‘A senior?’ Jenny asked. ‘Who?’
‘Now, Jen, you know I couldn’t tell even if I knew. I simply do the accounts. No access to patient files.’
‘Aw, Dad, come on . . . this could be big news. Think!’
Her father shrugged. ‘Just that it was a senior. A girl.’
Jenny leaned her head against the window, squinting as she thought about the seniors who walked home along Howe Street.
Maybe, she thought, nah, it couldn’t be. Could it?
‘Dad,’ she said. ‘Can we go the long way to the Chinese? I need to stop off at a friend’s to pick up some study notes.’
‘Sure.’ Her dad turned off at the next junction, looping across to the other side of town.
Jenny flicked to her Facebook page. Nothing there except a lame post from Craig Crowley about the Halloween dance.
What a troll! He tried to put his hand up her skirt at the St Patrick’s Day parade last year. It wasn’t the first, and probably wouldn’t be the last, time a guy tried to do that, but with Craig Crowley Jenny drew the line.
‘Pull up here, Dad, number eighteen.’ Her father parked the car at an awkward angle next to the footpath. Jenny got out slowly, scanning the street in both directions.
Number eighteen was completely dark, no lights turned on. It could be that they hadn’t come home yet. She walked up the garden path, fidgeting with the sleeve of her jumper. What would she do if she got to the front door and someone answered it?
Her foot crunched on something, the sound of cracking beneath her boot made her jerk to a stop. She peered down into the semi darkness, lifting her leg gingerly. On the bottom of her boot was a string of something congealed. She peered closer at the stringy substance.
An egg.
Looking around she noticed another egg on the grass nearby, as well as an apple and a tin of beans. There was a half empty bag of shopping abandoned on the porch. Jenny stood perfectly still for a moment, calculating the potential repercussion of her discovery. Someone had just left the groceries there, at the front door, interrupted in their task by the receiving of bad news perhaps?
Taking out her phone she began to text as she made her way back to the car.
Where are you?
She pressed ‘send’. Ashleigh had anger-management class after school on a Wednesday but she should be home by now. Why wasn’t she on Facebook?
Jenny was in love with Ashleigh. She would do anything for her, including kiss a boy. If it meant that Jenny and Ashleigh could have something in common, something to talk about constantly, something to shop for, dress for, apply make-up for, then Jenny would do it. She didn’t care what it was, as long as she got to spend time with her best friend.
‘Nobody home?’ asked her dad when she got back into the passenger seat.
‘Hmm.’ Her mind was working overtime.
They drove in silence the rest of the way to the Chinese.
‘I hate the smell of takeaway in my hair.’ She turned and looked at him, wide-eyed. ‘Is it OK if I wait here?’
‘Anything you like, precious.’
He banged the door loudly and trudged off to get their dinner.
Jenny picked up her mobile and speed dialled. She imagined Ashleigh lying on her bed, her long hair falling around her shoulders, her slim legs tucked underneath her, lips slightly parted . . .
She shook her head and tried to concentrate but the memories wouldn’t go away.
‘Hi, my name’s Kara.’ The new girl, her first day at school. She was pretty. Too pretty. Jenny remembered the calculating look on Ashleigh’s face. In her opinion it was best to keep potential threats close.
‘You can sit with us.’
Everything changed after that. Two became three. Ashleigh didn’t seem to care about the rumours: whispers about Kara’s breakdown, about being a pyromaniac.
Jenny drew in a deep breath as a velvet voice answered the call, ‘Hello.’
‘Ashleigh,’ she began, pushing the memory away, ‘you’re never going to believe what’s happened!’
Ashleigh rolled her eyes. These mandatory calls from Jenny were such a pain. She was in the middle of painting her nails. Her toes were drying a perfect crimson. She was getting ready for her visit to Ben’s house. She hadn’t been invited, but that wasn’t going to stop her.
She would have to be less subtle in her threat about the scout from St David’s. Ashleigh looked at the business card on the table. She had stolen it from her dad’s wallet earlier. All it would take was an anonymous text. She was prepared to give Ben a second chance. The business card would be enough to show that she was serious about the consequences. Ben wasn’t completely stupid.
‘Well, Jenny, what is it? What haven’t I heard?’
It took approximately two minutes for Jenny to gush out the details of the accident. For once Ashleigh was silent, listening to everything Jenny had to say.
Poor Kara, in hospital, major surgery . . . Jenny was practically panting on the other end of the phone.
Ashleigh mumbled something noncommittal and told Jenny she’d call her back. Then she hung up, placing the phone reverently on the vanity table in front of her. She stared at the mobile, processing the information, storing the important bits for future use and discarding anything that she thought unnecessary. She sat very still and analysed how she should proceed.
She still needed to visit Ben, to remind him that she was not to be crossed. On reflection, she realised the whole situation might work to her advantage.
She looked into the mirror above her vanity table. She puckered up her brows and moved her lips into a mournful line. She needed to practise looking distraught. It was an appropriate reaction when one of your best friends has been in an accident. Maybe she could get some time off school, extra credits towards her course work.
Sometimes she got very weary of pretending all the time, but only when it involved not getting her own way. The rest of the time, it was perfectly fine.
She considered the Halloween dance. She would of course be going with Ben. He wouldn’t refuse her. Now.
She thought about her cream dress and decided that it was totally wrong. She opened her laptop and logged on to ASOS. She knew exactly which dress she would get, one that would blow Ben’s mind.
Chapter Five
Day One:
Kara opened her crusted eyelids.
Where am I?
Her entire body felt taut, like the overstretched strings on a violin, ready to pop.
She wasn’t prepared for the pain. It came upon her like a school of piranhas, biting into her skin, sending jolts of agony through her body. She moaned. Someone was standing next to her, speaking, but Kara couldn’t decipher the words. A soft syrupy wave of pain relief rolled through her, starting from a point in the back of her hand and working its way along her body.
She drifted back to the dark.
Day Three:
She didn’t open her eyes this time because the pain was too intense. She concentrated on her breath instead, in and out, wheezing through her chest.
Mentally, she examined her limbs, her right leg hurt a lot more than her left, her lower back burned with a bright pain that stopped her thoughts for a moment. When she concentrated on her head, there was no word to describe the searing agony. It was as if her skull was being squeezed through a meat grinder.