Page 18 of Prove You Wrong

‘Can’t you squish in?’ Jamie looks over his shoulder into the back.

‘No.’ My voice is calm compared to Josie’s squeal. ‘It’s not safe.’

‘The boot?’ Jamie sounds hopeful.

‘No, it’s fine. I’ll wait here,’ I say, ‘Jamie, you get the girls home and then come back for me.’

‘No, I should wait here. My brother’s stitched us up. I should be the one put out.’

‘Hey, fuck you,’ Jamie growls. ‘I told you I couldn’t get you — ’

‘It’s okay,’ I interrupt, hands raised in a way to try and diffuse the situation. ‘Jamie’s being a gentleman. Imagine if he’d left the girls stranded? No, it’s fine. I’ll be fine here.’ Although Josie stopped drinking a little while ago, she’s too vulnerable to leave here on her own.

Claire makes a retching sound in the back and Jamie rummages around in the passenger footwell. Fishing out an old fast-food bag, he throws it in the back. ‘It would be great if you could repay the favour by having Clairenotthrow up all over my car.’

‘It’s not like we’re doing this on purpose,’ my sister replies as she climbs back in.

‘Just go!’ I usher them and force a smile.

It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.

‘We’ll come straight back, unless you want me to wait with you?’ Josie’s already started buckling her seatbelt.

‘No, you go, silly us both being put out. Plus, I need you to make sure Jamie actually comes back for me.’

‘As if I wouldn’t,’ Jamie tuts.

I slap the car a couple of times on the roof. ‘Go!’

‘See you in twenty,’ Josie calls through the open window.

Checking my watch, it’s gone closing time.

‘More like forty,’ I mutter to myself, thinking there’s no way Jamie can make the drop offs and be back anytime soon.

Fuck.

I’m totally fucking screwed.

Sometimes I tryto check my thoughts, to swear less and lead by example for my sister. But there’s something about finding the exact right word for the situation. And right now, it’s, ‘Fuck!’.I whisper-shout it into the darkness, a tiny act of rebellion, and a burst of relief whistles through me, like slightly releasing the cap on a shaken fizzy drink. Maybe I should add swearing to my self-help routine. Letting it all out should help, right?

I walk over to the covered area where I’d fixed Helena a few nights ago. The old picnic benches feel rough on my bare legs as I perch on one.

Cold and stuck outside a pub; this is really topping off what seems to be one of the shittiest days.

I’m trying to keep perspective but at the moment it seems like one stress or disappointment after another. Practising deep breaths, I try to check my thoughts. No one died. No one’s seriously ill. I saw my friend and had a good time tonight, it’s not that bad.

Breathe.

The pub door opens and there’s some raucous laughter.

‘Thanks fellas,’ the voice of the exasperating yet hot barman calls out.

Perhaps I should have followed Josie’s advice. Distracting myself with him tonight had gone some way towards easing the pressure. But the feeling thateverything is about to boil overis still present. I’m simmering at best.

Feeling rather exposed sitting outside in the dark, I shift in my seat hoping I’m not noticed. This is a ridiculous situation to find myself in. I shiver, wishing I’d done some self-defence training or something.

‘I’ll be right behind you,’ another voice calls.

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