Worse Than Boys Read online

  ‘I’m not going to do anything to you, Heather. But I want you to take a message back to Erin. Will you do that for me, Heather?’ She nodded. ‘I want you to tell her that we had nothing to do with that fire. The Hell Cats are just like us, Heather. Just like the Lip Gloss Girls.’ (All except Wizzie. The words flitted into my mind, I couldn’t stop them.) ‘Tell her I’m so sorry it happened. We all are … And tell her the truth. Tell her it was because of you everybody found out her secret. Not me. Tell her everything. Will you do that, Heather?’

  ‘I will, Hannah. I promise.’

  ‘On your honour? Because I will come and get you if you don’t tell her you were to blame.’

  Even as I said it I knew it wasn’t the truth. I wouldn’t come and get her.

  ‘On my honour.’ And she sobbed again, ‘I am so sorry, Hannah.’

  She sagged with relief. Confession is good for the soul – hadn’t I heard that somewhere? Heather’s chin was trembling with the crying. I could feel my eyes filling up too. I should hate her. Instead, I felt sorry for her.

  ‘I’m going to Erin, right now.’ Heather began to hurry away from me. ‘I promise you I’m going to make everything all right.’ I watched her as she stumbled away and I wondered if tomorrow she’d behave any differently. Would things have changed?

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  The house was empty when I went inside. Mum was on a late shift. I had no one to talk to – didn’t want to talk to anyone anyway. Except perhaps Lauren. But she would still be at rehearsals. I couldn’t take it all in. Heather had caused all this. Heather. Too afraid to speak out and tell the truth. Too afraid to stick up for me.

  And all of a sudden, I was in tears. I would never have cried in front of Heather. Now, I couldn’t stop myself. I cried thinking of the shame and hurt I had felt all that time. What Heather had done to me had changed my life. It had all been her fault. I remembered how she’d been right outside the toilets that night at the wedding, waiting to drag us on to the floor for the last dance. I remembered too her annoyance because I had been to Erin’s house on my own the very next night. Why hadn’t I suspected her before?

  Because I’d trusted her.

  I wouldn’t have thought she was capable of such a thing. Yet she couldn’t even stick up for me. She wouldn’t even have had to admit that she was the guilty one. All she would have had to do was tell Erin, tell everybody, she believed me.

  But, instead, Heather had turned against me, just like Erin and Rose.

  All those horrible days and weeks – if just one person had believed me it would have made all the difference.

  And it had all led to this. The fire at Erin’s and … Wizzie.

  ‘I want to believe Wizzie had nothing to do with it.’ I said it aloud. Wanted to believe it so much. Because if she wasn’t guilty, then I wasn’t guilty either.

  But she was hiding something. She must have had something to do with it.

  Everyone thought Wizzie was trouble. Why should I believe her?

  A voice inside answered me. If just one person had believed me, it would have made all the difference.

  Wizzie had told us she had nothing to do with the fire. She had promised it. None of us had believed her.

  Maybe this time, I was the one who could make the difference.

  I was going to believe Wizzie, stand by her. That’s what friends did. Maybe that was all Wizzie needed. I didn’t want Wizzie to end up feeling the way I had. I was going to do something about it.

  Mum had left a note telling me she wanted me to stay home. I didn’t want to defy her, not tonight, but I would have to. Because I had to see Wizzie.

  I tried to get her on the mobile but it had been switched off again. But I had to talk to her tonight. I couldn’t wait until tomorrow. I kept thinking of the night when I was at my lowest. What if Wizzie felt like that tonight? I couldn’t take any risks.

  Tomorrow might be too late.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  I took the train to the estate where the Hell Cats lived. Wizzie’s area was beyond where the rest of the girls’ houses were. Beyond the neat gardens of Lauren’s street and out on to the back of beyond. It was scary walking here. If you’ve never walked through one of those estates, pray you never have to. How could she live here? No wonder Wizzie was hard. You would have to be tough to survive here. And thinking of how tough she was, I wondered if I was just being stupid. Wizzie could face up to anything. Why was I so afraid for her?

  The houses on her street looked almost derelict, windows boarded up with steel, and graffiti daubed on walls. There was litter everywhere and gangs of youths were hanging around the street corners. Downtown Baghdad had nothing on this.

  ‘Looking for somebody, hen?’ A boy, his hand curled round a beer can, asked me as I passed him at a street corner.

  ‘Wizzie McLeod,’ I gulped.

  He pointed the beer can to a block of flats. ‘Wee Wizzie? She lives over there. Are you her mate?’

  I didn’t even know how to answer that. Was I her mate?

  I was about to cross the street, when he added, ‘But she’s no’ there. Saw her heading for the chippie.’ He pointed the beer can down another street.

  All I had to do to find the chippie was follow the smell.

  I turned the corner and there was Wizzie, but she wasn’t alone. A gang of older girls were crowding round her. The Black Widows. They were easily recognisable, all in black, viciousness written all over them. Wizzie was trying to stand tall, but there was something in the way she was looking up at them that made me realise she was afraid.

  Wizzie, afraid?

  I slipped into a doorway and listened.

  ‘You know I won’t say a word,’ she was saying. There was a nervous catch in her voice. ‘But you shouldnae have done it. My mates are getting the blame. I’m getting the blame.’

  I held my breath.

  ‘You know better than to say anything.’ The voice that answered her was threatening. ‘You know what happens to grasses, Wizzie.’

  Another voice, high-pitched and nasal came in. ‘You practically asked us to do it anyway.’

  Something of her old boldness burst out of Wizzie. ‘I did not! I only told you we were going to get Erin Brodie back. But not like that!’

  I peeked round and saw one of the girls grip Wizzie by the shoulder and drag her round the corner. Suddenly they had all gone. I slipped from the doorway and followed them.

  Nasal voice was speaking again. ‘Well, we showed you what the big girls do when they want to get their own back on somebody, didn’t we?’

  ‘I cannae let my mates get the blame for this!’ Wizzie sounded as if she was ready to cry. Didn’t sound like Wizzie at all.

  The harsh threatening voice spoke again. ‘I’m telling you, Wizzie, you grass on us and you’ll be sorry.’

  I’d heard enough. I ran round the corner. They were all surrounding Wizzie. One of them still had her by the shoulder. They were harder than Wizzie, wilder than she could ever be. ‘Get your hands off my mate!’ I screamed.

  With that I yanked at Wizzie, pulling her towards me.

  Even Wizzie looked astonished.

  The tallest of them turned on me. Her hair was spiked like Wizzie’s. Was that who Wizzie had tried to copy, so she could look as tough as that? Close up, this was the ugliest bunch of females I had ever seen. The Hell Cats had nothing in the fierce stakes next to them. ‘You keep out of this, hen.’ There was a sudden flash of steel as she produced a blade. ‘Or I’ll give you an extra mouth.’

  I gulped when I saw the knife. Why did I always have to be so brave? So stupid. I froze to the spot. Wizzie grabbed at me. ‘Run!’

  I was after her in a second. The one with the knife caught at my jacket, but I yanked myself free. She hardly held me back a moment. We were off. But they were after us. We raced from the back of the chippie and into the street. Wizzie pulled me round a corner, and I followed her. We tore down a side road, heard them pounding after us. ‘Where
are we going?’ I asked breathlessly.

  Wizzie didn’t tell me. ‘Come on!’ She pulled me on. Up back stairs, round back greens, through closes. It seemed to me we were running round in circles. Yet as I ran, everything was becoming clearer. They’d started the fire at Erin’s. The Black Widows. Wizzie knew, knew all along, and couldn’t tell. Because nobody grasses up here. All the time I could hear them running behind us, catching up. Getting closer every second.

  We stopped for breath behind some shops. ‘Have we lost them?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Wizzie said. And we were off again.

  We ran though alleys full of bins and rubbish, broken bits of furniture and boxes. Leaping over them, tripping over them. ‘Where are we going?’ I asked again.

  I don’t think Wizzie knew. She was just running, anywhere to get away.

  Behind a block of boarded-up flats I had to stop. ‘Can’t go on.’ I sank to the ground.

  Wizzie pulled me up. ‘Got to,’ she said.

  I could hear them coming – hear their shouts, their feet splashing through puddles.

  Wizzie looked around. There was a shed nearby where the rubbish bins were stored. A slip lock on the door. ‘In here,’ she said. She was breathless too.

  She pulled the lock across, opened the door and helped me inside.

  The smell was awful, big green bins overflowing with rubbish. We stepped on broken eggs and Chinese take-aways and heaven knows what else. Wizzie slid the lock back quietly and pulled me right to the back with her. We squeezed ourselves behind the bins, out of sight.

  She put her fingers to her lips. ‘Sssh,’ she said softly.

  I could hear them running, their feet pounding closer. I tried not to breathe, too afraid to breathe. Kept picturing the knife in the girl’s hand. Their angry shouts were practically outside the shed now. They were swearing, calling us every name they could think of.

  They stopped. I could picture them looking round, wondering which way to run next.

  Just keep quiet, I thought. In a minute they’ll move on. I prayed for them to move on.

  And that’s when I heard the scuttling sound.

  It was coming from above my head, from inside one of the overflowing bins. Wizzie heard it too. We looked at each other. Her eyes were wide.

  I looked up.

  And there at the top of a bin, staring down at me, nose twitching, was a rat.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  I’ve never known fear like it. Never been that close to a rat. It was huge and ugly with razor-sharp teeth, and it was watching me. I began to shake. I thought for a minute I was going to faint. I wanted to scream, but one cry would alert the Black Widows. I didn’t know what was terrifying me more. The rats outside, or the rat inside.

  More than one.

  I suddenly saw the tip of a nose appear above one of the other bins. I gripped Wizzie’s hand. She saw it too. She squeezed back. She was trembling.

  I imagined one jumping on my head, and tried to stop from screaming. ‘Wizzie …’ I said it through gritted teeth. Too afraid to open my mouth in case one of them leapt inside. No! Don’t think like that!

  Please, God, I prayed, let them move on. Please …

  ‘Hey, what about here?’ Nasal voice was heading for the shed.

  One of the others laughed. ‘Bet we’ve got them. Bet that’s where they are.’

  She tugged at the door. It sprung open.

  Streetlight flooded in. Rats erupted from the bins, looking for a way out – not one rat, not two, but loads of them, legions of them.

  The Black Widows screamed.

  ‘Rats!’

  ‘Rats!’

  And they ran, with an army of rats at their heels.

  It was over in a moment. One minute they were there, the next they were gone, their screams echoing through the night air – and we were forgotten, by the rats and by the Black Widows.

  Wizzie and I ran from the shed, still holding hands.

  Out in the open air – in the clear moonlight, I went crazy brushing myself down, expecting any minute for a rat to creep from my pocket, land on my hair.

  Wizzie was the same, slapping herself frantically as if the rats were climbing all over her.

  ‘I hate this place!’ she screamed. ‘I hate it.’

  Was Wizzie crying? I was almost sure she was.

  We ran, hardly knowing where we were running. Anywhere to get away from the rats. Finally, we stopped at a bus shelter.

  ‘I never thought I’d be grateful for rats,’ Wizzie said.

  I was still shaking, didn’t want to think about that. ‘They started the fire, didn’t they? The Black Widows. I heard them tell you.’

  ‘I was angry at you. It was my fault, Hannah, bragging about how you didn’t know how to get revenge. I was always trying to show off to them. They said, “We’ll show you how to get revenge, honey.” That’s what they called me, “honey”, as if they were fond of me.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I didn’t expect them to do that. They even bragged to me about it. I tried to tell them, I couldn’t let my mates take the blame. But you heard them. If I opened my mouth I’d be for it.’ Wizzie was breathless, stopped for a moment. ‘I thought they were my mates as well. I thought I wanted to be like them. But I couldn’t have done anything like that, Hannah.’

  ‘You could never be like them, Wizzie. They are scum of the earth, and you’re decent.’

  Wizzie let out a long sigh. In the streetlight I saw her scars. ‘Did they do that?’ I asked. I was suddenly sure I knew where Wizzie’s scars had come from.

  I had always imagined her standing with the Black Widows, fighting alongside them. Now I remembered the knife, pictured that girl slashing it against Wizzie’s skin.

  She turned away from me, as if she didn’t want to look at me. All I could see was the side of her face. How tiny she seemed to be. Tough and tiny, that was Wizzie.

  ‘You can tell me, Wizzie. Did she do that to you?’

  When she looked back at me, I thought I saw her eyes well up with tears, but she sniffed and they were gone. Might have just been a trick of the light. She shook her head.

  ‘Then who did?’

  ‘You won’t tell anybody?’ She smiled. ‘Don’t answer that. No more secrets. I trust you. You won’t tell anybody.’

  ‘On my life,’ I said. ‘So, Wizzie, who did it?’

  I thought at first she wasn’t going to answer.

  ‘Me,’ she said.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  I couldn’t understand at first what she meant. ‘You did it …? To yourself? But … I don’t understand. Why would you do that to yourself?’

  She shrugged. ‘Don’t know really. Thought it made me look tough. Did it first because I wanted to brag about being in a fight. I was going up to high school. I wanted everybody to see I was tough as well. People got scared of me, and I liked that. You’ve got be a bit scary to live here, Hannah. So I did it again. And they thought I was in more fights, thought I carried a knife. Tough wee Wizzie.’ She turned to face me. ‘Look at the size of me, Hannah.’

  She was so tiny and thin, yet, tiny as she was, she had managed to make people afraid of her. The scars were a big part of that. Wizzie’s secret. I knew it at last.

  ‘I’m this size and people are scared of me. I like it.’ She sighed. ‘Or I did. I thought I wanted to be one of them.’ She nodded somewhere into the estate, where the Black Widows were maybe still being chased by the rats. Hopefully being eaten by them. ‘I always thought I wanted to be a Black Widow.’ She said it almost to herself. ‘Some ambition, eh?’

  ‘Are you going to tell on them, Wizzie?’

  She looked shocked. ‘Grass? You’ve got to be joking. I’ve got to live here. Everybody hates a grass.’ Her face changed. The bright and cheeky look disappeared. She looked suddenly vulnerable. ‘I’d never grass on them, and they know it.’

  I never thought I’d see Wizzie scared of anybody. But she was scared now. I didn’t blame her. I thought of that girl�
��s knife and I was scared too.

  ‘But if you don’t everybody’ll go on thinking it was you.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. It was my fault anyway. I should take the blame,’ Wizzie said softly. ‘I told them about Erin.’ She looked at me. ‘But I swear I didn’t know they would do this, Hannah. Nothing like this.’

  I believed her. Wizzie could never think up something so evil. And I couldn’t blame Wizzie. It was all my fault. I’d gone straight from one gang right into another – for revenge. All I’d thought about, talked about, was revenge.

  ‘Come on,’ Wizzie said. ‘Don’t want to miss your train. You might have to stay here for the night!’

  ‘Heaven forbid!’ I laughed.

  ‘I’ll walk you back to the station.’

  We stood on the platform as the train pulled in. ‘Will they come after you again?’

  The cheeky look was back, the ‘I’m afraid of nothing’ look I couldn’t help but admire. ‘My family’s pretty tough. I’ll be OK,’ Wizzie said. ‘They know I won’t grass on them. That’s all they care about.’ She grinned at me. ‘What made you come looking for me anyway?’

  I had almost forgotten. I told her about Heather and how her confession had made me feel. ‘I kept thinking, if one person had believed me it would have made all the difference. It made me realise maybe that was all you needed as well. Somebody to believe you.’

  Then she gave me the best compliment ever Wizzie could give. ‘You, Hannah Driscoll,’ she said, poking at me with her finger, ‘are the best mate anybody could want.’

  I was smiling as I stepped on to the train. ‘How are you going to get home?’

  Wizzie nodded to the Chinese takeaway outside the station. ‘My brother works there. I’ll let him walk me home. He’s a penny short of a pound, but nobody messes with my bro.’ She said it with pride. ‘He’ll look after me.’