Read Online Bang Bang You're Dead by Narinder Dhami - Free Book Online
Authors: Narinder Dhami
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my way through the swinging doors, I realize that I have made a mistake.
A stupid, stupid mistake.
I have assumed that all the blinds at the front of the school are pulled down. Here they are not. For a second I stand there in the corridor in front of the large plate-glass window, totally exposed to whoever happens to be looking in from outside.
'Oh, God!'
I drop to the floor so fast that I almost stab myself in the side with the tools that hang around my waist. There I freeze, the pale, clear winter sun blazing through the window, burning my eyeballs. Trembling from head to toe, I glance up, expecting faces to appear. I wait in limbo for the glass to shatter as the police come in after me and drag me to safety.
But nothing happens. So I take a deep breath and pull myself together. Then, adjusting the bag of tools so that it sits behind me, I begin to inch forward on my stomach like a paratrooper in the jungle.
After a moment, when still no one comes, I dare to believe that I have not been spotted after all.
I edge my way along the short leg of the L-shape, and then round the right angle. Relief floods through me as I see that, in this longer stretch of corridor leading to the next set of double doors, the blinds on the playground side are drawn.
I still don't stand up, though, until I am near the doors. At last, after what seems like an eternity, I inch right up to them. Trembling, I drag myself upright, hanging onto the door handles for support.
Behind these double doors is the annexe.
Behind these doors, on the first floor, is 9D's classroom. Kat Randall is there. And Jamie? I don't know what I will find, but nothing will make me turn back now.
I push gently on the swing doors, expecting to slip smoothly through into the annexe.
The doors do not open.
They are locked.
Nine
After Grandpa died, I gradually realized how much Jamie had begun to hate Mum.
Actually, it would be more truthful to say that Jamie hated her illness, rather than Mum herself. But because it was so bound up with Mum's personality and the way she behaved, it was difficult to separate the two. Jamie had always blamed Mum a whole lot more than I did for not taking the necessary steps to try and control her condition, but when Grandpa had gone and she had stopped taking her tablets again and slithered headlong back into depression, Jamie became even more frustrated.
'This is ridiculous, Mia!' he would shout, pacing up and down the living room. The fury that poured out of him paralysed me with fear, and I would sit there in silence, too afraid to say anything. 'We know that she behaves differently when she takes the medication, so why won't she take it?'
I had asked Mum this very same question myself when Grandpa was ill, when we were close and could talk more easily than we'd ever done before. But Mum had looked so upset, so desperately ashamed and embarrassed, that I wished I hadn't asked at all, and I said so.
'No, Mia.' Mum put her arm round me as I stood there, hanging my head, unable to look into her eyes, which were so, so sad. 'You deserve an explanation. It's just . . .'
She paused, thinking very deeply for a moment before she spoke again.
'When I'm in that hyper state, it's so marvellous, I can't tell you. I need hardly any sleep or food and yet I have so much energy. It's euphoric. It's exhilarating. I feel like I can do anything and no one can hurt me. It's like flying. ' She laughed nervously. 'I know it's difficult for you to understand, Mia. But I feel so special. I feel invincible.'
I was silent, I remember. I tried to imagine an illness that could make you feel that way, but it was impossible. Wasn't being ill supposed to make you feel – well – ill ?
'It's so hard to give that feeling up,' Mum sighed.
'But what about the other side of it?' I asked, desperate to make sense of something that seemed so unbelievable. 'The depression? The days lying in bed, crying? Surely you don't enjoy that too?'
Mum shook her head.
A stupid, stupid mistake.
I have assumed that all the blinds at the front of the school are pulled down. Here they are not. For a second I stand there in the corridor in front of the large plate-glass window, totally exposed to whoever happens to be looking in from outside.
'Oh, God!'
I drop to the floor so fast that I almost stab myself in the side with the tools that hang around my waist. There I freeze, the pale, clear winter sun blazing through the window, burning my eyeballs. Trembling from head to toe, I glance up, expecting faces to appear. I wait in limbo for the glass to shatter as the police come in after me and drag me to safety.
But nothing happens. So I take a deep breath and pull myself together. Then, adjusting the bag of tools so that it sits behind me, I begin to inch forward on my stomach like a paratrooper in the jungle.
After a moment, when still no one comes, I dare to believe that I have not been spotted after all.
I edge my way along the short leg of the L-shape, and then round the right angle. Relief floods through me as I see that, in this longer stretch of corridor leading to the next set of double doors, the blinds on the playground side are drawn.
I still don't stand up, though, until I am near the doors. At last, after what seems like an eternity, I inch right up to them. Trembling, I drag myself upright, hanging onto the door handles for support.
Behind these double doors is the annexe.
Behind these doors, on the first floor, is 9D's classroom. Kat Randall is there. And Jamie? I don't know what I will find, but nothing will make me turn back now.
I push gently on the swing doors, expecting to slip smoothly through into the annexe.
The doors do not open.
They are locked.
Nine
After Grandpa died, I gradually realized how much Jamie had begun to hate Mum.
Actually, it would be more truthful to say that Jamie hated her illness, rather than Mum herself. But because it was so bound up with Mum's personality and the way she behaved, it was difficult to separate the two. Jamie had always blamed Mum a whole lot more than I did for not taking the necessary steps to try and control her condition, but when Grandpa had gone and she had stopped taking her tablets again and slithered headlong back into depression, Jamie became even more frustrated.
'This is ridiculous, Mia!' he would shout, pacing up and down the living room. The fury that poured out of him paralysed me with fear, and I would sit there in silence, too afraid to say anything. 'We know that she behaves differently when she takes the medication, so why won't she take it?'
I had asked Mum this very same question myself when Grandpa was ill, when we were close and could talk more easily than we'd ever done before. But Mum had looked so upset, so desperately ashamed and embarrassed, that I wished I hadn't asked at all, and I said so.
'No, Mia.' Mum put her arm round me as I stood there, hanging my head, unable to look into her eyes, which were so, so sad. 'You deserve an explanation. It's just . . .'
She paused, thinking very deeply for a moment before she spoke again.
'When I'm in that hyper state, it's so marvellous, I can't tell you. I need hardly any sleep or food and yet I have so much energy. It's euphoric. It's exhilarating. I feel like I can do anything and no one can hurt me. It's like flying. ' She laughed nervously. 'I know it's difficult for you to understand, Mia. But I feel so special. I feel invincible.'
I was silent, I remember. I tried to imagine an illness that could make you feel that way, but it was impossible. Wasn't being ill supposed to make you feel – well – ill ?
'It's so hard to give that feeling up,' Mum sighed.
'But what about the other side of it?' I asked, desperate to make sense of something that seemed so unbelievable. 'The depression? The days lying in bed, crying? Surely you don't enjoy that too?'
Mum shook her head.
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