Chapter 8 #3
I used elbows, my head, went to bite soft flesh that covered hard muscle, but let him pull away because doing actual harm wasn’t on the menu. He rolled me on top of him, my back to his front, one arm around over my stomach, the other on my throat.
“Come on, Mia, this would be game over.”
I relaxed, which surprised him, then elbowed him sharply in his side, followed by a stamp to the shins, which could’ve been harder, but we were playing after all. He lost his grip and I swung to my feet, out of breath and it was then I realised there were tears on my face.
“What’s up?” Jalen stood up, reaching out to me, pulling me close even though I was sweaty.
“I don’t know.” I wiped the tears away, trying to blink any that hadn’t fallen back in. “Maybe it was how she died.”
“The body?”
I nodded. “It would’ve been brutal.”
“It would.” He pulled me into him, a hard hug. “But it wasn’t you.”
He’d said those words before. Many times. He’d say them many more too because there would never be no violent crime. There would always be victims.
I would always have a job.
“It wasn’t.” I rested my head against his shoulder, feeling my breathing ease, my heart rate come down, leaning into him, inhaling the scent of his body wash or cologne. “Thank you for that. I know you hate doing it.”
He’d told me once he didn’t like those sessions, because there were times when he saw flashes of fear in my face. I’d never told him why; only two people knew. No one else had any right to that information.
“I do. But I think it’s the only time you let yourself be vulnerable, apart from now.”
I realised he was still hugging me.
“Sorry.”
“No need to apologise. I like a good hug. I don’t think you have enough of them. Maybe I should offer that as a free service – training session and a hug as a perk.”
“I’d be careful with that. Some poor person might have a different idea about what a hug is.” Maybe they wouldn’t and I was just too used to dealing with weird people.
And working with them.
I stepped away from him, aware of how sweaty I was. “You might need a shower.”
His eyebrows raised, that cheeky smile that he must’ve perfected as a teenager, shone. “You offering to join me?”
He’d made that crack before, but I was sure he made it with everyone. “One day I’ll say yes.”
“I’m living for that moment, Mia. Just living for it. You sure you’re okay?” he passed me a bottle of water.
I downed half it while nodding. “I’m fine. That was good. Not too long now and I’ll have you on your back.”
There was a nod, but I could tell he didn’t agree.
“You won’t do that until you’ve dealt with whatever shit’s going on up there.
” He tapped his head. “There are split seconds when you’re too in your head and that’s when you lose any advantage, so you have to work too hard to pull it back.
You know the moves, you can out psych anyone, but you need to be fully present and in the room. ”
I nodded. “Agreed.”
“I can’t help you with that.”
“I know.”
“Only you can do that.”
“True.” I put the empty bottle in the bin and picked up my bag. “Wednesday? Can you fit a session in the morning before work?”
“Just text me.”
He was quiet until I got to the exit. “Mia.”
I turned around.
“Why did you quit gymnastics?”
It’d taken him five years to ask me that question.
“What’s made you get in touch? It’s been years since I’ve seen you?” Brooke watched the river, full to the banks, trees trailing in the water. The heavy rain the previous week had caused flooding, so she wasn’t sure why they were walking by the river now.
Her old friend smiled with lips that were different from what Brooke remembered. A lot of things were different. The person Brooke remembered from that summer had been smaller, scared. Such an easy target.
Meeting up here was penance, she supposed.
Walking wasn’t something she enjoyed; Brooke worked to live, and living included make-up, social media and paid partnerships.
If she carried on the way she was, she’d be able to give up her day job soon.
No more screaming kids and shitty nappies, or rude parents who thought they were better than her because she was just a nursery nurse.
They didn’t seem to mind leaving their precious children in her care though.
“You look really well, by the way.” Even if that coat was shapeless and hid what was probably a pretty decent body now.
Brooke hadn’t really dressed for the weather.
She fully intended heading into Stockport later for Sunday evening drinks at a trendy bar where she might bump into a couple of band members she kind of knew.
A boyfriend who had some form of social media presence would be a good business investment, more chance to raise her profile.
“Thanks. I know I’ve changed a bit. That was a weird summer, wasn’t it, when were all together. Do you keep in touch with any of the others?”
“Not really. I’m on socials loads but they never come up in my feed.
I think I’m friends with most of them but it’s not like we see each other or text all the time.
” Brooke couldn’t see the point in keeping in touch with old friends, so she wasn’t entirely sure why she was here now. “What are you doing with yourself now?”
“Still studying really. Learning about people. It’s interesting.”
“I’m kind of doing the same. I’m getting loads of paid sponsorships, you know on social media. I’ve got almost ten thousand followers.”
To be fair, Brooke expected ten thousand followers to get a better reaction than a laugh.
Maybe she was wrong here. Maybe she did need to apologise for how she behaved that summer. Ganging up like that wasn’t fair. It had been mean how much they’d found it funny, locking that old house up so there couldn’t be any escape.
“I am sorry you know,” she said. Besides, if it was an apology that was needed to end this little walk, she could head off into Stockport onto the Underbanks.
Now the storms had stopped, the sun had come out and the light was golden.
Perfect for taking photos. “What we did was awful to you. You must’ve hated us. ”
“I never hated you, as in the past tense. I still hate you.” The sound of the weir, loud with the volume of water it was contending with, roaring like an alarm.
Brooke laughed. “Then why did you want to meet up with me? I mean, you were as weird as fuck back then, and you’re clearly not right now, so why not just leave it in the past?
I mean, you’ve obviously moved on. You look great, you’ve lost loads of weight and you’re not ugly anymore.
” She shrugged. “It feels like you only wanted to see me so you could tell me you hated me, and I don’t need that in my life.
” Brooke had enough trolls online to tell her she was a waste of space, or she was fat or ugly, words she’d used herself that summer.
But she knew she was none of those things and you had to have a few trolls to prove you were someone.
“I wanted you to know I hate you. Like really hate you. You made my life a misery.” The voice sounded like a child, someone not much older than a teen. Not an adult who was approaching thirty.
Thirty. God, she would be thirty in less than two years. That was old.
“Well done. You’ve told me now – what is it?” Brooke turned round, wanting to know what was going on behind her, what’d made her old non-friend stop walking.
They were right at the weir, the bank down steep and rugged with rocks and trees. On the other side of the path were more trees, just about obscuring the view of a derelict factory which was probably about to be knocked down to make way for more trendy apartments.
“Look in the water. I think I can see a body?”
Brooke frowned and stepped closer to the edge.
She wouldn’t have seen the blade anyway, the coat far too big and bulky, concealing all sorts, but she did feel it.
It didn’t hurt at first, a numbness then a sting and then rapid pain, then another sharp hit, and another and then she stumbled forward and down, down, down over the rocks and the roots of trees, her head hitting against whatever was in its way, but she was losing consciousness anyway, so by the time she hit the water and the weir pulled her over, tossing her like a plastic bag into a thick crop of weeds and a supermarket trolley, she had no idea that her mascara wasn’t that waterproof.
It rained later, because this was April and Manchester, and spring meant you had all four seasons in one day. It was helpful too, as some of the evidence was washed away again, leaving just enough, as well as some other bits, dropped afterwards.
Littering.
But on purpose.