Pieces of Us

Thirteen Years Earlier

Lottie

‘I just need a few more seconds, OK? Just a few more…’

This was it. My first day at this sixth form college and I was absolutely terrified. What if it was a big mistake? What if I didn’t fit in – again!

Mum shifted on her seat. She hated it when I tried to delay things, just wanting me to get out and let her drive off in peace. I could see how her fingers were gripping the steering wheel, I could practically feel the tension bleed into the leather. I suppose I should’ve been glad she even took me at all. I knew she was missing another one of her important social meetings.

‘You’ll be fine,’ she repeated for the second time, but her voice was stiffer now. ‘We’ve been over this – just walk in there with the biggest smile on your face, act relaxed and everyone will want to be your friend. Why wouldn’t they?’

‘I’m sixteen, Mum, not five. I can’t win them over with sweets.’

Mum shrugged. ‘All kids are shallow when it comes down to it; teenagers are the worst. Tell them about our pool. I’m sure they’d love to know you then. You’ll be batting them away with a stick.’

‘You reckon?’

She seemed to consider this. ‘Be careful who you tell though. I don’t want our back garden to be a hook-up for the local delinquents.’

‘Mum!’

She frowned but didn’t say anything further. We both knew this wasn’t her first choice of sixth form school for me. If she could’ve squeezed more money out of Dad, I would be going to a private college across town, but Dad had limits and for that matter, so did I.

I squinted out, over the playground where hordes of students were congregating in large groups, distinct in their grey and maroon uniforms. The same drab uniform that I now wore because, sadly, sixth formers here weren’t allowed the freedom I’d had in my previous school. I’d already hitched the skirt high on my hips. The material itched, unlike my Meadowbank High one, which had felt softer and had fitted me better. At least I didn’t have to wear a tie and blazer.

‘They do look very… loud…’ Mum shook her head. ‘It’s quite different.’ My gaze moved towards the building itself. A grey, squat-looking block with thin-framed Crittall windows. The school looked tired and dated, even the wide-open door looked like it was yawning from exhaustion. ‘It’s so drab,’ Mum continued. ‘Not a bit like Meadowbank. I wish you’d waited. I could have easily got you into a better college. There was no rush, I could have worked on your Dad a bit more and easily got you a tutor in the meantime, you know that.’

She sighed and, for a moment, I almost felt sorry for her. Mum loved my old bloody school more than I did, the sweeping gravel drive, the ancient manor house that looked more like a hotel than a place for kids. Mum loved everything about it and our life before. This was all too much for her. I could tell she was struggling to hold everything together. This move had hit her much harder than it had me.

Carefully, I laid my hand on hers. I felt her resist, almost stiffen. I guessed she was fighting the urge to pull away from me, but instead a tight smile appeared on her carefully made-up face.

‘I’m going on again, aren’t I?’

‘A bit…’

She nodded. ‘You’ll be all right, Lottie. I know that, really. Just like your father – you fit in everywhere.’ Her voice broke a little at the mention of my dad. She withdrew her hand and lifted her sunglasses from her head, rubbing them clean on her top and at the same time removing any emotion that would threaten to show behind the lenses. ‘Go on, go,’ she whispered. ‘You’ll be late. You need to make a good first impression.’

As I got up to open the door, I heard her next words, muttered with hidden spite.

‘Though God knows why you’d want to…’

This was meant to be our fresh start, mine and Mum’s, and it was pretty clear we both needed it. The last year had been hellish – the divorce, Dad moving in with his young PA Zoe (so bloody stereotypical and yet still shocking at the same time). Suddenly we were left rattling around in a huge house that Mum could no longer afford, wondering what the hell we were going to do with our lives.

Dad had been the money-maker, the businessman, the rock – wheeling and dealing his way to the top of his game, selling prestige cars to the rich and famous. Soon it had been flashy motors that lined our own drive and Mum had given up her hairdressing job so that she could lunch with friends, treat herself to the best beauty treatments and shop until she dropped. I grew up thinking that it was normal to own five cars, have at least two holidays abroad a year and own a second home in the country.

When Dad left, we were left rootless for a while and Mum lapsed into some kind of dazed panic. What would we do next? How would we cope without a man in the house? It was a strange, confusing time, until Mum finally got her act together and became angry instead. She made Dad sell his assets and split them fairly with her and then she told me we were moving away from the village completely. We needed a fresh start.

I wasn’t bothered. I wasn’t particularly close to my dad; he’d hardly been around even before he left us. I had no real friends and found Meadowbank stuffy, pretentious and competitive, so when Mum said we were moving back to her hometown near Brighton, I was relieved. Maybe this could be something exciting for me. And we could still afford a lovely, detached house, with a small pool in the garden and fields and lakes beyond. We were better off than most.

The sticking point was the nearest school. I flatly refused to go to another private school to do my A levels. I didn’t want to spend another term feeling like an outsider, never quite posh enough to feel like I belonged, always trying desperately to fit in. I was the one who insisted I go to St Margaret’s. There was something about the rough exterior that drew me in – it looked well-loved and homely. Even better: it looked friendly.

I wasn’t particularly academic and knew in my heart that I was only staying on at school to please my parents, so suddenly being in a place that seemed relaxed and welcoming seemed ideal.

It ended up possibly being the best decision I ever made.

I first spotted Jay in my maths class. He was sat at the back with some other lads, his body spread out lazily on his chair, his long legs taking up far too much room. He glanced up as soon as I scuttled in. I saw him look me up and down, a hint of a smile appearing.

‘You’re new,’ he said finally.

I smiled back shyly. ‘Yes, yes I am.’

Obviously intrigued, he leant forward. He asked a few questions about where I’d come from, what subjects I was taking. I could smell the mint on his breath. He had an interesting face. Not handsome as such, more attractive. Dark eyes framed with long lashes, a nose that was slightly too large for his face, thin lips that curled easily into a cheeky grin. Dark curls that were slightly messy but still very cute, almost old-fashioned.

I have to admit that looking at Jay was enchanting. I wanted to know more about him.

I’d already decided that the only way I was going to make a memorable entrance in a new school was by being interesting and having a strong set of friends around me. I was an avid romance reader and it always seemed to work for those characters, so why not me? I couldn’t bear the thought of disappearing into the background again. It was important I stood out this time. Maybe this time I could be the romantic lead?

The lesson started and soon I became absorbed in my work, relieved to find I had covered the topic before, so I was feeling confident. I even helped the girl beside me who was struggling. This first day wasn’t turning out to be too bad after all.

As I swept through the rest of the morning, I looked out for Jay – but it was clear he wasn’t in any of my other lessons. I tried to ignore the tug of disappointment. It was silly really, I had only spoken to him for a few seconds. Why did it matter so much? Instead, I tried to focus on my work – to be warm and smiley and approachable. To attempt to fit in.

It was later, at lunch, when I saw Jay again. As I was walking back from the food counter, a tray clutched against my chest and my eyes warily scanning the busy scene, I spotted him in the far corner. He looked up and, seeing me, waved me over.

‘Hey, sit with us,’ Jay said as I approached.

At his table was another boy with bright ginger hair and dark glasses, who barely acknowledged me, and a girl, who was sat close to Jay. The free seat was next to the boy, and he grumbled slightly as he removed his bag and made me the space to sit down. I sat opposite the girl. She was petite, with dark hair that fell like a cloud over her shoulders. Her eyes studied me from under her heavy fringe, lined with thick kohl and ever so slightly threatening. I noticed her hand was on Jay’s knee. Were they a couple?

‘Ah,’ she said softly. ‘Is this the new girl I’ve heard so much about?’

I nodded, and for the first time that morning felt a little intimidated. This girl’s face was hard, unmovable. There was no warmth there, no welcoming smile. Instead, she reached for a chip and chewed on it thoughtfully.

‘I’m Sara,’ she said finally. ‘Do you want to tell us a bit about you then?’

What was there to say really? I told them a little about my life. That I’d moved away because of my parents’ divorce. Sara’s eyebrow rose when I mentioned my last school.

‘Meadowbank High? That’s the really famous posh school, isn’t it?’ she questioned. ‘Didn’t a load of MPs go there or something?’

I hesitated for a second, surprised that she knew this. ‘Yeah… but it’s not that posh. Not really.’

‘I bet it cost a bomb though.’ She scowled a little. ‘Where are you living now?’

‘Quintin Avenue.’

Sara’s eyes widened but she didn’t reply, continuing to munch on her chips, her dark eyes still studying me. The ginger boy made a low whistling sound.

‘Quintin Avenue? That’s the nicest street in town. Don’t some of their houses have pools?’

‘I’m not sure…’ I thought of Mum’s comment earlier, how she assumed I could make friends by telling them about the stupid pool in the garden. Judging by the dark look on Sara’s face, this would be the last thing to impress her. And I needed to impress Sara if I would have any chance with Jay. It was clear, just watching them together, that they were good friends.

‘Do you have one?’ she asked finally, wiping her lips.

‘Well, yes… but it’s in a bit of a state. Nothing special at all.’

‘Right…’ Sara stretched the word out.

I shifted in my seat, suddenly uncomfortable. It was Jay who broke the ice, his voice rich with enthusiasm.

‘How cool is that! A pool! You could have pool parties. Sara, imagine that!’

I nodded meekly. ‘Sure, maybe when the weather is better.’

Sara shrugged; she looked bored now. Her gaze was no longer fixed on me. ‘Maybe – yeah. If there’s nothing better to do.’ Her fingers drummed the table lightly; I noticed that her nails were painted black. A couple were chipped in places. ‘I guess it’s going to be exciting having you around, Lottie,’ she said softly.

She sounded anything but.

‘And are you two going out?’ I said, nodding towards her and Jay. They were still sat pressed close together.

Sara seemed to stiffen slightly. Jay grinned sheepishly and Dec snorted.

‘Don’t even ask that,’ Dec told me. ‘it’s too complicated for us lesser mortals to understand.’

‘Don’t be a dick, Dec,’ Sara flared. Her eyes studied me. ‘We’re just friends, that’s all.’

‘Yeah, just friends,’ Jay said, shrugging, but he didn’t sound so convinced.

Over the next few weeks, I found myself hanging around with this new group. It was just the way things worked out. I sat with them every lunch and found it easy to talk to the lads. Jay was the calm, friendly one who seemed to know everyone in school and had an opinion about everything. We got on straight away; there was an ease there, something that I’d never had with anyone before. I loved being around him.

The boy with ginger hair, Declan – Dec – was actually really nice, shy but with a sharp sense of humour. The others teased him for being a bit of a geek, but I secretly thought he was kind of cool in an understated way. We quickly bonded over our love of gothic horror films.

It was Sara, though, who intrigued me most. She wasn’t as friendly as the boys and seemed to be constantly studying me with those dark eyes of hers. Jay told me not to worry. He whispered that Sara took a long time to trust people and that I shouldn’t take it personally. They’d been friends since they were kids, so I guessed he was used to her cool manner. I tried not to be worried by her, but it was hard when I felt her hard gaze on me all the time like she was assessing me. I wondered if I had overstepped a mark, walked into a group that I had no permission to belong in. So, when Jay told me they were going to Sara’s after school one Friday, I hesitated, unsure if I should go. Would I even be welcome?

Jay simply tugged my arm, grinning. ‘It’ll be fine. She won’t bite.’

To be honest, I wasn’t so sure. But I knew if I was going to have any chance to make friends with this group I would need to win over Sara. So I smiled sweetly and agreed.

After all, what harm would it do?