Cruel Summer (12 page)

‘I don’t.’ Ryan inspected a nail.

Alisha chewed her lip before shaking her curls. ‘Not on a normal day, no. But she was so freaking mad, Katie. You didn’t see her at the ball.’ Alisha vividly remembered that
night and she’d never seen Janey, actually, scratch that, she’d never seen
anyone
, so angry.

‘What happened that night?’ Katie asked.

‘You
know
what happened,’ Alisha told her. Although Katie had been too ill to go to the prom, Alisha had given her the highlights many times before she’d left for
Norwich.

‘No,’ Katie said indignantly. ‘I’ve heard about fifty different remixes, half of which were from people who weren’t even there. I need the definitive
version.’

Alisha snuggled in alongside Ryan. ‘I don’t know what I can say that hasn’t already been said.’

‘From the top, I want to know
everything
. And Ryan, I don’t need the TV-movie version, just the facts. The last time I saw Janey was before I got sick. We both bought shoes.
I remember, because I started feeling crappy while we were trying them on.’

Alisha took a deep breath before beginning. ‘OK, from the top. It was the day of the prom. You were already ill. I met Janey in town; we got our hair done together . . .’

FLASHBACK – LAST YEAR (ALISHA)

I
t was almost seven o’ clock when Alisha stumbled over her front lawn, narrowly avoiding falling into the water feature. Time had slipped
away somehow. Alisha had lost about two hours – like one of those alien-abductee people. She thought it was probably best to creep in through the back door; there was a slim possibility that
if she could get to her room, her parents might think she’d been there the whole time. Of course, that optimism was the drink talking. She was dead meat.

She didn’t know where the time had gone. All afternoon she’d been in the salon with Janey. It was ironic – Janey had spent hours getting her hair curled, and Alisha had spent
the afternoon getting hers straightened. It had all been going swimmingly until she’d got a text from Rich and Cleo, some guys from her art class, suggesting she come and meet them for a few
warm-up drinks in the park. It was so sunny, she hadn’t been able to say no.

And that was where she’d lost two hours. And now the floor felt like it had turned to treacle, or perhaps it was her legs. She knew she had to pull herself together and fast. It was almost
time for the ball. You can’t
arrive
at the ball wasted. What would Prince Charming make of that? Alisha stifled a hysterical giggle at the thought. She had to be sensible now or
she’d be in BIG TROUBLE.

Alisha slipped through the back door, closing it as gently as she could. She cringed as it gave a mean-spirited creak. Thankfully, the washing machine was on, disguising some of her noise. There
must be an equation for it – Ben would be able to work it out – like the more you try to be quiet when you’re drunk, the noisier you are.

Some raucous game show was on in the lounge, indicating that at least one of her parents was home. It was Thursday night – was that one of Mum’s Pilates nights? Alisha couldn’t
remember. Either way, she was down to her last warning about coming home drunk. But, the way she saw it, she was only going to be young once so she might as well make the most of it.

She made it past the door to the living room and started up the stairs. Years of coming in past curfew had taught her which stairs groaned when you stepped on them – the fourth and seventh
– and she skipped these steps.

The staircase was lined with pictures of Greg: Greg and Dad playing football, Greg at the academy, Greg on the youth team, Greg in his Brighton kit. Alisha often thought that her mum and dad had
somehow engineered having twins just in case Greg needed a kidney.

She managed to get all the way to the top step before tripping over her own feet. Balls. She froze. Nobody came rushing out to tell her off, so she darted for the cover of her room. She flicked
the lights on and looked at her reflection in the mirror on her dressing table. All that time in the salon chair, and her hair was already curling in at the ends. She looked rough before the night
had even started. Below the mirror was the photo that she couldn’t bring herself to put away. You’re supposed to burn photos of your ex ceremonially – watch the corners singe and
curl before you let them drop into a convenient metal bin. She wasn’t strong enough, though. Alisha sat on the edge of the bed and picked it up, repeating her strange new ritual.

She must be a masochist. Staring at a constant reminder of something she couldn’t have. The picture showed her and Callum on the music trip to Berlin last September. His hair had been
longer than ever back then, falling over his eyes like a sheepdog’s. Both of them wore matching, beaming smiles. His arm was thrown casually around her shoulders while she rested her head
against him. They looked so happy.
He
looked so happy. So how could he leave her for that bargain-bin Barbie?

Alisha didn’t notice the shadow fall over the foot of her bed. ‘What are you doing?’

She gasped, almost dropping the photo. ‘God, Greg, can’t you knock?’

‘I said what are you doing? The limo’s gonna be here in twenty minutes.’

‘Well, then, piss off and let me get ready.’

Greg looked immaculate in his tux with the single diamante stud in his ear. She looked like something that a cat had coughed up. Good twin and bad twin.

‘Are you drunk?’ Greg demanded.

‘Noooo!’ she exclaimed in such a ludicrous manner, she could only be drunk.

‘You’re a mess.’

‘Thanks for that.’

He caught sight of the photograph in her hands. ‘Christ, you’re a loser.’

From nowhere, a sob burst out of her mouth. It must have been waiting for the right moment to escape, and now it was free.

Greg huffed. ‘Oh, don’t start booing, woman.’

‘I don’t wanna go, Greg.
They’ll
be there.’

‘Of course they will. It’s their leavers’ ball too.’

Now the tears were out, they came readily, pouring down Alisha’s cheeks. ‘It’s not fair.’

Her brother had run out of sympathy weeks back. He grabbed her wrists and yanked her off the bed.

‘Ow!’ she cried. He didn’t let go. He dragged her out of her room and towards the bathroom. ‘Let go, Greg. You’re hurting me!’

‘Good!’ he tossed her into the bathroom, where she almost tumbled into the bath. This was the
real
Greg Cole – the one only she saw. ‘You need to a get a grip so
bad, Lish.’

‘Shut up.’

‘Oh, grow up. Callum didn’t dump you for Roxanne. He dumped you because you’re a frigging mental case. You’re a pissed-up clown, Alisha. No one wants to shag a
clown.’

She scrabbled around in her mind for any sort of a comeback, but all she could do was cry. It wasn’t her fault. It
wasn’t
. It was all Roxanne. If she hadn’t arrived .
. .

‘Get your arse in the shower. If you’re not ready, we’re going without you.’

She hurled a bottle of shampoo at his head, but it only succeeded in splattering against the door as he slammed it behind him.

Alisha ran late, but Greg did wait. Teetering on skyscraper heels, Alisha trotted to the midnight-blue limo that waited at the end of their drive. She’d just about managed
to rescue herself. She wore a structured, short bronze dress that made her skin almost glow. She’d thrown on as much make-up as she could and she’d hastily re-ironed her hair.
She’d pass. If Callum and Roxanne were there, she could at least show her face.

Alisha had never been in a limo before, but it turned out they were pretty tacky. The seats were arranged in a doughnut shape along the sides of the stretched section and were covered with pink
Playboy Bunny cushions. A blue striplight flashed around the ceiling of the car as if it were a squat, lowbrow nightclub on wheels. It was only missing a mirror ball.

Not hugely mobile in the dress, she sort of slotted herself into the back of the car. All the others were already there – except one. ‘Where’s Katie?’

‘She’s ill!’ Janey pulled a sad face. ‘I got a text saying she’s been feeling worse and worse all day. Like proper flu or something.’

‘She going to miss the ball?’

‘Yep. She must be really sick, bless her.’ Janey looked regal in her custom-made red gown. Alisha had seen it on a hanger, but that hadn’t done it justice. The material flowed
around Janey’s body in crimson waves. It put Alisha’s own high-street dress to shame.

‘Ah, well,’ Ryan said, handing Alisha a glass of fizzy wine. ‘All the more for us. A toast to poorly Katie!’

They toasted. Greg threw her a sideways glance as she gulped back the wine. He wouldn’t say anything in front of the others, though; that wasn’t his style at all.

Ben grinned at her. ‘Great dress, Lish. You look beautiful.’

A butterfly bomb exploded in her stomach. ‘Aw, thanks, mate.’ In a parallel universe she’d marry Ben Murdoch. She remembered the first time she’d met him at Ryan’s
bouncy-castle party, aged eight. If she’d had any sense she’d have put a ring on it then and there. But all those years he’d been her brother’s best friend and Greg would
have killed her if she’d made a move on Ben. Of course, when things are forbidden, it just makes them ten times sexier.

Fate had had other plans for them, anyway. Ben had got together with, first, Katie and then Janey (which, to be perfectly honest, Alisha had never really ‘got’ – they were such
a mismatch), while she’d fallen for Callum. Look how far that had got her.

Alisha noticed a plastic bag by Ben’s feet. ‘What’s in there?’

Ben and Greg shared a sly grin.

‘What?’ she repeated.

‘We’re gonna make a couple of stops before we get to school,’ Greg told her.

‘What are you up to?’ Janey smiled, holding Ben’s hand.

Greg pulled a box of eggs out of the bag for all to see. ‘As it’s our last day at Longview, well, except for results day, I thought it was time to settle some old scores.’

‘It’s prank week. It’s traditional,’ Ryan reminded her.

Janey snapped her hand out of Ben’s. ‘Oh, what are you doing? Why would we want to get into trouble now?’

‘Relax! What are they gonna do? Expel us? We’ve graduated!’

‘Benjamin!’ She meant business. ‘No!’

Greg laughed. ‘Yeah,
Benjamin
, do as you’re told.’

‘We’re on Ravel Drive,’ Ryan announced.

‘Driver,’ Ben tapped the black glass partition behind him, ‘can you slow down as we pass number twenty-four?’

The partition slid down. The driver was the brother of a guy on Greg’s team. ‘Remember,’ he said, ‘I don’t know anything about this, yeah?’

‘Dude, that’s fine,’ Ben replied. He grinned and slipped the driver a twenty.

‘Whose house is it?’ Alisha asked, excited now.

‘Mr Wallis’s.’

‘Oh, he’s such a pervert!’ Alisha cried. ‘He’s always leching at Year Eleven girls.’

‘
And
he failed my coursework because I was five minutes late handing it in,’ Ben said. ‘Payback time.’

The limo slowed to a crawl. ‘Are you ready?’ Greg opened the sunroof. He rested the egg box on the seat and took two eggs out. Ben also grabbed a couple. The pair squeezed through
the sunroof, wobbling as the car continued to move.

Ryan pushed the button to lower the window. ‘I gotta see this.’

Mr Wallis’s house was an unassuming bungalow not far from where Alisha and Greg lived.

‘Ready?’ Greg shouted. ‘Go!’

The missiles flew at the house. One cracked against the wall, another fell short on the garden path. The next hit the front door, but Ben’s second egg really found its target with the
lounge window. The egg shattered, but made a clang against the pane of glass. The noise seemed to echo down the entire street.

Both boys threw themselves to the floor of the limo. ‘Drive, man, drive!’

Tyres screeched as the limo sped away and everyone fell about laughing. All except Janey, who wore an unimpressed pout. Alisha could hardly breathe. The eggs were pretty funny, but the look of
terror on Ben’s face was even better.

‘Did he see us?’ Ben wiped a tear from his eye.

‘I don’t think so,’ said Ryan. ‘He didn’t even come out.’

‘Amazing!’ laughed Alisha. ‘Genius.’

‘Oh, baby girl, that was only the warm-up,’ said Ryan, and Alisha noticed a cruel glint in his eye.

Their second stop was at the home of Kyle Norton, a weasel who had given Ryan grief since day one of Year Nine. Norton had called Ryan every homophobic name under the sun. Alisha wasn’t
sure, and didn’t care, if Ryan were gay. Although he and Janey had dated for a while, Alisha did get a certain vibe. Either way, Kyle had just got a dog turd through his letterbox by way of a
parting shot.

After they sped away from Kyle’s house, they left Telscombe Cliffs altogether, driving away from the coast. The guys wouldn’t tell Alisha where they were heading this time.

The limo eventually stopped about a mile and a half past the school. It was darker out here, no streetlights and no milky moon shining off the sea. The tyres crunched on gravel as the limo made
its way down a dirt track off the main road. Alisha leaned past Ryan to get a better look out of the window. A crudely painted sign hung on a wooden gate: CROWE FARM – NO TRESPASSERS. Beyond
the gate stood a blocky, run-down-looking house. Alisha could just about make out a tired weather vane creaking on the roof and a scarecrow slumped on a pole, his head hanging on by a thread.

‘Guess who lives here,’ Ryan said.

‘Satan?’ Alisha quipped. Her head felt light from the cava she’d downed on top of the alcohol she’d consumed earlier. ‘Where are we?’

Greg chuckled. ‘This is Mrs Finching’s place.’

‘Oh, well, that figures,’ Janey sighed. ‘I knew that woman was a witch.’

‘I know, check out the haunted house,’ Ben put in. ‘Finding it took some serious espionage. I had to nick a letter out of her handbag to get the address.’

‘Ben!’ Janey slapped his arm. ‘Are you deranged? Why are you hell-bent on spoiling prom night? We only get one in our whole lives! One!’