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Worse Than Boys(32)

By:Cathy MacPhail


Even then my humiliation wasn’t over. I was scared to go out of the school gates that day, sure they would be waiting for me. If there had been another exit I would have used it. Erin and Heather hung back too.

‘What’s the problem, Hannah? Scared the Hell Cats are gonny get you?’

‘They’ll want to pay you back for all the times you fought with them,’ Heather said.

‘Not so bold now, are you?’

At last I found my voice. ‘How can you do this? I was your friend, remember? One for all and all that.’

Heather sniggered. ‘You’re the one who started it.’

‘That’s not true!’

Erin pulled her on, not wanting to listen. ‘Come on, Heather. She’s putting me off my tea.’

There was a sudden yell from behind us. Mrs Tasker came clattering down the corridor.

‘I heard that, Erin! Heard every word. You two,’ she pointed an angry finger at Erin and Heather, ‘are in my office first thing in the morning!’

I saw her glance at the gates. Wizzie and the Hell Cats were standing about casually. I could almost see her putting two and two together. Me, like a wimp, hiding inside the building, scared to go out in case they were waiting for me. ‘Hannah, I’ll take you home.’

I knew she meant well. Mrs Tasker always means well. But she only made things worse again. She led me out into the school yard, towards the car park. In full view of everyone, she was taking me home. Like I was some terrified little girl who needed protection. And wasn’t that what I was?

She drove through the school gates, and they were all standing there, watching. Wizzie, and Erin, and all the rest. Staring at me through the car window. They broke a path to let us through. I saw them snigger, make faces at me. I knew what they were thinking.

Maybe, I thought, I should go to a new school. Because I decided then and there, I was never coming back to this one.





Chapter Twenty-Nine


All the way home, Mrs Tasker did her best to make me feel better. She is a nice woman. I could see that. She just couldn’t understand what was going on.

‘You just have to get over it, Hannah. I know it’s hard. I can see how cruel they’re being to you. But just you face up to them with your head held high, and you’ll soon get through this, and find other friends.’

Other friends? I couldn’t imagine it. I thanked her and she gripped my hand as I slid from the car.

‘See you tomorrow, Hannah?’

But I had already decided that she wouldn’t. I trudged upstairs to our flat and opened the door. The emptiness, the silence, only made me feel worse. Maybe if I’d been going home each day to a houseful of brothers and sisters my mind would have been lifted. I had too much time to think. But Mum was hardly ever here when I came home. Not her fault. She had to work. This was her late shift. She wouldn’t be home for ages. Wouldn’t want to face her anyway.

She’d left something for me to microwave – lasagne – but I couldn’t eat anything. I even tried watching television for a while, but the film on Sky was about a teenager dying from some awful disease. Not exactly uplifting. I wanted to sleep, because at least when I was sleeping I could forget about it for a while. But when I lay on my bed, sleep just wouldn’t come. My mind was too full for sleep. I went over everything again and again, and it got worse every time. What had happened already, and what was yet to come.

Finally, I got up and went into the bathroom and opened the glass cabinet over the sink.

The first thing I saw – my mum’s sleeping pills.

She still kept them here, still trusted with them despite …

Mum’s secret that everyone knew and no one spoke about.

Usually I didn’t think about it either – pushed it to the very deepest corner of my mind. I thought about it now.

Remembered.

Remembered finding her on the floor when I came in from school that day, and the note lying beside her.

Sorry, Hannah, I can’t go on any more …

I didn’t read the rest. I tore it to pieces I was so angry with her, so scared. The neighbours came and I was held back, too young to be involved. I watched them take her away on a stretcher, not knowing if she was alive or dead.

My aunt had looked after me while she was in hospital. She was angry too. She thought my mum was weak, couldn’t face up to life. They hadn’t spoken since.

I could never understand why she’d done it.

Dad had left, but our life wasn’t that bad. She had a job. We had this nice flat. It was something inside my mother that was wrong.

And now, for the first time, I understood. When I was asleep, I could forget about what was happening. I wanted to sleep all the time.