Saving Silence (3 page)

By the time I’d worked up a sweat, I’d decided what to do. It was simple – speak to Sam. No doubt I was blowing Saturday out of proportion with these crazy notions that someone
could have wanted him dead. I had questions. If anyone had answers, it was him.

‘Hey, Im!’

I looked and saw Ollie waving from the other side of the green. I jogged over, wiping my forehead. I didn’t look my best, but Ollie did sports too and didn’t care about stuff like
that. Today I could see that he was wearing a black hoody that said Devereux Hawks across the back. Ollie was proud of captaining the school basketball team. His hoody wasn’t unlike my
volleyball one. We made a right pair. But then we always had been a pair, even before we’d started going out at the end of Year 11. Ollie had been the male head prefect – prefects in
our school were Year 11s, so sixth-formers could concentrate on their studies. Everyone had always acted like it was only a matter of time before we got together.

‘Just like Im Maxwell to date a male version of herself,’ one girl had mocked, to which I’d replied, ‘Jealous?’ That had shut her up. Ollie was the school pin-up
– literally. His photo was plastered over the school prospectus and even on an advertisement at the station. No one complained. Ollie had his Colombian mum’s olive complexion and dark
hair, which he currently wore short on the sides and thick on top, and a weirdly symmetrical face. On someone else it might not have worked, but on him it did.

I was probably the least romantic girl in the whole year, but I liked having a boyfriend. Family always came first for Nadina so it was good to have someone else around.

‘Your mum told me you were here,’ Ollie said when I reached him. He leaned in to kiss me hello. When the kiss deepened, I pulled back in surprise. After Nads’s warning
I’d been braced for him to have a go at me about Sam.

‘Wow, you really are relieved to see me out and about!’ I joked. Ollie and me weren’t normally too demonstrative in public. It was different in private, although we
didn’t go much further than making out. I didn’t want more at the moment and he’d never pushed me. I liked that he respected me. We were together, sure, but first and foremost we
were good mates.

‘Obviously.’ Ollie gave a small smile, not meeting my eyes. He seemed a little sheepish, and weirdly self-conscious. ‘You could’ve been killed. Here.’ He shoved a
carrier bag at me. ‘Thought you deserved a present. Seems a bit rubbish that invalids get grapes though, so I got you these.’

Inside the bag was a box of chocolates. It was a small one with Aldi branding. That explained his embarrassment – Ollie didn’t have much spare cash and could be touchy about it. I
gave him a peck on the cheek.

‘Nice one. Who’d’ve known you were so thoughtful? Thanks!’

I changed the subject and we walked across the green discussing last night, hand in hand. After a while I said, ‘I’ve had it up to here talking about yesterday. How about we do
normal instead?’

Ollie hesitated, then said, ‘Normal sounds good.’ He felt inside his hoody pocket. ‘Got just about enough to treat you at the falafel place. Fancy it?’

I laughed. ‘Wow, falafel and chocolates! Lucky me.’

Ollie coloured slightly. ‘Yeah, well, you should never have wound up in that accident. I’m just relieved you’re OK.’

That explains why we’re being so touchy-feely today, I thought as we headed off. Ollie was clearly still spooked by last night. It was sweet of him to show he cared like this. Whether it
was being with Ollie, or deciding to speak to Sam, I felt better. Soon I would be back to being normal Imogen Maxwell, who didn’t do doubts and had everything sorted.

SUNDAY 10 NOVEMBER

After a few mind-numbingly empty hours waiting in A & E the anger I’d experienced in the ambulance had faded into a chilling
what am I going to do now
feeling.
I even became desperate enough to drink one of the insult-to-real-coffee-coffees from the vending machines. By the time I got home what I was feeling had changed to – well, I don’t even
know what you’d call it. Denial? Disbelief? As I lay on my bed, surrounded by familiar things, it became a challenge to even get my head around what had happened, let alone that it had
happened to me.

Tamsin had taken everything far more in her stride than I’d expected. When she’d teetered into A & E in her heels and enormous fluffy leopard-print coat I’d thought things
were about to go from bad to worse, but apart from some dramatic hand-waving, she stayed pretty calm and didn’t even appear pissed off at being dragged out so late. She was far less horrified
by the fact that I’d almost been killed than by my chin, which, by the time the doctor had finished stitching it up, looked like it belonged on Frankenstein’s monster.

‘He’s going to be scarred for life!’ She had cried. ‘Isn’t there something else you can do? Didn’t someone say something about plastic surgery?’

‘The stitches will do the job just fine,’ the doctor said. I’d noticed him checking Tamsin out when we’d entered. As usual she seemed oblivious to it. ‘A week and
they can come out. The cut’s underneath the chin. He’ll barely notice the scar in a few months. And his wrist is only lightly sprained; all things considered, Sam’s pretty
lucky.’

I didn’t feel lucky. As Tamsin drove home I pretended to be sleepy to avoid answering her questions. As we drew up in front of the house I tried to sort my head out. I didn’t think
they knew where I lived – surely they’d have tried to get me before now. I did wonder how they’d found me last night, but there was no way they could have followed me –
I’d only decided to go out last minute. No, it must just have been bad luck. Maybe they’d been hanging round the high street anyway. I’d been meaning to speak to Imogen for a
while before Saturday but she was never alone at school, and unless you’re one of the cool kids you don’t just approach girls like her in public. More importantly, I was afraid of who
might see us.

Then I’d overheard her talking to Nadina Demir about a girls’ night out on the high street, so I knew where she’d be on Saturday night. If I’d’ve known that the
girl’s night out had turned into a big night out, guys included, I’d never have gone. But by the time I’d clocked that Imogen was with a massive gang of people including her
boyfriend, it was too late to back out.

At least I was home. I didn’t feel at all at ease, but it was the safest place right now – Dad had installed an expensive security system last year after the house next door had been
burgled, so there was that to rely on. And there was Jessie too – she rarely left my side, though greyhounds weren’t really much use as guard dogs.

My phone was under my pillow where I’d hidden it. It was a smartphone with a green cover, new last birthday, with unlimited texts, calls and Internet. ‘So you can keep in the loop
with your mates,’ Dad had said, and I’d smiled and said it was an amazing present and didn’t mention that it had smacked home just how much of a loner I was these days. Before Mum
had got ill I had lots of friends, but as time went on I’d ended up cutting them out. They hadn’t understood what I was dealing with and it was just painful being around happy people.
The only people that still contacted me were my cousin Mia and Harrison, my old neighbour. Stupid phone! So much for it being
smart
; all it ever did was make me feel bad. And now it had got
me into serious trouble too.

Mia had texted last night asking what I was up to. I texted back, then wished I hadn’t. Mia would wonder why I was replying at such a funny time. My cousin was only thirteen but looked and
behaved like she was older, plus she was sharp enough to pick up on things you’d rather she didn’t. Mia knew a little about what was going on and I was determined that she
wouldn’t find out any more. Thinking about her made me realize just how on my own I was. I definitely wasn’t going to tell Tamsin what had happened, Dad was in Copenhagen for work, and
I couldn’t see any way that Mia’s parents could help.

I could only think of one other person I might be able to trust. Her number was in my phone, though by rights I shouldn’t actually have it. Nadina had left her mobile behind after science
back in Year 11, and because I was loitering so I didn’t have to leave the classroom with everyone else, I was the only person left to pick it up and return it to her after break. I
didn’t look at any of her messages. All I’d done was take Imogen’s number because – well, I didn’t really know why. I often didn’t know why I did things; they
just made sense at the time, even if they made a total lack of sense later. The point was, I had it, and I could ring her now and tell her what I’d been going to say last night and then maybe
between us we could do the right thing, whatever the right thing was . . .

But then I thought back and saw car headlights rushing towards me and knew I couldn’t. Imogen had put herself out enough for me already. If I could protect Mia by keeping quiet, the least
I could do was the same for Imogen, right? This was
my
problem and I could sort it out myself. That’s what real men did, like the blokes in the old-fashioned films I used to watch with
Mum. If you were stupid enough to put yourself in danger, it was up to you to fix it.

Near the end, that was all Mum and I had really done – work our way through box sets of DVDs, submerging ourselves in classic films and TV shows, pretending that reality wasn’t
knocking on the door. The steroids she was on meant she was always hungry, and although she was too weak to cook, I’d make her whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it. Cooking was about
the only useful thing I could do to actually help her, to distract her from the pain. When I couldn’t sleep I’d stay up late into the night, working my fear and anger into dough so
there would be fresh bread for Mum in the morning.

None of these things were what fourteen-year-old boys usually did in their spare time, but there isn’t much space for normal when you know your mum’s dying of cancer. I’d
thought a lot of Mum’s films were silly at first, unrealistic nonsense about people in costumes, but I’d gone along with them for her sake. Later on I changed my mind. The stories were
so outside real life that I started looking forward to escaping into other people’s made-up worlds. When we sat down in front of
It’s A Wonderful Life
, or
The Third Man
, I
knew that for the next two hours or so I could escape the crushing reality of the here and now.

‘The men in these films, they’re what real men ought to be like,’ Mum had said one day when we’d just finished watching
Casablanca
. ‘Stoic, reliable, brave.
Grow up like them, Sammy, and I can leave knowing I brought you up right. Do the right thing. Treat the people you care about like they’re precious. Protect them at all costs. It’s a
good way to live.’ Maybe I was just suggestible, but I’d taken that to heart. I hadn’t wanted to let Mum down, though now I was older I did half wonder if that had been her
medication talking.

Either way, her words had struck a chord – must have, else I wouldn’t have made the decision I just had. The problem was, just shutting up didn’t feel brave at all.

MONDAY 11 NOVEMBER

Today, everything was worse.

While I’d known the story of Saturday night would spread, I’d seriously underestimated the stir it would cause. Even before I reached school I was mobbed by people wanting to know
details.

‘For God’s sake! Can you at least wait until I drop my little brother off?’ I snapped when someone asked whether it was true that there’d been a gunfight. Benno had taken
my arm, which told me the questions were upsetting him. Usually he stood a little way back, trying to look as though he wasn’t being walked to school. I suspected this was more because he
thought that was the done thing than because I actually embarrassed him.

I managed to snatch a moment to say goodbye. Benno was wearing the horrible mauve uniform I’d had to put up with for five years before moving on to sixth form. The blazer was my old one
and too big. Benno almost vanished within it. I felt annoyed with Mum for recycling. Starting big school in your sister’s leftovers, great idea. Benno might as well be wearing a label saying:
‘Please pick on me.’ Luckily he seemed to have fitted in just fine.

‘Don’t be surprised if you get nosy idiots pestering you,’ I told him. ‘Just tell anyone who asks what happened and then leave it. If they give you grief, text me and
I’ll pop across to the lower school at lunchtime and sort them out.’

Benno hesitated. ‘You know the guy you saved? Do you think he’ll be in school today?’

‘Sam? It depends how he’s feeling, I guess. Why?’

‘Just wanted to know if he was OK.’ When Benno saw my confused expression he said almost defensively. ‘He’s my reading tutor at after-school club. He’s
nice.’

Benno was dyspraxic. He’d been really self-conscious until about a month ago when the school reading club had changed everything for him. His reading tutor had done a great job getting him
enthusiastic about words. So that had been Sam! To have turned things around like that for Benno was really impressive.

‘Oh, OK,’ I said, trying not to look surprised. ‘Never knew Sam did that kind of thing. I’ll let you know if I hear anything, OK? Now off you go.’ I gave him a
friendly push. ‘See you later, soldier.’

In the sixth-form common room I faced the music.

‘It wasn’t a big deal,’ I said, banging the kettle down on the sideboard hard enough to splash my hand. We had a tiny little kitchen area for making hot drinks. It could only
fit three people – we’d tested that one – though the common room itself had plenty of chairs. ‘The car came along. I pushed Sam out the way. End of.’

‘Why were you and Sam even outside in the first place? Has anyone told Ollie?’ There were some nasty giggles. Deciding I’d had enough, I poured my half-made tea down the sink.
As I left, I heard someone call, ‘Too up yourself to speak to us? You get all the good stuff, Little Miss Perfect – and now you’re a lifesaver too. Everything comes easy to you.
Ever wondered what it’s like to have to work for things?’