Forbidden

They clatter over, and through blurred vision I recognize a couple of girls from Maya’s class, a guy from one of the other year groups and Rafi, a guy from English. There are greetings and backslaps, and two tables are pushed together and more chairs drawn up.

‘Whitely!’ Rafi exclaims in astonishment. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘Just, uh, my sister—’

‘He’s hanging out with us!’ Francie exclaims. ‘Is that a crime? He’s Maya’s brother – didn’t you know?’

‘Yeah, I just never thought I’d see him in a place like this!’ There is no malice in Rafi’s laughter, just genuine surprise, but now everybody’s looking at me and the two other girls are talking.

Maya is doing the introductions, but although I can hear the voices, I can no longer make sense of what is being said. Emma, who has been going out of her way to bump into me since the begi

I head down one street, then another. I’m not even sure where I’m going. I suddenly feel stupidly close to tears. I drape my blazer over my school bag and hook the strap over my shoulder, walking as fast as I can, the air rasping in my lungs, the sound of traffic drowned out by the frantic thud of my heart. I hear the smack of shoes on the pavement behind me and instinctively move aside to let the jogger past, but it’s Maya, grabbing me by the arm.

‘Slow down, Lochie, please – I’ve got a really bad stitch . . .’

‘Maya, what the hell are you doing? Go back to your friends.’

She catches hold of my hand. ‘Lochie, wait—’

I stop and pull away from her suddenly, stepping back. ‘Look, I appreciate the effort, but I’d rather you just left me alone, OK?’ My voice begins to rise. ‘I didn’t ask you for help, did I?’

‘Hey, hey!’ She steps towards me, holding out her hand. ‘I wasn’t trying to do anything, Loch. It was all Francie’s idea. I only went along with it because she told me you’d agreed.’

I run my hands through my hair. ‘Jesus, this was such a fucking mistake. Now I’ve gone and embarrassed you in front of your friends . . .’

‘Are you insane?’ She laughs, grabs my hand and swings my arm as we start walking again. ‘I’m glad you left! Gave me an excuse to get out too.’

I check my watch, feeling myself relax slightly. ‘You know, since Mum’s looking after the kids for once, we have the whole evening free.’ I raise a tentative eyebrow.

Maya flicks back her hair and a smile lights up her face, her eyes widening in animation. ‘Ooh, were you thinking of fleeing the country?’

I grin. ‘Tempting . . . But maybe something more along the lines of catching a film?’

She tilts her face up to the sky. ‘But the sun’s shining. It still feels like summer!’

‘OK then, you choose.’

‘Let’s just walk,’ she says.

‘Walk?’

‘Yes. Let’s catch a bus over to Chelsea Harbour. Let’s ogle the houses of the rich and famous and wander down by the river.’

CHAPTER SIX

Maya

As we walk along Chelsea Embankment, I stuff my blazer and tie into my bag and the warm evening breeze brushes my skirt against my bare thighs. The sun is just begi

When we reach the shops, we buy pizza and Coke from a takeaway and head towards Battersea Park. Inside the gates, we wander out into the middle of the vast expanse of greenery, away from the trees, aligning ourselves with the sun, now lying westward and losing its brilliance. Cross-legged, I examine a bruise on my shin while Lochan kneels in the grass, opening the pizza box and handing me a slice. I take it and stretch out my legs, lifting my chin to feel the sun on my face.

‘This is a million times nicer than hanging out with those dorks from school,’ I inform him. ‘That was a good move, leaving when you did.’

Munching solidly, he shoots me a penetrating look and I can tell he is trying to read my mind, seeking the motive behind my words. I meet his gaze full on, and the corner of his mouth twitches upwards as he realizes I am being completely honest.

I give up on the food before he does and lean back on my elbows, watching him eat. He’s clearly starving. I open my mouth to tell him he has tomato sauce on his chin, then change my mind. My smile, however, doesn’t go u

‘What?’ he asks with a brief laugh, swallowing his last mouthful and wiping his hands on the grass.

‘Nothing.’ I try to reel in the smile, but with his red-streaked chin, tousled hair, untucked shirt and grubby cuffs flapping loosely against his hands, he looks like a taller, dark-haired version of Tiffin at the end of a busy school day.

‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ he persists, regarding me quizzically, a touch self-conscious now.

‘Nothing. I was just thinking of what Francie says about you.’