Gray (3)

Animals take longer to move on. They like the new found freedom. Doris’ cat lounged on the end of my bed, lying on its side in the sunshine streaming in through the open window. I had music on low and I lay stroking its cold fur and squinting in the light. I liked to listen to the Cranberries and mimic Dolores O’Riordan’s Irish accent. It drove Mum mad. Doris’ cat rolled onto its back, exposing its brilliant white stomach and wriggled from side to side, basking in the warm sunshine. I could hear cars passing the house and next door’s children screaming and Mum outside talking to our other next door neighbour,
“I don’t know what she wants to do. She just mopes around and talks to herself,”
“She’ll come out of that stage, she’s young,”
“She’s seventeen Joyce, she should have snapped out of being a moody teenager by now,”
“It’ll be fine,”
“I hope you’re right”
“Did you hear about that lad that was found dead by the road?”
“That was a while ago wasn’t it?”
“Well yes but I hadn’t heard much about it. Caught the bloke who did it didn’t they?”
“Greg Brooke? I worked with his daughter,”
“Nasty looking bugger,”
“He never seemed bad when I used to hang out with Kate, Emily used to play with her daughter Laura. I think it was an accident and he panicked,”
“Left him there though didn’t he Heather, just left him there. His poor mother,”
“I guess…”
“Anyway I must get in and sort Dennis’ dinner out,”
“Yes,”
“Don’t you fret about your Emily,”
“Bye Joyce,”
“Ta ra love,”
I heard her shuffling footsteps on the gravel drive and then her front door slam shut. I looked out the window and saw my Mum just standing there, staring at the ground but after a while she turned her head and saw me watching.
“It’s lovely out here Emily,” she called, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear that the breeze had tugged free. She’d had it cut the other week so that she looked like Rachel from Friends. I thought it looked stupid.
“I’m alright,” I replied and continued to stroke Doris’ cat, whilst listening to Dolores sing about zombies.

Darren Silvar wore a royal blue Adidas jacket. In the bright morning sunshine it hurt my eyes and made him seem bigger. His Dad was Italian and his skin was the colour of bronze.
“Emily!” he called and I turned, confronted with the colour of his jacket and his curtain haircut and his height.
“Hi,” I muttered and carried on walking, he strode beside me.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“Yes. Of course I am. Why?” I asked. He frowned.
“Just askin’,”
“I’m fine,”
We walked in silence for the rest of the way, I stared straight ahead but I noticed him snatching glances at me, out of the corner of my eye. It made me uncomfortable and irritable and when we got to the school gates I hurried away from him. I sat on one of the benches waiting for the doors to be opened. He stared after me for a moment before finding his friends who were leaning against the wall, craftily sharing a cigarette. Darren didn’t take it when they offered it to him but he stood talking to them and the grey smoke plumed around their heads.

The shrine still sat on the stage in the assembly hall. A candle hadn’t been lit for him in a week now and people looked at the picture less and less. I stared at it though, at his blonde hair and the gleaming silver trophy in his hands and he stared too. He stood at the end of the row and the girl sitting in the end chair began to shiver and complain that she was freezing. He glanced at me but didn’t smile; his green eyes were sad and beginning to lose their life.

Claire Brooke was sobbing in the toilet cubicle. I knew it was Claire Brooke because Stephanie Evans was standing outside the cubicle door calling to her to come out and those two were inseperable. I stood awkwardly in the doorway to the girl’s toilets for a moment and Stephanie looked at me.
“She’s just a bit upset,” she said.
“I can tell,” I replied, “I think I’ll just go and use the English block toilets,”
“I’m…fine.” Claire called between sobs. “Who is…that?”
“Emily Brite,” Stephanie told her. I heard the cubicle door unlock and Claire stepped out wiping her face and pushing back her long blonde hair into a headband.
“Sorry,” she said and began to wash her hands in the sink, sniffing every now and then. I walked past her and entered a cubicle. “I just miss him so much,” I heard her say to Stephanie, the tap was still running and the plug made a loud gargling sound,
“I know honey, I know,”
“I just…can’t believe…he’s gone,” she began to sob again and I heard Stephanie’s shoes squeak on the linoleum floor as she moved to hug her. I sat on the cold toilet seat, confused. I didn’t realise that Adam and Claire were an item. I didn’t want to leave the cubicle. I waited till they were gone and the sound of Claire’s sobs grew quieter and the school bell signalled the end of break time.