Sweet Sixteen: Part. 18

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Clara looked and behaved like a different girl. Her hair was in really great cornrows, leading up to a neat little circle on the crown of her head. She wore black skinny jeans, expensive trainers, and a fitted black, boxy puffa jacket. She looked proper groomed and expensive.

But it was her demeanour that was the biggest difference. Gone was the cowed and frightened girl and in her place was a confident and flirtatious young woman who seemed totally comfortable in her own skin.

I followed them with a growing sense of dread: had I been duped by these people, was this some kind of sick joke, was I being taken for a ride, was Dylan even abducted, or was he in on this elaborate and massive, demonic fuelled prank?

My head spun in so many directions that I actually got the dizzies and had to stop and steady myself by a lamppost.

Leaning against the lamppost, I observed them both. They chatted animatedly and Joshua occasionally and casually, draped his arm around her shoulder with a familiarity that appeared more than friendly.

Watching them, I felt sick, and had to take deep breaths to prevent myself from spewing up.

They entered one of the areas more upmarket restaurants, an establishment mostly frequented by senior medical staff from the nearby hospital.

It was clear to me now that Clara was definitely his girl and I was some silly part of an elaborate prank.

I took huge inhalations of breath and steadied myself. Angry blood coursed my veins and I readied myself to go and confront them both.

###

I'm my father's daughter, and I was filled with a sense of righteousness. I wouldn't let these these people play with me like this: NO!

At the entrance to the restaurant my phone buzzed.

I ignored it.

At the door, I filled my lungs with more air in an attempt to take some flair from my rage.

It didn't really work, I flew in all flailing arms and angry words, "Look at you two, all loved up and ready to feast on South London's finest foods."

Clara looked from me, to the floor, causing me to continue, "What you looking down there for, can't you look me in the eye, Clara? I wonder why that is?"

Her head remained bowed, so my attention turned to Joshua, "Is this your friend with benefits, big boy?"

His face looked sad, his eyes sorrowful, like a naughty puppy dog. I reacted accordingly, "Oh, don't give me the sad eyes!"

Joshua stared at me, intently.

After what seemed like an age, he said softly, "Benita, check your phone."

Grappling my phone from my pocket, I saw a text from him and opened it: 'Benita, forgive my ask, but today is Clara's 16 birthday. Cud u join us at Church Street Restaurant. I'd appreciate your company. I understand if you can't make It – let me know.

###

To say I felt like a right royal bitch, would be an understatement. I literally felt so shitty, that I actually smelt bad.

Joshua stood up and pulled out the chair, "Fiery and feisty as always, but I wouldn't want you any other way, Benita." He gesticulated to the chair, "Sit down, and calm yourself," he said.

I turned to Clara, "I'm so sorry for my behaviour. There's so much happening in my life right now that I'm completely paranoid," I said.

Her face lit up, "I understand paranoid, they use it all the time to control girls like me," she said, with a sweet smile.

Relaxing I said, "Happy Birthday, Clara."

"Thank you. And I have received the most precious gifts, my freedom and life." Her demeanour changed, like she'd suddenly said something she shouldn't, made a mistake. She looked at me, "Now it is I who is sorry; it is wrong form me to extoll celebration when your dear friend Dylan's life hangs in balance," she said.

Reassuring her, I said, "It's right that you celebrate, you've been released from hell." I glanced at Joshua, "And we'll find and save Dylan, won't we?"

He nodded a gentle yes and said, "Clara has a message for you, from Dylan.

Her accented voice was soft and sing-songy, "He said if I escaped, to tell you he is sorry that your last interactions were one's of anger." She looked down, "He told me to tell you, that he loves you, and if he doesn't see you again, to tell his sister Polly what became of him." Her eyes darted, from me to Joshua with a nervous rapidity, as if looking for validation that she was ok to give me this message.

Her words did bruise me. Imagine someone telling you they love you, but you can't tell them back, because their not there. Sad.

I took some comfort in the hope that Dylan would have heard of Clara's rescue and therefore would know his message had got to me.

Clara finished by saying, "I am sorry to give you this sad message."

I gave her a sisterly hug, "The message has made me more determined to save him, thank you," I said.

###

Lunch was hurried but delicious.

Afterwards I stood with Joshua and Clara on the street. "Are you fine to go back to school?" Asked Joshua.

"Yes. And seriously, I'm so sorry for my outburst, earlier."

"It was understandable."

I knew I had to go back to school, but something in me made me want to linger some more, so I asked, "When are you seeing Dylan's Dad?"

He put a hand on Clara's shoulder, "I'll see our birthday girl back safely to my pad, then I'm going to 12 Paddock Field to wait for him," he said, making an obvious worried gesture on his face.

"If you need me, give me a call and I'll come right on over," I said.

"It should be fine; anyway, I've imposed on too much of your time, I don't want you falling behind with school," he said.

"No honestly, I can always catch up with school stuff."

He kissed his finger and brushed my cheek, "That's a bruv's kiss, sister. Now go back to school, then get some needed rest," he said.

"I will; but will you call me and let me know how it goes?" I asked.

"Goes without saying," he smiled.

###

A few yards down the street, I touched my cheek and turned around. Joshua walked with his arm draped casually on Clara's shoulder.

And as I stared, I felt something. An emotion I'd never really experienced before, at least not as strongly as this.

It was jealousy, I was suddenly jealous of Clara.

My bad.

###

Back in school, I couldn't concentrate. My head was all over the place, so when the bell rang I sprinted for the exit, hoping my rush would clear my head. It didn't.

The streets were crowded, with great schools of kids and office workers pooled around the many bus stops; and as I pushed my way through, something halted me.

It was one of Dylan's Missing posters, with my mum's phone number on it. Immediately, I ripped it down, drawing unwanted attention from the kids: "What you doing that for? " "That's well out of order!" Pulling down official missing posters, that's illegal." Were just some of the angry protestations being levelled my way.

Pushing my way through the mobbing crowd, I mumbled, "I know him, it's a prank." Then I took off for home, my eyes peeled on every lamppost, bus stop and shop window for any more posters.

###

Turning into my street, my phone buzzed and my heart leapt when I saw Joshua's name, "Hello."

His voice was hurried and urgent, "Benita, please stay calm. I just seen the local news and they report human remains  found in the party shop."

My heart dived and a sense of foreboding engulfed me, freezing me to the spot.

"You still there, sister?"

"Yes."

"I'm on my way to Dylan's dad, now. I have to tell him everything."

"It might not be Dylan," I said, hopefully.

"True. But it might be. We have to remain realistic," he replied, matter of factly.

"My head's spinning."

His voice switched from urgent to concerned, "Likewise. I'll call you as soon as I've met Dylan's dad, I just didn't want you hearing it on your TV while with your mum, wanted to prepare you, Benita," he said.

"I really appreciate that; now you go and do what you have to do," I said, trying to sound upbeat.

He paused, before saying, "You and me, we stay strong, you hear me?"

"I hear you!"

###

When I rang off, I burst into flooding tears and let them flow for the remainder of the journey home.

In my hallway, I checked my appearance. I looked beyond bad, my eyes were bulging and bloodshot and mascara streaked my face. I looked like I'd been beaten up.

My priority was to sort out my appearance before mum got home, the last thing I wanted was a concerned questioning session.

But in the kitchen, something struck me: mum's phone, on the table. I called out, "Mum, are you home?"

When no response came, I raced to her room with a thumping heart. I threw the door open and looked at the back of it; her coat and bag weren't there. I glanced at her bedside cabinet, where she keeps her keys. They weren't there, either. The lack of these possessions reassured me. She'd obviously rushed to work and forgot her phone, something she's done a few times before.

The relief had a sudden, soothing affect on me and I made my way to the kitchen for a much needed cup of tea.

While the kettle simmered I slumped at the table and looked at mum's phone. Compulsion drove me to pick it up and a sick thought entered my head: should I check her texts, see if she's been sexting Mr Lacey. Realising that was beyond wrong; I put it back down and listened to the steady hum of the boiling kettle.

As the kettle reached its crescendo, mum's phone burst into life. The screen lit up and it's vibrato caused it to hover over the table. Grabbing it, I stared at the screen, I recognised the number: it was Dylan's!

My thumb slammed the receiver, "HELLO!"

"Who is this?" The voice was low, and weak, but unmistakeably Dylan's.

My heart soared, "It's Benita, I'm so happy to hear your voice."

"Save me," he said, his voice shaking.

"Where are you?"

"Where the Sacrificial Ceremony will take place."

"Where's that?"

His voice began to falter, "Don't know, blindfolded me, I felt waste ground underfoot," he said, his voice growing lower and more fearful.

My despair grew, "Dylan, give me more, think hard?"

"They're coming, tell Polly and dad I'm alive!"

I kept control and said, "Dylan, call me again!"

"I can't...help me...I beg you..."

Raised angry voices assaulted my ears, before the phone fell silent... 

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