This stranger-thing feeling that has been feeding away at my guts, it’s hit me like a ton of bricks.
I am madly, crazy, sadistically in love with Amy Earhart.
Always have been. Always will.
I spend the whole night outside, dipping my feet in Devil’s Thirst.
It’s taking all my energy to not let these feelings smother me and grow, like poison ivy in my damned, soulless heart.
28
YOU
LAST NIGHT, I CRIED myself to sleep.
Shepherd had a girl in his room.
Oblivion. I feel it, the darkness, that place beyond all feeling.
I saw her. I looked out the window when she left. It was the girl from The Wicked Witch.
Why did it have to be her? She is the opposite of me. Stunning, stylish, confident.
It feels like dying.
I put on a brave face when I go into Scarlett’s room. The girls are all here, and it seems light-hearted enough.
Lilac takes Scarlett’s pink Jackie O sunglasses and puts them on, walking around like a supermodel. Annabeth starts to sing, a song playing on the radio in the staff room, nearby. This girl is on fire. They grab each other, singing louder, and start bouncing on the bed. Scarlett grabs a pillow and starts whacking them on the legs, belting out the chorus along with Alicia Keyes. Even Daisy joins in, not singing, but clapping her hands lightly to the song.
Giggling, clasping each other, they land in a heap. I’m laughing too. This is a good moment.
Next to me, Scarlett’s patent handbag bulges open with a magazine, and a can of Diet Coke. Under it, I spy a little penknife and wonder if she’s self-harming again. Scarlett grew up with a strict, over-bearing mother who’s belittled her since she was a child.
Daisy remains in the corner, slightly more relaxed than usual, until Annabeth and Lilac turn their attention to her, and begin to ask her questions about her uncle. They want to hear her story again. It’s like a horror film for them. They forget it’s real.
‘Leave her alone,’ I tell them, and they look defensive but they stop. Daisy gives me the smallest smile.
Scarlett plops down next to me on the sofa, opens her can of Diet Coke and offers me a swig. I shake my head. I watch her knock back the can, then re-apply her candy-pink lip gloss.
‘So, Amy, what’s occurring with you and Dr Sexpire?’ Scarlett says.
‘Nothing.’
‘He’s such a dork,’ she says. ‘Why’s he taken such an interest in you? Come on, spill the goss.’
‘Nothing is going on between us.’
‘Didn’t think so. I heard he had a girl here last night. Not jealous, are you?’ Scarlett smirks and it makes her ugly.
I don’t say anything. It frustrates her. Always does when I’m quiet. I’ve never opened up to any of them. Not even in group therapy.
‘Lilac said you’d have to talk one day, but not to us.’
Lilac looks like she wants the ground to swallow her up. Her face is crimson. ‘I only meant you’d rather talk to a professional than us,’ Lilac says.
‘But that’s not what you said, Lilac,’ crows Scarlett loudly. ‘You said Amy will only talk to someone who’s very highly qualified because she thinks she’s special. Because she thinks that her story is more tragic than ours.’
I know she’s just lashing out because she’s upset I won’t open up to her, but it’s a low punch.
I gaze up at the ceiling, and try not to think. But I know now that this thing between Shepherd and me, it hasn’t escaped the slow erosion of everything, and that even when you think you’ve lost it all, there is still more that can be taken from you.
THE NEXT DAY, Scarlett comes to my room, her face flushed with guilt.
‘What you doing after lunch?’ she says.
So this is how we’ll play it. No acknowledgement of what a bitch she was yesterday, but she’ll try to make it up to me. I decide to let her. She’s in all kinds of pain, too. We need each other.
‘Catching a flight to Paris,’ I say. ‘Thought I’d start with the Louvre, but I’m skipping the Eiffel Tower. Too touristy.’
She grins, glad I’m playing along and that I’m not going to punish her. She raises one over-plucked eyebrow, a look she must have practised in the mirror.
‘What about going back to my room and I’ll give you a makeover? I could trim your hair for you, give you a total new look. Pretty Virgin Librarian is so last decade.’
‘You’re not touching my hair, Scarlett.’
She sighs at me, shaking her head. ‘You could be a model if you just made an effort. Why d’you always cover yourself up? It’s like you don’t want anyone to notice how beautiful you are.’
29
YOU
IN THE LAST WEEK, Shepherd has been a ghost in the estate. I haven’t glanced a peek at chiselled cheekbones or the jawline proud like a Roman statue. Sometimes I hear noises from upstairs, a soft footfall, a cupboard door, the noise of bathwater draining away. But more often, there is no noise at all.
No girl’s voice or giggles . . .
When I get back from group therapy, there’s something white by my room door. It’s a large envelope with just the word ‘Amy’ on the front in black marker.
I leave the envelope where it is and check my door, twice over, start to finish. I pick it up and take it inside my room. I drop it on the table while I do the checks. I rush through the first two times because I want to see what’s in the envelope. When I finish, I pause. Is
