CHAPTER 48

The next weekend, Imelda called me downstairs for breakfast, and there was Chetna standing awkwardly in the hallway with her mum and dad.

“We thought it would be nice for you to have a friend to visit,” Imelda said, smiling her big red smile. “Maybe it’ll take your mind off things for a bit?”

“Hi, Solo,” Chetna said. She shifted uncomfortably. “How have you been?”

“Fine,” I said, looking at the floor. “How are you?” I still hadn’t made up my mind about whether I was annoyed with Chetna for spilling the beans about Morag when I had specifically asked her not to. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“I know,” she said. “I wasn’t sure if you were annoyed with me for telling. I’m really sorry about everything.”

“You don’t need to say sorry.” Suddenly I realized it was true – she didn’t need to be sorry. “It doesn’t matter. It couldn’t go on for ever. You did the right thing.”

Chetna’s mum walked over and wrapped me in a tight hug. I hadn’t expected that a single bit. I held my breath while she squeezed me.

“I felt terrible after that evening, Solo,” she said, releasing me. “I wanted to get in touch and tell you that I know it wasn’t your fault. We were in shock, and it had been such a terrible day with Chetna going missing from the school trip.”

Chetna’s dad shook my hand. He wore a chunky silver watch that glistened. “Chetna says you were a good friend to her when she was new in your class. So we want to say thank you for that.”

“That’s OK,” I said. Even though they were saying good things, it was embarrassing. If my head swelled up any more, I would take off like a helium birthday balloon.

“We brought you these,” Chetna said, handing me a bulging carrier bag that looked like it was stuffed full of paper.

“Is that all my homework?” I said, my smile dropping.

“No, silly. It’s a load of cards from everyone in Miss Carmichael’s class. To say sorry about…” She trailed off. “Well, everything, I suppose. Mrs Howe came down pretty hard on Kai Bailey and the Cool Table when she found out how they’d been treating you. Miss Carmichael must have told her. They’ve been in lunchtime detention ever since, and they feel really bad about it all. We had to have a special assembly about kindness and everything.”

“Whoa.” I stared into the plastic bag. I couldn’t believe that everyone had to have a special assembly because of me.

“Would you two be interested in a cuppa?” Imelda asked Chetna’s parents. “You and Chetna can go upstairs and play, if you like. Jason’s PS4 is plugged in, in the bedroom. No zombie games though – they’re strictly for over-eighteens.”

“A cuppa sounds absolutely lovely,” said Chetna’s mum. “I’m parched.”

“Wonderful,” Imelda said, clapping her hands. “I’ve baked a vegan Victoria sponge too, if I can interest you in a slice or two?”

“I’m meant to be avoiding sugar,” Chetna’s dad joked. “But you’ve gone to all this trouble. I suppose you can count me in for a slice…”

Upstairs Chetna and I got all the cards out and spread them across my airbed. They were all handmade out of A4 crafting card folded in half. Everyone had used the full range of colours, and some people had even stuck sequins and stickers on the front.

Hope Your OK, the first card said. It was written in big green bubble writing, and the colouring was neat and within the lines.

Thinking About You, said another. This one was covered in multicoloured felt bobbles and pipe cleaners.

I picked up one card that had scratchy handwriting and a shaky drawing of a thumbs up on the front. I’m Sorry, Solo, it said on the front. It was from Kai Bailey. Sorry about the egg chucking and being horrible. I won’t be horrible to u any more. Do u want to play footy with us lot when u get back? Let me no what u think. Kai B.

We Miss You, Solo! another card read. Very much looking forward to having you back in class. Don’t worry about schoolwork in the meantime. Mrs Howe has sorted the uniform thing with the shop. Everything will be OK. All the very best, Miss Cowmichael. She had stuck a laughing-crying emoji sticker and a cow sticker next to that. Miss Carmichael’s card made me laugh.

Thinking of you! said the next one. Dear Solo – thinking of you while you’re away. I am always here for a chat if you need anything or even if you don’t! From Miss Ellis.

“This one’s from me,” Chetna said. She picked out her card. On the front she had drawn neat little sketches of things we’d done together: a pair of scissors, a drawing of a squirrel, a mobile phone, a smoothie in a glass, a boy and a girl running across some sand dunes.

Thanks for being a great friend, it said. And inside: Let’s be friends for ever. Everyone is thinking of you loads and loads. I’m coming over to your dad’s house to play tomorrow, but it’s a surprise. Well, I guess you know now because you are reading this card LOL. Love from Chetna.

Chetna helped me place the cards around the room so I could see them all. They took up the whole of the desk, the top of the chest of drawers and the shelf above the airbed. It was almost like I was getting a card back for every birthday card that Morag had stashed away. But I knew I shouldn’t be too happy or smile too much. Morag was still out there, somewhere, and I wanted her back.

I showed Chetna the chords I’d learned on Dad’s guitar: C, G, D, and E minor. The notes sounded rubbish and tinny, but Dad said that was enough to start learning some easy songs for beginners. He told me he’d ordered a half-size guitar for me off the internet, so I could reach the fretboard better. It would arrive soon, and we could start our own band just like the Loco Parentals.

Imelda would be on lead vocals, I would play rhythm guitar, and Dad would play the lead. All we needed was a drummer, then we could be just like Pixies, according to Dad. Maybe it was Fairies, I’m not really sure. Chetna told me she was starting the clarinet next term, so maybe she could join the band too. That sounded pretty cool, actually.

Afterwards, we went downstairs and ate huge slices of Imelda’s cake with everyone else. It was weird being with so many people at once. Everyone was chatting and it was hard to know when it was my turn to talk. I stayed pretty quiet and let Chetna do the talking for me, which I didn’t mind. She told everyone how good my guitar chords were, and everyone looked proper pleased, especially Dad.