Let July Be July

Chapter Three: No Worst, there is None

Kena doesn't tell us what happened when she comes back from Dotty's.

She still laughs way too loudly, showcasing her beautiful white teeth, still runs through the halls at Westwood like she owns them. Because she does. She's our Kena; wild and wonderful. It doesn't matter what she did yesterday. What we all did. We won't say a word about it, because that's how it's always been. Don't say anything and keep the girls safe. Don't say anything because snitches get stitches and thrown out to sea at Westwood.

It's a lesson you learn fairly quick, and my turn came in second year when I caught Kena and Jun trying to sneak out after lights out. I'd seen a prefect coming down the next hall over - one of the miserable ones that got off on polishing their Prefect badges until you could eat off it. It was an easy choice between being a tattle-tale and ascending the social ladder by being friends with two of the most influential kids in our year. Back then the highest up I'd been was just cool enough to hover at the edge of Daniella Ojelabi's group, and I'd so desperately wanted to make friends.

I promised Kena and Jun I'd get rid of the Prefect.

I ran right up to the Prefect and yanked off her tie and her badge, and legged it down some random side corridor. My heart was in my mouth, and I'd been so sure I'd get expelled and I'd never get accepted into any college, ever. But even through the fear I felt breathless. Exhilarated. I ran as far as I could before I hit a dead end and I didn't even care when the Prefect caught up and dragged me to the Principal's office.

Maybe it was the midnight air that did it, but I'd felt invincible then.

I got a whole Sunday afternoon's detention, but Kena snuck in with me. She was the coolest girl I'd ever met, and we spent my detention giggling and passing notes.

Sometimes I look at Kena and all I see is a raging tornado, a tangible shield between me and the person I used to be.

Mousy, meek, mopey little Hettie Ahmadi. Short-haired, square-hipped, fat little Hettie.

Now here I am, sitting at the table in the Ref that we practically own, so far up the ladder that I'm scared of teetering right off. The Ref is almost full this morning, but Ryan isn't here. Or his other two friends, not that I care. Jessica Walsh sits on the edge of our table, small hands curved around a water bottle. She looks lost without him and, God, aren't I hypocritical for thinking that?

"Are you sure you don't wanna come with?" Jun says to me, even as she tugs Kena away from the breakfast bar. "We can even push Kena in if you want."

Kena hits the back of her head with her vanilla yoghurt cup. "Very funny." To me she says," Come on, Hettie-bear, the grave won't bite. Let's go check it out."

"Sorry," I say, shrugging. I don't sound very sorry at all. "Mr Wilson says I've missed too many classes. I'll catch up with you guys after."

The lie feels weird on my tongue, weird and a little familiar. I think I'm building a habit.

Jun makes a face, like Okay, psycho. "Come to the tub with us later, then," she says. "Tell Grace too."

"We'll be there." I smile, scraping my nails against my palms.

I feel fidgety, restless in a way that only makes the emptiness of my stomach more prominent. I don't mind it. It doesn't feel like hunger; it feels like control.

Kena barely has time to wave to me before they leave the Ref with their arms linked together.

Sighing, I stare down into my cup of green tea, half-sipped and gone cold. Mrs Li taught me how to read tea cups once when I was fourteen. I've read about a million books on it since then. Jun's probably sick to death of hearing me go on, but tasseography is the only thing that connects me to Mrs Li. She always smells of dried tea leaves and lavender, her pearl necklace shining against her neck. She's expensive, a polished statue that God imbued with life.