Jenny Downham - You Against Me

She frowned. Maybe she didn’t like him. They’d been laughing and it had seemed like it was going well, but maybe he’d read it wrong. The signs were probably different with girls like her. He kicked the dirt with his foot. She was making it difficult. She was making it seem real.

She pulled her phone from her pocket. ‘You give me yours instead.’

He reeled it off. It wasn’t what he wanted, but she shook her head when he asked for hers again. ‘I might change my mind in the morning.’

He gave her his best grin. ‘Why would you change your mind?’

She shrugged. ‘You can’t rely on anything.’

She looked sad for a minute and he thought he had to do something quickly. ‘I’d like to get to know you better,’ he said. ‘No kidding.’

‘Then maybe I’ll call you.’

He watched her walk back up to the house, all the doors open, all the windows blazing with light.

Ellie had followed all the rules of invisibility. She wasn’t wearing make-up, not even mascara. She’d taken out her earrings, removed her necklace and tied her hair up neatly with an elastic. Her grey skirt was regulation length and her white shirt was buttoned to the top. She had no perfume on.

A yell from downstairs made her jump. ‘Hurry up, Ellie, we leave in five minutes!’

Maybe it would be all right. She gave herself a final look in the bathroom mirror, then opened the door and went downstairs.

Her mother clapped her hands to her face. ‘Oh, love, you look perfect.’

Dad and Tom looked up from their breakfasts and took it all in, from the flat-heeled shoes to the thick black tights.

‘Very smart,’ Dad said.

Tom waved his fork in agreement, ‘Looking studious, kid.’

Ellie pulled on her cardigan and did the buttons up slowly. ‘You know everyone’s going to stare at me?’

Her mum gave her a doleful look, but didn’t say anything.

Tom said, ‘I wish I was doing something normal today.’

‘Well, why don’t you go instead of me?’

He pulled a face at her. ‘Very subtle, thanks.’

Ellie sighed, poured herself a juice and took a sip. Her mum stood at the end of the dining table wielding serving tongs. The platter in front of her was loaded with fried egg, sausage, bacon and mushrooms and next to it was a basket of croissants and pastries.

‘Anyone for any more?’ she said, and she snapped the tongs at the men like crocodile jaws.

Ellie frowned. ‘Why have you made all this food?’

‘Your mother’s feeding us up,’ Dad said. ‘We’ve got a conference with the barrister this morning.’ He had a notebook and pen in front of him, scribbled something down, then turned to Tom. ‘We need to get together a record of your academic achievements – everything you were involved in at school, everything at college. Clubs, prizes, that kind of thing. Extra-curricular activities will go down well.’

Ellie reached for a croissant and spread it with butter. It was hardly a low-fat breakfast, but if she thought of herself as a soldier going into battle, then the calories were justified.

Dad continued to scribble things down in his notebook. ‘The golf club tournament would count,’ he said. ‘You got through to the semi-final in that, didn’t you, Tom?’

‘Quarter-finals.’

‘Oh, well, that’s still something.’

It was like a war conference with maps and strategies. Ever since the arrest it had been the same, as if Tom had been diagnosed with some rare and terrible illness and they all had to concentrate on finding a cure. Nothing else was important.

Ellie dolloped a great heap of strawberry jam on the side of her plate, then broke off pieces of buttery croissant and dunked them in.

‘Hurry up, love.’ Her mum passed her a napkin. ‘You don’t want to be late on your first day back.’

Soon she’d be out there in the world, being driven down the lane to the main road, past the station, across the junction and into town. She’d managed to bunk Monday and Tuesday by claiming she had study leave, but then Dad had bothered to check the school’s website, so that wouldn’t wash any more. She tried to get out of it one last time. ‘Please, Mum, I don’t actually feel that well…’

Her dad shot her a glance. ‘School’s statutory, Ellie.’

‘Not if you’re Karyn McKenzie.’

A name so hot it made Tom blush. So hot her dad yanked his glasses off and waved them at her. ‘You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, Eleanor, and that girl most certainly has, which is why she’s skulking at home. Now you go to school and you show everyone that.’

‘Like a sacrifice?’

‘No, like someone who’s done nothing wrong.’

‘It’s going to be horrible, with people taking sides.’

‘Well, then you’ll find out who your real friends are.’

He was referring to whoever had caused hundreds of pounds’ worth of damage to Tom’s car by scratching it up. He was also referring to the various people who hadn’t bothered showing up to the party. He’d gone on about their lame excuses for days – too much traffic on a Friday, no babysitter, too far to come from London, not enough notice. He hadn’t confronted any of it, said it was too upsetting to deal with. But now he wanted his daughter to go out and tackle the world.

‘You’re living your life vicariously through me,’ Ellie told him.

‘Good word!’ he said, pushing his glasses on with a smile and looking back down at his notebook. ‘Probably worth two marks in GCSE English.’

She turned to her mother. ‘Please, Mum.’

‘No, I agree with Dad. You’ve been stuck indoors for days and there’s no need for you to incarcerate yourself.’

Good word. How many points was that worth?

They’d obviously talked about it together and there was no dividing them. Ellie could see it in their eyes. Something premeditated and determined. She wiped her hands on the napkin and left the rest of the croissant on her plate.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘I better go then. I hope you two have a fabulous time with the barrister.’

She got a sad smile from her mum for that. ‘Come on,’ she said, ‘let’s get you out of here.’

As the car turned out of the lane into the main road, Ellie opened the window. There was a spring tang in the air, sunlight bouncing off everything. Primroses sprouted at the roundabout and in baskets at the bus stop. She liked this journey, down the side of the park, past the church. It was almost possible to believe she was going somewhere lovely and that good things might happen.

But the only good thing that had happened for days was meeting the gatecrasher. Ellie shut her eyes to remember him – his lazy smile, his swagger. She’d been angry all night about the stupid party, about getting into trouble for cutting Tom’s hair. Anger had made her confident, so when the boy came up to her, she hadn’t blushed or stumbled over her words, hadn’t minded about her scar. Standing in the half-light by the river, she felt as if new things were possible.

What was it Tom said this morning on the landing? Be vigilant .

But being so suspicious of everyone took all your words away. Now it was spreading to actions. Twice she’d written the gatecrasher a text. Twice she’d deleted it without sending.

‘Do you know,’ she told her mum, ‘even in my dreams I’m careful.’

‘What I do know is that I’m going to be late to see Tom and Dad off if I go round the one-way system.’

‘Aren’t you going with them?’

‘I’m not needed, apparently.’

‘What will you do all day?’

She shrugged. ‘Usual things – tidy up, think about dinner. I might go over to Gran’s and do a bit more clearing out.’