Know My Place Read online

  “Hey, Amy,” she says. “Come upstairs. We have a surprise for you.”

  I look back at her, confused, but Graham leans over and nudges me. “Go on, quick,” he says. “I think you might like this.”

  I follow Gemma upstairs, feeling a bit tense. I’m not sure I like surprises much. Most of the surprises I’ve had have not been good ones.

  Gemma leads me into my room and throws up her arms.

  “Ta da!” she says.

  In front of me, Kenny is kneeling by a new white desk, and on top of it is a laptop.

  I blink at it, not able to believe it.

  “Is that for me?” I ask.

  “Of course it is,” Kenny says, standing up. “I’ve set it up for you and sorted the Wi‑Fi and everything.”

  I walk over to the laptop and gently run my fingers over the keys. They feel so soft. I had a computer at the Gibsons’, but I shared it with Stephanie and she hardly let me on it. This is the first time I’ve ever had anything like this of my own.

  “We thought you might want to do some writing on it,” Gemma says gently. “Homework. Connect with friends?”

  I shake my head. I don’t have friends, not really. But it doesn’t matter. It is still perfect.

  “Thank you,” I say, and I really mean it.

  Kenny stays in my room to help me set up my email account.

  “I’m guessing you have people you’ll want to contact?”

  I shrug and say, “Not really. I stopped going to my old school towards the end of the year, so I lost touch with most of them.”

  “You weren’t going to school?” Kenny says. “How come?”

  “I was having trouble with some of the girls,” I say. “They bullied me for not fitting in. For being in care.”

  “That’s so bad,” Kenny says. “How much school did you miss?”

  “About four months, I think. I was trying to do school work at home, but things were hard.” I think of Mary and the arguments we had about me and Stephanie not getting on. I started to refuse to go to school and Stephanie teased me for that, even when she knew her friends were giving me grief too. I remember how Mary begged me to “try to get on with them” – and got upset when I refused.

  Kenny sits down on the floor next to me. “I get that,” he says. “I would be totally upset if I couldn’t go to school.” He pushes up his glasses and sighs. “I had hassle too, especially in Year Seven and a bit of Year Eight. I guess it’s never cool to be a geek, is it?”

  “Only to some people,” I mutter. “But they don’t matter.”

  Kenny points at the laptop. “Is there anything you need help with on here? Anything you’d like to be able to do?”

  “I’m not sure,” I say, pausing. “Maybe we could look up my home town? Where I used to live with my nan?”

  It doesn’t take long for Kenny to do it, and soon he is whisking us down the streets of Nan’s town. A familiar feeling spins inside me. It’s like I am a little girl again, walking down these streets. Seeing the old sights, the church on the corner. My old primary school. It’s like going back in time.

  I point at the screen. “That’s it. That’s my nan’s house.”

  I can hardly believe it, seeing the house on screen all of a sudden. It looks different somehow – not like the house I lived in for so long.

  “So, this is a house you lived in before?” Kenny asks.

  “Yeah, I lived there with my nan until I was six.”

  He frowns. “How come you left?”

  “Nan got ill,” I say. “Really ill.” I keep staring at the screen. I found her right there, in her house, in the kitchen, curled up on the floor like a baby. “Nan had a bleed on the brain, the doctors said. It was massive. She died straight away.”

  Kenny drew in a sharp breath. “Amy. That’s awful – and that’s why you ended up …”

  He can’t finish the sentence. I’ve noticed people hate saying the words, unless they mean them in a nasty way.

  “That’s how I ended up in care, yes,” I say. I finally pull my gaze away from the laptop and look at Kenny. His cheeks are red and he’s looking back at me nervously, like he doesn’t know what to say next. “I didn’t have any other family,” I explain. “My mum ran off when I was a baby, and she was an only child. I have no clue who my dad is.”

  “And they can’t find your mum?” Kenny asks.

  I shrug. “I think the social workers tried, after Nan died, but they didn’t get anywhere. Apparently she was in a bad way when she left, into drinking and drugs. I don’t think she would ever be fit to be a parent.”

  “That’s terrible,” Kenny says. “I can’t even imagine what it must’ve felt like, losing your nan like that and then having no one else.”

  I lower my gaze as I reply. “It was awful. I felt lost, I suppose. I didn’t belong anywhere any more.”

  “You must miss her, your nan?” Kenny asks.

  “I do. A lot.”

  Kenny gently closes the laptop. “I hope you can be happy here,” he says finally. “A new start, right?”

  I smile back weakly. “I hope so too.”

  Later, I pick up my journal to write again. I could use the new laptop, of course. I think that’s what Gemma meant for me to do. She probably saw my journal and thought that I write silly stories or notes in it. But it’s far more important than that.

  I can only write to Nan in here. Somehow, I know she will be listening.

  Seeing your house again, Nan, made me remember all kinds of things. I’d forgotten just how small it was. I suppose I was smaller when I lived there, so the kitchen always seemed big. At Gemma and Graham’s there is space everywhere. It’s so different, not what I’m used to.

  But they’re nice. Gemma is sweet and Graham is funny. I like Kenny too – I just hope he doesn’t get bored of me like Stephanie did. I’m too scared to get my hopes up, in case it all goes wrong again. I don’t think I can face that.

  I want this to work, Nan. I really do. But I’m just so scared.

  Can I let myself believe this time will be different?

  SEVEN

  BEFORE

  Mary and I were cooking together, making a pie for dinner. Mary was frying the chicken and vegetables, and I was rolling out the pastry. I did it carefully, making sure the pastry was smooth and even. As I worked, I thought of my nan. How she would use a milk bottle for a rolling pin and giggle that the cold glass hurt her hands if she did it for too long. If I really focused, I could hear Nan beside me. The throaty rasp of her laughter, the gentle sound of her humming.

  “You look lost in thought.” Mary’s voice broke my thoughts.

  I looked up. Mary was facing me, wiping her hands on her apron.

  “Are you OK, Amy?” she asked. “How’s school?”

  I bowed my head a little. “It’s OK – I suppose …”

  Mary cleared her throat and said, “I heard from your form tutor today. He said you didn’t show up for afternoon registration.”

  I didn’t reply.

  “Where were you, Amy?” Mary asked.

  “I …” I hesitated. I looked up at Mary’s wide eyes. I wanted to tell her how Stephanie and her friends had shoved me in the corridor at lunch. How they had jeered and called me names. I wanted to tell her how I had burst into tears in front of them.

  What else could I do but run away from there? I just wanted to be on my own.

  “Amy?” Mary’s voice was soft. “You know I’m going to have to tell the social worker about this.”

  Mary’s expression was gentle, but I could see the dark circles under her eyes. I’d heard her arguing with Stephanie the night before. They seemed to argue a lot more these days too.

  “I had a headache,” I said finally. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to get away.”

  “You should have gone to the medical room,” Mary said. “Or phoned me.”

  “I know. I didn’t think. I’m sorry …”

  Mary nodded. “Well, as long as you’re sure that�
�s all it is—”

  “It is,” I said.

  “Because I know you are still struggling to get along with Stephanie.” Mary sighed softly. “I’ve tried talking to Stephanie about this too. She tells me you’re rude to her – and rude to her friends.”

  “I’m not,” I replied sharply. “I just don’t think Stephanie likes me much.”

  “Why? What has she said?” Mary asked.

  I lowered my head. I didn’t know what to say. Fear kept the words trapped in my throat. If I told Mary the truth, I wasn’t sure she would believe me. And even if she did, how would Stephanie react? It would make things a million times worse.

  “Is there anything you want to tell me, Amy?” Mary persisted.

  “I’m fine, Mary,” I whispered. “I just don’t think me and Stephanie have much in common.”

  Mary studied me for a moment or two and then sighed. “I’ll talk to Stephanie again. I’ll ask her to try harder.” She paused. “I can’t have your school work start to suffer, Amy. I just hope things can settle down again between you two. That’s what I hope.”

  I nodded again, tears pricking at my eyes. But I don’t think Mary noticed. She went back to the hob and began stirring the pan.

  But she had said the word twice – “hope”, not “I know” or “I think”.

  But “I hope”.

  And that made me think she was starting to have doubts.

  NOW

  The weekend passes in a blur. Gemma and I go out shopping again. She also takes me for a walk to the nearby park and shows me the lake where she likes to sit. Gemma says it’s her favourite place. It’s very pretty and quiet, and I have to admit I could easily see myself sitting there with a book in the sunshine.

  On Sunday evening Graham cooks a barbeque for us in the back garden. I’ve never seen so much food! Kenny manages to eat at least three burgers and handfuls of crisps.

  “I don’t know where he puts it,” Gemma giggles, looking at Kenny’s skinny body.

  “I’m just glad we had good weather,” Graham says, gesturing at the blue skies. “It’s always so nice to eat in the open. I think it feels better somehow.”

  I even find myself reaching for a second burger. My stomach no longer feels small and clenched. I wonder if the fresh air is helping me.

  “We’ll do this more often,” Gemma says. “It’s good to be together as a family.”

  I smile back, trying not to cling on to the fact that she said “family” while looking me straight in the eye.

  And then on Monday the time has come – I must face my demons. The first day of school has arrived. My first day at Bevan High.

  Kenny normally walks to school, but this morning Gemma drives us both in. She says she wants to help make the morning go smoothly. I wish she could do something to stop my stomach twisting violently inside me.

  One of the major things worrying me about the school is the size. It is huge – much bigger than my old secondary school.

  Gemma parks up outside the entrance and then touches me lightly on the arm.

  “Kenny will walk in with you,” she says. “He’ll show you where your form group is.”

  “He doesn’t have to,” I say.

  Kenny is already halfway out of the car. “It’s no problem,” he says. “It’s on the way to mine anyway.”

  His door slams. I pick up my bag slowly. My stomach whips and swirls. I squeeze the handles of my bag together, wishing I could be somewhere else.

  “It’ll be OK, you know,” Gemma says. “You wait and see. It’ll go better than you think.”

  “You reckon?” I say.

  “I reckon.” Gemma nods and smiles. “And if not, I’m only a phone call away – OK?”

  “OK,” I reply.

  But I feel very far from OK as I get out of the car. My legs are like jelly and my head is hurting.

  This is about as far from OK as I can possibly be.

  My form group is in a Maths room. Kenny shows me to the door. He peers in.

  “It looks OK,” he says. “Not everyone has arrived yet. Get in, introduce yourself. Try to relax.”

  “That sounds easier than it actually is,” I say.

  Kenny shrugs. “Don’t overthink it. New girls are interesting. If you act cool and relaxed, everyone will want to be your friend.” He pulls his bag over his shoulder. “Maybe I’ll see you at lunch? Come and find me if you need to.”

  I watch as Kenny walks away, his head slightly lowered. He certainly doesn’t look like one of the cool kids. In fact, I see a couple of older students push past him in the corridor, but Kenny gives the impression he doesn’t care what people think. I decide I like that about him.

  I walk into the room, trying to ignore everyone’s eyes suddenly turning to me. Some of the desks are taken. People are spread out, sitting on the tables or on the chairs, which are turned in so they are all facing each other. I can see one free desk and it’s right at the front of the room. I make my way slowly towards it.

  “Hi,” I say to one of the girls sitting nearby. “Does anyone sit here?”

  “No. Not normally,” she says, looking up at me, interested. “Hey. Are you new?”

  “Yeah.” I manage a smile. “I’m Amy.”

  The girl smiles. She is small and pretty with dark straight hair cut into a sharp bob. “Welcome. I’m Demi,” she says. “This is my friend Tia.” Demi nudges the girl next to her.

  Tia looks me up and down and then asks me, “So – where are you from originally?”

  “I lived in Slatesbourne,” I say.

  Tia frowns a bit. “That’s miles away. Did your parents move or something?”

  “No.” I sit down, feeling heavy. I hate all these questions. “My nan died and I lived with someone else for a while.”

  “Aw, that’s sad,” says Demi. “Poor you.”

  I feel my cheeks burn. I don’t want people to feel sorry for me. That’s not what I asked for.

  “I’m fine actually,” I snap. “I’m not a poor anything.”

  “Oh!” Tia says. “Friendly, aren’t you?”

  “I was only trying to be polite,” Demi says, looking hurt. Tia squeezes her arm and glares at me. I feel awful and start to apologise, but then Tia speaks again.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t bother with the new girl, Demi. Looks like she has an attitude problem.”

  “I haven’t—” I start to say.

  Tia holds out her hand. “No. Don’t worry,” she says smoothly. “We’ll not bother you again.”

  She nudges Demi to join in with the rest of the group and they turn away from me.

  I’ve been at school ten minutes and I’ve already managed to upset the first people I’ve spoken to. So far this is going as badly as I’d feared.

  I drift through the first two classes, nodding numbly as teachers introduce me in each class and watching as the class stare back at me. A few girls try to speak to me, and I’m polite but I don’t say much. I don’t want to risk upsetting anyone again. It seems far easier to keep my head down and my mouth closed. I hear some people whisper behind me. I’m not sure if they’re talking about me or not, but I’m guessing there is a good chance they are.

  I slip into the toilets at break and lock the door of the cubicle. I feel safe in here, shut away from the huge loud crowds. But it isn’t long before I hear the bathroom door crash open, a group of girls rushing in. At first they talk loudly about some boy who followed them down the corridor and they giggle. Then one of the girls says how rubbish Mr Frazer’s German classes are. My ears prick up. That was my last lesson.

  “I hate him so much,” the girl continues. I don’t recognise her voice, but I’m guessing she’s from the group of girls who sat together in a small pack at the back of the classroom. “He talks too fast and he always picks on us.”

  Yes, it has to be them. Mr Frazer kept picking on them for answers. The loudest and prettiest of the group was a girl called Ashley. I wonder if it’s her talking.

  “Aw, Ash,
I reckon it’s only because he knows you’re good at it,” someone replies.

  Ah! Right again.

  “Did you see that new girl? How weird was she?”

  My back stiffens. I press myself up against the cubicle wall, wishing I could vanish.

  “Yeah, she won’t talk to anyone,” says another voice. “Really moody. Is she snobby or what?”

  There’s a giggle. “No way. I heard she’s living with Kenny Dawson.”

  “What, Kenny in Year Ten?”

  “Yeah. And you know he was telling everyone about his parents taking in a foster kid.”

  Thanks, Kenny.

  “Aw.” This sounds like Ashley again. “The poor cow is in care then? Probably has a drugged‑up mum or dad. No wonder she looks so sad.”

  “Might want to stay out of her way then? She could be trouble.”

  They all screech with laughter and then clatter back out of the toilets. Leaving me behind. Standing in my stupid cubicle feeling smaller than ever.

  Everyone will know now. They’ll know I’m in care.

  They’ll all know there is something wrong with me.

  I’m not sure how I make it through the rest of the morning. It’s really hard to focus and I feel like everyone’s eyes are on me. Is it my imagination or do the teachers seem to be studying me too? I wonder what they think of me. They must have seen my notes. They will know my background. It makes me even more angry that they might feel sorry for me, so I bend my head over my books and refuse to answer any questions, even when I know the answers.

  Today is about hiding and getting through – nothing more.

  I’m briefly relieved when the lunch bell goes. Gemma told me that she loaded my lunch card with money, so I know I can buy whatever I want. I’m not really hungry, but I walk quickly to the dinner hall as it seems the right place to be. I don’t even have to worry about going the wrong way – the swirling crowds lead me there.

  It’s busier inside and even louder. This is probably the biggest dining area I’ve ever been in. The queue for the hot food already snakes halfway round the room, so I choose to join the short queue for cold food instead. I pluck a dry‑looking sandwich and packet of fruit from the fridge and wait. All around me, people are talking and laughing. I feel so exposed standing here on my own. It’s a relief to reach the front of the queue and ram my card under the digital reader.