By Any Other Name (8 page)

Oh, Katie, Katie. I love you, but I may never forgive you for us having to be marooned in this place with these people.

Salvation arrives on the back of a quad bike pulling up beside us. Fraser’s face grins in the fire glow and my bones turn liquid.

‘Hi, Holly. I was hoping you’d be here.’

Suddenly bouncing round a dark field on a crappy little cart no longer seems quite so stupid.

I
hang on to Fraser’s shoulders as we zoom over the grass. I can see faint flashes of the ground ahead in the headlights and I’m not
sure how he knows where he’s going, how he’s steering in this light. I get it now, why the others screamed.

But I won’t. I refuse to.

The quad veers to the left sharply and I suck my breath in, but I won’t scream. I sense Fraser’s impatience through my hands on his jacket.

Yeah, you should know I’m different to the others.

He accelerates, tearing ridiculously close to the other bikes, and one of the drivers yells out at him: ‘Jeez, moron!’ My stomach lurches as he turns the bike again, and I think
it’s making the manoeuvre on two wheels, but I still don’t make a sound.

I’ve learned not to scream. I’ve been taught that lesson by masters.

I feel his frustrated breath hiss out. He charges the bike down the hill away from the others. My teeth go
chugga-chugga
in my head as we bounce over the uneven ground.

Down, down, down the bike plunges. The screams behind us grow fainter. I clamp my lips tight. I’ve never seen this place in daylight so I’ve no idea what we’re heading
towards.

There’s a darker shadow looming ahead – a line of deeper black blocking our horizon. As we plummet towards it, I make out a bank of trees. My fingers tighten on Fraser’s
shoulders, I can’t help that, and he’s tense too under my hands.

I will not show fear. I will not.

If
they
didn’t break me, this boy can’t.

He comes off the throttle a little and I think he’s going to go for the brakes . . . but no . . . So what’s he . . .? Ah! There’s a lighter patch in the dark of the treeline
– a gap. He’s heading for that. He thinks I haven’t seen it but I’m not going to fall for that trick. I force my hands to ease their grip on him and I hear his growl of
annoyance even over the noise of the bike.

We shoot into the trees and the ground becomes even more uneven for a few bike-lengths until we swerve on to a track, where Fraser pulls up in a hiss-crunch of gravel.

‘You don’t scare easily,’ he says and there’s a mix of admiration and anger in his voice.

‘Mmm,’ I reply. I intend to be as cryptic as possible though he’s completely right. If there’s one thing about Holly, whoever she is, it’s that she may never scare
easily again.

‘I guess I’ll have to keep trying,’ he adds.

‘Will you? Why?’ I throw his attitude right back at him.

He laughs. ‘To find something that impresses you.’

I laugh too. ‘You might have to try quite hard.’ I sense how he deflates and that’s not really what I want either. ‘But
trying’s
the point, yeah?’

He chuckles. ‘A challenge? Yeah, I’m up for that.’

I’m a prize to him now, and that is what I wanted. One worth winning. Result.

‘Come on, I’ll drive you back up there,’ he says. ‘Maybe a bit slower this time!’

He turns the bike and we head through the trees and back up the field. Once again, the sound of excited screaming rings out. When we get up to the fire, I hop off the bike. Lucy and Stuart have
come up to join the others and Stuart shouts over to Fraser, ‘Did you get her?’

‘No, man, not a squeak.’ There’s a boast in his voice that wasn’t there before. ‘I can’t believe it. I even went down Strigg Bank and on to the lane and she
didn’t make a sound.’

Stuart’s jaw drops. ‘That is hardcore. Respect!’ he says to me.

There’s something very funny about village boys trying to sound street, but I hold my giggles in. Holly the Urban Ice Queen, that’s who I am tonight.

Gemma is still yapping on. ‘Yeah, so my dad got me gym membership at Cam’s dad’s place. And I went for the induction and there was this uber-fit personal trainer there working
with some old fat woman, and I was so hoping to get him, but no, I got the spotty ugly one instead. So I was there like every day for a week and then finally one day he was in working with the
grandma again and I was sure he was totally checking me out. But then the treadmill went wrong, like it went crazy or something, and I tripped and fell off. Seriously I should sue and I would if it
wasn’t Cam’s dad because it was so their fault and I could have broken my neck or my arms and legs . . . but, oh yeah, the fit guy saw the whole thing and I wanted to
die
. I just
got up straight away and
ran
to the changing rooms. I swear to God, I have not been back there since and my dad is going mental about the money, but I can’t. I am just too mortified.
It’s completely screwed with my fitness regime and . . .’

I wonder if she’s actually breathing at all. Amazingly the girl she’s talking to, who I don’t recognise, seems to hang on her every word. But hey, maybe she wants to get
married in Nike trainers too.

A siren interrupts us.

‘Shit, police! Get out of here.’

‘Which way? Where are they?’

‘Danny, Danny – take the bike. Move it. Now! Now!’

‘Cam! Behind you, come on, run.’

They erupt into a hubbub of shouting and action. At first I don’t know which way to go, but then Fraser grabs my hand and hauls me back on to his quad. ‘Hang on!’ and
we’re racing over the grass again. I’m not sure where we’re going but the bikes scatter in different directions. Headlights flash up the field and they’re coming towards us.
I’m confused at first by how slowly, but then I realise there’s only one car – they’re here to break us up, not seriously catch anyone – and now it’s funny
watching everyone run off so fast.

Once we’re off the field and on a back lane, Fraser kills the engine and gets off to push. There are houses with lights on to the side of us and I guess he doesn’t want to attract
attention.

‘Let me drop this off and I’ll walk you home,’ he says.

Walk me home. That has a nice old-fashioned feel. I like it. Nobody’s ever walked me home before.

We push the quad bike forward in silence, him on one side, me on the other, and come out of the lane on to a wider one with smooth tarmac underfoot. The houses here are bigger – detached
with garages the size of some of the cottages we’ve just passed. I can hear raised voices from the open door of one house: ‘And just where have you been, young lady? No nonsense! I said
you were to be in by nine. I haven’t forgotten this is a school night even if you have.’

‘Lucy’s place,’ Fraser whispers, suppressing a laugh. ‘Her dad is a control freak.’

I nod and we push the bike on a few more houses until we reach a gated drive leading to a large white house. Fraser stops and swings one of the huge iron gates open.

‘Come in, but shush,’ he says and we take the bike inside. He leads me to the garage and we park it in there. The four cars are all parked outside on the drive and I wonder what the
point of a vast garage is if you’re going to do that. All I know is that this is the polar opposite of the place I live in now.

He beckons to me and we leave as quietly as we came. He closes the gate behind him and looks at me expectantly.

‘I don’t know the way home from here,’ I admit. ‘Where are the shops? I know how to get back from there.’

He waves further down the lane. ‘This way.’

As we walk back, I wonder if I can fob him off when we get to the main street. Can I convince him to let me find my own way from there? For the first time in my life, I’m ashamed to let
someone see where I live. It’s the most horrible feeling.

I understand the word dread now. I live with it every day in one form or another. It’s not the adrenalin-inducing things that scare me, like being raced around on the quad bike. It’s
these little deaths every day. These, and the waiting for . . .

STOP! Now that is out of bounds . . .
I can’t think about what’s coming this summer because I really will choke up and break out of role. It terrifies me that much.

We come out on to the high street by one of the hairdressers.

‘I can find my way from here. You go back home.’

He smiles. This time, my bones are too full of wanting to get rid of him to even think about melting. ‘But I want to.’

‘Really, you don’t have to.’

He frowns slightly. ‘Really, I do. Now which way?’

I give up and prepare myself for the worst. ‘Down here.’

He doesn’t say a word as we walk through the estate to my house and I don’t try to make conversation. When we get to my door, I say, ‘Thanks,’ and don’t meet his
eyes.

‘See you tomorrow in school?’

‘Yes, sure.’ I risk a look at him but I can’t read what’s in his face.

I grit my teeth and smile. ‘See you tomorrow then.’ And I run up the path and close the door before he notices my embarrassment.

A
t break-time next day, I am absolutely starving and I race out of the science block as soon as the bell goes. The canteen is at the opposite end
of school and there’s a piece of cheese on toast with my name on it if I can beat the rush. Nobody got breakfast at home because Katie decided to have a screaming fit at the table and knock
everything on to the floor. We were expecting her to erupt – it’s her first day at school, and first days and Katie don’t mix. The neighbours must have thought we were half
killing her from the noise she made.

So with nothing more than a hastily gulped glass of juice in my stomach, it’s crucial that I get to that cheese on toast. If I miss a meal I’m always ravenous.

Thankfully there’s no queue, but it looks as if PE let the Year 10s out early because the canteen is full of red, sweaty faces filling their mouths as fast as they can.

Urgh, bacon rolls – microwaved, anaemic bacon with a rind of white, greasy fat poking out of a doughy burger bun. Gross. But there on the rack beside the bacon rolls is one last slice of
cheese on toast. It’s the only thing here that tastes like real food and they mix mustard in with the cheese for some extra kick. My stomach growls in anticipation.

I scoot through the chrome barriers and reach for the slice . . . but my fingers close on air. I look in surprise at the empty rack . . . realise it’s empty . . . and then look round . . .
to see that stupid Emo holding my,
my
, cheese on toast. My stomach howls in protest, and so do I.

‘Oi! That’s mine! You pushed in.’

He looks at the empty space behind him and shrugs. ‘Can’t push in if there’s no queue.’

‘But I was here first. That’s mine.’

‘If you were here first, you would have got it. I was here before you.’ He scowls and turns to go to the till.

My temper bubbles to a boil, encouraged by my furious stomach, and I grab his arm to pull him back. ‘It was mine and you know it. You snatched it on purpose, you freak!’

His face twists in anger. ‘Get off me, posh bitch.’ He wrenches his arm free and walks to the till.

If I was Lea, I’d have burst into tears. That was her favourite trick. But I have more self-respect, so I snatch up a bacon roll and march to the till myself. He pays for his toast and
slouches off, with a last glare back at me.

Moron!

I do a quick scan round the canteen and spot Fraser in the far corner with Stuart. He catches my eye as if he’s been waiting to do that and waves to me to join them. I wander over with the
disgusting bacon roll, taking my time. Fraser gets up and pulls out a chair for me. ‘Hey, I was hoping I’d see you. Are you busy a week on Saturday?’

I sit down beside him and nod at Stuart, who smiles in return and then gives an excuse about having to see a teacher before making his exit. I wonder if that was planned, but there’s no
clue in Fraser’s face.

‘Next Saturday? Not sure yet. Why?’ I have nothing planned of course, but he doesn’t need to know that.

‘There’s a party at Cam’s place. Her parents are away and she has the house to herself. I thought you might like to come. My sister’s giving me a lift – it’s
too far from the village to walk.’