Forbidden

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Lochan

I stare at the back of Nico DiMarco’s head. I fix on his dark, blunt-fingered hand resting on the edge of his desk, and the thought of those fingers touching Maya makes me feel physically sick. I can’t stand by and watch anyone go out with my sister, any more than I myself can go out with Francie or any other girl and pretend she can replace her. I need to find Maya and hope to God it’s not too late. I need to tell her the deal is off. Perhaps, with time, she will find someone she can be with. And I will be happy, if only for her. But for me there can never be anyone else. The absolute certainty of this fact suffocates me.

Above the board, the hands of the clock are moving. Second period is almost over. She wouldn’t have told Francie yet, surely? She must be pla

The bell goes and I shoot out of my seat, grabbing my bag and blazer as I go, ignoring the teacher’s shouts about homework. There is a massive jam on staircase five. I head for the stairs at the other end. Throngs of people have accumulated here too. Except they are motionless. They have stopped in their tracks, an amoeba-like cluster, turning to one another to talk in urgent, excited tones. I push past them. Thick red tape strung across the top of the staircase brings me to a halt. As I duck underneath, I’m pulled back by a hand on my shoulder.

‘You can’t go down that way,’ a voice says. ‘There’s been an accident.’

I take an involuntary step back. Oh, this is just great.

‘Some girl fell. They’ve only just moved her to the medical room. She was unconscious,’ someone else adds in a reverential tone.

I look at the tape, tempted just to duck underneath again.

‘Who fell?’ I hear another voice behind me ask.

‘It was a girl from my class. Maya Whitely. I saw it happen – she didn’t fall, she jumped.’

‘Hey!’

I dive under the tape and race down the two flights of stairs, the soles of my shoes screeching on the lino. The ground floor is crawling with pupils heading out to break, everyone moving in slow motion. I shove my way through the crowds, shoulders bruising shoulders, people jostling me from all angles, angry shouts following me as I force my way past.

‘Hey, hey, hey—’ Someone has me by the arm. I spin round, ready to shove them back, and find myself staring into the face of Miss Azley. ‘Lochan, you need to wait out here – the nurse is busy—’

I wrench my arm out of her grasp and she moves to block the entrance.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asks. ‘Are you feeling unwell? Sit here and let me see if I can help you.’

I take an involuntary step backwards. ‘Let me past,’ I gasp. ‘For God’s sake, I need to—’

‘You need to wait here. Someone’s just had an accident and Mrs Shah is dealing with that at the moment.’

‘It’s Maya—’

‘What?’

‘My sister!’

Her face changes. ‘Oh God. Lochan, listen, she’s going to be fine. She just fainted. She didn’t fall very far—’

‘Please let me see her!’

‘Sit down for a second and I’ll ask the nurse.’

Miss Azley disappears through the door. I sit on one of the plastic chairs and press my fist against my mouth, my lungs crying out for air.

Minutes later, Miss Azley comes out to tell me that Maya is fine, just a little shocked and bruised. She asks me for our mother’s phone number – I tell her that she is away and that I will take Maya home. She looks concerned and informs me that Maya needs to be taken to A&E to be checked for concussion. I insist I can deal with that too.

Finally they let me see her. She is in the small white anteroom, sitting on a bed, sagging back against a cushion, a lime-green blanket pulled halfway across her lap. Her tie has been removed and her right sleeve rolled up, revealing a thin white arm with vivid pink bruising. A large plaster covers her elbow. Her shoes have been taken off too and her bare legs hang off the side of the bed, a white crepe bandage enveloping one knee. Her copper hair, freed from its ponytail, hangs loose over her shoulders. Her face is drained of all colour. Cracked, dried blood surrounds a small cut on her cheekbone, the crimson stain contrasting painfully with the rest of her face. Violet shadows underline pink-rimmed, empty eyes. She doesn’t smile when she sees me: the light is gone from her face, a dull look of shocked resignation in its place.

As I take a step into the small space between the door and the bed, she seems to shrink away. Quickly I move back again, pressing my sweaty palms against the cold wall behind me.

‘What – what happened?’

She blinks a couple of times and studies me wearily for a moment. ‘It’s all right. I’m all right—’

‘Just t-tell me what happened, Maya!’ There is an edge to my voice that I can’t conceal.

‘I fainted while I was going down the stairs. I skipped breakfast and I was dehydrated, that’s all.’

‘What did the nurse say?’

‘That I’m fine. That I shouldn’t miss meals. She wants me to go to the hospital to be checked out for concussion but there’s no need. My head doesn’t hurt.’

‘They think you fainted because you missed breakfast?’ My voice begins to rise. ‘But that’s absurd! You’ve never fainted before and you hardly ever eat breakfast.’

She closes her eyes as if my words are hurting her. ‘Lochie, I’m fine. Really. Could you please just persuade the nurse to let me out of here?’ She opens her eyes again and looks troubled for a moment. ‘Or – or have you got classes you can’t miss?’

I gape at her. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’m taking you home with me right now.’

She gives me a little smile and I feel as if I’m falling. ‘Thank you.’

Mrs Shah calls a cab to take us to the local hospital, but as soon as we’re outside the gates, Maya sends the driver away. She moves away from me along the pavement, her hand trailing the wall for balance. ‘Come on. I’m going home.’

‘The nurse said you might have concussion! We’ve got to go to the hospital!’

‘Don’t be silly. I didn’t even bump my head.’ She continues her unsteady path down the road, then half turns, holding out her hand. At first I just stare at it, uncomprehending.

‘Can I lean on you a bit?’ Her eyes are apologetic. ‘My legs feel kind of wobbly.’

I rush to her and grab her hand, wrapping her arm round my waist, putting my arm around her. ‘Like this? Is – is this OK?’

‘That’s great, but you don’t have to squeeze me so tight . . .’

I loosen my grip fractionally. ‘Better?’

‘Much better.’ We move off down the road, her body, leaning against mine, as light and frail as a bird’s.

‘Hey, look at this,’ she says, a hint of amusement in her voice. ‘I got us both a whole day off school and it’s not even’ – she lifts my hand from her waist to get a look at my watch – ‘eleven o’clock.’ With a smile, she raises her face so that her eyes meet mine and the late morning sun washes across her colourless face.

I force an uneven breath into my lungs. ‘Crafty,’ I manage, swallowing hard.

We walk on for a few minutes in silence. Maya is holding onto me tightly. Now and again she slows to a halt and I ask her if she wants to sit down but she shakes her head.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says softly.

God. No. The air starts to shudder in my chest.

‘It was my idea too,’ she adds.

I take a deep breath and hold it, turning my head away. If I bite my lip hard enough and force myself to meet the stares of curious passers-by, I can keep myself together for a bit longer, just a bit longer. But she can tell. I feel her concern permeate my skin like a gentle warmth.