‘Cherie, please calm down,’ he whispers in my hair. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you like that …’
I wrench myself away, but he catches me again.
‘If you were older,’ he says, holding my face in his hands, ‘it would be different, I swear, but I can’t let you leave school …’
‘I can do what I like,’ I rage, ‘and I want to come with you. Please, please say I can.’
‘It’s not possible. I wish it were …’
‘Why do you have to go with her? Why didn’t you tell me about her before?’
‘She has nothing to do with us. What we have is special, so special I can hardly bear to let you go, but I have to. It’s why I can’t come back next term. We have to stop seeing …’
‘No we don’t. I’m not going to let you just throw me away. I’ll make sure you can’t. I’ll tell everyone what we’ve been doing …’
‘Sssh. You know you don’t mean that.’
‘Yes I do. I’m going to tell …’
He presses his mouth to mine so I can’t shout any more, and his hands are so strong on my arms that I can’t break free. He pulls me down to the floor and lies on top of me. I’m sobbing and telling him no, but he says he wants to show me one last time how much he loves me. I still say no, but he’s not listening. He’s kissing me, holding me, telling me he doesn’t want to be without me …
Then suddenly he stops and as he starts to get up he says he’s sorry, he lost his mind. I can see he’s distraught, shocked, but so am I. I pull him back. I don’t want him to go. I’ll do anything to keep him. He’s mine, we belong to each other.
When it’s over he holds me close and wipes away my tears. ‘Are you all right?’ he asks gently. ‘Maybe that shouldn’t have happened.’
‘Don’t say that,’ I whisper and he kisses me again. I like being in his arms, but I’m not sure about what just happened. It felt different and I’m afraid it’s because it really was the last time.
‘I’ll drive you home,’ he says and pulls me to my feet.
I want to take a train, but I don’t know where the station is and he’s already putting my things in the car. I can’t bear to look at him; it’s upsetting me too much. He’s going to take me to my parents and leave me. I’ll never see him again after that and it makes me wish I was dead.
As he drives us he says, ‘I’m sorry about just now. It shouldn’t … I don’t know what to say … Please tell me I didn’t hurt you.’
‘You didn’t,’ I assure him, though he did, but not in the way he’s meaning. I start to ask him, beg him, to change his mind, to say that he will come back to school, that his girlfriend means nothing to him, but he only shakes his head.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says, over and over. ‘One day you’ll understand. You’ll thank me for letting you go.’
‘I never will,’ I cry in anger, but he keeps telling me I will.
When we arrive at the end of my street he stops the car and takes my hand. ‘I’ll send a postcard from Georgia,’ he says. ‘Would you like that?’
He’ll be there with his girlfriend so no, I wouldn’t like it, but I don’t say anything.
He turns my face to his and I can see how upset he is. He says, ‘You’re not going to tell anyone about us, are you? You know what’ll happen to me if you do.’
I wonder why I should care what happens to him when he doesn’t care what happens to me.
I get out of the car and take my bag from the boot. He’s still sitting in the driver’s seat so I leave him there and walk around the corner to my home. I hear him drive away and I want to run after him screaming for him to come back.
Mummy knows as soon as she sees me that something is wrong. She takes me upstairs to my room and because I’m so unhappy and can’t bear to think of returning to school if he’s not there I end up telling her everything. She’s shocked, but understanding and she soothes me the best she can.