VALERIE

Meet me at our old bench at three

-Fraya

I don't even need to read the name at the bottom to know who has written the note. The particularly neat, cursive handwriting is always going to be recognizable to me.

But I hadn't expected to ever see it again. Nor did I want to.

I was surprised to see the piece of paper under my desk, when I returned from lunch. I didn't even know she knew where I sat.

I folded the paper and stuffed it into the back of my pocket, settling down into my chair. I don't know why she'd try to talk to me after all this time. I don't want anything to do with her anymore.

**********************

At the end of the day, I find myself walking towards the back of the college building, where I know Fraya is going to be waiting for me. I stop in my steps, just before I turn the corner. Why am I doing this? What does she want?

My grip tightens around the piece of paper in my pocket, as the other hand rests on my scarf. Fraya would be standing a few feet away from me. Maybe if I paid attention, I might be able to hear her breathing. It's so quiet back here at this time.

We haven't spoken in two years. She was the one who decided to leave. She was the one who decided that reputation was more important than friendship. More important than what we had.

And now she thinks she can just summon me back when she feels like it? I spin around on my heel, and walk in the opposite direction, towards the entrance of the school. I will not be played.

I head down the street, and towards the store. This is the time when the town is busy; all the students are coming back from school and college. I pass the chattering friend groups and couples, as they laugh and chat loudly with each other. I'm approaching a group of girls who me and Fraya had dance practice with back in secondary. They briefly glance at me, and one of them, Mia, I think she was called, opens her mouth to say something, but I lower my head, and speed-walk past them before she can speak.

I don't want to hear anything. I'm tired of the gossip, of the insults, of the crude jokes that are not funny.

It's almost laughable-the way one single incident can change someone's entire life. I could've been walking with those girls today. I could've been hanging out with Fraya everyday after lessons, and we'd talk about how much we enjoyed our courses, and about our future plans for university next year. We would have still been doing dance together, every week. If things turned out differently- maybe I would've actually been doing a course that I liked.

Suddenly, I hear a loud and heavy sigh from next to me, and I snap my head around, immediately startled. I hadn't realised someone had been walking so close to me without me noticing. But when I look around, there is nobody there. The group of girls are far behind me now.

It must have been the wind. Although,there is a distinctive sound between wind and a sigh. A sigh has a voice in it. And I could've sworn-

I shake my head. I'm going crazy.

As I approach Marjorie's store, my thoughts are on what she would have baked today. But as I'm about to push open the glass door, my phone buzzes in my pocket. It's Dad.

My thumb trembles a little, when I tap the answer button. I know I can't ignore his calls.

"Hello?"

"Valerie. Where are you?"

His voice is still a bit slurry-I could almost smell the stench of alcohol in his breath. He sounds daring. Something has happened.

"I'm at Marjorie's Grocer's."

"Buying what?"

"Um...eggs. We don't have any more."

"Forget the eggs. Come home."

"Okay."

I hang up, and place my phone back in my pocket, my hand still placed on the door handle. What had I done? Inhaling, I step away from the store and head towards the house.

*********************************

When I arrive, Dad is sitting on the sofa. Mum is bringing him a cup of tea, and lays it down on the small table beside him. Usually, this would seem like an innocent scene to come home to. If I didn't know better, I wouldn't have had a problem.

Mum's cheek is swollen. It's a new one. Her hands are shaking when she puts the cup down, and Dad watches her as she attempts to slip back into their bedroom and away from him. He has a dark look in his eye, and when he sees me, he sits up straight. "Where have you been?"

"I was coming back from college."

"No. I mean where have you been in general. Because I know college is not the only place you go to."

I scan my mind for something that he could be referring to. Maybe in the past I'd be terrified- I hung out with Fraya a lot at her house. I knew he didn't always like that. But now, I'm lonely with the exception of Marjorie. So I have nowhere to go. And so this time, I'm not exactly scared. Maybe he made a mistake.

"I don't know what you mean," I say to him,"I don't go anywhere."

He looks at me for a moment longer, and then sighs. "Mr Hawshaw told me he has seen you walking home late some nights. I know that the latest day you finish college is four O'clock. So what's keeping you out past six?"

He probably thinks I've been up to something. Selling drugs, or smoking with a group of friends. But I don't have the chance to even try a life like that. All I have been doing is staying with Marjorie. But now I realise-if I tell him this, he might just take away that freedom too.

"They give us a lot of coursework. I stay at college late sometimes to use the computers." I reply as calmly as I can. This isn't an entire lie. Hospitality is a pretty boring course, but it's got a hell of a lot of work with it.

"I don't want you staying late anymore. From now on, you come home as soon as you finish lessons."

"But-"

"There are no buts in this conversation, Valerie." He stands up, raising his voice. I shrink back, and glance over at Mum who is peeping at me from behind the kitchen door. "Mr Hawshaw knows when you come back. You're dropping the subject if you stay late again."

"Dad, I-"

He grabs the cup of tea from the table, and smashes it on the ground. I yelp, covering my head with my hands. He doesn't even need to say anything to get his point across. He storms into his room, and slams the door.

I fall to my knees. He hasn't done anything to me. But I still feel like I've been hit in some way.

"The idiot," Mum mutters, looking at the broken glass on the floor. "I'm not cleaning that up. I'm not his slave." She is about to turn to leave, but then I get up and walk over to her and clasp her arm.

"Mum. You know if he finds out about those men-"

"He won't find out about Timmy. It's been three years, Valerie. He isn't present enough to notice. Did you smell him? Stinks like a rat. He doesn't notice anything when it isn't to do with alcohol. That man will die from drinking."

"He noticed that I was coming home late."

"Because an old fart told him. I bet you've been coming home late for ages. If that Hawshaw man said nothing, your father would know nothing. He can't do anything from something he doesn't know." She snorts. "The only thing he's good for is paying Bills."

She begins clearing the dishes in the kitchen. Her eyes are sunken, dark circles forming shadows beneath them. And she's grown skinnier, lankier. Her hair is pulled back lazily into a bonnet, and she's in an oversized T-shirt and jeans. She dresses very differently to the days the men come. She puts layers of make-up on, and wears her most revealing outfits. Then she will either put on one of her wigs or comb out her own hair and tie it up stylishly. She always makes such an effort to look good for them.

"I'm sorry he hit you again." I say to her, feeling dumb and beyond useless. I didn't know what to do about it. I was too scared to talk to anyone.

"It's nothing, and I don't care," She mumbles, filling the sink with water. I help her silently in the kitchen, deciding not to speak my thoughts. Everyone knows about her secret affairs. Dad would have heard about them. But she knows this, and that doesn't stop her. Sometimes, I wonder what's really going on in my parents' heads. He hits her for the smallest things, and yet stays silent when he knows she's cheating.

Or maybe he just has some secrets of his own. I wouldn't put it past him.

I grab a plastic bag and a drying cloth, and go over to where the broken glass and spilt tea is dampening the carpet. I don't know how I'm going to get that out for sure, but it won't be easy. I sigh, getting down on my knees.