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5.2

‘You look perturbed, Satya,’ said Siti Noor, sidling up beside her, grateful to have caught up with her at last, abandoning assembly in favour of an appointment with the sun. 

Talk about understatement, thought Satya, her eyes set upon another solitary character up beyond the main school gates. Wrinkling her nose, she returned her friend’s gaze sardonically. ‘How can I not?’ she replied. ‘I’ve never known a place like this. On Wednesday, I see Anjana walking down the road with her supposed worst enemy as if they’re best friends. On Thursday, I see Ben thump his best mate as if they’re worst enemies. And now I hear his mates boasting that they smashed him up in the street.’

Siti Noor beamed back at her. ‘Oh, is that all?’ she laughed, tickled by her friend’s bewilderment. ‘No surprises there,’ she shrugged, ‘It was all expected.’

‘What does that mean?’ asked Satya, blinking.

Shuffling in front of her to block her distracted gaze, Siti Noor turned around and glared at her. ‘Anjana confronted Ben about what you told her yesterday,’ she said, prodding her with her forefinger, ‘The fireworks were inevitable.’

‘I don’t understand,’ muttered Satya, swallowing awkwardly.

‘Because you got the wrong end of the stick, as usual. Because they did too. Because nobody around here waits to discover the truth behind anything before they charge off jumping to conclusions and making accusations. Because you blurted out something without first finding out if it was true.’

‘If what was true?’ asked Satya, gulping again.

‘That Ben got his mates to teach you a lesson for not saying you fancied him,’ she told her. ‘He didn’t know anything about it.’

‘Oh,’ she said abruptly.

‘Yeah, “Oh.” So he thumped his best mate because he just found out what he did, and his best mate’s friends thumped him back to teach him a lesson. It was all utterly predictable. I’m not surprised at all.’

Glancing over her friend’s shoulder, her eyes fixed on that lonely girl yet again, Satya studied her miserable face, itself staring along the road as if longing for the arrival of a beloved. ‘Why didn’t you say something?’ she asked with a tremulous voice, when Siti Noor stole back her gaze. 

‘Are you serious, Satya?’ she cried. ‘I said something every time you started spouting off,’ she protested, waving her arms around irately. ‘In September. After half term. Just before Christmas. After New Year. Yesterday, even. And every time you yelled back at me, telling me to mind my own business. Why? Because you were too busy trying to make yourself popular and cool with all that swearing and ridicule, trying to out-do Bals because then you’d be with the in-crowd and everyone would like you.’ She frowned at her friend. ‘I’m not trying to be mean to you, Satya,’ she said, ‘I’m just telling you how it is. Anjana’s just the same. If she’d told me she was going to talk to that kid, I would’ve told her not to. I just wish everyone would leave him alone. Really. Just leave the poor guy alone.’

Gone was Siti Noor’s charming face, always radiating light; now it was a shade of red, her eyes angry, her lips grimacing at her, agitated that she had had to say these words aloud. 

‘Well I’m glad he thumped Sid,’  blurted Satya, nearly smiling.

‘Of course you are,’ sighed Siti Noor sharply, ‘because you can’t see beyond the end of your nose. But you’re not alone. Everyone’s playing these childish games. Even Anjana.’

‘What do you mean?’

In the silence that followed, both pairs of eyes would veer across the playground and out through the gates. ‘What do you mean?’ echoed Satya, first pulling on her friend’s sleeve, then stepping in front of her.

‘Isn’t it obvious?’ she gasped by accident. ‘She and Ben were childhood sweethearts.’

‘What?’

‘So I’ve said it,’ she confessed, regretting yet more sentiments freed from deep within, bubbling up from her unconscious soul. 

‘What do you mean?’ asked Satya.

‘I shouldn’t say anything,’ murmured Siti Noor, ‘but I still remember the day in primary school he asked her to marry him. It was so cute. We were five or six. It was in the middle of an art lesson. We’d been asked to paint a picture of something that made us happy, and he painted her. The whole class went, “Ahhh…” He was a cute kid then.’ She took in the look of astonishment on Satya’s face. ‘Of course, they were just kids. They were innocent. Adorable.’ 

‘But…’

‘Yeah, but they were best friends all through junior school,’ she recalled, smiling graciously at the thought of it. ‘Yeah, then he proposed to her again when he was eight, then every six months until he was twelve.’

Satya tried again. ‘But,’ she said, ‘I thought…’

‘I remember teasing him about it. That’s when he told me: “As soon as we’re old enough, I’m going to marry her.” He was besotted with her. So am I surprised you saw her walking home with him like they were best friends? Of course not. They were soulmates. It had to happen eventually.’  

‘But I thought Anjana hated him?’

‘You’d have to ask Anjana about that,’ shrugged Siti Noor. ‘All I can say is they weren’t always enemies. They weren’t always at each other’s throats. She didn’t used to hate him. They used to be friends. Close friends. As Anjana’s best friend now, I can tell you that I used to be second to him. He was the one she really trusted. It was him she’d talk to about her innermost feelings.’ She nodded her head. ‘It’s a shame that all fell apart. They were made for each other.’

‘So what happened?’ asked Satya, shocked by this unforeseen revelation.

‘Nobody knows,’ muttered Siti Noor dolefully. ‘He changed suddenly.’

‘Puberty?’ suggested Satya.

‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘But I don’t think so.’

‘What then?’

Folding her arms across her chest, Siti Noor eyed her friend restlessly. ‘If I had to hazard a guess,’ she said dejectedly, ‘something dark and horrible.’ She did not like to think of it. ‘Put it this way: my big sister’s a social worker. She sees stuff you couldn’t imagine.’ She did not want to think of it, but that had to be it. ‘I just think something really bad must’ve happened to him at home, because he changed completely. He’s not cute anymore. He’s not the boy we knew in junior school. Back then, he always had a smile on his face. Now, you never see him smiling at all. Now always a scowl. He’s bitter. Angry.’ She peered at Satya more forcefully. ‘I feel sorry for him,’ she said. ‘I hate the way Anjana treats him. That’s not Anjana. That’s everyone else. It just channels through her. Their hatred, their contempt. So I’m glad they walked home together. It’s about time. I’m glad they’re speaking again. It had to happen. I hope they can make peace.’ Then her words trailed off into a whisper. ‘Ya Allah,’ she murmured, ‘answer my dua. I pray for that every day at fajr. Let them make peace.’

Noticing the tears that had welled up in her friend’s eyes, Satya glanced down at her own feet, her heart now aching. ‘Maybe I should make peace too,’ she said quietly. 

‘Maybe you should.’

Rubbing her arms, Satya observed her companion slyly. ‘I didn’t mean to be so horrible,’ she muttered ruefully. 

‘No, well you wouldn’t, would you?’ 

‘I didn’t know about any of that stuff.’

‘And why would you?’ carped her friend. ‘Why listen to Noor when you have Bal and Anjana telling you all that other stuff? You needed to make friends, and the easiest way to do that was to trample on the one everyone hates. Maybe I would’ve done the same thing if I cared about any of that nonsense. But I don’t. I only care about the truth.’

She watched the way Satya seemed to stumble backwards, shifting from one foot to the other, as if occupied by regret. 

‘So what do you think I should do?’ asked Satya.

‘Just say sorry,’ she replied, ‘Apologise.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Then leave him alone,’ she added quickly, nodding firmly. ‘I say the same to Anjana. Whether anyone takes my advice is another matter.’

Satya nodded too. ‘Should I tell Anjana about what happened to him today?’ she asked.

‘That’s up to you.’

‘She’s been standing at the school gates since I got here, just staring up the street,’ she observed. ‘Do you know why?’

Siti Noor shrugged her shoulders. ‘She had a bad dream last night,’ she told her. ‘Sounds like it came true.’

‘How will she react if I tell her?’

‘Well if it was me, I’d punch you in the face,’ laughed Siti Noor, slicing the air with her fist. ‘But Anjana? She’ll probably just burst into tears.’

‘Will she blame me?’

‘She should, but she’ll be too busy blaming herself.’

Glancing down at her feet, Satya felt shivers push through her skin. ‘I feel bad now,’ she muttered guiltily.

‘And so you should,’ replied her friend.

‘So I’ll try to make amends,’ offered Satya, glancing back at her at last. ‘I’ll make everything right,’ she promised.

‘Good luck with that,’ said Siti Noor, unimpressed. ‘You’ll certainly need it,’ she added, nodding. She watched as Satya began to gravitate across the playground away from her, into the orbit of her best friend. ‘It’s easy to break things,’ she called out after her, ‘Much more difficult to put them back together. Especially if it’s a heart.’ 

For a second, Satya seemed to glance back at her, but she did not hear what she said. ‘Tread carefully,’ muttered Siti Noor finally, although she knew Satya was not listening at all. Instead, she watched as she paced through those rusty old gates and sauntered on towards Anjana, coming to a halt at her side. There she stood in silence, to study her unhappy, agitated gaze. Satya hoped she might say something, to at least acknowledge her approach, but she only seemed to turn away, shutting her out.

‘He’s not coming,’ said Satya finally. She waited for her friend to look back at her, but she did not move. ‘Ben Johnson. If you’re waiting for him, he’s not coming.’ Reaching into her inside jacket pocket, she retrieved his pouch and pushed it into her friend’s hands. ‘This is his,’ she told her, showing her the vials of insulin within, ‘You better get it to him. I think he’ll need it.’ She watched as Anjana finally began to examine it. ‘It belongs to Ben,’ she told her, ‘His mates nicked it off him. Sounds like they avenged his attack on Siddique yesterday. They were laughing about it in registration. They kicked the hell out of him, apparently.’ She stared at her friend when she did not move. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t shot across the road and gone looking for him,’ she scoffed, ‘What are you waiting for?’

‘Satya, please,’ Anjana muttered, face drained of all colour.

‘No,’ protested Satya, ‘You were the one who told me that boy’s an idiot and told me to mock and insult him non-stop. You’re the one who told me to hate him. I thought he was okay until then. You’re the one who told me he’s pure evil. So am I meant to understand what’s going on?’

‘No,’ said Anjana, those irrepressible tears of hers flooding down her cheeks, ‘you’re not. It’s all beyond comprehension. It’s all a total mess.’ 

‘You’re telling me,’ cried Satya, nudging her, hoping she would move from her place beside the low brick wall. ‘It turns out you haven’t been completely honest with me. That’s an understatement. You and Ben were best friends.’

‘An understatement, yes,’ muttered Anjana, nodding.

In motion at last, they crossed the beige concrete-slab road together, its thin coating of tarmac nearly scraped bare, and wandered on up the avenue opposite, past the iron-clad prefabricated houses. Meandering along the road, Satya took the pavement, Anjana’s feet flattening the grass on the verge to her right. They continued up as far as the junction, then crossed the road in front of the brown-brick terraced houses, taking the first road on their right two minutes later. This lane was also labelled an avenue, but it seemed like the town planner’s blueprint had been aborted here, the broad boulevard stunted just two houses in, coming to an abrupt end at its meeting with the narrowest public park on the planet, and school fields beyond. From here they could go left or right; it did not matter which direction. North-east would take them towards Satya’s house, south-west towards Anjana’s. 

‘So,’ whispered Satya at long last, steering them west, ‘what happened? What went wrong?’ 

‘If only I knew, understood,’ muttered Anjana forlornly, following her friend along the cycle path beneath the leafless trees. ‘But…’ She stopped and gazed up into that brilliant blue sky. ‘There’s something he said to me on Wednesday, which I’ve been dwelling on ever since. He mentioned the time he got smashed to pieces. It was the first time he mentioned it. Of course, I heard people say things here and there, but I could never get an answer to my questions from anyone. It’s like this is the first time he’s acknowledged that something happened. Now I can’t help thinking to myself: what was it?’

‘How’s that possible?’ asked Satya, ‘That you never knew?’

‘You weren’t there, Satya. You don’t know what it was like. He shut me out so completely. He shut everyone out.’

‘Didn’t Siddique tell you?’

‘He was too busy reinventing himself as an Italian heartthrob. I’ve no idea who told him he looks Italian, but he’s no Al Pacino. Pavarotti, maybe. Or Donatello from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. We were supposed to start calling him Raphael or something, but he got stuck with Sid. Poor guy.’

‘So what do you think it was?’ asked Satya.

Wandering on in silence, Anjana mulled over the thoughts that weighed down on her so heavily. Soon they would run out of path, she thought momentarily, wondering if that would free her of Satya’s interrogation. No, but there was a journey back to school of equal length, or a northward journey on beside the railway line, or a southerly passage over it. 

‘Everything seemed so perfect,’ she muttered finally, smiling at first in memory of better days, then frowning for all that followed. ‘Yes, everything was perfect and then suddenly it all fell apart. And I had no idea why. Really, I have no idea. I’ve wracked my brains: was it something I did or said? But I just can’t place it. But now?’ She glanced at Satya, as if she had just had a brainwave. ‘Maybe it had nothing to do with me at all. I took it all so personally that it never occurred to me that it was nothing I did. Now I think I know what it was.’ 

Unconsciously, they found themselves taking a left at the end of the cycle path, wandering down the narrow track to the bridge over the railway line. Ascending the brown concrete steps, Anjana glanced back at Satya and found her staring back attentively. 

‘When he was little, his dad went to prison. He’d launched this unprovoked attack on this black guy. A doctor. It was awful. Really serious. He was inside six years. But Ben seemed alright about it, when he came out. His dad got back with his mum, but it never really worked out and they ended up splitting up. But Ben seemed happy about that. His mum moved out, and he went with her.

‘As far as I was concerned, he was dealing with it. He was just his usual cheerful self. He’d come around for dinner, we’d talk for hours, and nothing seemed wrong at all. And then suddenly, out of the blue, it all just disintegrated. I never understood why, until Wednesday, when he just casually mentioned matter-of-factly about the time he got smashed to pieces, as if he thought I knew.’ 

As they began to descend the stairs on the other side of the bridge, Anjana gazed into Satya’s eyes. ‘And that must be it,’ she said, nodding, ‘And now I’m thinking…’

‘Yes?’

The path carried them into a building site, past mechanical diggers excavating footings for new foundations, commotion all around them. ‘There was this perfect day,’ said Anjana, walking single file behind her friend, hemmed in between the tall metal fences, newly erected. ‘He came over, like he often did. It got late. We got carried away just talking into the night. In the end, my mum suggested he stayed over, and he did, he was happy to. He slept on our living room floor. And then we spent most of the day together on Saturday. Me, my mum, my dad, and Ben. It was just perfect. 

‘But then, a few days later… That’s when he just vanished. And that must be it. His dad must’ve found out and given him the beating of his life. He’d hit him before, lots of times, but Ben didn’t let it get him down. At least he never let me see it getting him down. But I knew his dad didn’t approve of his friends; his Asian friends, I mean. I can only assume that he found out about me and Ben and decided to teach him a lesson. He’d threatened him before; he told me about it loads of times, but he always laughed it off, calling his dad an idiot.’ 

‘When you say he found out about you and Ben, what do you mean?’ asked Satya, directing them back onto the old road, still intact. ‘Were you dating?’

‘Just being friends was bad enough for his dad,’ said Anjana. ‘His own dad was some leading light in the National Front. He took after him, always going on marches, and starting fights, demanding the repatriation of all blacks, Asians and Jews. That was before he went to prison. You’d think he might have second thoughts inside, but no. After he was released, he was even more extreme. Started saying he was going to take the law into his own hands if the government didn’t do something about immigration. Yeah, and so clearly, he decided to start with his son.’

Surprised to find herself on that corner, where once she had been soaked to the bone while waiting for a bus in front of that parade of shops, Anjana held them there. ‘At least I assume he did,’ she told her companion, shrugging her shoulders. ‘Because I just don’t know. Because one day he was my bestest friend in the whole wide world, and then afterwards he changed completely. He shut me out. He disappeared off the face of the earth for what seemed like forever and when he reappeared, he was like a completely different person. I tried to speak to him, but he refused me. He started blanking me, pushing me away. And I just saw him going off the rails. From then on, he just got worse and worse. He fell apart.’

Anjana glanced up the road. Yes, she thought, this road was supposed to carry her back to him. It was supposed to be the route to their reunification. In truth, it was a one and a half mile walk from here to there. She would be there in just thirty minutes if she stopped dawdling; less, if she jumped on a bus. That voice inside her head nearly convinced her that it was the right thing to do.

‘He was very difficult to be around then,’ breathed Anjana, still staring up the road. ‘In class, it was embarrassing sometimes. He’d swing between being very quiet, very emotional, very introverted, and being very, very angry, very aggressive, very abrupt. He was unpredictable, but it seemed he was getting more and more like his dad. None of us understood what he was going through. We all just thought to ourselves: “Like father, like son.” That’s all we could say, and we just found ourselves hating him. He just became so horrible.’ There were those tears. ‘And I reacted worse than anyone because I used to like him so much.’ She could not help those tears. ‘But he became a monster. It hurt me so much.’

Anjana looked at her friend intently, seeking some kind of sympathy, some understanding, some compassion. She wanted her to say that it was okay, or that she could appreciate how she felt, or that she was so sorry. She wanted her to say something, to let her know that she was not losing her mind. Yet Satya just gazed back at her, waiting for more, wondering of this other world.

‘I saw the things that happened to Ben over the next couple years, but I didn’t care. He brought a lot of it on himself. Once we were so close, but now I detested the sight of him. Horrible things happened to him, but we didn’t care, because we saw what he’d become, and we hated him for it. We said he deserved it. If he started to calm down, we didn’t notice. We despised him. And I was the worst, because he was my Benjamin. I hated him so much because he used to be my best friend. My devoted, trusted companion. We found faith together. He gave me what I hold most dear, and then he just self-destructed.’ 

Right in front of her, Anjana broke down into floods of tears, more intense than before, but Satya did not know what to do or how to respond. Private school had not taught her how to deal with a situation like this. She just looked at her, hoping that she would stop. But her sobs only grew louder. 

‘And now I see it happening all over again with his friends. I can see he’s imploding all over again.’ She tried to wipe her eyes, but it seemed futile. ‘Last term his mum made him go to live with his dad. Now she’s disappeared. No one knows where she is. He won’t let anyone deal with it because he doesn’t want to end up back in care. He thinks that’s worse than being with his dad, even though his dad beats him up. Noor offered to help. Her sister’s a social worker. He said he’d never forgive her. What are we meant to do?’ 

Anjana sought comprehension in Satya’s eyes but found them vacant. ‘He’s falling, Satya, and I’m scared. I’m scared we can’t catch him.’ 

‘But what’s changed?’ asked Satya out of the blue, ‘Why does it matter to you? You came to hate him. So he’s nothing to you. Isn’t he? So what if he falls?’

‘Things can never be as they were. That’s all in the past now. But I can feel for him. As one human being to another. I can feel his pain. I can want what’s best for him. I can hope that life is good to him. I can show him compassion, even if we’re enemies.’ She turned her eyes skyward. ‘He gave me what I now hold most dear, the thing I treasure most in my life. I will never be able to express my gratitude, but at least I can try.’

‘My granddad says guidance comes from above.’

‘And he’s right. But we can thank the map as well as the mapmaker. It doesn’t take anything away. I just want to repay a debt. I want to say thank you. To let him know I’m still here for him.’

Satya wished that she could move her friend again, but it seemed they were destined to remain outside the bakery all morning, inhaling the delicious smell of freshly baked bread that in normal circumstances would have seeded smiles across their faces. Through the window, she could see a tray of iced buns inviting them inside. There were doughnuts too, and hot crossed buns too impatient to wait for Lent, let alone Good Friday. Perhaps she would have answered their call, had the rivulets in her friend’s cheeks not reminded her that this was a moment of mourning. 

‘I’ve been thinking about that myself,’ she offered instead, pushing the spiced buns from her mind. ‘After he thumped Sid yesterday, I knew you’d confronted him. I worked it all out before Noor told me. I saw his face. His rage.’ She nodded her head seriously. ‘That’s what my brother should’ve done to him,’ she said, ‘He just laughed about it when he heard.’ Satya smiled at last. ‘I’m glad he did it,’ she said, nodding.

‘I’m not,’ murmured Anjana, ‘I should never have confronted him. For what it’s worth, you were completely wrong. He never got his friends to do anything like you said. I wish you’d never told me that tale.’

Yes, now they would walk. When Anjana moved from that place, it was not to escape the beguiling aroma, but to flee her friend. Inside, she wished that Satya would leave her now, to hurry back to school in time for the second lesson of the day. She wished she had responded to the voice within, which had called her to walk in the footsteps of the girl in her dream last night, who had dashed across town without a thought, in search of her beloved. She wished now that she had not listened to her doubts that had just said, ‘Wait!’ She wished that she was at his side already, tending to his wounds, whispering that everything was going to be alright. She hungered to be that girl she had seen just before dawn, moments before her vision had jolted her wide awake.  

But that was not to be, for when she moved on, Satya followed after her, walking confidently at her side. For minutes now, they walked on in silence, caressed by that gorgeous warmth, the air so refreshing and clean. The trees still stood lifeless, naked without their leaves, but it felt like a spring morning. The air was fragranced not by cherry blossom, but by the strange happiness bestowed by the sun; they could almost inhale the optimism that descended with its rays. 

‘Satya,’ began Anjana finally, ‘I didn’t tell you all this to make you feel sorry for him. I told you because it’s what’s in my heart. You keep demanding to know why I’m speaking to him. You keep demanding, demanding, like you’re the only one with feelings.’ She stared into her friend’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry about what you told me yesterday, I really am, but I can’t play this game now. I can’t hate him all over again because there isn’t time. I don’t have another chance.’

Hearing her, her friend smiled back at her. ‘You know where he lives, don’t you?’

Anjana groaned fiercely. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘We ought to return his medicine to him. He might need it.’

When Anjana glanced back at her, she was not surprised; she had been expecting this. ‘You sound concerned suddenly. You don’t have to. I wasn’t asking you to change your opinion of him, I just wanted you to give me some space. To let me do what I need to do.’

‘I know I’ve been horrible, Anjana,’ Satya told her, ‘but I want to make things better.’

‘Don’t we all?’ sighed her friend. 

‘So we should visit him. Shouldn’t we?’

‘We?’

‘Yeah, you and me.’

Beneath a plane tree, its mottled grey and olive trunk standing up for her, proud not to be a puny silver birch, Anjana stood still and stared at her friend. ‘Please don’t take this the wrong way, Satya,’ she said, hoping that her timber accomplice would bully her into submission, ‘but please just leave it to me.’

‘I need to make amends,’ said Satya, indifferent to the botanical insurrection. 

‘Yes, but not now,’ insisted Anjana, standing her ground, wishing that she had chosen the more reliable sycamore tree instead. ‘Now’s not the time,’ she said assertively. ‘This is something I have to do,’ she maintained. ‘Please, leave it with me.’

‘No,’ said Satya firmly, ‘I want to do this, Anjana. I have to.’ Without warning, she stole the insulin carry case back from her friend. ‘Give me that,’ she cried excitedly, pushing it under her arm, ‘Let me return it to him.’

That was that then, thought Anjana: they would pass over the crossroads, past the pub on the corner and on up the road, all the way to the vast roundabout that merged three spokes of traffic into the dual carriageway, its island of trees all the way into town so familiar, but still foreboding. That was that then, she murmured over and over within, rebuking herself for not being more emphatic, more forceful, more assertive; for not saying no. That was that then, she muttered to herself, cursing her friend, striding beside her so boldly, with that stupid grin on her face, that confidence of hers so infuriating. 

As they paced up that narrow street of terraced houses twenty minutes later, Anjana found herself leading the way at last, retracing forgotten footsteps. Standing at his front door a minute later, the wooden frames far more decayed than she remembered them, she breathed deeply, stilling her inner disquiet. There would be a prayer then: a silent supplication, asking for help. Alarmed by a spot of blood on the pavement, she stabbed at the bell, depressing her finger without pause, so that it rang on unbroken like a fire alarm. When there was no response, she took to hammering her fist on the door, urgently rattling the old panes of glass. When even that failed to bring him out, she took to calling through his letterbox instead, desperately hoping he would hear her cries.

‘Ben,’ she yelled at the top of her voice, ‘open up. It’s Anjana. Ben? Ben, open the door.’ It seemed a lost cause. ‘He doesn’t seem to be in,’ she said in defeat, returning to her friend. ‘Maybe he went to school after all.’

‘Or hospital,’ suggested Satya, gravely.

‘Don’t say that,’ sniffed Anjana, glancing back for one more try. ‘One last chance,’ she said, motioning to knock again, only to listen to the sound of the latch being unfastened on the other side of the door. A second later, she watched as an eye peered back at her through a tiny gap. ‘Oh, thank God,’ said Anjana, imagining her arms thrown around him. 

‘What do you want?’ he barked in place of the oozing welcome she had dreamed up. 

‘I came to see if you’re okay,’ she said, taken aback.

‘Why?’ 

‘Because…’ She faltered. ‘Because I dreamed of you last night.’

‘I dreamed of you too,’ he growled back, ‘you were walking away. Abandoning me.’

‘No,’ she cried, ‘it’s not real. Not true.’ She showed him her tear-filled eyes. ‘Please Ben, let me in,’ she said, ‘I came now, didn’t I? That was just your depression. It wasn’t me. It was your anxiety, your worry. Let me in.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he replied, ‘it’s not a good time.’

Anjana pushed on the door, and he seemed to relent. ‘It’s okay,’ she said, ‘we heard what happened. You don’t have to hide.’ 

‘I’m not hiding,’ he said, peering out at her still. ‘I just have a terrible headache. I’m resting.’

For a moment, Anjana stepped aside, revealing her friend. ‘Satya has your insulin,’ she whispered warily. ‘Maybe it will help. She took it off those idiots.’ She watched him glancing back. ‘Let us in, Ben,’ she tried again, pushing against the door once more.

‘Fine,’ he muttered reluctantly, pulling it wide open for them, and then he watched as they both wandered into his hall, exactly as he had seen it in his vivid hallucination half an hour ago. He wondered if this was another one. ‘Shut it behind you,’ he stuttered, turning his back on them to hide his face, leading them on through to his chaotic living room, rubbish strewn all over. Collapsing into one of the chairs, he glanced back at them, unveiling the bruises to the right of his forehead. ‘So you heard,’ he muttered sorely. ‘No doubt they were laughing their heads off. It’s hilarious, isn’t it?’

‘Not exactly,’ said Anjana, studying the messy cut on his cheek. ‘I was worried about you.’

‘I was too,’ whispered Satya, shuffling in front of her, clasping his medication tightly in her hands. ‘I rescued this from them,’ she said as she landed beside him, offering him a sympathetic smile. ‘I thought you might need it,’ she added. ‘I didn’t know you were diabetic.’

‘It was private,’ he replied, taking it from her brusquely, avoiding her gaze.

‘Yes, of course,’ she said warmly, ‘I wasn’t meaning to pry.’

As she sat beside him, Satya examined his cut and bruised face. He had washed it, but she could still see traces of blood in the roots of his hair, on his eyebrows and in his ears. 

‘Satya wanted to make sure you were alright,’ piped up Anjana suddenly, hoping that he would remember she was there. 

‘Thanks,’ he muttered despondently, denying them his eyes.

He was not in the mood for company, whoever it was, and remained motionless, permitting his gaze to blur out of focus. Soon his guests were just vague outlines, two brown blobs on two black and white bodies. He had no words to share with them and hoped that they had none for him.

‘Let me get you a drink,’ said Anjana finally, pulling herself back to her feet. She strolled through the empty dining room and into the kitchen, averting her eyes from the mess. Opening the fridge, she hoped to find a carton of fruit juice but only discovered that putrid smell. Slamming it shut again, she looked in the cupboards instead, but found them bare. Giving up, she filled a tall glass with water and returned, holding it tightly. ‘Here,’ she said, handing it to him carefully.

The boy finished it all in one go. ‘Thanks,’ he replied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

‘You’re welcome.’

With a wink and a nod, Anjana persuaded Satya to give him some space. She watched as she stood up and chose another chair closer to the door. Satya might have assumed that they were both going to give him space, but looked on as Anjana dropped into her place. ‘We’ll get through this,’ she said to him, almost affectionately. 

‘Don’t worry,’ he replied, ‘I’m not feeling sorry for myself. I brought this on myself.’ He nodded his head assuredly. ‘I’ll be back at school on Monday.’

‘Good, I’m glad. You’ll clean up okay. You’re looking better than I thought you would. You should see Siddique.’

‘I know. I went a bit crazy.’

Anjana glanced at Satya surreptitiously. ‘For what it’s worth,’ she said, ‘Satya thinks…’

‘I thought you got your friends to sort me out,’ came her interruption, ‘That’s why I went cold on you.’

‘Yeah, well you were wrong, weren’t you?’ he snapped.

‘I realised that yesterday when you flew into that rage.’

‘Too late,’ he grunted. ‘I’m not some evil ogre. I just have idiot friends. I mean, why would I do something like that? Why would anyone? Does it even make sense?’

‘Your friends said it. Yeah, and my friends confirmed it’s the kind of thing you’d do.’

‘Like I say, I have idiot friends. And idiot enemies too, it seems. I never even said I fancied you in the first place. I was just defending you because they were being mean to you. I don’t know why I bothered.’

‘I’m sorry,’ muttered Satya. 

‘Yeah, whatever,’ he shrugged.

‘No, really,’ she said, ‘I’m sorry, really I am.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said, tittering, ‘Maybe I should thank you. You made Anjana feel sorry for me, after all.’

‘Don’t say that,’ murmured Anjana, ‘I’ve always been…’

‘And I’m sorry if I’ve caused you problems with your friends,’ interjected Satya, smiling at him boldly, ‘but I’m glad you did that.’

‘I’m glad I did it too,’ he replied, no longer afraid to say what he thought. ‘Siddique’s my best friend, but he’s had that coming to him for ages. I preferred him before we were a crappy gang.’ 

‘I’m not,’ said Anjana.

‘Not what?’ asked Ben.

‘I’m not glad you did it. They’re going to make your life hell, you know.’

‘What’s new?’ he shrugged. ‘This is just my life.’

‘It doesn’t have to be.’

‘How? I can’t escape it. I’ve tried, but I’m caught in this cage. I’m stuck. There’s no way out.’

‘I can help you, you know?’ offered Anjana, hoping he would notice her affectionate smile. ‘If you’d like me to.’

‘Nah,’ he said, ‘I’m a lost cause. That’s what everyone says. Just forget about me.’

‘But I can’t,’ she replied. ‘I can’t.’ 

If only he would say something else, she thought, as silence descended all around them. It seemed that each of them was lost in deep thought, unable to free whatever words occurred to them. None of them pondered on the stink in the air, or the disorderly tip around them; they were contemplating heavier concerns.

‘There’s something I need to tell you,’ started Ben all of a sudden.

‘Yes?’ yelped Anjana, animated. She had waited an epoch for this, she thought, turning her whole body towards him, yearning for him to lay bare the truth at last. 

‘I have a splitting headache,’ he muttered. ‘I need to go and lie down upstairs,’ he said. ‘Do you mind? I don’t mean to be rude, but can you go now?’ That had not come out the way he had intended, but he could not be bothered to correct himself with sweet words or an apology. ‘Yeah,’ he said instead, ‘I need to rest. Do you mind?’

Deflated, Anjana nearly fled from him. Getting up, she ushered Satya to the door and along the hallway. When she pulled the front door open, she sent Satya ahead and nearly stormed out after her. The thought of slamming it closed crossed her mind, but she paused instead and glanced back at him. ‘I had a dream about you last night,’ she whispered, partly closing the door in search of privacy. ‘I saw all this,’ she murmured mournfully. 

‘You said that the other day.’

‘This was different. I saw all this.’ She gazed at him, her face all contorted into a frown. ‘And I saw Satya too. I saw her rushing to you. Coming to your aid.’ 

‘But you’re the one who came,’ he said.

‘Only because she made me,’ she moaned. ‘So it’s going to happen, isn’t it? Just like in that dream I had the other day. You walking hand in hand with her.’

‘Don’t be daft,’ he protested.

‘I can feel it, Ben. I wish it weren’t so, but I can feel it.’ Turning from him, her eyes drooped heavily. ‘Remember me, Ben, won’t you?’

‘What are you on about?’ asked the boy, staring at her perplexed. ‘You’re being silly. You know I’m not into her.’

She wanted to smile when he said that, but it was impossible. ‘God didn’t push us together for love, Ben,’ she said instead, ‘He pushed us together for truth. And now you have another mission.’ The only reason she did not burst into tears when she said this was because she was biting her lip, her eyes screwed tightly shut. ‘Remember me, Ben,’ she said, reaching for the door again. ‘Don’t forget me,’ she sobbed, as she closed it firmly behind her.