I'm woken up at a ridiculous time on Saturday morning when my bedroom door is opened – and when I say opened, I mean slammed against the wall so hard I swear my room shakes.

I shoot up in bed, bleary eyed as I stare at an already dressed Bailey standing in my doorway. She's fully kitted out in some black shorts and a dark red top, her short black hair tied up in a small ponytail. She's even wearing shoes, a pair of black Doc Martin boots with funky green laces.

"Ugh," I groan, lying back down and pulling the covers over my head. "What year is it?"

I wait for her to yell at me, accuse me of some wrong she's convinced I've done her. She hasn't spoken to me for days and she never comes into my room so whatever it is she must be mad about something.

"What've I done now?" I mutter when Bailey doesn't offer up any words.

"I need a favour."

Okay, those are not four words I ever imagined coming out of her mouth. I'm not entirely sure they did... maybe I'm still dreaming. Yeah, that must be it.

I slowly pull the covers from over my face to double check that she is actually standing in my doorway.

Yep. There she is.

"Excuse me?" I ask, my voice slightly croaky from sleep.

"I'm not saying it again."

Yeah, that's definitely Bailey.

"Back up a few, what time is it?" I ask, reaching for the clock next to my bed.

You have got to be kidding me.

"Six," Bailey replies.

Crazy child.

"Are you serious? Why the hell are you awake at six in the morning?"

"Because I need to talk to you before George and Stella wake up," she replies as if it's obvious, not phased a smidge by the glare I give her.

Six in the bloody morning. Why didn't she just shoot me? It would hurt less.

"Yeah? Well I'll be surprised if they're still asleep after you just played earthquake simulator with my door," I tell her. She frowns and glances at the door, pressing her lips together.

Yeah, clearly she hadn't thought that one through all the way.

"And, what, you're suddenly talking to me now or something?" I add on.

"Oh, forget it," she snaps, turning to leave.

"Wait, wait, wait," I say quickly, leaning up on my elbows with a sigh. She pauses. "Come on in and close the door if you don't want Stella and George to overhear."

She does as I say, leaning her back against the now-closed door and folding her arms. She stares at me for a few seconds and I at her, weighing each other up with the trust levels of a paranoid cookie.

How cookies can be paranoid, I have no idea – it's too early for logic.

"So, what's the favour?" I eventually ask.

"I'm going out for a bit. If Stella or George ask, I need you to tell them I'm at the library."

Yeah, because that doesn't sound dodge.

"Why do you need me to tell them?" I ask.

"Because they'll believe you."

Yep, dodge as all kinds of hell.

"Yeah, I'm going to need more to go on than that, Bailey." She just glares at me so I ask outright. "Where are you actually going to be?"

"Why do you care?" she snaps, instantly on defence.

"Right, well," I shrug and lie back down properly, "have fun with all the lies and deceit on your own. I'm not helping if you don't tell-"

"Okay," she hisses. "Fine. I'm going to meet a friend."

I sit up, more awake.

"Which friend?"

She pauses a second before answering. "Alex."

Funnily enough, just like that, I'm suddenly wide awake.

"Coleman?" I hiss incredulously. "Why the hell do you think I'll help you sneak off to see a goddamn Coleman?"

I know the answer to that, though. It's because I've already lied for her once about them, kept her secret like a Priest at confession. God-fucking­-dammit!

"Oh, please," she rolls her eyes. "Don't give me that shit. They all seem to know you pretty damn well, Jade."

"Bailey," I say, my voice flat. "I serve them coffee. They come to the café sometimes. I don't choose to know them and I don't really know them. Unless their coffee order counts."

"Oh," she says, raising her eyebrows in a challenge. "So you didn't walk Bradley home after he got the shit kicked out of him?"

I don't have a reply to that.

"Yeah," she carries on over my silence. "That's what I thought. 'Someone pointed their house out to me', my ass."

"Bailey," I sigh, rubbing my temples and closing my eyes briefly as I decide on a different tactic – that tactic being to turn the conversation back onto her. "Why do you want to run off and meet Alex Coleman at six in the morning? You've got to admit it doesn't sound entirely..." I struggle for the word. Actually, no, I struggle for which word to choose.

Legal, safe, sensible, bright... I have an entire plethora of possible words that could finish that sentence.

"I'm not stupid, Jade."

"Are you sure?"

I genuinely mean the question, partially worried for the girl's sanity.

She scowls. "Yes. I know what I'm doing."

"Then answer my question."

She lets out a huff and uncrosses her arms. "Look, it's nothing illegal, alright? We're just going to have a 'Nightmare on Elm Street' marathon."

I blink.

Bailey is skipping off to the Coleman's, at six in the morning, to watch back to back Freddy fricking Krueger?

"Alex is a horror fanatic," she continues. "So am I. We want to see if we can get through all nine films in a day so we want to start early."

"There are only seven," is the first and only thing I can think to reply to that.

"Freddy vs. Jason and the twenty-ten remake," she says, rolling her eyes as if she's the one talking to a moron.

Yep, that does make nine.

"Bailey..." I sigh, trying to figure out the best way to let her down gently. Although with Bailey there is no letting down gently.

"He has all the films," she continues as if I didn't even speak. "I've only seen the first three. Come on, Jade, please."

Jesus, she must really want to go if she's asking for my help and saying please.

Unfortunately, my answer's still no.

"I never ask you for anything," she snaps, her eyes blazing. "Why can't you just do this one thing for me? It's not even that difficult. Just cover for me with Stella and George!"

"Why don't you ask Stella and George?" I suggest.

"You know they'll say no."

She's quite right. I do, in fact, know that.

"I'll tell Stella that they go to the café," she threatens. I narrow my eyes at her. "I'd like to see how long you keep your job after she finds out that little golden nugget of info."

Oh, you little rat.

She'll do it and all. I know she will. Bailey will stoop to any level to get what she wants.

I consider my options silently for a few moments, eventually sighing.

"Okay, here's the deal," I say, running a hand through my hair and wincing at the knotted mess. "You can go to the Coleman's and I'll cover for you with Stella and George." Her eyes instantly light up with excitement, making this almost – almost – worth it. "I'll tell them that you're going out for breakfast with some friends, and then to the cinema," because that's closer to the truth than her idea, "and then I'll come and pick you up later. No, no, I don't want to hear it." She closes her mouth before she can argue. "I come and get you to make sure you're okay. And I come and get you before dark. Those are my terms, either accept them or go and squeal to Stella."

She considers her options for a few seconds, which are a little like this: she can accept my terms and go off to her horror movie marathon, pig out on shit and have fun with her friend. Or she can tattle to Stella, cost me my job and find herself no closer to seeing the last six films in the Elm Street franchise.

The choice is hers.

"Deal," she eventually agrees, walking over to shake my hand.

"Good. Now get out and let me sleep," I tell her, lying back in bed.

"Whatever."

"Bailey," I call out just as she's about to leave my room. She turns and looks at me warily. "Please promise you'll be careful, yeah? And that you'll call me if there are any problems."

She nods and closes the door behind her.

Before she even leaves the house I reach over and take my phone off silent, just in case. Then I relax back in bed, or at least try to, staring at the ceiling for what feels like forever as I contemplate what just happened. Bailey totally just blackmailed me. I can't decide whether I'm angry or slightly proud of her. Then I remember where she's going and I settle on anger.

Stupid girl.

*********