NINE
AMELIE
When I woke up the next morning, I was alone in bed.
The curtains hadn’t been drawn, and the blaring sunlight did little to ease the pounding in my head.
I was clearly experiencing my first-ever hangover.
Considering my alcoholic father and what he had done, I felt a flutter of remorse.
I knew I was being ridiculous; I was nothing like my dad, but I shouldn’t have drunk so much.
I suppose my willpower of saying no wasn’t well practised, considering nobody ever offered me anything.
I had also wanted to fit in, belong somewhere, and the fact that everyone had been so nice to me spurred me on.
Well, that and Jessa’s constant badgering about ‘the next round’ of drinks.
Lying my hands flat on the mattress, I pushed into a sitting position and glanced at the empty chair where Kieran had been.
Unclear memories of seeing him asleep there came swooping back: the way he’d filled the space and how peaceful he looked with his eyes closed and his head lolled to one side.
Had he stayed with me whilst I slept the whole night?
And if he had, why did the thought of that make me feel so warm inside?
His kindness after the party had been so out of character, and I told myself not to get used to it.
You’ve only known the boy for a matter of weeks; my inner monologue scolded me.
As I swung my legs to the floor, I noticed there was a glass of water and two tablets on the bedside table. Another dose of uncertainty curdled in my stomach; were those from Kieran, or had Jessa snuck into my room to try and repair some of the damage she was partly responsible for?
I then noticed a yellow sticky note stuck to the table just behind the glass.
Take these to feel better.
Warning: May not fix poor dance floor decisions.
K.
I knew immediately that he was referring to the scene on the decking, the one he had caused.
I narrowed my eyes at his offering. What was going on? The boy I’d met my first night at the house would most likely have killed me in my sleep. What had changed? I tried to recall our conversation before I fell asleep, but it was hazy at best.
Maybe Kieran had decided to give me the benefit of the doubt and not judge me by my father’s standards. After rolling that thought around my head for the next five minutes, I decided not to get my hopes up.
Grabbing the tablets and water, I took them, desperate for the ache in my head to stop.
Standing up and stretching my tired limbs, I realised it was the first time I had slept in the bed and pretty much straight through.
Since I had been living in the house, I hadn’t been able to sleep on the mattress.
It was too comfortable and wasn’t what I was used to, so I’d been sleeping on the floor.
I wasn’t stupid and knew the booze would have had something to do with my being able to sleep in the bed like a regular person, but still, it was a step in the right direction.
And what direction was I heading for, you may ask? Normality.
Due to my quest for normalcy, I had started to write a diary of sorts, recording all my firsts: mainly so I could share them properly with Sophie one day to make up for lost time.
Grabbing the pink flowered notebook from the bedside table, I picked up the pen and wrote a few paragraphs about the experience of my first party.
After dating it, I slid it into one of the drawers which were under my bed for safekeeping.
One of the social workers I’d met at the children’s centre had explained the benefits of making notes and writing stuff down.
Making my way over to the dressing table, I grabbed my phone and checked for messages.
There were two from Jessa, checking I got home OK, which I didn’t see the previous night.
Again, I felt a slight twinge of shame for having attended the party with Jessa but leaving without her.
I knew she’d be fine, considering that huge boy Tanner, who had promised to get her home safely.
Kieran also wouldn’t have left his twin sister there if he had any doubts about his friend's word.
After showering and pulling on jeans and a cropped top, I went downstairs to find Kieran—the need to speak to him about what had happened powered through me. If I left it too long, things may become awkward and tense between us again, and I didn’t want that to happen.
When I got into the kitchen, Jessa was sitting at the breakfast table with her head in her hands, a little worse for wear.
Maisy’s legs wiggled as she waved at me with a huge grin on her sweet face.
She was perched on the kitchen counter and raised her arms toward me.
A silent instruction that she wanted to get down.
Walking over, I lifted her down. “Will you watch some Disney with me today?” she questioned as her feet hit the vinyl. I took a step back and glanced across at Vanessa.
“Morning,” Vanessa said, drying her hands on a tea towel. That brought Jessa’s head up from her cereal bowl. “Amelie needs to get her things ready for school today, but maybe you can watch something together later?”
“Yay. Can we watch Frozen?” Maisy said as she took a banana from her mother. Bobbing my head, I smiled my agreement. We’d already watched Frozen twice.
“Absolutely.”
I looked on with envious eyes as Vanessa then set her daughter up at the kitchen table with crayons and a colouring book. She was so attentive that it made my heart squeeze. That was how it was supposed to be between a mother and her child.
Over breakfast, I was plied with a ton of questions about how my first party went.
Jessa was a little defensive, playing things down, but from my aunt's expression, she knew there was more to the evening than we were letting on. As I sat on the stool next to Jessa, we caught each other’s eye when Vanessa’s back was turned, and I had to suppress a laugh.
I’d never done the ‘morning after’ thing and had to explain myself to a parent because let’s face it.
I never had the chance to go out, and my folks didn’t care enough to ask me anything anyway.
I spent the rest of that day helping Vanessa. Maisy joined us, almost glued to my side, and Jessa eventually retreated to bed.
As I started to get ready for school, I kept one ear open, hoping to hear Kieran come home, but he never did.
Why hadn’t he sought me out to check I was OK after the previous night?
Because that would suggest he gave a shit.
The realisation hit me like a physical blow.
The tablets and water he’d left me that morning were probably his way of tipping the scales after the way he’d treated me when I first got to the party.
It felt like I had found something and lost it in the space of a day, and I didn’t understand why I felt so disappointed and hollow.
As I lay on my makeshift bed on the floor of my room that night, thoughts of school plaguing my mind, I heard soft footsteps in the corridor outside. I rolled over; my eyes locked on the thin blade of light beneath my door. The footsteps stopped. Someone—Kieran—was standing just on the other side.
Adrenaline surged through me; everything inside screamed for him to open the door and come inside. I held my breath, and then my heart sank as he walked away.
The sound of his door closing mirrored my decision to shut myself off from possible future friendships with the Rook family. Nothing good could come from getting too close to them.
I had gotten ahead of myself, foolishly imagining there could be a place for me there.
It’s all in your head, I told myself, the old armour sliding back into place.
You can’t rely on anyone. Look out for yourself, Sophie, and Adam.
Nothing has changed. The goal was the same as it had always been: survive, get out, and build a real life far away from false promises.
* * * * *
Jessa explained that Kieran drove himself to school, and so I didn’t see him the following morning either.
I was too stressed with unpacking and repacking my school bag to give it too much thought.
As I sat in Jessa’s car, listening to her talk about Jordan, I held my bag to my chest like a shield.
I was wearing tight blue jeans and a grey sweater.
My hair had been scraped up into a ponytail, and I had put a bit of blush on my cheeks.
My objective for the day was to fit in whilst trying to get my head around a school environment.
Jessa looked amazing. She was fully made up and had left her hair down.
She was wearing black tight leggings and a cream blouse with black low-heeled boots.
I glanced down at my shabby trainers in the footwell of the car.
Note to self, get some new shoes when possible.
When we pulled into the car park at Northridge Academy, the place was alive with students.
Some were wearing a not-so-nice brown uniform, and others were dressed informally in jeans and t-shirts.
I established straight away that the difference in appearance was to separate the younger kids from the sixth formers.
Jessa walked me to the principal’s office, wished me luck and promised she’d find me at lunch. I felt sick as I sat there waiting for Mr Bannerman to join me.