Because of You Read online

  But this leaves me more confused. If Jamie hadn’t been seeing Lia, then why was she going around saying that he had? Surely there was a risk she would be found out?

  I can’t help smiling. Maybe Lia has gone one step too far this time.

  Thankfully, Richie stops his noise when I walk into the kitchen. He has made himself some coffee and is standing looking out of the patio windows that lead to the garden. He’s dressed in bright blue trousers and a clashing green shirt that’s tucked into his waistband. I wonder if he even looks in the mirror when he gets dressed.

  “That’s a lovely garden,” Richie says when I walk in. “In the spring, I’d like to get to work out there. Make it look really good.”

  I stand behind him. It’s fair to say that the garden is a mess. Dad isn’t handy like that and Mum just never has the time. All I can see now is overgrown grass, huge bushes and sprawling trees.

  “Just think how good it could look,” Richie says.

  I grunt. “Yeah. Probably.”

  It would be just like him to show off his skills like some kind of superhero.

  I go over to the slow cooker to inspect the stew Mum has left us. Lifting the lid, all I can see is thick brown sludge. I pull a face.

  “Where are you going tonight?” I ask Richie.

  “There’s a new Italian in town,” Richie says. “I thought we could try it.” He sounds excited, and looking up at him I can see his eyes are sparkling like a big kid.

  “Nice,” I say.

  “If it’s good, we could all go there?” he says brightly. “Me and your mum can be the testers.”

  I nod. Whatever.

  He walks towards me, his arms hanging awkwardly by his side.

  “So … How was your day?” he asks.

  “Fine.”

  He sniffs. “Any homework to do tonight?”

  “Some,” I reply, and stare back at him. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

  “Do what?”

  “Act like my dad.” I pluck an apple from the bowl and take a large bite. “I have a dad already and I don’t need or want another one.”

  I quickly walk out of the room before he can ask me anything else.

  I stay in my bedroom for most of the evening. My phone is out on my desk. I can see the messages popping up and I try to ignore them. But it’s hard, and I end up reading the constant stream. I think the entire year group, more or less, has been added to the chat. I can see Lia is enjoying playing the victim here. Her first post claims that I was really “aggressive” towards her for no reason and now she’s upset because she considered me a friend.

  A friend! That’s a joke. Lia only ever spoke to me if she wanted something or needed to copy my homework. I’ve known Lia since primary school and she’s always been one of those girls who are nice to your face and then mean behind your back.

  This is different. Now she’s hitting out at me online. Of course Charlotte backs her up, saying that I’m just an “ugly snake” who probably fancies Jamie too. I snort at the thought. I couldn’t think of a worse boy to fancy.

  What surprises me is that Emily has been added to the group – after all, this whole thing started because of her. I see that she has replied mid‑way through the chat and I hover over her message, convinced that Emily will be supporting me.

  Her words are like a punch to my stomach:

  Yeah, I reckon you should be worried about Poppy. She’s always had it in for you, Lia. Why do you think she got involved in our argument? It was nothing to do with her. Poppy was just looking for a chance to have a go at you.

  I blink and take a deep breath. What a bitch. I weighed in. I supported Emily and this is the thanks I get.

  I scroll further down. Not everyone has replied. Some people have said it all sounds a bit stupid, but only Fliss sticks up for me properly:

  Delete this now, Lia. You know Poppy isn’t a snake. Leave this.

  Daryl hasn’t said anything. This doesn’t surprise me. She’s always been scared of getting into a fight.

  I keep reading the words and my mind is raging. I can’t believe Lia could be so petty and that Emily could be so weak. I am stabbing out a reply before I can stop myself. My fingers are working so fast it is like they are on fire.

  Screw you, Lia.

  Maybe next time you have a go at someone for “messaging” your boyfriend, you should be sure you get the details right. Or was your relationship with Jamie as made‑up as this pack of lies?

  And, Emily – next time it looks like you’re going to get your face slapped, I’ll be the one watching with my popcorn.

  See you later, losers.

  And I switch off my phone before I can see their angry replies.

  Chapter Six

  Friday morning. When I switch my phone back on, it’s flashing with messages. The only ones I bother to open are those from Fliss and Daryl. Daryl’s, as I could have guessed, is pretty dramatic:

  Pops! What have you done? Lia is raging.

  Thankfully, Fliss is more matter of fact. I love her for this.

  Wow! You dropped a bomb there last night! Nice one. Bet Lia is pissed. No worries, she will be stressing about someone else by midday. Meet at 8?

  I text Fliss back with a smile on my face. Yes, I’m happy to meet her on the way to school. To be honest, I probably need a mate to walk in with just in case Lia and her cronies are lying in wait for me.

  I shower and dress quickly, then go downstairs for breakfast. I am surprised to see Mum still here. She must be going in late. She is in the kitchen and Richie is standing behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist. Mum is giggling like an idiot. There is no sign of Kayla. I’m guessing she took one look at this loved‑up scene and legged it.

  I roll my eyes. I can’t help myself.

  Mum laughs and says, “Sorry, Poppy.” She slips out from under Richie’s large beefy arm. “Did you want me to do you some toast?”

  “No, I’m fine.” I pour myself a glass of milk, keen to get out of there as soon as possible.

  “We had a lovely night out yesterday,” Richie tells me, like I need to know. “It was good spending some quality time together.”

  Seriously? Is he having a dig? I stare at him, trying to work it out. “That’s nice,” I finally mutter.

  “Maybe next time you and Kayla can come?” Mum says softly.

  “What? And play happy families?” I say, then gulp the milk. It seems to stick in my throat. “Perhaps I can invite Dad too?”

  “Don’t be silly, Poppy,” Mum says.

  “He phoned yesterday,” I tell her, watching how she shifts a bit and how her eyes drop. “He asked after you. He always does.”

  “Poppy—” Mum starts.

  Richie steps towards me. “I think your mum finds this difficult,” he says.

  I laugh. It’s a hard sound, almost like choking.

  “She’s not the only one,” I say.

  Fliss meets me at the top of my road. We often don’t walk in together, because she tends to go in earlier than me. Fliss is one of those types who is academic but doesn’t get stick for it. I wouldn’t go as far as saying that she’s considered cool, but most people leave her alone – probably because she really doesn’t care what anyone thinks about her.

  In my next life, I want to come back as Fliss.

  She smiles as I walk over. “Talk about causing a drama,” Fliss says, holding up her phone. “This thing hasn’t stopped buzzing.”

  I shrug. “I’m trying not to look, to be honest.” I pause, then add, “So what’s Lia saying now?”

  Fliss sniffs. “The usual crap. That you’re a snake. That you probably fancy Jamie. That you’ve had issues with Lia since primary school.”

  “Seriously?” I say. I can’t help laughing.

  Yeah, OK. There was a time when Lia and I were kind of friends. We are going back a bit here – we were about seven years old. Then Lia drifted away and started being the “popular girl” with the loudest mouth, but I sti
ll liked her. There had been no issues at all. I found her mildly irritating at times, but I never said anything.

  Well, not much anyway.

  I sigh and say, “School will be fun today.”

  “They will soon be fixated on someone else,” Fliss says smoothly. “But I don’t get the message you sent. How do you know that Jamie and Fliss weren’t dating? She has pictures of the two of them all over Instagram. According to Daryl, they were pretty serious.”

  I shake my head. “It was just something I heard. Maybe I was wrong.”

  “Maybe,” Fliss says. “But it probably wasn’t the wisest move to say that. You know what Lia is like. It’s all about keeping up her reputation.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Was Lia always like that? I’m trying to remember, but it’s difficult. Time passes so fast and people become different.

  That’s the problem with most things. People change and you don’t even realise it’s happening.

  School itself starts OK. I text Dad on the way in, telling him I’m looking forward to the match on Saturday – because, let’s be honest, I need that escape. Then I lose myself in the crowd. I try not to catch anyone’s eye – just move quickly to my tutor‑group room. Lia and Charlotte are already there, but so is Mrs Vincent, so nothing is said. I spot a few dirty looks being flashed my way as I slide into my seat next to Freddie, but other than that, nothing.

  Lia even smiles at me as she passes me at the door.

  I nod, not sure what to do next. Should I say sorry? But then again, why should I? She set up the group about me. I just responded. I haven’t done anything wrong here. I can feel myself stiffen, my strength building. Dad always taught me to stand up for myself. I’m not going to back down now.

  “Morning, Poppy,” Lia says brightly. Too brightly.

  I smile back. It feels fake and heavy, but I do it anyway. Charlotte grins briefly, but I can see her eyes are as cold as ice. Both girls move off down the corridor in front of me. I walk slowly after them, thinking it’s best to stay behind them.

  “You shouldn’t have said that last night,” a voice says behind me.

  I turn. It’s Emily. Her bright beady eyes blink at me. I feel a flash of anger.

  “If it wasn’t for you,” I say, “I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  “I didn’t ask you to get involved,” Emily mutters.

  “So what’s the deal anyway – were you flirting with Jamie?” I ask.

  Emily shrugs. “I’ve known him for ages. It was nothing. But Lia is obsessed with him. She hates to think anyone else will get with him.”

  “But were they even going out?” I ask. “I heard—”

  “Yeah well, you heard right.” Emily cuts me off. “They were barely together. Lia just sees it as more.”

  Emily starts walking, so I have to gather speed to catch her up. “Emily. What’s going on with you? Why won’t you say something?”

  She half laughs. “It’s just not worth it, is it?” Emily says. “If you get on the wrong side of Lia, she makes your life a misery.” She looks at me again. Her eyes are shimmering. “So good luck with that.”

  I pretty much survive the morning. I mean, yeah, a few looks are sent my way, but nothing major. I can deal with that. I’m pretty certain Lia must have moved on to something else by now.

  As soon as the lunch bell goes, I dig out my phone and check my messages. I was hoping that Dad would have replied by now, but there is nothing there. I try to ignore the familiar tug in my stomach. I know he’s busy. It’s not his fault if he can’t respond to me right away.

  Even so, it would’ve been good to have heard something from Dad today. Anything really. I just want a sign that I’m still in his thoughts.

  I walk into the lunch hall still skimming my messages. We’re not meant to have phones out at school, so I’m taking a major risk. If one of the moodier teachers spots me, it will be confiscated for a week or more. The trouble is, I can’t help scanning the group chat messages again. There’s no wi‑fi at school and I’ve used all my data, so the messages haven’t updated in a while, but I can still read the ones sent earlier. In particular, the one that Lia sent just before school started. The words aren’t exactly great to read:

  Poppy will get what’s coming to her.

  Why didn’t I spot this before? What does Lia mean?

  I feel more anxious as I move across the hall, suddenly feeling eyes on me – watching me, checking me out. To be fair, they probably aren’t, but that’s what it feels like. I quickly grab some food and load my tray, then I go to find Fliss and Daryl. I just want to sit down and keep my head low for a bit. With any luck, Lia’s message means nothing at all – just a silly threat sent in the heat of the moment.

  I churn over the events in my head. Do I regret what I did? Maybe. It was stupid of me to get involved with other people’s arguments. I should’ve known better. It isn’t like I need any more grief in my life. It’s always better to keep your head low at school. I knew this, so why the hell didn’t I do it?

  “You’re too hot headed, Poppy,” Mum said to me once, calm and concerned. “Too quick to leap in with both feet without considering the consequences.”

  When had Mum said this to me? Was it after the time I let rip about Richie moving in? I had thrown a plate across the room then, called Mum names that I had instantly regretted. Weirdly, Mum hadn’t seemed angry with me afterwards. Just sad, like she was struggling to understand me.

  That was worse than being angry somehow.

  I move fast across the hall and out of the main doors to join Daryl and Fliss in the outside seating area. I don’t see until too late that I need to pass Lia and her group of mates. They have chosen to sit on the large table just outside the hall. My eyes flick towards Lia and I can see she is staring right at me. There is no smile now. Just a hard, unforgiving stare.

  I look around. The teacher supposed to be on duty out here has been distracted by some Year Seven boys messing around in the hall. He is now striding back inside. I don’t want to be hanging around this table too long. Lia is bound to say something, especially with no school staff in earshot.

  I rush past, not wanting to stop, not wanting the hassle, but I don’t move fast enough. I feel a shove from behind, catching me hard. I stumble, crying out stupidly. My tray crashes from my hands. I stagger, but the momentum takes me. I can’t stop the inevitable fall. My knees hit the floor hard; the concrete paving vibrates into my bones. All I can hear is the crazy‑loud sound of the lunch tray crashing to the ground.

  And their laughter. Actually, that is the loudest sound of all. It cuts through all the rest.

  I look up. Frozen for a second. Confused. Who pushed me? It could only have been Charlotte. She is standing right behind me and her hands are held up in a defensive “it wasn’t me” position.

  But of course it was. I can tell by her smile.

  “Aw, Poppy,” Charlotte says. “I didn’t realise you were so clumsy. Are you OK?”

  Lia and the group around her snigger. I don’t reply, just attempt to sit up. My cheeks are burning.

  “Aw and look,” Charlotte goes on. “You spilt your milkshake. What a shame. Do you want some more? I have some here.”

  And before I can turn, or even shout out a response, her strawberry drink is dumped on my head. It’s surprisingly heavy. I can feel the cold sludgy mess dripping down my neck.

  I lift my head high. I push away the strawberry froth that is already trickling down my face. I blink hard. I will not cry. I will not give these bitches the satisfaction.

  In front of me, Lia is now smiling. And she’s holding out her phone.

  She is filming everything. Of course she is.

  It is as if everything else around me is silent.

  Slowly, I stand up. I try to ignore the giggles and whispers from the table.

  I pick up my bag and I walk. I don’t care that milkshake is still spilling out of my hair. I don’t care that my tights are ripped and my shirt is
now stained.

  I don’t care about any of that right now.

  I just need to get out of here.

  Chapter Seven

  I don’t know what to do. I just need to get away from everyone. I realise that I am running now, along the empty corridor that runs down the back of the Art block. It’s always quieter here. There are some toilets at the end and I fling myself inside, shoving past a group of Year Seven girls who are chatting by the door.

  At the sink I run the tap and splash water over my head. I don’t care what it looks like. I just want the stuff off me. I grab handfuls of paper towels and scrub my cheeks and neck.

  “What happened to you?” one of the girls asks. She is small and thin with hard eyes that seem to be studying me, like she knows what just happened.

  “An accident,” I mutter, but inside I am raging. How could they do this to me? How is this right?

  The girl reaches into her bag and pulls out a hairbrush. “Here. Use this.”

  I smile weakly and thank her, then attempt to drag the brush through my matted damp hair. At least it looks a bit better. But I can still smell the sickly scent of milkshake on me. It’s making me gag.

  “Are you sure you’re OK?” the girl asks, taking back her brush.

  “Yes. I’m fine.” I grip the edges of the sink, trying to fight the shaking that is taking over my body.

  One of her friends speaks up. “Maybe we should get a teacher? Someone to help you?”

  “No.” My voice is firm. “Please. Just leave me alone.”

  They file out, muttering under their breaths. Probably wondering what sort of weirdo I am. Who could blame them? I would think the same thing if some milkshake‑covered girl with crazy hair ran into the loos.

  The silence in the toilets calms me a bit. I take a few shaky breaths and then look back into the mirror. I look so pale. There are streaks on my cheeks where I cried and my skin is red where I scrubbed it. I still can’t stand to look at my hair.

  Hearing a noise outside, I rush into a cubicle and lock the door. I sit on the closed seat of the toilet, pull out my phone again and look blankly at the screen.