I passed by the bathroom and my father’s office before I came to the familiar door of my old bedroom. I reached out and ran my fingers over the sign I’d proudly hung when I was thirteen.
“DO NOT ENTER LANE’S ROOM!
THE CHANCES OF YOUR DEATH ARE INCREDIBLY HIGH IF YOU IGNORE THIS SIGN.
KALE GETS A PASS, AND HIM ALONE!”
I’d been such a little hellcat.
I chuckled and reached for the handle of my door, and chuckled even more when I heard it creak loudly as I pushed it open. I shook my head. Out of everything that has been fixed in this house, they couldn’t have fixed my bedroom door after all of these years?
I reached to the left wall, felt for the light switch and flipped it. I blinked rapidly against the harshness of the light, but my eyes quickly adjusted and began to scan around the room.
It was the same, and only a little different.
There were bed sheets on my bed that I’d never seen before and curtains that were definitely new to the room. Apart from that, things looked untouched. My mother must have put everything back where she’d found it after she did her rounds of cleaning, because it looked like I’d never left, with the exception of it being a lot cleaner than it ever was when I’d lived here.
I looked down to my attire and frowned. My suitcase was back at the hotel, housing my only pair of pyjamas and fresh change of underwear. I looked over to my dresser and curiously walked forward, opening the first drawer. I didn’t know why, but I wasn’t surprised when I found new packets of underwear lining the wood. I opened the other drawers and found new, plain T-shirts, jeans, leggings, jumpers – you name it; it was stocked in the drawers.
I didn’t think my mother would have had the time to do this kind of a shopping haul over the last few days, which could only mean she had been stocking up on new items of clothing for me over the years. She either hoped I would come home, or she knew I would.
It was clear that though the clothes had never been worn, they had been washed a few times and even ironed, which made me feel like an even bigger piece of shit. Washing them, cleaning and preserving my room was her own way of dealing with me being gone.
I opened a packet of underwear and picked out a pair of plain white booty shorts before opening the fourth drawer and taking out a set of adult-sized Pokémon pyjamas that made me laugh. I’ve always had an embarrassing obsession with Pokémon that only my mother got; her sense of humour on the subject didn’t seemed to have faltered.
Laughing, I headed out of my room and into the bathroom, where I showered, washed my hair and scrubbed and shaved every inch of my body before returning to my room, wrapped tightly in a towel. After I dried and changed into my underwear and pyjamas, I got to work on drying my hair. When I got into bed and everything was quiet and dark, my mind screamed my worries at me.
My Uncle Harry’s funeral was tomorrow.
Kale’s son was dead, and Kale was alone and empty inside.
I forced the thoughts from my mind and stared up, smiling at the glow in the dark stickers of the solar system that lit up the ceiling of my room.
“I can’t believe they’re still lighting up,” I murmured to myself.
I forced my eyes to stay open and prayed that I wouldn’t fall asleep, because for once, I didn’t want morning to come. Morning meant burying my uncle.
Morning meant a permanent goodbye.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Fifteen years old (eleven years ago)
Lane, your friend is sooooo cute,” Anna O’Leary gushed to me as she looked up from her phone. “He just posted a new selfie with your brother Lochlan – who is also extremely cute, by the way – on social media and it is hawt.”
I didn’t need to ask for clarification on what cute friend Anna was talking about. I only had one male friend, and he was indeed very cute.
“He’s okay, I guess,” I mumbled, downplaying the fact that I wholeheartedly agreed Kale was cute, and then some.
Anna giggled again. “Does he have a girlfriend by any chance?”
A girlfriend? I looked up at Anna, giving her my full attention.
“Why?” I quizzed.
She dead-panned, “Because I want to introduce him to a girl I think would be very happy to kiss and date him – in other words, me.”
I blinked, dumbly.
Anna wants to date Kale and kiss him? I thought. I don’t like that.
“You’re fifteen,” I said, stating the obvious.
Anna raised her eyebrows. “I’m sixteen next month. What’s your point?”
“What do you mean ‘what’s my point’? You’re sixteen next month, and Kale is nineteen next month,” I said with an arched eyebrow.
Could she not see that the age gap was weird? I knew it was only three years, but we were still little girls . . . I mean, weren’t we? We were only fifteen.
Ally Day – who was studying with us – giggled, and Anna smirked. “Exactly. I always wanted an older boyfriend.”
I blinked, unsure of how to feel.
“Kale isn’t right for you, Anna. He is pretty much a man.”
She sighed dreamingly. “I know. That’s why I want him so bad.”
Ally was still giggling, so I took it she was on board with Anna. I continued to stare at Anna with a shocked expression on my face.
“You’re so stupid,” I said, my tone a little shrill.
I resisted the urge to slap my hand over my mouth because I didn’t mean to say that out loud.
Anna snapped out of her Kale-transfixed daydream and trained her now-narrowed green eyes on me. “I am not stupid. Don’t be jealous of me just because you got friendzoned by the hottest lad we know.”
I felt my cheeks flush with heat when Ally laughed. I didn’t know why she was laughing at what Anna said; she was supposed to be my friend.
“I didn’t get friendzoned by Kale,” I said defensively. “We have just always been friends. It’s never been like that with us.”
I wished it was like that, but it just wasn’t.
“Duh,” Anna said, and gave me a dirty look. “Like he could ever go for someone who looks like you? Hello, ugly alert.”
I hate when she does this, a voice in my mind hissed. She calls me names and upsets me whenever she gets mad at me, and Ally just sits there!
Anna snorted. “And why do you think that is, Lane? You look eight instead of fifteen. You have no boobs, your teeth still have tracks on them, you wear glasses, you have acne and you’re fat. You’re lucky he even bothers to acknowledge you at all, you ugly cow!”
“Yeah,” Ally chimed in, folding her arms across her chest, “I can’t believe we even bothered to hang out with you; you’re such a loser.”
My stomach twisted, and my heart pounded against my chest.
“I have to go home now,” I whispered, and quickly gathered my textbooks and shoved them into my school bag.
Without a word or look in Anna or Ally’s direction, I turned and ran out of Anna’s bedroom. I ran down the stairs, flung open Anna’s front door and ran out of her garden, down the pathway and all the way home. I didn’t stop until I got into my house and up into my bathroom, where I retched and vomited up the entire contents of my stomach.
I only stopped throwing up when I was dry heaving and nothing else came up. I wiped my mouth with some tissue, which I then flushed down the toilet. I moved over to the sink and washed my hands. I cupped my hands together and gathered water, then splashed it on my face. I quickly brushed my teeth and gargled some mouthwash to get the foul taste of vomit out of my mouth.
When I was finished, I dried my hands and face off with a hand towel. I caught my reflection in the mirror and stared at myself. My stomach churned once more as I spotted each and every flaw. Anytime Anna and I had argued over the years, she repeated the same horrible things to me. I couldn’t help but see what she had always pointed out. My nerdy glasses, my metal braces, my acne, my slight double chin. I looked down at my flat chest, then to my chubby belly
and back up to my face.
Anna and Ally were right: I was an ugly cow.
Disgusted with myself, I exited the bathroom and ran for my bedroom, but instead of making a clean escape, I ran head first into my father’s chest as he emerged from his office.
“Hello, love,” he beamed. “You’re home from Anna’s house early. How was studying?”
I didn’t answer, so my dad looked away from the calculator in his hands and down to my face. When he saw my tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes, he dropped his calculator to the floor and kneeled before me, placing his hands on my shoulders.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone laced with worry.
I looked down to his calculator and blew out a breath of relief once I saw the protective cover on it. My father would have been so mad later if the fall had broken it.
I looked to his perplexed gaze.
“Everything,” I answered, my voice broken.
He shook me a little. “Who upset you? Tell me.”
I opened my mouth at the same time as my mother shouted, “Dinner’s ready.”
My stomach churned at the thought of food.
“I don’t want dinner. I’m never eating anything ever again,” I blubbered, then ran around my father and into my bedroom, where I slammed the door shut and turned my lock.