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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 tremble. I stand up on the little bench and jump off. It doesn’t hurt. I throw myself down, making an effort not to put my hands out, and land face first. It still doesn’t hurt. I bite my arm. Nothing. I punch my nose until it should bleed, but no blood comes out. I headbutt the wall again and again and again. It hurts in the end. Thank God.

I imagine Gus waiting for me to come home tonight. I wonder when he’ll stop being annoyed and start to get worried. I wonder when Dad will call the police, when Mum will come back from India, whether Dad is still a nursery manager or whether your own child vanishing stops you being able to look after other people’s kids. My thoughts leap around from now (can you pinpoint the moment when you stop being annoyed someone is late home and start to worry about them?) to the future (I hope Ariel is OK).

I wonder whether Mum and Dad are even still alive.

Gus has kids. I’ll never meet them. Unless Ariel could bring them here? Perhaps they’d see me too. Perhaps Gus would.

I know I have to focus, to concentrate as hard as I possibly can, as I’m going to look at the door soon and someone (I suppose) will come in. If I can remember who it is, when I wake up tomorrow morning, that would really help.

I might be able to do that. I’m remembering more. I take a pen from my schoolbag and write it on my ghostly arm: REMEMBER EVERYTHING TODAY. It won’t be there when I wake up.

For what feels like a few minutes, I let go. I slide down to the floor and revert so fully to babyhood that I basically have a tantrum. I kick the floor. I punch it with my fists. Nothing hurts. I’m still sobbing when the door opens. I look up, but it isn’t Ariel. It is …

Everything goes blank.

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17

Monday was an OK day at school. Izzy and I laughed about stupid things, caught up on our homework, and for once I didn’t have to blink back tears at any point, which was kind of momentous. I sat with Izzy at lunchtime, overcooked jacket potatoes in front of us both.

‘I guess he’s back from France,’ she said. ‘That boy who gave you the fake number? You’re not going to see him, right?’

‘Oh, that,’ I said. I longed with every atom to tell her about Joe, to bring her into my new world. But I knew she’d think it was all in my head. I’d think that, if I was her.

I couldn’t tell her any more than I’d been able to tell Sasha.