I say the words soundlessly into the mirror. It’s dark – I haven’t switched the light on – but I watch my mouth move in greyscale.
I killed her.
Worse than someone, a girl. A young person with most of her life still unlived.
Was dying young her fate? Written in the stars alongside other people’s love stories or long, dull existences?
Or did I rock the universe when I lost my temper and didn’t think through the consequences?
I turn away from the mirror, but I refuse to feel ashamed. I can’t say whether she deserved to die, but no one could argue that I wasn’t provoked, that I didn’t have good reason.
They say that revenge can make people to do crazy things, and I guess tonight I proved that was true.
I look back at the mirror.
Do I regret the killing?
Would I do it again if I could choose?
Will my life be forever changed from this point on?
So many questions swirl around my head, but one is by far the loudest.
Will I get caught?
BEFORE
Monday 15th April
Jess
Jess looks down at her phone. Smiles.
‘What’s so funny?’ Amber asks, leaning over to check Jess’s screen.
‘Nothing.’ Jess clicks out of Snapchat, then drops her phone into the pocket of her blazer. ‘Just a TikTok.’
Amber nods, then shifts her gaze down the aisle of the school coach, her mind already elsewhere. ‘Look at her,’ she murmurs under her breath, nudging Jess and nodding towards a girl sitting a few seats further up. ‘Can you imagine being that ugly?’
‘Her skin is so pale she looks dead,’ Jess agrees, her confidence boosted by the message she’s just read. ‘Do you reckon if we killed her, no one would notice?’
Amber snorts a giggle. The noise leads to a few heads turning in their direction, but not for long. In the nine months they’ve lived in Chinnor, people have learned not to hold eye contact with Amber. ‘Yeah, maybe,’ she says with approval.
Jess feels a warmth in her cheeks; pride for making her sister laugh. She knows it’s stupid. Amber is nineteen months younger than her for a start, so really it should be her looking up to Jess. But it’s never been that way around. For as long as she can remember, Amber has been the boss, and Jess is the one who’s needed looking after.
Like when she moved up to that massive, faceless, secondary school, Amber stuck in primary for another year. There were days when she thought she wouldn’t survive it, the story of her tragic past coming up again as kids traded gossip to look cool. There were other days when she coped by not showing up at all. Then Amber finally arrived. And under her watchful glare, the snide whispers dried up.
That was a few years ago now though, and a different school. Luckily no one around here knows their story, so when she started at Lord Frederick’s in September, she didn’t have to suffer the shame for a third time.
‘Let’s get off at her stop,’ Amber suggests. ‘Do it now.’ Amber doesn’t laugh this time, and its absence sends a chill down Jess’s spine. Of course she knows that Amber would never actually kill Lucy Rose, but she might take things too far. Because Amber hates Lucy. For who she is, and what she’s got. And while Amber is a head shorter than the older girl, Jess knows who’d come out on top in a fight.
But Jess also knows she shouldn’t care about Lucy Rose. That the girl doesn’t deserve her sympathy.
Ten minutes later the coach swings left and then right onto Chinnor high street. It always drops at the posh end of the village first, Jess and Amber’s ever-growing housing estate its last stop. Clearly even the coach company thinks poorer kids need to wait their turn. But today they’re getting off early. Amber taps Jess on the hand, and they both slide out of the seat. A couple of seconds later, they catch up with Lucy in the aisle.
As soon as Lucy sees them – just a quick glance before looking down at the floor – tears well up in her eyes. She’s so pathetic. How can a 15-year-old girl cry over something like this? They’ve never even hurt her. Not properly. And anyway, what damage does Lucy think they can inflict between the bus stop and her twee little cottage a few hundred metres up the street? Jess finds her weakness embarrassing, awkward even. But Amber seems to feed off Lucy’s fear. The more the girl cowers, the harder Amber pushes.
‘Hello, Lucy,’ Amber says, her voice low and menacing. ‘Me and Jess thought we’d walk you home.’ She falls in step beside the mute girl, close enough for a shoulder barge that makes her stumble. Jess wants to walk on the other side, to hem Lucy in for maximum effect. But there’s not enough space on the pavement, so she drops in just behind. In Amber’s shadow, like normal. Lucy doesn’t respond, at least not verbally. She closes her arms over her chest, squeezes the straps of her rucksack between coiled fingers and keeps walking.
‘We looked for you at lunch today,’ Amber goes on. ‘Couldn’t find you. Were you crying in the loos again, like last week? Shame that photo of you there got shared around Year 10. People can be so cruel, can’t they?’ A few seconds of silence. Another shoulder barge. ‘I don’t know why you’re so desperate to avoid us anyway. Do you think you’re too good for us? Because we’re scummy foster kids?’
‘Leave me alone, please,’ Lucy whispers.
‘That’s not very kind, Lucy,’ Amber warns. ‘Did you hear that, Jess? Lucy doesn’t want to be friends with us. And after we’ve made this effort to walk her home.’
Jess senses Lucy’s pace increase. She’s not running, but her steps are getting faster, as though she thinks she can escape without them realising. How stupid does she think they are? Amber must notice too because she suddenly grabs Lucy’s spindly forearm and yanks it backwards, keeping her fingers locked on, the pressure turning Lucy’s flesh white. It forces her to stop, and Jess shifts her position to shield her sister’s aggression from view. Which also means she’s looking away, which is secretly a relief.
‘Why the hurry?’ Amber hisses, the tease gone from her voice. ‘If you’re not careful, I might take it personally.’
‘Why me?’ Lucy whimpers. ‘Why do you pick on me?’
Amber slips her free hand into her bag for something. Jess twists to look. It’s a triangular blade, meant for a craft knife. Jess holds her breath. Amber got her to swipe it from the Art department, but now she can see it, so close to Lucy’s bare arm, she wonders if she should have refused.
‘Why did you give Jess the silent treatment last term?’ Amber asks, taking a step towards Lucy, dipping the point of the blade against her skin. ‘She was the new girl in your tutor group.’
‘I didn’t …’
‘She tried to make friends with you, and you gave her the brush-off. Because she’s a dumb-arse social care kid.’
‘No, I …’
‘She’s wearing your sister’s old blazer. Did you know that? Bought at the second-hand sale. Still got the label in it. Milla Rose. I guess it’ll come to me one day. If I ever get as lanky as her.’
Jess looks away again, her face burning. A car rumbles past, but the driver is oblivious to the three of them. She turns back.
‘I’m sorry,’ Lucy whispers. ‘Please. Don’t hurt me.’
‘Invite us back to yours then,’ Amber hisses. ‘Prove that we’re not too scummy for you.’
Lucy doesn’t respond, but Jess can see fat tears bubble in front of her pale-blue eyes. God, why does she do that? How is she so spineless? ‘Fucking crybaby,’ Jess murmurs.
‘Lucy?’ A voice suddenly rings out from across the street, followed by the dull thud of a car door closing. ‘Is everything okay?’
Amber pockets the blade; releases her grip on Lucy’s arm. ‘Come on,’ she says to Jess, giving the woman a sideways glance. ‘Let’s go.’ She starts striding up the road, away from an unwanted confrontation with an adult, and Jess has to scurry to catch up. Following Amber’s lead, they pass a small parade of shops, then veer off the road and onto a country path. Jess knows where they’re going without needing to ask. They cross the old railway line and continue up towards the woods.
Half an hour later, they arrive at Chinnor Hill nature reserve. It’s not much more than a small opening in the trees, but it feels like a secret hideaway. They discovered it last summer, soon after they moved to their new foster home. The mud mostly kept them away during the winter, so it’s good to be back. Jess sinks down onto the blanket of tiny wildflowers and long grass, lies back and stares at the grey-blue sky.
‘Was that her mum?’ she asks, as her sister drops down next to her.
