Page 47 of The Book Swap

Wine. Books. Eileen’s library. Cider ice lollies (seriously—have you ever tasted one?). Beating my sister at ANYTHING. Long walks. Making myself proud. Every memory I hold of my best friend. The new memories of her that appear and keep her alive. Putting the “z” on a triple letter score in Scrabble. Imagining my sister riding a penny-farthing. Don’t know why. Her enjoying her life and achieving her dreams (but ideally it would be while on a penny-farthing). Doing this with you. This makes me happy.

14. Are you a fast reader? (I really hope so, because I’ve just given you Middlemarch!)

What were you thinking?! Luckily, yes, but do not test me on that book. I was somewhat distracted by your questions at the end of it...

15. What is your favorite thing about living in London?

I pause, biting on the end of my pen. This question is the reason I wanted to answer tonight. Because after what’s just happened, and with the wine emboldening me, I want to write an honest response.

It used to be the fact that I could escape my past here, but that changed tonight. So instead, I’ll just admit it’s you.

18

JAMES

I can’t believe how fucked-up this is. The novel I’m writing has always been for Erin. My small way of trying to apologize for what I did—and the only reason I’ve been able to write it the way I have is because of Margins Girl. And Margins Girl is also Erin.

My brain starts running back through everything she’s said in the books, the pieces slotting slowly into place. Her comments on Atticus. How strongly she related to that quote about grief in Great Expectations. Her relationship with her mother. Now that I know it’s Erin, everything about our exchange makes sense. Who else could it ever have been, but the girl I forced myself to stop loving the day I broke her trust?

It was raining then too. Torrential rain that didn’t stop for twenty-four hours, so every memory I have of what happened is set in gray. I was hiding behind the art block, cowering under my raincoat as I waited for a moment it was safe to get home. At some point I ducked through to the photography dark room. Tried to dry off. Some black-and-white photos of dead birds were hanging on pegs. I don’t know whose they were, but they were mesmerizing. I pretended I was in an exhibition, and stood in front of each one, taking it in. The feathers flat against the ground. The wings that would never fly again.

When I reemerged, that’s when I saw them. Mr. Carter, our English teacher, kissing the neck of a woman against the cork board that proudly displayed the latest lino prints from younger years. I could only make out her back as he moved his head down her body, burying his face into her chest before moving lower. The woman squealed. He spun her around, pushing her against the prints and shifting her legs apart as his kisses kept moving lower and lower down her body. I noticed her shirt first. It was open, one breast hanging out of a white lace bra, the other still within it.

She started breathing heavily and I finally took in her face, my hand slamming to my mouth as I saw who it was. Erin’s Mum.

“Oh, Derek,” she moaned as I fumbled toward the door as quickly and as quietly as I could. I edged out of it and closed it gently behind me, before I started running through the rain.

My brain was so full of what I’d seen that I didn’t check for any signs of big groups the way I normally would. By the time I heard their voices, it was too late. They’d been waiting for me, and because I’d taken longer than usual, their punishment would match.

“Trying to hide?” Marky said, standing in front of me and pushing me backward, a hood pulled up over his head. “Fucking pussy. What are you so scared of?”

He nodded toward one of the others, his eyes shining.

I felt my legs kicked out from under me. I landed on my knees, and then my hands and face. The wet concrete pressed against me as I tried to push myself up.

A foot hit me hard in the stomach, lifting me up and flipping me until I was on my back, my head slamming against the ground beneath me. Rain started hammering into my face so I could hardly see. There were eight of them, standing around me, hoods up, staring down.

“We’re going to play a little game I’ve just made up. It’s called Spit or Piss. Do you want to know the rules?”

All the others started sniggering the moment he said the word “piss,” in case I needed a reminder of the type of people I was up against.

Shaking my head, I rolled onto my side, trying to get up. Another foot cracked me under the ribs.

Marky was the first to undo his fly and pull out his penis. I caught sight of Felix. He was always who I looked for in that group. I needed to see if there was any regret and I knew he was the only one I might find it in. He swallowed, and then copied Marky. They all did, clutching their penises and hocking up spit in their mouths, which hovered above me. Marky made a sound as though he was clearing all the snot from his entire body and getting it into his mouth. The first shot just came firing straight at me. I could make out the yellow tint to the saliva as it flew through the air, landing on the corner of my mouth. I shook my head. Another sharp boot in my side so I coughed. I swear some of the phlegm went into my mouth.

“The game goes like this,” he said, raising his voice above the rain. “Each of my boys here gets to make a choice. They can either spit or piss. On you. It’s my idea, so I get to do both,” he said, and I watched as he moved so he was directly over my face, taking hold of his penis in both hands.

“Wait! You need to go to the art block now. Erin’s mum is fucking Mr. Carter. She’s got her tits out.” I yelled the words as hard and as fast as I could. I tried to use their language. I needed to do whatever it took to stop the game from continuing.

I saw Marky pause. He looked around his circle of boys. Felix was looking longingly at the art block. Whether he was hoping to see Erin’s mum naked or to get out of what he had to do, I’ll never know.

Marky zipped up his trousers and kicked me hard in the shoulder.

“If you’re lying, we’re fucking coming for you,” he said, and he signaled the others before running off in the direction of the classroom.

Shaking, I jumped up as fast as I could and I started limping, wiping the rest of the spit from my face. My legs kept caving under me. Tears were streaming down my cheeks. Rain rolled from my head and down over my body. Everything ahead of me was a blur. I just needed to make it home before they caught up with me again. I didn’t know if Mr. Carter or Erin’s mum heard me leave. Whether they were even still there. I didn’t know how long I had.

I only found that out the next day, when the videos came out. Marky was the hero of the year for capturing it all on his phone. It was the only sound you could make out in assembly. Everyone was so absorbed, they didn’t even look at me when I took my seat. But all I could think about was the letter for Erin in my pocket. I just needed to get it to her before anyone said anything. I was fairly sure Marky wouldn’t. He was far happier with everyone thinking he discovered them. I saw Felix next to Helena, whispering to her. She whispered to Zoe. They were all looking over at me. I looked around. I couldn’t see Erin or Bonnie. Everyone was on their phones. Sweat was prickling at the back of my neck. I stood up and walked out of the assembly hall—straight into Bonnie, who was comforting a crying Erin under an umbrella. She was crying because of me, and there was nothing I could do to fix it. Guilt consumed me, and I pulled the letter out of my pocket and walked toward her.

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