Edenham Comprehensive

Casey sleeps fitfully, tossing and turning while she’s plagued by nightmares of the same creatures she seems to be dreaming of virtually every night now. She wakes suddenly as one of them reaches for her heart as if to snatch it from her chest, and she has to force herself to remember that it was just a dream. Nothing more. But that doesn’t stop the perspiration dripping from her forehead as her breath comes in short, ragged bursts.

Reuben sits up sharply. “You okay?”

She nods. “Bad dream,” is her muttered explanation, though she can barely remember what it was about now the light has banished all the creatures which lurk in the dark. She glances up at him. “How long was I asleep?”

He shrugs, leaning back into the chair. “Hour, hour and a half maybe.”

She frowns. It seemed like much longer than that. But then, it always does. “Have you been sitting there all this time?” He nods. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t bored.” He holds up his iPod meaningfully. “And it’s quite interesting watching you sleep.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You watched me sleeping? Do you realise how creepy that makes you sound?”

He shrugs again, apparently not bothered by the situation. “I didn’t exactly have much else to do. And you look really different when you’re asleep. I don’t know, it’s weird.”

“What do you mean?” she asks warily. Was she snoring? Did she drool?

“You looked vulnerable,” he says softly. “You don’t look like that often. Usually you’ve got your shield of armour up around you so thick no one can get near. When you let your guard down, you’re different.”

“Weak,” she corrects him, kicking off the covers. “It makes me weak.”

He smiles sadly. “I guess it does.”

She frowns, unsure exactly what he means by that. Hell, what he means by that look in his eyes, the look she can’t for the life of her understand.

Shaking her head, she notices a framed picture on the bedside table. It’s a younger-looking Reuben, with a boy who looks about their age. They look strangely alike, and she realises with a shock that it’s his brother.

She glances back at him. “So,” she says slowly, “you never did tell me about the whole gang thing, or what happened to your brother.”

Stiffening, he turns his face away from her. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“Oh come on,” she presses. She wonders momentarily if this is too soon, if this could rupture their fragile friendship once again, but the curiosity is almost overwhelming. “You know virtually my entire life story. It’s only fair. Tit for tat and all that.”

“There isn’t a story, not really,” he replies reluctantly, but squeezes next to her on the tiny bed. He pauses for such a long time she doesn’t think he’s going to speak, but he does.

“My brother was in a gang. I tagged along because that’s what you do when you’re a kid with a cool older brother. They stole stuff, and when they did they took me along with them. Turned out I was pretty good at it.”

“And was that all you did?”

He shrugs. “Pretty much. Callum was in deep. He was a drug carrier, and I reckon he was experimenting with the merchandise. Or maybe he was getting it elsewhere, I don’t know. Either way, ninety percent of the time he was off his face. I hated it. I hated what he’d become.” He closes his eyes momentarily, and when he opens them, they’re empty. “That’s why I’d never do drugs. Not after what they did to Callum.”

“I’m sorry,” she says softly, but he just shakes his head.

“Nah, you didn’t know,” he says flatly.

“Is that how he died?” she asks, tentative. “Drugs?”

He smiles, but there’s no humour in it. “No. I wish it was that simple.” He exhales slowly, like he’s letting something out he thought he never could. “It was almost four years ago now. I was twelve. He was seventeen. He had this job to do. Getting a package to someone or something. I remember ‘cause he’d just come home from a gang meeting or something that I wasn’t allowed to go to, and he just went straight out again. He wouldn’t tell me where he was going, just that he’d be back soon and not to tell Mum or Dad. Not that I would. Soon as the door closed, I ran to the back of the house and followed him.”

He laughs bitterly. “Stupidest mistake I ever made. I thought I was some kind of James Bond, hiding behind bushes when he looked round, tiptoeing after him when he turned his back. He was headed for the park. I say park, but it was more like a square of grass barely bigger than a postage stamp where all the druggies would shoot up and get high.

“I hid behind a tree as Callum went up to these huge, scary-looking men. I’m serious, they were terrifying, and easily in their twenties. Adults. Not kids like us. Anyway, he said something. I couldn’t hear what. They obviously didn’t like it, because one of them pulled a gun on my brother. He was trying to talk his way out of whatever mess he’d gotten himself into, but they weren’t in the mood to listen. They just wanted whatever it was he wouldn’t give them.

“And that was when I made my fatal mistake. I stepped out from behind my tree, bold as you like, and told them to leave him alone.” He makes a choking sound in his throat that’s halfway between a laugh and a sob. “Twelve years old and trying to take on a group of guys with guns. What can I say? I’ve never been the brightest bulb in the box.”

He pauses, the fabric of the blanket knotted between his fingers, his cold eyes staring at something Casey can’t see.

“Callum turned round, and he looked proper terrified. They were laughing, but he didn’t think it was funny. He told me to leave, but I wasn’t going to let my brother deal with this on my own. I stood beside him, staring defiantly at them like the stupid, deluded kid that I was and told them in no uncertain terms to fuck off.

“That was when they started to get mad. They pointed the gun at me and told Callum to give them what they wanted or they’d shoot. He told them they wouldn’t fucking dare shoot me. Not a twelve-year-old kid. They told him he was the one with the balls, stealing shit from them.

“I didn’t realise what was going on. I didn’t realise I’d just made everything worse. But it all became very clear when the one with the gun squeezed the trigger and let off an almighty bang which ricocheted in my ears as the bullet headed for my heart.”

He swallows hard, but the lump in his throat won’t budge. “It never reached me. Callum shoved me aside and the bullet tore through his chest like it was plasticine. He collapsed, blood spurting from his chest, and they ran off, like the cowards they were. I held him in my arms while the blood poured out of him by the gallon, telling him it would all be okay, lying my arse off because he couldn’t die, I wouldn’t let him. Not my big brother.” His eyes are squeezed shut, his teeth gritted together. When he opens his eyes, his face is utterly drained of any emotion.“It didn’t matter. The ambulance was too late. By the time I heard the sirens, he was dead.”

Casey stares at him, the horror etched on her face. Reuben turns his face away, away from the pity filling her eyes and the meaningless words of comfort ready to jump off her lips. He doesn’t think he can stand it otherwise.

“They got away, you know,” he says bitterly. “No one knew who they were. Callum was mighty secretive when he wanted to be. He was getting drugs from somewhere and it weren’t Lenny and the others.” He shrugs, but it takes something from him to feign apathy. “Stupid blighter. The police weren’t that bothered either; the way they saw it, it was one less black kid starting shit to deal with.”

There’s a beat, an utterly insignificant space in time when the only sound that can be heard is the faint crackling of a television coming from somewhere above them. A part of Reuben wants to take back everything he said, take back the memories suffocating the room because it’s just too painful, too painful to bear. And yet a part of him feels some semblance of relief. He’s never talked about what happened to anyone, not his parents, not his friends, and certainly not the psychiatrists he was foisted on to try and get him to ‘open up’ about it.

“I don’t know what to say,” Casey says quietly. “That’s just… no one should ever have to go through that.”

“Yeah well.” He smiles grimly. “I did, and look how well I turned out.”

She can’t tell if he’s being serious or not. “Reuben, you don’t think it was your fault, do you?”

“Of course it was my fault.” His fists are clenched so tightly his knuckles are turning white, and the gnashing of his teeth is actually audible from where Casey is sitting. “If I hadn’t been such a stupid, stupid twat my brother would still be alive.”

She’s undeterred. “He sacrificed himself to save you. He wanted you to live.”

Reuben smiles, but it’s a poor imitation. “He was the one who deserved to live, not me. He was the brave one, the clever one, the one who was going to make something of this mess of a life.”

Helplessness freezes her tongue; she has no words of comfort, nothing that will take away the self-loathing threatening to swallow him into a deep, dark hole and never let him go.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Nah, you shouldn’t have.” She flinches from the harshness in his voice and he sags, hating himself even more. “I’m sorry, you didn’t deserve that.”

She reaches out tentatively and rubs his shoulder. When he doesn’t shrug her off, she wraps her arms around him and gives him an awkward, sideways hug, resting her head on his shoulder. He responds almost instantly by hugging her back, pressing her small, delicate frame into him. A look of something close to pain crosses his face, but it passes right above her head.

“Look at us,” she murmurs. “Two mixed-up teenagers with more issues than a magazine rack. We’re such clichés.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, smiling a little. “I suppose we are.”

She retrieves her arm from around him but doesn’t lift her head from his shoulder. His body tenses ever-so-slightly, not enough for her to feel through his shirt. Their position isn’t uncomfortable; in fact, it’s the exact opposite. And that’s what worries him.

“You’re better than me, though,” she says softly, and he jumps guiltily, though he’s not entirely sure why.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a better person,” she explains. “Before you came along, I never would’ve even tried to take on Tyler. I was too scared of what might happen.” Her smile is one of admiration. “But you’re fearless.”

“Believe me, I’m not fearless. Far from it.” He shifts slightly, and she sits up straight as if noticing his discomfort, much to his relief. And... disappointment? “I just haven’t got anything to lose. That’s all it is.”

She glances at him, a knowing look in her eyes. “Whatever you say. But just so you know, I think you’re amazing. Better than you give yourself credit for. You’re brave and smart and funny and you’re a great friend. I just- I just thought you should know that.”

He smiles back, touched. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he murmurs, holding her tight. They seem to be doing a lot of this hugging lark lately. But then, he’s not sure he minds particularly much.

Inevitably, though, Casey starts squirming and with some reluctance, Reuben relinquishes his grip on her so she can wriggle free.

“I’m going to the loo,” she informs him, swinging a leg off the bed. “Be back in a minute.”

She gets up, swaying a little, before trudging in the direction she assumes is the bathroom. Inside, she approaches the sink and grips the cold edges with her fingertips. It takes a lot for her to lift her head to stare into her reflection in the mirror above the sink, and what she sees makes her drop it almost immediately.

Reuben was right. She’s little more than a skeleton, her skin stretched so tightly across the bone it’s on the verge of snapping, exposing the bare, bleached bone beneath. She glances down, unable to look any more.

The guilt settles on her like an unwelcome visitor refusing to leave. Here she is, worrying about her looks when Reuben has actual problems. Her stomach tightens as she remembers the complete emptiness in his eyes when he recalled his brother’s death. She understood: in that moment, she understood it all. It’s so much easier to pretend you don’t care than admit that you do.

But he cares. A blind person could see that Reuben’s guilt is eating him up from the inside. And she never even noticed. What kind of friend is she? She never even asked.

She turns the tap and lets it run for a few seconds. The trickling sound of the running water calms her slightly and she spreads it over her face, wiping away all the bad thoughts and memories haunting her mind.

Refreshed, she trudges back to his bedroom, smiling when Reuben looks up and sees her. He’s leaning against the propped-up pillows, his earphones trailing from his ears, but he pulls one out as she approaches and offers it to her.

“Hi,” she says softly, pushing back a clump of her hair to stick it in her ear.

“Hi,” he replies, smiling back. She’s relieved to see the hardness is gone from his face, but there’s still a terrible sadness in his eyes so great she wonders how she ever missed it before.

Squeezing next to him on the bed, she lets her head fall to his shoulder almost automatically. She feels like a rag-doll, weightless against him. An image of her, naked except for her underwear, flashes into his mind. He gulps, and shakes his head firmly to get rid of it. These are exactly the wrong thoughts to be having. We’re just friends, he reminds himself. Just friends.

Another unwelcome image appears in front of his eyes, of a dead boy sprawled on the ground covered in blood. He swallows hard. Between the two of them, he’s not sure which is worse.

“I’m glad you told me,” she says suddenly. “You, know, about your brother.”

“Me too,” he replies, his throat tight, but he’s not lying.

“Tell me about him,” she says softly. She turns to look at him, her face serious. “I want to know everything.”

“You sure you want to hear it?” he asks doubtfully.

“’Course I do,” she replies, and she sounds almost offended. “And I think it would be good for you. You know, to talk.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he says hastily, but she just looks at him.

“Reuben,” she says, “humour me. I’m interested. From the little I know about him, he sounds like a great guy. And he must be, if he’s related to you.”

“Was,” he corrects her with a pained smile.

“Is,” she corrects him, giving him a pointed look. “Just ‘cause he’s dead doesn’t mean he’s gone.”

He looks resigned, then nods. “Callum... he was everything a big brother should be. He pissed me off like no one else, and he teased me all the time, but the second anyone started on me he’d be there, telling them to back off. He taught me how to fight, and he told me I should never, ever let anyone push me around and I should always stand up for myself. He always knew exactly what to say, our Callum. He had this way with words, like he could make you believe anything he said. And he always knew how to make you feel better. If you were angry, he could calm you down. If you were sad, he could cheer you up.”

He smiles, but there’s a sadness about his mouth. “That was before the drugs, of course. They messed him up. Turned him into an arsehole. He got violent. Not with me, never with me, but he’d come home sometimes covered in bruises and if you asked him about it, he’d just give you this look. Suddenly, he didn’t want me around any more. Said I was ruining his reputation. Said I should just stay the hell away from his life because he didn’t want his pathetic little brother hanging around him all the time any more. It took me a while to realise he wanted me to get out while I still could, but by that time it was too late.”

Reuben falls silent, a brooding expression clouding his features. Casey wonders suddenly if this was such a good idea, if this is just going to cause him even more pain. She grabs his hand in hers and gives it a squeeze, relieved when he returns the slight pressure.

“I think- I think I sort of became him after he died. I cut my hair short like his, started wearing his old clothes, listening to his music, hanging out with his friends.” He shrugs. “I was trying to keep him alive through me. When Mum took his old stuff to the charity shop, I lost it. She said it was for the best, that I couldn’t move on if I had all his stuff around me the whole time like some kind of shrine. But I didn’t want to move on. That would mean accepting he was gone and I just couldn’t do that. I couldn’t. That was when she took me to see a shrink. Thought it would help. I guess it did, a little. I stopped getting into fights and I started doing better at school, but I still missed him like hell.”

She can’t help but smile. “And how did that make you feel?”

Reuben looks down at her, and for a split-second Casey’s sure she’s put her foot in it, that she’s ruined everything. But there’s laughter bubbling up from somewhere deep inside of him and almost of its own volition, it explodes out of his mouth in a huge release. In seconds, he’s doubled over, wheezing for breath, his entire body shaking with mirth. She can’t quite see what’s funny but his laughter is infectious and soon enough, she’s giggling helplessly, clutching him for stability.

“Why are we laughing?” she manages when they’ve finally stopped.

“I have absolutely no idea,” he replies, grinning, and wipes a tear from his eye. “But I haven’t laughed like that in forever.”

She grins back. “Me neither.” Amidst the silence, she lets out a chuckle. “I can just see you sitting on one of them chairs, pouring your heart out to some woman with a clipboard.”

“It was a man, actually,” he corrects her, “and there was no clipboard. He had a laptop, though, and he’d tap away at it furiously while I fed him the same bullshit as everyone else. At the end of it, he said: Reuben has issues with expressing his emotions and has a serious lack of respect for figures of authority. He would be well advised to find an outlet for his violent tendencies; he must learn that chairs are for sitting on, and not for throwing at people.”The last bit is said in a posh drawl, and Casey can’t help but giggle. “Patronising git.”

“You threw a chair at him? Seriously?”

“Once.” He shrugs. “He told me I needed to let out my emotions. So I did.”

She giggles again. “Remind me never to piss you off.”

“Come on, I’d never hurt you. Intentionally,” Reuben adds quickly.

“I’ll remind you of this conversation if you ever do,” Casey informs him matter-of-factly.

Shaking his head at her, he settles back into the pillow next to her. “What do you want to talk about now? How about we do your dysfunctional family next? Tell me about your dad.”

She wrinkles her nose. “He left my mum when I was ten for some woman he was having an affair with. We haven’t heard from him since.”

“Ouch.”

She shrugs like it’s nothing. “Doesn’t exactly compare to having a dead brother, does it?”

“Still. Much as I strongly dislike my dad sometimes, I’m still glad he’s around,” Reuben admits. “Well. Sometimes I’d much rather he wasn’t. But it’s nice knowing he’s there, that he cares about me.” He snorts derisively. “Even if he has a funny way of showing it sometimes.”

Casey smiles. “Parents are like that. They’re just as clueless as we are, really. It’s kind of sad. Like they’ve forgotten what it was like to be young.”

He chuckles. “Ever think we’ll end up like them?”

They look at each other simultaneously. “Nah,” they chorus, and burst out laughing.

Silence settles on them, in the folds of their clothes and the wrinkles of the blanket. There’s a quiet understanding between them that doesn’t need to be spoken aloud, that it’s okay to laugh about the things that hurt because sometimes that’s the only way of getting rid of the pain.

Reuben glances down at her, wondering what it is about her that draws her to him with an intensity he can’t explain. She’s not classically gorgeous, not by any means. She’s too skinny, too awkward, her nose too long, her lips too thin. But there’s just something about her. Something that’s impossible to ignore. It’s an understated beauty, but it’s present nonetheless, in the soft curve of her cheek and the shadow of her eyelashes and the freckles scattered lightly across her nose.

It almost makes him laugh, the irony. She’s not his type, not really. He likes girls with a bit more meat on their bones, with actual curves and not angles. But he’s never liked anyone as much as he likes Casey.

His arm curls around her on impulse and pulls her into his chest, nestling her head in the crook under his chin. Their bodies mould together as she sinks into him, gently rising and falling as he breathes. Hesitant fingers weave into her hair; the fingers of his other hand skim lightly down her arm, tracing the prominent blue veins that contrast so sharply against her pale skin. They would both be perfectly content if they never had to move from this space again, if they could just remain in the safety of each others’ arms for the rest of eternity.

But nothing lasts forever, least of all those rare, perfect moments when everything’s going right for once. Reuben’s phone buzzes angrily in his pocket and, almost reluctantly, Casey detaches herself from him in order to allow him to answer it. The emptiness is almost tangible once she’s gone, hovering in the space she occupied just seconds ago.

With a sigh, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his mobile, glancing carelessly at the screen as he does so.

“Lenny,” he says tersely, pressing his phone to his ear. “What is it?”

“You’re not going to like this, but I figure you have a right to know,” the older man replies, and he can almost hear the grimace in his voice.

Reuben closes his eyes with dread. “What is it?” he repeats, an edge to his tone.

“Tyler’s been having you followed,” Lenny informs him. “For a while, from the looks of it.”

Reuben’s eyes fly open and a stream of profanities burst from his mouth. Casey frowns, confused, and mouths to him, asking what’s going on, but he merely shakes his head, a deep line between his eyebrows.

“Jason hacked his computer and found a bunch of emails and stuff from this guy, we don’t know his name. Reuben, he knows more about you than most of us do. He’s got your daily schedule, your family history, where you go and who you’re with... that guy knows everything about you. And now Tyler does too.”

“So that’s how he knows so much about me,” Reuben mutters. He rubs his hands over his face as if trying to clear his thoughts. “But did you manage to get anything on him?”

“What do you think we are, amateurs?” Lenny sounds almost offended. “Got his bank details, a list of recent transactions, the lot. Plus, I was talking to a couple of people, who talked to a few more people, and I reckon I have a good idea of who his supplier might be. I can email it all to you, if you like.”

“That’d be great.” There’s a note of grim satisfaction in Reuben’s voice. “At least I’ve got something to work with here. Thanks, mate.”

“Any time,” Lenny replies. “Tell that girlfriend of yours I said hi, yeah?”

He doesn’t smile. “Bye Len.”

Reuben hangs up, he cradling his head in his hands and massaging his aching forehead. Casey watches curiously, shifting so she’s facing him directly.

“What happened?”

“Tyler’s been having me followed,” he informs her, unable to hold back a sigh. “That’s how he knows so much about me.”

Her hand flies to her mouth. “Do you think he knows about the plan?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think so. But it still changes everything. If I’m being followed, then it’s only a matter of time before he finds out everything.”

“Reuben, we have to do something,” she murmurs, her voice trembling with fear. “If he knows what we’re doing, there’s no way he’ll just let us get away with it. I knew it was a bad idea. We should never have done it in the first place.”

He stares at her, shaking his head. “Casey, we’re not just going to give up on the plan. We’re so close to actually being able to do something.”

Her grey eyes are narrowed with confusion. “What do you mean? I don’t understand.”

“Case, that was Lenny. I asked him to find out some stuff about Tyler,” he explains, almost reluctantly. “Just basic things. Things we could use. I never expected him to find out I was being followed, but there you go.”

“Wait, so Lenny told you what, exactly?” Casey queries, still not completely understanding.

Reuben sighs. “He’s going to email me what he found. He’s got bank details, recent transactions and he thinks he might know who his supplier is.”

“And you think we can use all that,” she says slowly, starting to understand. “We’re going to hit him where it hurts.”

He smiles grimly. “Yep. We’re going to take away every last penny he owns and make sure he can’t get any more in a hurry.”

“How?” she asks.

“I don’t know yet,” he mutters darkly. “Got any ideas?”

She shrugs. “We could wire all his money out of his bank account?”

“Too obvious,” Reuben decides. “Besides, we can’t actually carry out any transactions without his signature.”

“Online banking?” she suggests.

“PIN codes, security codes, passwords...” He trails off. “No. We’ve got to think of something else. Something subtle. Something achievable.”

“Let me know when you figure it out,” she says dryly.

“I love how I have to think of everything,” he mocks her, shaking his head.

“That’s because you’re the shrewd businessman,” she informs him. “I don’t actually contribute anything in the great scheme of things. I’m just here for moral support.”

His arm slides back around her and he chuckles softly. “Casey, you must know by now that you are so much more than that.”

She smiles, settling into him like an old, comfortable sofa you’ve had for so long you can’t imagine throwing it away.

“Yeah,” she says quietly. “I’m getting that impression.”