‘Alice, this is Gran. I’ve come to sit with you for a little while because your mum’s popped home to have a sleep and a shower. I know you’re sleeping, chick, and that’s great, but we are all so worried about you so please don’t sleep too long. When I go home I’m going to do some baking, Alice. Jam tarts. D’you remember when we used to make them together, when you were very little? I’d make the pastry and you’d roll it out and cut the circles. And you’d spoon in the jam, just the right amount – and eat a few sneaky spoonfuls straight from the jar, when you thought I wasn’t looking. Yes, I’ll make jam tarts and bring them in tomorrow …’
A dishevelled figure is running wildly towards me out of the trees; the White Queen, her arms stretched wide as if she were flying, her hair falling down and her shawl trailing behind her. She comes to a halt in front of me, bewildered.
‘Everything is coming undone,’ she says. ‘That’s the effect of living backwards, you see. It can be very confusing!’
‘Living backwards?’ I question, wrapping the shawl around her and fixing her tangled hair back into place. ‘I never heard of such a thing!’
‘There’s one advantage,’ she tells me. ‘Your memory works both ways.’
‘I’m not sure my memory works at all,’ I confess.
‘Of course it does,’ the Queen declares. ‘Do you recall having jam yesterday?’
‘No,’ I admit.
‘Well, what about jam tomorrow?’
‘That’s nonsense,’ I protest. ‘How can I remember something that hasn’t happened yet?’
The White Queen shakes her head. ‘You’re going to have to, Alice,’ she says. ‘You’re going to have to remember everything, if you want to get out of here …’
At the last moment, I almost lost my nerve.
All week I had studied Savvy, like she was an especially challenging subject I needed to learn inside out for an exam. She was amazing. She looked flawless – like her skin had been airbrushed, her eyeliner painted on so perfectly that not even the strictest teacher thought to tell her to wipe it off. Her caramel-coloured hair was glossy and thick, like something from a shampoo advert, and she was the only girl at St Elizabeth’s who could make knee-high socks and a pleated skirt look cool.
She broke the rules, but only in small ways. A French manicure, the faintest whiff of vanilla perfume, lace-up black boots with a little Louis heel; Savvy was such a perfect pupil that she got away with it all. She always came top in French – rumour had it her uncle had a house in Provence which they visited every summer – and she was effortlessly good at English, geography and music. She played the piano at grade four level and regularly represented the school at athletics; she’d won a silver cup last September for the high jump, and medals for the javelin and relay.
So yeah, she was a model pupil. Everyone wanted to be like Savvy Hunter, except for Serena with her sour stories of long-ago bullying and game-playing. Then again, nobody actually listened to Serena, even if we suspected her words might be true.
People wanted to think the best of Savvy – even I did, and I knew better than most how cruel she could be. That was her magic – a way of seeming to be bright and beautiful and kind, in spite of it all. We wanted to believe in her.
The more I studied Savvy, the more panicky I got. Maybe it was exam nerves – I knew a whole lot about my subject, but I was certain I’d forget it all on Saturday night. I could have sat a multiple-choice exam paper or written a three page essay on Savvy Hunter, but hanging out with her was a different story. I was bound to mess up.
What did they even want me there for? Savvy didn’t need new friends. She had three best friends already, and most of our year thought she was the coolest thing since strawberry cream frappés; any one of them would have loved an invitation to her house. Why would she pick me, of all the girls at St Elizabeth’s, to come to her sleepover? It had to be a prank, a joke, a trap. At best I’d be an outsider; at worst, a victim, just waiting to be baited, tormented.
Paranoia seeped into my blood like poison.
Savvy Hunter looked like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but I knew the truth, even if I tried hard to ignore it.
I swallowed back an ocean of regret and shame and accepted that I wouldn’t be going to Savvy’s on Saturday night. I must have been crazy to think I could.
But how to tell Savvy? All week she’d been reminding me of the sleepover; a wink in French, a wave in maths, a winning smile on the netball courts in PE. Today she’d stopped by my table in the school canteen and asked if I was all set for Saturday; if I had my costume sorted, if I was looking forward to it.
‘Can’t wait!’ I’d said, in spite of my misgivings.
Yeah, right. I was a coward as well as everything else. Maybe I’d just text Savvy at the last minute with an excuse; I’d say I was too sick, too sad, staying in to wash my hair. I cringed at the thought. If going to Savvy’s sleepover scared me, not going scared me more. Overnight, I could see my status dropping from mere loser to spineless, saddo, pondlife scum.
Walking home from school on Friday, I saw Lainey leaning against the bus stop, alone, chewing gum and tapping out messages on her smartphone. I took a deep breath and walked right up to her.
‘Hey,’ she said, her face bored, impassive. ‘All sorted for tomorrow?’
‘About that,’ I said. ‘I’ve changed my mind. I think we both know it’s not a good idea.’
Lainey’s face changed, registering annoyance, alarm. ‘You have to come!’ she argued. ‘Savvy’s put loads of work in to make it cool for you. She’ll be gutted if you don’t turn up! She’s really interested in getting to know you – she wants us all to be friends!’
I raised an eyebrow. ‘Really?’ I asked. ‘Why? A fortnight ago, she barely knew I was alive. I was just some loser to pick on, play tricks on.’
Lainey looked uncomfortable. ‘I’m sorry about that,’ she said. ‘Savvy did think you were a bit of a loser back in Year Seven – she said you were clumsy, clueless. She encouraged Yaz and me to pull a few pranks. I suppose we wanted to impress her, and we thought it was funny to make you look bad. I’m not sure why we thought that now, but … well, we did.’
It felt like Lainey had pushed me on to the pavement and kicked me in the ribs with her pointy school shoes. The pain was sharp, shocking; it took my breath away. Lainey and Yaz, my ex-best friends, bullied me because they thought it was funny?
Lainey touched my arm. ‘Look, Alice,’ she said softly. ‘We were stupid. Wrong. We were out of order, Yaz and I, and we want to put it right. We’ve been telling Savvy what a cool person you are; how we used to be really good friends. We suggested she might ask you along to one of her sleepovers.’
‘You suggested?’
‘Well, yeah. And Savvy was fine with it. I mean, I’m not saying she’s going to want to be your new best friend; she doesn’t accept just anyone into her friendship group. She plays games with people sometimes, but she doesn’t mean any real harm.’
I blinked hard, because I really, really didn’t want to cry in front of Lainey. I wasn’t sure whether to be hurt about how she had treated me, or happy that she wanted to put it right. As for Savvy being a game-player, that was nothing I didn’t already know. She was the puppet master and Lainey and Yaz were her puppets; I knew all too well who was pulling the strings.
‘I have feelings, Lainey,’ I said, as calmly as I could. ‘I’m not some toy for you and Yaz and Savvy to pick up and put down when you feel like it. I’m a person, not a game!’
‘I know that!’ Lainey argued. ‘I swear I do. I’m not proud of how I treated you, Alice. Call it insecurity, hormones, jealousy; call it what you like, but I know I was wrong. I want to fix things, I really do. That’s what this sleepover is about – for me, anyway. Please come. I won’t let Savvy do anything mean. No games, no pranks. OK?’
Right up until a day or so ago, I’d have turned my back on all the bad stuff I’d been through in a heartbeat just to have my old friends back. Now, I wasn’t sure.
The hurt of what Lainey had said was lodged in my heart like a rusty blade.
Lainey sighed. ‘It’s no excuse, but the last few years have been pretty awful for me, you know. Family stuff. I think I was kind of jealous of you; your family were lovely, and mine … well, things were the opposite of lovely, as you know. It was just like everything started to go right for you at the same time as it was going wrong for me, and it didn’t seem fair. It was childish and stupid of me to think that way, and I want to put that right. Please come tomorrow, Alice. For me? I’ll stick up for you, I promise.’
I wasn’t sure if I could trust Lainey’s promises, not any more, but I wanted to. I wanted to more than anything else in the world.