Taking Flight by Sheena Wilkinson Page B

since that one Seaneen gave me. Mum doesn’t even look at me. There’s a clock on the wall. Only seven minutes have passed.
    â€˜Um, do you need anything? Next time I come?’ That’s what Colette always asks.
    â€˜Leaving already?’
    I wish. ‘I just meant –’
    â€˜You can bring me a bottle of vodka.’ She isn’t joking.
    â€˜Oh Mum, I know it must be dead hard –’
    â€˜You know damn all. All you know is how to wreck things.’
    â€˜ Mum .’
    â€˜Och, just piss off, Declan.’
    â€˜But –’
    â€˜Look, just fuck off out of here. Go on.’
    I go.
    No one stops me. Walls. Fire extinguisher. Door. Stained rug. Outside. Rain.
    Colette doesn’t see me. For a second I watch her reading the paper, framed by the car window. Safe. I grab at the door handle. Locked. She starts. Looks up, frowns through the rain-streaked window. She clicks the central locking and I duck into the car.
    â€˜Did you forget something?’
    â€˜No.’ I yank at my seatbelt.
    She catches on. ‘It didn’t go well?’
    I shrug.
    She looks at me like she’s trying to make her mind up about something and then she starts the engine. ‘She probably has bad days. The withdrawal symptoms –’
    â€˜Yeah.’ I scrunch down in the seat.
    The whole way home I look out at the lights on thewet roads. It takes forever. Rain streaks the windows but it’s hot in the car. I pull off my blazer and throw it on the floor. I can feel the thump of my heart against my shirt. I think Colette must hear my breathing.
    â€˜Vicky’s going to a party,’ she says. I recognise her voice. It’s the same trying-too-hard voice I was using to Mum. ‘You could come with me to drop her off and then we could maybe stop and get a DVD on the way home. Your choice.’
    I try to answer but the words are too far down to drag to the surface.
    Vicky’s putting on her make-up at the hall mirror when we get back. All I want to do is push past her and go up to my room but her stuff’s all over the hall – powder and bits of cotton wool and a pink rucksack in the middle of the floor. I hang behind Colette.
    â€˜Vicky love, you know I don’t like you doing that.’
    â€˜The light’s better here.’ She squints into the mirror. Her long blonde hair is all straight and shiny. She’s wearing a tight white top. Her tits are crap. She licks the corners of her mouth. ‘Is this lipstick a bit too red?’
    â€˜It’s fine. You all packed for Dad’s?’
    â€˜More or less.’
    Vicky turns round to shove her make-up bag into the front pocket of her pink rucksack. ‘OK, that’s me, except, Mum, have you seen that book I was reading? The new one?’
    â€˜Which one? You’re always leaving books all over the house.’
    â€˜ The Complete Young Rider . I really need it. There’s a chapter on jumping combinations; I need to –’
    â€˜The book that’s been lying in the downstairs loo all week?’
    â€˜I suppose. Only it’s not there now. Have you tidied it or something?’
    Oh shit. I swallow and find my voice. ‘Uh, Vicky, I borrowed it.’
    Vicky swings round. ‘You took my new book?’ Her voice is icy.
    â€˜Yeah.’ I know I should say sorry but I’m not going to.
    â€˜Well, go and get it!’
    â€˜The thing is, I sort of left it at school.’
    â€˜What? You took my book to school? You didn’t even ask me!’ Her neck starts to turn pink.
    â€˜I didn’t think you were reading it. It was just lying around.’
    â€˜Well, I need it!’ She’s shrieking.
    I push my hands further down into my pockets. They’re both balled into fists. I wish she would shut up.
    Vicky’s face is beetroot. So much for the make-up.
    â€˜Vicky, your book will be fine.’ Colette’s trying so hard. ‘You have