EIGHTEEN #3
“I take it you haven’t seen your locker yet?”
My stomach dropped straight into my shoes. “No. Why? What’s wrong with it?”
I tried to step around her, but Jessa moved with me, planting her body like a human shield. The sheer panic in her posture told me everything I needed to know: whatever was on the other side of her wasn’t going to be nice.
I pushed past her anyway.
There it was, black marker pen slashed across the grey metal of my locker, Lying Bitch.
My knees went weak. The hallway started to tilt, but Jessa’s hand clamped onto my forearm like a vice, hauling me around and marching me toward the girls' toilets. What did I do? What did they think I did?
The toilet door banged open. Jessa scanned the mirrors and cubicles. “Out! Everyone, get out right now!” she barked. The younger girls inside took one look at her face, grabbed their bags, and scrambled into the corridor.
Jessa kicked open the end toilet door, slammed the lid down, and pushed me by the shoulders. “Sit down before you collapse.”
I sank onto it, my chest heaving. “I don’t understand.”
“I don’t either,” Jessa breathed, pacing the tiny space. “At least, I don’t understand how the hell they found out.”
“Found out what? About Kieran and me?”
Jessa stopped dead. Her jaw dropped, a look of pure bewilderment replacing her panic. “What about you and Kieran?” She vigorously shook her head, waving her hand to cut me off. “You know what, never mind. We don’t have time for that. Amelie, they know who you are. They know about your father.
The air left my lungs. “What? How?”
“I don’t know!” Jessa’s voice dropped to a frantic whisper. “My Insta blew up on the way to registration, then my WhatsApp went mental. Everyone’s talking about it. She’s awake, Amelie. Rebecca Blake is out of her coma.”
My stomach bottomed out. A sick wave of relief crashed straight into pure, ice-cold dread.
“So,” I whispered, digging my fingernails into my knees to stop the shaking. “She identified my dad? She told them who he was?”
“No.” Jessa leaned her forehead against the scratched plastic of the toilet stall door. It didn’t help that I saw a line of graffiti which said Kieran Rook has a huge dick. Someone had crossed out ‘has’ and put ‘is.’
I looked back at Jess, who explained, “She doesn't remember a thing.”
“Is she... is she okay?” The words felt thick in my mouth.
“Physically, yeah. Early days, but she’s talking.”
The heavy main door of the toilets banged open, bouncing off the wall. Halo marched in, her boots squeaking on the wet linoleum.
“Thank fuck. Turn your fucking phones on, seriously.”
“Mine’s on silent,” Jessa mumbled, shrinking back.
Halo crossed her arms, eyes darting between us. She looked annoyed and frustrated.
“Look, we can deal with the fact that neither of you told me shit later. Right now, we need a plan before the fallout hits.” She took a sharp breath, her gaze locking onto mine. “It was Aaron.”
“What was?”
“Aaron Blake. He posted late last night. Drunk, clearly, as half of it was full of typos. But he spilt it.”
My throat went dry. “How does Aaron even know?”
“His sister woke up, the family went straight to the hospital, and he went rogue on social media. Look.” Halo thrust her cracked phone screen under my nose.
@Aaron_Blake91: Now that I havbbe my sisterr back, it’s time to maaake those responsible pay.
The text blurred. A hot tear spilt over my cheek, tasting like salt and panic. Both girls moved at once, crowding into the narrow stall, dragging me off the seat and pulling me into a suffocating, three-way hug.
I wanted Kieran. God, I needed him. My eyes burned as I stared over Halo’s shoulder at the graffiti on the wall. Did Kieran know? Was he looking for me? Why hadn't he texted? What if he were the one who told Aaron? The thoughts felt like acid in my brain.
“It’s not your fault, Amelie,” Jessa murmured into my hair. “You didn’t do what your dad did. People will realise that. Aaron’s just hurting.”
My teeth clicked together as my jaw started shaking.
“That’s not all,” Halo said, her voice dropping an octave as she pulled away. “Rebecca waking up means the press is back. The tabloids are already circling. It’s only a matter of time before they dig up your family's details.” My brain shifted towards Sophie and Adam. No!
“But... they can't print my name, right?” I gripped Halo’s blazer. “I’m seventeen. I’m a minor.”
Halo gave a dark, humourless laugh. “They’re scum, Amelie. Bottom feeders. They won't name you, but they'll print your photo with a blurred face and stand outside our school gates.”
The school bell cut through the air, loud and jarring.
Halo and Jessa exchanged a sharp look.
“Right,” Halo said, wiping a stray tear from my cheek with a rough thumb. “Get to class. Act normal. Keep your mouth shut, look at your shoes, and don't talk to anyone. You are not your father. We regroup at lunch.”
I swallowed the lump of bile in my throat. “Okay.”
I found it harder to leave that bathroom than I had to leave the house the night I phoned the police.