Don't Ask Page 14

  ‘Not in here,’ I said, pulling away. ‘My parents are in the kitchen. We should drink our tea.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, disappointed. He picked up his mug. I noticed it had a picture of Superman on it.

  My tea was still too hot and it burned my lips. I carried on sipping it, anyway. We fell back into silence, occasionally peering up at each other, then looking away.

  ‘Why don’t we go up to your room?’ Jack asked, eventually.

  I shook my head.

  ‘Not for that. I mean we can talk better there.’

  ‘I don’t know . . .’ I said. I felt safe in the living room, with my parents on the other side of the wall. And I didn’t want to talk to Jack, not now. I wanted him to go home.

  ‘It’s not normally a problem, Lil. They know they can trust me, right?’

  ‘Sure.’ But I don’t. I don’t.

  ‘Come on, then.’ He took both of my hands and got up, pulling me with him. ‘Mr and Mrs Lawton,’ he called out. ‘Is it OK if I go up to Lily’s room for a few minutes?’

  ‘That’s fine!’ shouted Mum.

  ‘The door stays open!’ shouted Dad.

  ‘Thanks! See,’ Jack said to me, grinning, as if he’d won a little victory. ‘They’re cool with it.’

  I didn’t know what to say, so I let him lead me up the stairs and into my bedroom. He sat down on the bed and patted the space next to him, beckoning me to join him. As I approached, I noticed that my mobile phone was still lying on top of the duvet where I’d left it, which was now right next to Jack’s left leg. He saw it at exactly the same moment.

  ‘Careful, mind your phone,’ he said, picking it up. He must have touched a key, rousing it from sleep mode, because, with a beep, it leapt back into life. He glanced downwards and I knew, without looking, that the message from ‘Jared’ was still displayed on the screen.

  The world didn’t go into slow motion, like it would have done if this had happened in a film. It skipped a revolution, stopping completely for a second, and then powered back up at double speed up so it could catch up with itself. At least, that’s what it felt like.

  ‘Give it here,’ I said, trying to snatch the phone from Jack’s grasp.

  Too late. He’d seen it. He looked at the screen again, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d read, and then he looked up at me, with sad, uncomprehending eyes.

  ‘Who’s Jared?’ he asked. He got up from the bed and stood directly in front of me, holding the phone behind his back.

  My heart was pounding so fast, the blood racing so fast to my head, that I needed to sit down, but Jack was blocking my way to the bed.

  Who was Jared?

  ‘No one,’ I said. Feeble, but in a way, it was the truth. Jared was nobody: just a name I’d snatched out of the air, a name for the imaginary – and now ex-boyfriend of a made-up version of myself. And, for simplicity’s sake, ‘Jared’ was also the moniker I’d given Alex in my phone, to prevent her real name ever flashing up or being viewed in my address book.

  Why hadn’t I prepared myself for this possibility? All the times I’d feared being caught out, and yet I hadn’t considered this one. I’d worried about the consequences of Alex seeing Jack’s name on my phone, and I’d worried about what would happen if Jack saw Alex’s, but I’d never anticipated that Jack might see the name Jared and question it. What a stupid oversight.

  ‘Don’t lie to me, Lily,’ Jack said. His tone was flat. ‘Who is he?’

  Before I could begin to reply, he peered at the phone again and began to read. ‘Thanks . . . for . . . coming,’ he said, in the slow, deliberate way that people decipher text speak aloud. ‘Great . . . to . . . see . . . you.’ He paused. ‘Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.’

  How could Alex’s innocent thank-you text to all her party guests suddenly sound so dodgy, so incriminating? The three kisses were just a lazy way of signing off, yet Jack made them seem dirty, nasty, like evidence of cheating. And then it struck me that, technically, I had kissed another guy. I hadn’t wanted to, but I’d done it.

  ‘Who is he?’ he repeated. ‘What were you doing with him last night, when you said you were at Katie’s? Where were you?’

  ‘It’s not what you think,’ I said. I felt so light-headed and panicky that I couldn’t process my thoughts. ‘You’ve got it all wrong . . .’

  ‘You said you had a migraine. I even felt sorry for you. I was worried about you.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, unsure what I was apologising for. I didn’t know which words to use next. I had the impression that whatever I came up with, Jack wouldn’t believe me. What exactly could I say? Not the truth, certainly: ‘Jared isn’t a guy, he’s a girl. And, he isn’t just any girl, he’s really your ex-girlfriend Alex, whom I’ve been meeting in secret. Oh, and by the way, Alex thinks I’m called Laura. And Laura had a pretend boyfriend called Jared too.’

  My real-life story sounded so preposterous that even Jerry Springer wouldn’t contemplate having me on his show to explain it. Then again, maybe it was so ridiculous that nobody could even have made it up, which meant that Jack would have to believe me. Was this the time to confess everything? How might he react? And what was worse: allowing him to think I’d spent last night with a guy called Jared and that I’d lied about it, or telling him I’d been deceiving him for months by spending time with his ex-girlfriend?

  It came down to this: which would make him more upset? What might make him angrier? Which might make him lose control altogether, like he had with Alex?

  ‘You’ve got to believe me,’ I said, pleading. ‘I’m not seeing another guy. Jared is just someone who was there last night. That text was sent to everyone, not just me.’

  It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it wasn’t a lie, either.

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ he said. ‘I want to, but I can’t. Katie was in on it too, wasn’t she? She lied for you. How many other times has she done that?’

  I looked up at him and saw how much pain there was in his eyes, how red his cheeks had grown, and I felt myself begin to tremble. Was this what he looked like when he was about to lash out?

  ‘You’ve been acting off for weeks and weeks,’ he said. ‘I know there’s something going on. I tell you what, if it’s all so innocent, why don’t we call Jared back now?’

  ‘No!’ I cried. My voice came out far louder, far higher pitched than I’d expected. It was such a strong, instinctive reaction that Jack read it as a sure sign of my guilt. Holding the phone above his head, far out of my reach, he began to attempt to ring ‘Jared’.

  ‘No!’ I cried again. The thought of what might happen if Alex answered the phone to Jack terrified me so much that I’d have done anything to prevent it. I clambered up on to the bed and began grasping for the phone, making it impossible for Jack to dial. Eventually, he gave up trying and gripped me by my wrists, in exactly the way Alex had described. Panicking, I tried to grapple free. I was near the edge of the bed, finding it hard to balance, to right myself.

  ‘Calm down, Lily,’ Jack said, grasping me tighter. ‘Stop it.’

  ‘Let go!’

  ‘Not until you calm down,’ he said. His jaw was clenched tight, his eyes steely.

  ‘You’re hurting me!’

  I put all my strength into one last violent, twisting pull, succeeding in freeing my arms from his grip. But the shock of being released, combined with the unexpected pain of the friction burns from Jack’s hands, sent me careering off balance. As he let go, I fell sideways from the bed, my arms and legs flailing pointlessly. In the moment before I hit the floor, the corner of the bedside table came up to meet me. There was sound like snapping wood and I felt a sharp pain in the side of my head.

  I lay, dazed, for what felt like minutes, but was probably only a few seconds. My head hurt. I touched it with my fingers and felt wetness. Warm, sticky wetness.

  ‘Oh my God, Lil, are you OK?’ I looked up to see Jack crouching over me. There was no colour in his face. ‘I tried to stop you falling but you wer
e too quick.’

  ‘Leave me alone,’ I said, instinctively drawing my knees to my chest. He flinched.

  ‘Oh God, you’re bleeding. Don’t move, I’ll get help.’

  ‘Go away,’ I whimpered. ‘Don’t touch me.’

  He backed away from me, an expression of utter bewilderment in his eyes. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ he repeated. ‘I’d never hurt you. It was an accident. I’ll go and get help.’

  He ran into the hall. Simultaneously, I heard my parents rushing up the stairs.

  ‘We heard a crash,’ said Dad. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘There’s been an accident,’ Jack said. ‘It was an accident. Lily fell off the bed. She’s cut her head.’

  Mum and Dad pushed past him into the room. ‘Are you OK, Lily?’ Mum asked. I’d managed to drag myself up into a sitting position, but the sensation of blood pumping from my head was making me feel sick and weak.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I feel a bit strange.’

  ‘Did you lose consciousness at all?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I can’t remember. I don’t think so.’

  Dad leaned over me. ‘It’s just a little cut,’ he said. ‘Head wounds always bleed a lot. I’m sure it looks a lot worse than it is. But I think we should get you checked over in case you’re concussed.’

  I began to sob. Knowing you have to go to hospital always makes an accident seem more serious, and the shock was wearing off now. Dad stroked my back, while Mum went to find some antiseptic and a bandage.

  Jack hovered by the door. ‘Is she OK?’ he asked, meekly.

  ‘She’ll be fine,’ said Dad. ‘Don’t worry. You can come in if you like.’

  Jack hesitated. He took a step into the room and tried to make eye contact with me, but I couldn’t meet his gaze. He stepped back again. ‘I think I should go,’ he said. ‘I’m just in the way. Tell Lily I hope she’s OK and that I’m sorry.’

  ‘You can tell her yourself,’ said Dad, puzzled. ‘She’s right here. Come with us to Casualty if you like.’

  But Jack was already halfway down the stairs. A second later, we heard the front door slam behind him, and he was gone.

  Chapter 21

  The irony isn’t lost on me, but in the hours following my accident I gradually developed the worst headache I’ve ever experienced. I have no way of knowing if it was as bad as the migraine I’d pretended to have the night before, as I’ve never had a real migraine, but it was a piercing, pounding pain which drummed into my skull every time I moved my head. While I couldn’t admit it to my parents, I was fairly certain that the headache was caused as much by my anxiety about Jack as by my unfortunate dive on to my bedside table.

  We didn’t have to spend too long at the hospital. It turns out that head injury patients are A-list celebrities in the world of sickness and accidents so, rather than sit on the hard plastic chairs in the waiting room for hours on end, like we did when I sprained my ankle, we were shown straight through to a cubicle. The doctor examined me and made me do a series of weird exercises, all of which must have been designed to make me look stupid, like smiling fakely at him, and asking me to follow his pencil with my eyes. Then he asked me questions about how I felt, such as, was I feeling very tired or confused, and did I feel nauseous? Even though I did feel like throwing up, and I was absolutely done in, I answered no to everything, for fear I’d have to stay there overnight.

  I remember thinking it was funny how the signs of concussion were almost identical to the symptoms of ‘Jack-itis’ – the very same feelings I’d been experiencing since Alex had told me what he’d done. How could I tell whether I felt sick and dizzy because my head was about to fall off, or to explode (or whatever it is that happens when you’re concussed), or because I was upset and confused about Jack?

  ‘If she does start to feel disoriented, or nauseous, or drowsy, bring her straight back in,’ the doctor said to my parents, before discharging me. I didn’t even need stitches. He recommended that I should take a couple of days off school to rest, which really pleased me, not least because my hair was matted with dried blood and I wasn’t allowed to wash it for a few days, until my wound had started to heal.

  I expected to arrive home from the hospital to find at least one message from Jack, but he hadn’t called at all. When I tried several times to ring to him to let him know I was OK, his phone went straight to voicemail. I left a short message saying I was all right and I hoped he was too. But by the time I went to sleep – or tried to – he still hadn’t called back. Not knowing what he was thinking or why he wouldn’t get in touch was unbearable. I couldn’t figure out if he was angry with me, or scared. Surely it couldn’t be that he just didn’t care? Was he avoiding me because he still believed I was cheating on him with a guy named Jared, or because he thought I blamed him for my fall? And did I blame him? Even I couldn’t say for sure. Jack hadn’t pushed me, that was clear, but if he hadn’t frightened me so much by becoming angry and grabbing hold of my wrists, then I wouldn’t have fallen, would I? Or was it my fault for climbing on the bed? Or my fault for lying to Jack? Or his, for what he did to Alex? Everything was such a blur. I couldn’t make sense of any of it.

  Concerned, my parents kept asking me what was going on between us. Dad said Jack had acted so strangely after my accident that something must have happened. I denied everything. ‘We’re fine,’ I said. ‘Jack is just squeamish about blood, that’s all.’ I didn’t tell them Jack hadn’t even rung to find out how I was.

  Katie came round later in the evening to cheer me up. She said she couldn’t stay annoyed with me any longer, not when I was so desperate to speak to her that I’d thrown myself off my bed just to get her attention. Joking aside, I think she might have felt guilty; if she’d let me come round when I’d asked, the accident wouldn’t have happened.

  ‘God, you look a state,’ she told me, when she arrived to find me in bed, propped up on a pile of cushions. ‘Mind you, you’ve always said you wanted to try red highlights.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, dryly. ‘Boots was out of henna.’

  She hugged me tightly and I had a proper cry for the first time all day, letting all my fear and sadness and confusion and exhaustion pour out in a stream of tears and snot. When I’d calmed down and wiped my eyes and blown my nose, I filled Katie in on everything that had happened over the past twenty-four hours. I described to her the party, the game of spin the bottle, Alex’s revelation about Jack, and his reaction to the message from ‘Jared’ on my phone. It was hard to believe it had all taken place in just one day. She let me go on and on, uninterrupted, until I’d finished. I must have talked for almost an hour. I felt better afterwards, my head easier, my thoughts less tangled.

  ‘Wow, it’s all such a mess,’ she said.

  ‘I know,’ I whimpered. ‘I really hate myself. I’ve ruined everything.’

  ‘No, you haven’t,’ she said, but I knew she was just being kind. ‘It’ll be alright, I promise.’

  ‘How?’ I asked.

  ‘I don’t know yet, but it will.’ She paused. ‘I just can’t get over Jack hitting Alex. I don’t know him like you do, obviously, but it doesn’t sound like him. Especially after what he said about his dad and all.’

  ‘I don’t think he meant to hurt her,’ I said. I remembered the horrible sensation of his hands pressing down on my wrists. ‘I don’t think he knows how strong he is.’

  ‘So maybe it’s genetic,’ suggested Katie. ‘Maybe he couldn’t help himself.’

  That explanation hadn’t occurred to me. I didn’t like it. ‘Don’t say that. He’s not a bad person. I’ve known him for months and months and he’s never hit anyone. He hates fighting. If anyone starts on him, he walks away.’

  ‘Well, then, maybe he’s changed. Just because he hit Alex once doesn’t mean he’d do it again. We’ve all done stuff we regret in the past.’

  ‘You’re right,’ I said. ‘Oh God, Kay. What am I going to do? He won’t answer his phone, so I can’t even tr
y to sort it out, even if I knew what I wanted to say.’

  She put her hand on my shoulder, firmly. ‘There’s only one thing you can say. I know I’ve been banging on about this for ages, but I think you’ve got to come clean with him. You’ve got to tell him the truth, all of it.’

  ‘I can’t,’ I said. ‘He’ll hate me. He’ll never talk to me again.’

  ‘You don’t know that.’

  ‘Yeah, I do. He won’t understand. Who would? And then I’ll lose him. And the only reason I started all this was because I liked him and wanted to get closer to him . . .’

  ‘That, and because tracking down and befriending Alex was a bit of a thrill, admit it. I was there, remember? It was a laugh.’

  ‘Only at first. Then I got to know her. She’s really nice, you’d like her if you met her.’

  ‘That’s not going to happen,’ said Katie. ‘I know you don’t want to hurt her, but you’ve got to tell her the truth too. Whatever happens with Jack, you can’t keep on dressing up and calling yourself Laura Thompson every couple of weeks. Look how stressful it’s been.’

  I nodded, and sniffed. ‘I know. She’ll really hate me, won’t she?’

  ‘I don’t know. She might see the funny side. Eventually.’

  ‘Stop trying to make me feel better. She’ll probably try to get me arrested, or put a hit out on me. I deserve it.’ I laughed, flatly. ‘It might be simpler just to ask my parents if I can legally change my name to Laura Thompson.’

  ‘Yeah, and while you’re at it I’ll get mine changed to Kylie Minogue. But it won’t make me a forty-something, blonde Australian pop princess.’

  ‘Fair point.’ Katie can always be relied upon to tell it how it is.

  ‘Terminate Project Jared, it is then,’ she said. ‘Finally. I guess it took a knock on the head to make you come to your senses. Promise you’ll do it? I promise I’ll be here for you.’

  ‘I promise,’ I said. ‘I’m home all day tomorrow. I’m going to lie here and work out exactly what to say to both of them.’ I smiled, even though I felt like I was on death row.