BooksBarbecue
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Chapters (61)
  1. COVER
  2. About the Author
  3. Books by Emily Barr
  4. DEDICATION
  5. Prologue
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. Epilogue
  58. Acknowledgements
  59. Read on for an extract from …
  60. 12 December
  61. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

Sorry I’ve been such a shit friend, and thanks for picking up the girls with me. Whatever your thing is tonight I hope it’s been good and can’t wait to hear about it. Are you still OK for Saturday? We can talk about everything then. I have a mission in London, if you’re up for it.

I looked at the little grey dots of her typing and stopping, typing and stopping, but when her reply came it just said, Let’s do your mission. I had an amazing evening. Loads to tell xxx

Penguin walking logo

30

I creep out of the house before six, leaving a note:

Had to finish homework. Went to school early. See you later.

It’s lame and they won’t believe it, but it doesn’t matter.

I walk to the beach first and stand on the sand, in the early-morning light, fake breathing the sea air that doesn’t smell of anything at all. I do my best to hang on to the feeling of being alive, even though I’m not. I run across the sand and look back at my footprints, pleased to see that they’re there. I take my shoes and socks off, hitch up my trousers and wade into the sea. I try to walk on top of the water, but it doesn’t work. Instead I paddle round the headland to the other beach, and sledge down the cliff a few times. I practise my cartwheels, wondering how long I’ll have to do that before I can backflip across the beach and look cool. I decide to learn a language and take up an instrument, though we don’t have a piano at home, so it will have to be an instrument I can easily find every morning.

The dog walkers look at me. I don’t care. It turns out that if you don’t care what people are saying about you, you can pretty much do whatever you like.

I run as fast as I can and I don’t get out of breath. I stand on my head. I am, weirdly, having fun.

Today is my death day, and I am as certain as I could possibly be that I’m not suicidal, despite what everyone thinks. That means I either had an accident or someone else was involved.

Someone killed me.

If it was an accident they would have found my body.

It’s probably near Beachview because there’s no trail. In fact, I’m likely to be looking at it: my twenty-years-ago bones are probably somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean where they will never be found. You can see the roof of the mall from the main beach. It’s no distance at all.

I think back to the things Ariel writes in her notes. We haven’t got anywhere. I know a lot about the people who have moved on, but nothing about what happened to me.