Tangled Secrets, Page 4

  “Do you suffer from allergies, Maddie?” said Vivian suddenly. I stopped writing and glanced up. They were both looking at me.

  I shook my head. I wasn’t allergic to animals or nuts or anything like that.

  “Oh my god, you’re so lucky,” said Sally-Ann. “I’m allergic to everything. It’s even worse at this time of year. I get the most awful hay fever.”

  She started to list all the things she was allergic to, counting them off on her fingers. I wanted to say I wasn’t lucky at all; that I’d much rather be allergic to peanuts or pollen than have the same anxious thoughts going round and round my head on an endless loop. Everyone understands if you say you’ve got a nut allergy or hay fever. Sally-Ann was the lucky one.

  I wrote ALLERGY right across the middle of the pad and then made a list of all the things I’d become “allergic” to since Nan died. Coping without my purple ribbon, hospitals, talking to anyone except my family and Gemma, any kind of…

  “You’re very busy there, Maddie,” said Vivian. “Is it anything you’d like to share with us before we finish for today?”

  I opened my mouth and closed it again, tears stinging my eyes. Mrs Palmer and Mum thought that coming to the nurture group would make everything better, but I still didn’t get how talking would help – or not talking in my case. I shook my head again, ripping the page out of the pad and scrunching it up into a tiny ball.

  “That’s okay,” said Vivian, as if it was no big deal. “Sometimes it helps to put things down on paper even if no one else sees.” She got up and walked over to the door. “It’s time to get back to class now, girls, but it’s been great to meet you both.”

  “I’ll try not to be late on Thursday,” said Sally-Ann, getting up. She pressed her side and winced slightly. “Come on, Maddie, we can walk to our next class together.”

  I scraped my chair back and gave Vivian a small smile. I was pretty sure that coming here wouldn’t make any difference to my “allergies” but I couldn’t help liking her. I was just about to hand the pad back, hoping she’d let me use it again at the next session, when the door burst open.

  “Oh good, this must be the third member of our group,” said Vivian, stepping back.

  I glanced up and then froze. I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was as if someone had decided to play the worst-ever joke on me.

  Vivian clasped her hands together, smiling. “Better late than never, eh, girls?” she said, giving us a little wink, and took another step back as Kieran Black strode into the room.

  Chapter 5

  I was sure it had to be a mistake – that he’d just flung the door open as he walked past the Blue Room on the way to his next lesson, but Vivian said, “Hello, Kieran, I’m Vivian. I’m so pleased we’ve had the chance to meet each other before Thursday.”

  “Where’s everyone else then?” he said, his lip curling up as if there was a bad smell in the room.

  “It’s a small group,” said Vivian. “Just you, Maddie and Sally-Ann.”

  Kieran looked us up and down, snorting. “I’m not coming to a group with two girls. No offence, yeah, but I’m outta here.”

  He swung round and was halfway through the door when Vivian said, “No offence taken. I’ll look forward to seeing you on Thursday then.”

  He swung back round, frowning. “I said I’m not coming. Didn’t you hear me?”

  “We don’t care, do we?” said Sally-Ann, sticking her chin in the air. “Come on, Maddie, let’s go.”

  I was still finding it difficult to move. How could he be so rude? Vivian didn’t even look cross, she just smiled her big smile and said, “It’s entirely up to you, Kieran, but I do hope you’ll come to the session on Thursday and tell us about the group you were hoping to find when you opened the door. Unfortunately we’re out of time for today, so we’ll have to say goodbye for now.”

  I thought Kieran was going to explode. I hunched my shoulders and half-closed my eyes, convinced he was going to shout at Vivian, or worse, but a beat later it was over. You could almost feel the fight go out of him. Somehow Vivian had managed to get the last word. He turned and slunk out of the room, muttering to himself, his hands thrust deep in his pockets.

  Sally-Ann flounced out after him and I followed behind, keeping my head down, eyes fixed on the ground, relieved the whole thing was over and done with.

  Gemma was waiting for me by my locker, scanning the corridor. “Where have you been?” she said as I came towards her. “You missed registration.”

  I waved my hand vaguely in the direction of the Blue Room and muttered something about a meeting. I couldn’t face telling her I’d been to a special counselling session – she’d want to know why I didn’t tell her before, and what it was for, and who else was in the group, and I still had no idea how I was supposed to explain.

  “What sort of meeting?” she said, glancing back over my shoulder as if she was trying to work it out. “Was it something to do with the summer fair?”

  “No, nothing like that,” I said, tugging at her arm. “Come on, we need to go – the bell’s about to ring.”

  There was no sign of Kieran when we got to English. He usually walks in late, if he bothers turning up at all. Gemma grabbed two seats at the front where she always sits, but I decided it would be safer at the back – less chance of Miss Owen calling on me or asking me to read my work out. Gemma gave me a funny look, pointing at the chair next to her, but I bit my lip, shrugging. I knew she’d be upset, but sitting at the front felt too risky.

  We were supposed to be finishing our autobiographies but I couldn’t stop thinking about Vivian and the group. A part of me had already decided I was never going back, but there was something about the way she’d handled Kieran Black, the way she stood her ground without shouting at him or showing any fear. I’d never seen a teacher deal with Kieran like that before. He was always either thrown out of class or put in detention.

  He finally turned up ten minutes before the end of the lesson, flinging the door open so it slammed back against the wall.

  “Where on earth have you been?” asked Miss Owen, rolling her eyes and looking at her watch. “I’m really struggling to see the point of you walking in to my lesson when there’s so little time left…”

  Kieran curled his lip, sneering at her. It was obvious he couldn’t care less whether Miss Owen could see the point or not. Gemma turned round and caught my eye, making a loser sign with her hand. I stared down at my book, my face burning up. It would be so embarrassing if she found out that Kieran and I were having counselling sessions together.

  He dragged his bag up the aisle towards the back of the room, bending down as he passed my chair to whisper “Maddie Mouse” in my ear. I kept my eyes on my book, chewing the end of my pen, waiting for my face to cool down. Nan used to say that everyone had something good inside them, however hard they tried to hide it – but then she never met Kieran Black.

  It was packed in the cafeteria at lunch. I picked at my chicken-and-mayo sandwich while Gemma filled me in on what I’d missed at registration. Apparently Mrs Palmer had announced a new after-school rounders club for Year Eights but I was only half-listening. A girl sitting right in front of us had a bright blue lunch box, the exact colour of the scarf the woman in the cemetery was wearing yesterday. I really needed to see her again, to ask her about the note, to find out who she was and how she knew Nan…

  “It starts on Wednesday with Mr Skinner,” Gemma said, shaking my arm to get my attention. “I thought I might join actually. What do you think, Mads, shall we do it together?”

  I shook my head, trying to focus. “I’ve never played rounders before. We didn’t do it at primary school.”

  “Come on, Maddie, please, it sounds really good. I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong. You never want to do anything any more!”

  Just then I noticed Kieran come into the canteen. I dropped my head as he scanned the room, praying he wouldn’t see me. I just didn’t get why Mrs Palmer thought it would be a good id
ea to put me in a group with someone like him. A nurture group. How could something be nurturing with Kieran Black there? It was crazy.

  “So what was your meeting about if it wasn’t the summer fair?” said Gemma suddenly, as if she could read my mind. “I asked Mrs Palmer but she basically told me to mind my own business.”

  “It was a kind of assessment thing,” I said, only half-lying. “About my progress this term…”

  “Oh right, what happened? You weren’t in trouble, were you? Do you need me to help you with anything? Maths homework? Science?”

  “No, it was nothing like that. Okay, listen, I’ll come to rounders if you really want me to.”

  I only said it to change the subject. I just didn’t know how to talk to her about the nurture group, it felt too private to discuss, especially the majorly embarrassing fact that Kieran was part of it.

  Gemma took a bite of her sandwich, watching me, waiting to see if I was going to say anything else. She probably realized I was dodging her questions, putting her off, lying to her.

  “Do you know Nathan Meyer in 8B?” she said after a bit.

  I shook my head.

  “He lives on my road. Look, he’s over there.” She pointed across the canteen at a crowd of boys on another table.

  I shook my head again and frowned, not sure what this Nathan had to do with anything. “I’ve seen him around but I don’t really know him, why?”

  “No reason,” she said, getting frustrated. “You wouldn’t understand anyway.” She scraped her chair back, stuffing the rest of her sandwich in her bag. “I’ve got to go. It’s maths club and I don’t want to be late.”

  I watched as she rushed out of the canteen without even saying bye. It was as if she was letting me know she could keep secrets too. I wanted to run after her. To tell her I was sorry, to ask what it was she wanted to tell me about Nathan. I really wanted things to go back to how they used to be. But it was like a wall was growing between us and I had no idea how to knock it down.

  We have art last thing on Mondays with Mrs Morris. It’s easily my favourite class of the week. It’s in a big, sunny studio at the top of the school, every centimetre of the walls covered in paintings, pictures and sketches – every spare table crammed with half-finished models made out of clay and modroc: our works in progress, as Mrs Morris likes to call them.

  I feel different when I’m in the art room. There’s something about drawing and painting and modelling that stops me thinking about Nan or Kieran Black or anything. I get so absorbed in my work it’s like being transported to a different place, a quiet place, where I don’t have to worry about anything except the piece of work in front of me.

  We’ve been doing portraiture this term. Gemma and I have been working on ours together. She’s been painting my face from a photo and I’ve been doing hers using tiny pieces of torn-up newspaper. We only started a couple of weeks before half-term but it’s a brilliant topic, one of my favourites so far this year.

  I could see Gemma over by the sink, mixing paint. We hadn’t spoken since lunch, since she mentioned that boy Nathan and rushed off to maths club. It’s PE before art, but we’re in different sets. I grabbed a pile of newspaper, ready to make a start on her hair, wondering if she was still upset. She usually waits for me outside the changing rooms but she must’ve come straight up to the art room. It would be awful if she didn’t want us to be partners any more.

  “Quick, take one of these, Mads,” she said a minute later, staggering over with three different pots and a load of brushes. “I literally can’t wait to see how you’re going to do my plaits!”

  I shifted up to make room for her on the bench, massively relieved. I knew it was her way of saying we were okay again. She never stays cross for long – but I had a horrible feeling she wouldn’t keep forgiving me for ever, not if I kept keeping secrets and pushing her away.

  Most of the class were working together in pairs, chatting about their portraits, helping each other as they went along. I’m usually one hundred per cent focused in art – a bomb could drop and I wouldn’t notice – but for some reason my eyes kept wandering over to Kieran. He was sitting by himself at the back of the room, his head bent over his picture. I wasn’t sure if he’d chosen to work by himself, or if no one else wanted to pair up with him.

  “Help me a minute, would you?” said Gemma, nudging me. “I can’t get your nose right and it’s driving me nuts.”

  I was about to turn back round to show her my nose when Kieran glanced up and caught me staring. Our eyes locked for a second, then a nasty smile spread across his face as he lifted his hands up to the sides of his mouth to make mousy whiskers.

  I dropped my head, my cheeks flaming. Why did he keep doing that? Treating me like I was the world’s biggest joke? I tried to stay focused on my work for the rest of the lesson, shredding tiny pieces of newspaper to make individual strands of hair. I didn’t dare look round again, but I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my head.

  As soon as the bell rang I slipped out of class and hurried towards my locker to get my stuff. All I could think about was that I hated Kieran Black, and I hated the fact that Mrs Palmer had lumped us together in Vivian’s special group as if we were the same. Did she really think that forcing me to sit in a room with someone like him twice a week was going to help me talk or improve my grades?

  I was out of school and halfway down Banner Road when I heard Gemma calling my name. I hadn’t even thought of her in my rush to get away from Kieran.

  “Hang on a minute!” she yelled, running to catch up. “Why did you disappear like that, without saying bye? What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing, I’m fine.”

  “Oh, right.” She fixed me with a look. “Well I was just wondering if you wanted to come back to mine for a bit. I could help you with your history topic…”

  I hesitated for a moment, scuffing my foot on the pavement. How could I explain that I needed to go straight to the cemetery? That I was hoping the woman in the blue scarf might be there?

  “Um…I haven’t actually got my project with me,” I said, dodging her gaze. “I haven’t even—”

  “Look, why don’t you just say you don’t want to hang out?” she interrupted, her eyes blazing. “I’m not stupid. You’ve been acting weird with me for ages.”

  “I do,” I said. “I do want to hang out. It’s not you, Gemma. It’s just…” I searched for the right words, a way to make her understand how messed up everything was: missing Nan, the nurture group, Kieran Black. “I’m just…I’m just not feeling very well…”

  “I thought you said you were fine just now? God, Maddie, you’re not the only one with problems, you know!”

  “I know, I’m sorry. Please, Gem, it’s not you.”

  I reached out for her arm, but she pushed me away and took off down the road without looking back. I wanted to go after her, to say sorry again – I knew I was hurting her, pushing her away, making her feel like I didn’t want to hang out any more, but I couldn’t help it. Something much stronger was drawing me in the opposite direction, down Banner Road and towards the cemetery.

  It was pretty much deserted when I got there, just an old man by the entrance reading the paper. A part of me knew the woman wouldn’t turn up – and that even if she did I’d probably be too scared to say anything – but I had to wait for her just in case. Almost as if, in a weird sort of way, she was my last ever link to Nan.

  Mum asked me about the nurture group later that evening. We were in the kitchen and she was busy making a salad for dinner. She wanted to know what Vivian was like and who else was there and what we’d talked about and if I thought it was going to help – firing the questions at me like bullets, one after the other.

  “You did go, didn’t you, Maddie?” she said, after I’d shrugged a few times.

  “I did, but I really don’t want to go back on Thursday.”

  “What do you mean?” She stopped mid-slice. “You’ve got to go, it’s important. I
thought you understood. What was it? Was it Vivian? Didn’t you like her?”

  “No, Vivian was nice,” I said, trying to make her understand. “It’s just there’s this boy in the group, Kieran Black.”

  Something flickered across Mum’s face. “Kieran Black?”

  “Why are you saying it like that? You don’t know him, do you?”

  She shook her head. “I used to know his mum, Samantha, but I didn’t know her son was in your year.”

  “He’s not just in my year, he’s in my form. He joined Church Vale in January.”

  I’d never mentioned Kieran to Mum before or told her about him picking on me all the time. I was scared she might go up to school and make a big fuss – that it would end up making things worse. She turned back to the salad and started to slice up some cherry tomatoes. She was stalling, it was so obvious.

  “Come on, why did you say it like that?” I said. “Why did you make that face? Is it his mum? How did you know her?”

  She hesitated before she spoke. “No, it’s not his mum, Maddie – it’s…it’s…nothing. Just forget I said anything, okay?”

  “You can’t just tell me to forget it. I hate it when you do that. Is it something to do with work?”

  “Well, I have been involved with his family at work,” she said slowly, “but you know I can’t discuss it with you.”

  Mum’s a specialist nurse at an addiction clinic, helping people who are trying to give up drugs or alcohol. Everything that happens there is strictly confidential and she never tells me anything, but it was obvious from the way she was acting that Kieran’s mum must be one of her patients.

  She turned the tap on to wash the cucumber. “So what’s this Kieran like? Is he nice?”