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There’s a pain in my gut as I see something sat carefully just outside my door. Mitch and my mom are in his room now and the landing is totally silent. I slowly ascend the steps, my eyes locked on the object, and my stomach sinks deeper and deeper until I feel nothing but emptiness inside.
Please don’t be what I think you are, please don’t be what I think you are.
My hand flies up to my mouth and I feel a horrible prickling behind my eyes.
Now I know what he did when he locked himself in the workshop all day.
At the top of the stairs, wrapped up with a little ribbon, there is a tiny perfect wooden bookcase.
Chapter 10
Three Years Ago
“Are you alright?”
Kit is looking at me weird as I put some of my finished homework into my locker. For some reason each leaf of paper feels like it weighs eighty tonnes today and I cannot for the life of me carry the excess for one second longer.
“I’m fine,” I say in an embarrassingly weak voice. My stomach actually convulses when the words leave my mouth. I rest my head against the locker above mine, not even caring about all of the germs that will now be embedded into my forehead.
What iswrongwith me today?
“You look all pale and sweaty.” She manages to say it in a friendly way.
“I feel a bit-” I take off my blazer and flap my arms about, trying to get the cool air to heal me osmosis-style. “I feel like I might be about to pass out.”
“Hmm,” she muses as we start walking to class. “Maybe it’s your blood sugar. Do you want a Starburst?”
She rummages in her bag.
“Actually, I’ve only got the green ones left, and that might send you over.”
I sigh. She is not wrong.
When we get to class I take my seat like a zombie. I don’t even know which class we are in, so I just start pulling everything outof my bag in a heavy-lidded daze. Kit gives me her water bottle before she goes to her seat at the other side of the room and I absorb the liquid like a sponge. Then my stomach starts to hurt even more.
By the end of class I have coloured in all four corners of my notepad, gradating them from dark inky black, to dove grey, and then to the white of the page. I have also managed to not pass out, which feels like a very significant achievement right now.
Kit helps me stuff my things in my bag and then we are out of the room, standing next to a set of doors that lead to the courtyard. The air, fresh with recent rainfall, feels so good that I want to go outside and curl up like an animal on the concrete. Right after I’ve ripped out my intestines.
“We have one more hour – are you sure you don’t want to go home? You can keep the water bottle by the way.”
My heart is thumping in my ears, making her sound like she’s underwater. “I’ll get you a new one,” I say, guilt-ridden because of my grossness.
“Please don’t. All I ask is that you don’t die because you’re the only friend that I have.”
That pierces the veil. I look over at her and she’s shuffling on her feet, half wanting to make sure that I’m okay and half scared about not making it to class on time.
I have to be there for her.
“One more hour,” I gurgle out, and we turn back down the corridor.
*
I face-plant my bed as soon as I get home. My glasses are now entrenched in my skull. I shuck off my skirt, tights and sweater vest, and I try to become one with the quilt. Am I dying? If I am at least I won’t have to do that French listening test next week.
When my mom gets home she immediately stomps up to my room.
“Amazon delivery,” she sing-songs dryly. “Thanks for keeping the front door unlocked. I’m here to murder a small teenage girl.”
