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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

I’m dead. It is 2019. Every day is this day. Ariel from the future in cupboard at B/view. Meet after school.

YOU ARE NOT SCARED OF THE FRENCH EXCHANGE.

YOU ARE SCARED BECAUSE YOU’RE GOING TO DIE TODAY.

The French exchange! That’s why I’m scared. My heart is pounding so hard I feel like it’s going to knock the house down around me, and somehow I don’t think it would matter if it did. I really, really don’t want to go to France. Why, though? And why did I write that note saying I’m not scared of it when I am?

Why did I say I’m going to die? I shudder. Stupid dreams.

I check myself out in the mirror. I seem normal. I think I do. My hair is tangled, sticking up all over the place. But it’s me, for sure. Joe Simpson, reporting for duty.

‘Pull yourself together,’ I say out loud, then see Gus in the doorway looking at me pityingly.

In the middle of morning registration I look round at everyone and realize that I’m never going to go on the French exchange, but I don’t know why I think that. It must be an echo of my dream: if I was dead then I couldn’t go to France. I shake my head, try to send those thoughts away. I take the piss out of Lucas, which makes me feel a bit better for a moment, and hang out with Troy, who’s a bit annoyed with me because he thinks I stole his trophy, but I pretend I didn’t.

I run into town after school, and buy a can of Tab. I walk into a man and he’s angry. I tell him to fuck off under my breath and he calls me a little tosser.

As soon as I touch the door of the secret room I know I’m going to see Ariel and then I remember all of it.

I see Ariel every day.

I go into the room and wait. I close my eyes and feel myself disappearing into the horror of my existence. The horror is that I don’t exist, yet here I am. The horror is the fact that I live the same day every day. That nothing I thought about myself today was true. I fight, as if I had any kind of power to reject it. Ariel is the only one who understands.

I wait. The walls seem to be closer together than usual, and moving inwards so slowly that you can’t see it, but you can feel it.

I wonder if it matters that I forget everything about myself from one day to the next. It’s probably better to forget than it would be to remember. I’m not sure how I’d get through a day if I knew what that day actually was.