Page 6

She might love to tease and taunt me for fun, but she’s never gone this far before. There has to be more to it than bog-standard antagonism.

‘Are you drunk?’ I ask.

‘No!’ She actually seems offended by this suggestion. ‘I’ve not drunk any alcohol for a week.’ She takes a couple of stumbling steps back and sits on the edge of my desk, folding her arms and giving me an insouciant stare.

But there’s definitely something not right here. I’m sure of it.

‘Did you take something, then? Other than paracetamol, I mean.’

‘I did, as a matter of fact. I took some of the painkillers my mum takes for her bad back sometimes. She gave them to me the other day when I pulled a muscle in my shoulder. Lucky for me that she did. They’ve completely stopped my ankle from hurting. I can’t feel a thing now.’

‘I’m guessing you’ve taken Tramadol?’

‘Yup. That’s the one.’

I let out a sigh and shake my head. ‘You idiot! You shouldn’t take drugs prescribed for someone else.’

She frowns. ‘Okay, Mr Binary. No need to be a dick about it. I feel fine. I only took the dose it recommended on the packet.’

Well, at least that explains the irrational behaviour.

‘Hmm, well, I don’t think opiates are the drug for you. They seem to be making you even less inhibited than usual.’

She bats a hand at me, but it’s a less precise movement than she’d normally execute and it looks like she’s doing it in slow motion. ‘Oh, Jem. What must it be like to live in your sensible, follow-the-instructions-to-the-letter world? Are you ever naughty ?’

I tense at her teasing tone.

Oh man, where’s she going with this?

‘Seriously, Dee. You should leave the room before you do or say something else you regret later.’

She throws up her hands, again in slow motion. ‘Okay. Fine. If you’re not going to be friendly, I will leave.’

‘Good.’

‘I’ll go back to my room and stare at the wall.’

‘Probably for the best.’

We’re glaring at each other again now. It feels as if we’re trapped in a battle of wills. Who will look away first?

Well, it’s not going to be me. I could do this for hours if I have to. I like to win.

A few more beats pass, before I see a small frown flitter across her brow.

Then she swallows hard.

Finally, her shoulders slump and her gaze drops.

As I watch this happen, it suddenly occurs to me that the previous high colour on her cheeks has drained away. She looks a bit pale. No. She looks a bit green.

‘Are you okay?’ I ask.

‘Um.’ She gives her head a little shake then seems to regret it. Lifting a hand to cover her mouth, she says, ‘Feel a bit sick, actually,’ behind it.

Ah.

I’ve heard opiate painkillers can make you feel nauseous.

‘Just going to…’ she mutters, before launching herself away from my desk and scurrying quickly out of the room.

I hear the door to the bathroom slam, then the muffled, unsettling sound of Dee vomiting.

Ugh.

What am I meant to do now? Should I go in there and hold her hair back?

No. That would be weird. I should wait for her to come out and check she’s okay, though.

It’s a few more minutes before she leaves the bathroom, looking a bit less pale now.

I’m waiting for her in the hall with a glass of water and she takes it gratefully from me and swallows a big gulp of it.

‘Thanks.’

‘Welcome,’ I say gently. ‘How are you feeling now?’

‘Not great. Embarrassed. I think I should probably go and lie down.’ She glances towards the bedroom door, then back at me. ‘Uh. Honestly, I’m actually feeling a bit wobbly.’

To my horror, her eyes fill with tears.

Oh, man. I have no idea how to deal with a crying woman.

‘Will you stay with me for a bit?’ she asks in a small voice. ‘I really don’t want to be on my own when I’m feeling like this.’

I look down at the ground, trying to formulate a response. I know I can’t just leave her alone now, not when she’s feeling scared and ill. What kind of a person would do that? Not one I want to be.

‘Please?’ she says to the top of my head. ‘I won’t try to kiss you again, I promise.’

How am I supposed to respond to that? I don’t want her to kiss me, obviously, but I don’t want to be mean about it to her face.

I huff out a sigh. ‘Okay. Fine. Just for a bit. I’ve still got a tonne of work I want to get through tonight when I get home. I’ve not done as much as I wanted today, what with all the interruptions.’

Her nod is sheepish, but then she gives me a warm, grateful smile.

There’s an odd fluttering feeling in my chest at the sight of her being so vulnerable with me. This is not the Dee I usually get. But I can’t let her manipulate me. I’ve seen how she does it to Bea and there’s no way I’m letting her do it to me too.

‘You know, you need to stop doing the first wild thing that comes into your head before considering the consequences,’ I state crossly. Though as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret saying them. I sound like a total dick.

The smile drops from her mouth.

‘I made a mistake. One I won’t be making again,’ she says, before hobbling away from me, into the bedroom.

I follow her in there and watch as she gets into Bea’s bed and pulls the duvet over herself, turning away from me.

I sit down on the other side. ‘Okay. Well, good,’ I say in a kinder tone this time, shuffling down the mattress so I can lie down next to her. A break from the screen would actually be welcome right now. I’ve been coding pretty solidly for the last few days and my eyes feel gritty and tired.

‘Jem?’ comes a small voice from within the duvet.

‘Yeah?’

‘Thanks for staying,’ she says.

‘Sure.’

‘It’s kind of you.’

‘Hmm.’

There’s an unusual tension in my chest now and another feeling I can’t quite put my finger on. But whatever. Anyone would have done the same and stayed with her. Anyone with a shred of decency, anyway.

It’s not long before I hear the gentle snuffling sounds of Dee’s breathing as it slows right down and she falls asleep.

I’ll just wait for a few more minutes to make sure she doesn’t wake up and need to puke again.

It’s a bit cool in the bedroom, so I pull the edge of the duvet over me and stare up at the ceiling, wondering how Bea’s doing.

I hope things get back to normal soon is the last thing I think before I close my eyes for a second to rest them.

I don’t open them again until I wake with a start to find Bea and Dee’s father standing next to the bed in the faint morning light, with one eyebrow arched and an expression of reproach on his face.