CHAPTER 22

It’s not a school day or a stables day. It’s a bad day.

A really bad day.

Nell walks into the living room and then ducks as the remote control whizzes past her head and hits the wall behind her, narrowly missing Dad’s guitar.

“Leave me alone!” Tally screams, kicking out at the small coffee table and turning it on its side. “I hate all of you!”

Mum quickly launches forward to grab the mug that she’d placed on the table only seconds before, but it’s too late. Hot coffee spills on to the new rug, making a massive splotch right in the centre. Tally watches as it seeps into the creamy-white wool.

“What’s going on?” asks Nell. “And can it go on somewhere else? Rosa’s coming over later and I want to lay out all my textiles work in here before I go to school.”

“No, it cannot,” hisses Tally, rounding on Nell. “There are other things happening in the world other than your stupid exams, you know.”

“Mum?” Nell turns to look at her. “Please. Do something about her.”

“Don’t call me a ‘her’!” Tally screams back, her face contorted with rage. “You know you’re not allowed to say bad things to me.”

“Let’s give her a moment,” says Mum, gesturing to Nell to leave.

“WHAT ABOUT ME?” bellows Tally. “You can’t just leave me on my own.”

“Make your mind up,” mutters Nell. “You wanted to be left alone a minute ago.”

“Nobody asked you!” Tally glares towards her sister, her eyes narrowed. “So just shut your mouth and go away.”

Mum steers Nell across the room, turning to look at Tally as they reach the door.

“I’m not leaving you,” she says, her voice low and slow. “But you need to calm down. Just stay here and have some peace and quiet for a minute, OK?”

Then they’ve gone and the door is closed quietly behind them and Tally is left all alone.

No – that’s not quite true. The feelings and sensations that are twisting and churning in her head make it feel like she’s surrounded by chaos and noise and emotions. She’d do anything to feel the peace or the quiet that Mum suggested. It would be wonderful to be able to breathe, just for a second. Or to sleep. But it’s all too much and her head can’t even begin to figure out which noise is loudest which is why she’s been awake all night.

Anger: Lucy betrayed her.

Anxiety: Nobody understands.

Disgust: She hurt Millie and she stole the top and those things were so, so wrong.

Confusion: Why is everything so hard? And how come the one person who tried to help her was Luke?

Fear: She’s messed it all up, yet again. Her one shot at fitting in has disappeared.

Grief: Gory and Jade are gone, along with Layla. And she misses them so much it hurts.

Horror: Absolutely everything to do with school and Instagram and that video.

Tally flings herself on to the floor and stares at the mess of coffee on the rug. Even if Mum somehow manages to do something clever and remove the stain, it will still be there inside; dirty and horrid and ruined. And maybe everyone else will eventually forget about it and move on and when they walk into this room they’ll just see a plain white rug. But not her.

She’ll always know it’s there.

“Tally?” Nell’s feet come into view, followed by her face as she lies on the floor and stares at her sister. “What’s wrong? Is it the girls at school again?”

Tally closes her eyes. Her head is still a tempest; a whirlwind of emotions that are so tangled together it’s impossible to pull on one thread without disintegrating entirely. If she tells Nell about the girls then she’ll have to talk about the shoplifting and Millie and losing her friends and the video – and she can’t tell Nell about those things. Her big sister might be annoying and always moaning about her own life but the idea of her thinking badly of Tally is more than she can bear.

“I get it, you know.” Nell’s voice is quiet. “I’ve been there, Tally. School can be tough and kids can be cruel. But if you tell Mum and Dad about what’s going on then they can help.”

“Really?” Tally opens one eye and peers at Nell. “Are you honestly trying to tell me that when you had a problem at school you told Mum and Dad and the problem disappeared?”

Nell sighs. “Well – no. I guess not.”

“Exactly.” Tally sniffs loudly.

“But talking about it helped,” Nell persists. “It made me feel a bit less on my own. Because you’re not on your own, Tally. We’ve all got your back, you know?”

Tally nods. She does know that and it does help – sometimes. It’s just that them all having her back doesn’t solve the problems that are attacking from the front and the sides and above and below. What she needs is three hundred and sixty degree protection, and her family, no matter how much they try and how much they love her, are never going to be able to provide her with that.