I’m so excited, Ms Hiller. It feels as if, finally, things might be taking a turn for the better.
I printed the email for you. She says she’ll come over!
Hi Clem,
Of course I remember Miss Clementine Darcy! How lovely to hear from you. And of course, if you need me to come and see you, I will. Are you in trouble? Or is it about Fergus? Never mind. Whatever you need, I’ll be there. I’ve got work during the day, but I can come over one night afterwards. Just let me know when works best for you.
Take care, Clem.
Alyssa
Isn’t she lovely, Ms Hiller?
I was expecting her to be hesitant. I thought she’d feel odd about seeing Fergus. But if she didn’t want to see him, she would have said something, surely.
I was so thrilled after reading her email that I had to write about it.
You could have turned away
and walked
into the shadows.
You could have said ‘no’
and shaken your head
and looked away from us.
You could have forgotten
all that was.
You could have abandoned him
to that room,
to that darkness,
but instead you smiled
and you reached out
and you let us see
there’s hope.
I know, Ms Hiller, that what I wrote in the poem isn’t strictly true. Alyssa didn’t smile and reach out. Not literally, anyway, but it feels as if the email is a reaching-out and a smiling.
It feels as if she’s given us something to believe in. Me and Fergus.
I feel for the first time in months like I might get my big brother back.
And that makes everything else feel less painful: when Cleo and Chelsea-Grace walked past me in the corridor earlier and wouldn’t meet my eye; when Sam put a note in my locker saying ‘You look hot today’; when Sophie yelled at me last night for eating some of her fat-free yoghurt. I didn’t get as upset as I usually would about any of those things, because of that email. Because of Alyssa. Because things are about to get better.
And Fred Paul carried my books to class. It was an old-fashioned thing to do, I know, but I guess that makes it a Fred Paul thing to do. And I really liked it.
He’s sitting next to me right now, and every so often I sneak a glance at him. Once I caught him glancing back at me.
I know he’s probably quite mad and he’s definitely strange, but when I close my eyes I can picture us kissing. And the thought of kissing him makes me even happier.
I don’t know if I can handle this much happy.
I probably shouldn’t trust it too much, Ms Hiller, because it’s when you let yourself be really, truly happy that things come crashing down.