Trouble (6 page)

I can’t remember.

In films everyone seems to know when their periods are due – they have them marked in red in their diaries or whatever.

I don’t have a diary.

I stand there for a moment longer and try to think. The tampons in my school bag came from the machine in the toilets by the science labs. It’s the only one that still works and has “Mr Dhupam is a rabbit shagger” written in marker pen on the side. I had to make an emergency purchase after Year 11 assembly, which was the first one after term started…

I count forward past Jay’s party, Mum’s birthday, Lola’s dentist appointment. Four weeks – it should have been then, right? – but I count another week then one, two, three, four, five, six days.

My finger rests on today’s box:

Mum book club
7 p.m
. – Life of Pi

That can’t be right. About the date, not the book club … although really it should be called film club, since Mum only ever reads the first few chapters before streaming the movie on Robert’s laptop.

Focus, Hannah.

I count again. I’m nearly two weeks late – or is my period standing me up? Is it a no-show rather than a late show?

It can’t be like that. In the movies everyone’s always sick for a few days before they take the test. They think it’s those dodgy prawns or a bad hangover, but no: baby.

But no: it can’t be like that.

Really. It can’t.

Robert’s coming down the hall and I leave the kitchen, dodging past him on my way towards the stairs, then I’m in my room and at the computer. It’s a very shiny new one, a present from Mum and Robert for my birthday in July. They hope it’ll help with school work, but I like to think of it as an extension of my phone – email, iTunes, Facebook… I wonder if anyone’s commented on my status…

Focus, Hannah.

I type so quickly that it takes a second attempt before Google asks me if I mean “pregnancy symptoms”.

I suppose I do.

FRIDAY 23
^RD
OCTOBER

HANNAH

It’s the last day before half-term and it’s raining when I walk out of the school gates and up the road. Katie is steaming because I’ve told her she can’t come round to mine straight from school, that I’ll come over to hers later. I’ve told her there’s somewhere else I’ve got to be.

I hurry past the cemetery and try to forget it’s where I pulled Mark Grey. He trod on my foot so hard as he grappled with my bra that I thought he’d broken it (my foot, not the bra). It kind of brought home to me that maybe he wasn’t my type. Too chunky. And sweaty. You should see him during PE – gross. I wasn’t joking when I said I can’t forgive Katie for her bad taste.

By the time I get to Cedarfields and sign the visitors’ book, water is running off my chin and it blurs my signature. I head to the end of the corridor, where I knock on the door and wait, listening to the shuffling and kerfuffling on the other side. Then the door opens.

“Hannah?”

“Gran.” I step in and give her a hug, resting my nose on her tiny, bony shoulder and smelling her lily-of-the-valley perfume. I close my eyes, trying to remember what it was like when I was smaller than her and she was the one who had to be careful not to squeeze too tight. Tiny, bird-like body or not, she’s the strongest person I know. The steadiest. The least judgmental.

“You’re soaked.” She steps back and eyes me suspiciously. “Don’t sit down until you’ve dried yourself – there’s clean towels in the bathroom. This place ain’t no hotel, but they do have plenty of fresh linen.”

I like the way she says “hotel” – as if there’s no “o” in it. I spend a long time in the bathroom, towelling my hair dry, looking at my reflection, going to the loo just in case…

Gran watches me carefully when I come out and sit in the chair opposite. “What’s up, pet?”

That’s when the tears come and I reach out, knotting her fingers with mine. When my eyes clear I see there’s a tissue on my knee that wasn’t there before. It’s rumpled and very, very soft and I know it’s come from Gran’s sleeve.

I open my mouth, but I can’t form the words. Instead I just shake my head and start crying again, snuffling into the tissue until it’s soggy with snot.

“Come on, now, Hannah, you’re scaring me.” I look through my tears to see her fix me with a stern glare. “What’s the matter?”

“I think I’m pregnant.”

The word seems to hang in the air for an impossibly long moment. Everything has stopped and the room holds its breath, waiting for the meaning to sink in.
Pregnant
. My insides are hollow and I can hear the word echo through me. Except I’m the opposite of hollow, aren’t I? That’s the problem.

Gran blinks once, then a couple of times, her lids fluttering over her eyes.

“Oh. Really?”

I nod and take a deep breath that wavers in my lungs like it’s not sure it should be there.

“Oh,” she says again, blinking some more. “Are you sure?”

“I looked up the symptoms on the Internet.” She huffs at that. I’m always telling her stuff I’ve read on the Internet and every time she says that if everyone was meant to know everything, then God would have made us all much cleverer. “I’ve not been sick, but I’ve got the other symptoms – my boobs are tender, I’m tired…”

“You’ve not had your monthly visitor?”

I shake my head. “It should’ve been and gone by now.”

I look up to see Gran looking at me with wise eyes, twinkly with the moisture that always seems to be trapped there. I can’t tell what she’s thinking. Is she disappointed in me? She must be. The thought makes me start to cry again, silent, sad tears spilling off my face and onto my school shirt.

“Hey, pet, shh.” She pulls me to her. “You don’t know anything for sure until you take a test. Have you?”

I shake my head into her cardigan. Gran gently pushes me upright and creaks out of her chair and takes a twenty out of her handbag. I get up, intending to wave it away, but she presses it into my hand and gives me a look that means business.

“There’s a chemist round the corner by the parade. Get two tests and come back here.” She strokes the back of my hand with soft, cool fingers. “You don’t need to do this alone.”

AARON

Rex is having a house party. Depending on who you ask, he’s either celebrating the end of the half-term, or the end of his relationship with the invisible girlfriend. Either way, he plans to get wasted and get laid – in that order. He’s invited half the school to his house tonight and it’s all the guys have been talking about. Tyrone is grumbling because Marcy’s got some modelling job that means she can’t come. I say, “grumbling”; I mean, boasting.

I cut my visit to the old folks’ home short so I could come early and hang out with Rex. I don’t really know why he asked me over, but it’s nice of him and since there’s a certain weight of expectation from Mum that her son will socialize on Fridays, I accepted.

I’m starting to regret my decision.

“What do you reckon?” This is the fourth shirt he’s tried on and it doesn’t look that different from the last three.

“Fine,” I say, looking at my phone and wondering when the others will get here.

“Come on, man. I need your help.”

“Why?” I know nothing about clothes, nor why Rex cares. It’s just a house party.

“You always dress cool. I want to look good.”

“In that case I should have brought my mum over. She’s the one who buys my clothes,” I say, letting my guard down.

Rex laughs and I do too. It feels like we’re mates.

“Seriously, though. I need to look good.” He crashes back onto his bed and looks at me.

“Why?”

“Have you ever fallen for someone you shouldn’t?”

I shrug, but Rex isn’t really asking me – for which I am grateful.

“That’s totally happening to me.” He sits up and looks at me seriously. “Don’t tell anyone this, but I’m, like, obsessed with Katie Coleman.”

“Really?” I have no idea how he’s found anything in her to obsess over. There’s no depth there that I can see.

“I know, I know…” He doesn’t. He thinks I’m puzzled because of her reputation. Actually that’s the one thing I can understand Rex would find enticing, since he seems unbelievably desperate to get his end off. “But I just think she’s got levels, y’know? She’s such a tease, but half of it’s just front.”

There’s an obvious joke there about the cup size of Katie’s front, but I don’t go for it.

“I thought you pulled her the other week?” The night I left the park with Hannah.

“Nah.” Rex shrugs. “Was in a relationship, wasn’t I?”

I hope that question is rhetorical, because if I had to answer, I’d tell him that it doesn’t count if the person you’re seeing doesn’t exist.

“So … now you’re single, you’ll shag Katie?” I ask, without actually wanting to know.

“Might not be that easy, mate.”

“Yeah, right.” My disbelief is palpable.

“Just because you went there with Hannah doesn’t mean Katie’s the same…” I should remind him that Katie gave one of his friends a hand job behind the toilets in the park, but he’s still talking. “Besides, you’ve seen how Tyrone is about Hannah – can’t stand her.”

There’s no arguing with that. I could count on one hand the words he’s spoken to me since the Hannah incident.

“You can’t let Tyrone tell you who to fancy,” I hear myself saying.

“I know, but he’s my best mate and Hannah’s
Katie’s
best mate … I don’t want it to be difficult if I start seeing her.”

He wants to
go out
with her? I thought we were just talking about tonight.

I’d like to say that Tyrone’s big enough to let his friends do whatever – whoever – they want, but that’s a lie. Tyrone is someone who likes to control everyone – especially his friends.

HANNAH

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. The last thing I want to do is go to a party, but if I bail on Katie she will literally kill me.

I guess that would solve my problem.

I’m late getting to hers and she’s already fully made-up and wearing a bra that’s two sizes too small in order to give her extra lift.

“You look like shit!” is the greeting I get and I swallow, my throat too dry to function.

Katie Im pregnant
.

But one of her little brothers has come running into the hallway with a water pistol and she’s too busy screaming at him not to ruin her skirt for me to get a word in. Silently, I go upstairs and empty the contents of my bag onto her bed. I packed in a hurry and I’ve forgotten to bring a pair of going-out pants. I’ll just have to wear the ones I’ve got, even if they aren’t all that sexy.

My heart stops beating – a second for every boy I can remember who’s taken my pants off.

Then it starts up again and I go through the motions of getting ready, my brain on pause as I brush mascara deep into the roots of my lashes and dab gloss onto my lips, before I wriggle into the dress I brought. Katie’s still downstairs and I can hear shouting. The walls are thin in her house and there isn’t enough room for all the people that live here. Turning her iPod up, I stand side on to the mirror and pull my dress straight, staring at my reflected tummy as if I’ll somehow see something there that I didn’t notice before. It looks the same as ever to me. The door swings open and I jump back guiltily.

“You bring anything?” She means alcohol and I shake my head. “Why not? We can’t turn up empty-handed.”

“Why don’t you sort it out for a change?” I snap and she looks at me, shocked for a second as she balances on the brink of being hurt before she teeters over into anger.

“What is
wrong
with you? You haven’t been the same since you shagged that stuck-up Satan spawn.” She’s talking about Aaron Tyler. They aren’t getting on too well after he told her to stop calling him Emo Boy during English today. Katie doesn’t like being told what to do.

“Sorry.” Tell her now, Hannah.

But I can’t.

“Whatevs. You should stop stressing over him. He’s not even that good-looking.” Katie then launches into a full-blown character assassination, as she adds some last-minute touches to her make-up. I get bored after the millionth time she slags off his clothes.

“I like the way he dresses,” I say. I don’t especially, but I can’t stand hearing this any more. It’s too much noise when all I want is quiet.

“You would,” she says, tracing another line of black across her eyelid. “He dresses like Jay and his mates.”

She’s right – he does.

“It’s probably because he came from that posh school,” she carries on, switching to the other eye. “He’s got more money than the rest of us.”

“What posh school?” No one knows much about where Aaron came from. Still. Katie shrugs and I decide she’s making it up. Besides, his family can’t be
that
rich. I mean, Mr Tyler’s only a teacher, so he can’t earn much. Not like Robert, who shits Rolexes. Besides, although our school’s not posh, it’s hardly as if the people that go there are poor – you only need to clock how many of them wear new trainers each term.

Katie gets annoyed with me on the way to the party because I won’t have a smoke or go halves on the gallon of vodka she wants to buy. I don’t know what I’m doing about … It … but I can’t help totting up all the drinks and cigarettes I’ve had in the last month and the thought makes me feel panicky. Turns out me refusing to chip in doesn’t matter since every offy we enter tells us to leave before we even get to the shelves. I’m kind of relieved, TBH, since there’s no way they’d’ve fallen for Katie’s blatantly fake ID anyway.

I apologize for forgetting to bring anything and Katie forgives me enough to link her arm in mine, although she slips it out the second we get to Rex’s front door. It’s Mark Grey that answers and he’s so drunk he doesn’t bother talking to our faces, just our tits.

“Rex is here,” Katie whispers, as we walk in.

I stare at her. “Yes. Rex is here. It’s his house. Where did you think he’d be?”

Katie scowls. “What is it with you? Did you down some bitch pills with your tea? You don’t have to take the piss all the time, you know.”