through French and then history, barely paying attention. As the bell rang for the end of the day I looked over at Grace again. She looked unbearably miserable. I felt another stab of
guilt. She’d been so supportive, always, about me and Flynn. And recently – I felt ashamed to think it – I really hadn’t been a very good friend to her.

Well, tonight I would be. If she was having problems with James, I would listen and do whatever I could to help.

Emmi sauntered over and raised her eyes at us both. ‘Can we get out of here please?’

I called Mum and told her I was popping into Emmi’s on my way home but that I wouldn’t be late. Grace was very quiet all the way there. As we followed Emmi up the wide staircase to
her huge bedroom I squeezed her hand, wondering what on earth James had done to make her so upset. She didn’t look around.

We walked into Emmi’s room. She slammed the door shut and flopped down on the bed. ‘Right, Grace. Enough already. Tell River.’

‘Tell me what?’

Grace looked at me anxiously.

‘Go on,’ Emmi said exasperatedly.

There was a long pause. ‘I saw something on James’s phone this morning when we walked to school together,’ she stammered.

I stared at her, not seeing what she meant. Then I thought I understood. ‘You mean . . . you mean pictures of girls?’ I said.

Grace looked at Emmi’s pale green carpet.

I glanced at Emmi. She was staring crossly at Grace.

‘Is that why you’re upset?’ I said to Grace. ‘Because . . . I know it’s disgusting but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about
you
. Anyway, they
all . . . Unless. Oh, Grace. It wasn’t something really gross, was it?’

‘Me and James had a huge row.’ Grace’s eyes welled with tears. ‘I don’t think he’s talking to me now.’

‘Oh, Grace, that’s—’ I started.

‘For goodness sake, Grace,’ Emmi snapped. ‘Will you explain this properly, please?’

Grace didn’t look up from the carpet. ‘It was on Facebook,’ she mumbled.

On Facebook? Now I was confused. You couldn’t post anything all that outrageous on Facebook – the network wouldn’t allow you to.

‘What?’ I said. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Look for yourself.’ Emmi snatched up her laptop and pressed the keys.

I sat, waiting, feeling completely confused.

And then Emmi turned the computer towards me and I saw.

It was Flynn’s Facebook page.

‘Check out his latest status,’ Emmi said, drily.

I looked more closely. There was a photo of Flynn, smiling, with his arm round a girl in a bikini, a fat wad of money in his hand. Underneath the picture it read:
another awesome result from
the iPad bank !!!!

I stared at the picture, my mind in free fall. ‘When did this go up?’ I asked.

‘Early this morning,’ Emmi said grimly, pointing to the date by the post.

I thought back to my conversation with Flynn yesterday. He’d said he’d done something stupid during the week . . . I’d imagined a fight . . . had he instead been out somewhere,
posing for pictures with some bimbo and with more than enough money to pay for ten tickets home to see me?

I couldn’t process it. It didn’t make sense. If he knew he’d been stupid, why boast about it on his Facebook page where I was bound to see it? Or, if the boasting was the
stupid thing he’d done, why not just delete the post?

‘Why’s he talking about an “iPad bank”?’ I said ‘What does that mean?’

Grace and Emmi exchanged glances.

‘It’s obviously a reference to all the money he’s made selling stolen iPads,’ Emmi said, drily.

‘What?’ I stared at her.

‘He must be referring to Alex’s iPad at the very least, don’t you think?’ Grace sniffed.

‘But Flynn didn’t take Alex’s iPad,’ I said, feeling completely bewildered.

‘I think this proves he did.’ Emmi snorted. ‘And from the look of all that cash and the word “another”, it looks like Alex wasn’t the only person he stole
from.’