Exam
“Oh, I’ve had enough! Seriously, thats it! If you dont stop getting on at me, Ill just skip the exam entirely! I wont go, simple as that! Then whatll you do, eh?!” Emily threw her rucksack into the hallway corner and yanked her beanie off her head.
Her mum didnt reply, just shook her head and wandered off into the kitchen.
Emily shrugged out of her coat she was all set to fling it in the same direction as her bag, but then paused. Instead, she opened the cupboard, hung it up properly, and sighed.
Here we go again, she thought, another pointless row. Same as always, over absolutely nothing!
Why does Mum always have to poke her nose in with the questions and advice? Like Emilys five or completely clueless or something.
She remembered perfectly well she had a session today with the new tutor. There was really no need to keep drumming it into her head every half hour!
Of course, Emily was exaggerating a bit. Mum hadnt actually been mithering her constantly; shed just asked if Emily remembered her lesson with her latest and third one this year English literature tutor. But it just got under Emilys skin, Mum trying to control her like shed always done. Her flashes of irritation were becoming habit, whether they were really needed or not.
Emily washed her hands, gazing at herself in the hall mirror above the sink.
What a sight. Spots everywhere, her dads funny little nose, wild ginger hair from her mum. Shed been begging to dye it for ages, but Mum wasnt having any of it “Beautys something you develop and appreciate, trust me, one day youll thank me,” her mum always said.
Yeah right. As if! Everyone else looks normal enough, and theres Emily looking like shes just been dragged through a bush backwards. Plaits! Who even does plaits these days?!
The thought made Emily smile though, remembering the drama when shed chopped them off herself with those blunt old kids craft scissors she found in the back of her schoolwork drawer. Blunt as anything; shed pressed her lips together and just hacked away, almost enjoying the look of utter shock Mum gave her:
“Emily! Why?!”
Because she was sick of it, thats why. Sick of being bossed about. Its her life. Her rules. Shell do what she likes, thanks very much!
Everyone bangs on about doing what youre told. But why? Their out-of-date ideas about life mean nothing. Things are way different nowadays! They didnt even have the internet, for crying out loud! How did they even cope? And you just cant explain it all this sitting for hours over books isnt important anymore! Everything you needs right there on your phone in seconds if you actually need it. Mum reckons thats not the case, that the internet cant teach you how to be a human being or hold an actual conversation, but what would she know? Maybe she ought to go on one of those parenting workshops or read up on teenagers, get a clue!
Emily absent-mindedly picked away at a scab. Probably a good job Mum couldnt see her right now or shed get another talking-to about scars. Mum carted her round enough to different GPs, always worrying shed end up marked for life, but Emily couldnt care less. “People value you for your soul,” she thought. How do you explain that to a parent?
Parent. What a word. Yes, she mightve given birth to Emily, but that doesnt mean she owns her! Emilys not her property, and she certainly shouldnt treat her like she is.
She winked at her own reflection.
Whats wrong, Mum? Cant handle it when things dont go your way? Dragging her all over for tutoring and rabbiting on about becoming a lawyer! Emily knows more about the law than her parents ever will. If theyd known half of what shes taught herself, maybe theyd have managed that divorce a little better.
Mum never did have much fight in her. Not only did Dad leave her for some younger woman, he also split the house how he pleased, and Mum didnt argue. Emily got the flat her gran left; that was fair enough. But Mum was left with just the child maintenance. All those years together and thats what it added up to. Emily saw more than they realised, understood far more than they gave her credit for.
She remembered the silent anger behind every plate Mum set on the table, the cold thanks Dad gave for meals, the sofa crammed in the tiny neglected study. The way Dad still went to the bedroom each morning for his stuff, the alarm Mum set to make sure he never caught her sleeping there, the relief both felt the day Emily turned fourteen and told them straight out to finally call it a day and go their separate ways. How long could they drag it out for her sake?
Grown-ups, honestly. All this “We live for you!” and “Youre the centre of our world!” Nonsense. People always look out for number one she could think of a hundred examples.
Like the flat, for instance same block as before, but now a smaller two-bedroom. Done up nicely, lovely furniture, but it was what Mum could wrangle from Dads guilt. “A child should live somewhere decent!” Thats what shed pressed for. Dad gave in eventually, and now Emilys got a bigger room than in her old box of a bedroom, but thats only because Mum and Dad needed to divide things up without a fight. Emily, perfect buffer between them.
She grimaced but, with a sigh, reached for the ointment the doctor had prescribed. Not because Mum was right or anything; just because it worked, dried up the “volcanoes” on her face faster. She needed it tonight.
Because it was nearly evening now. And the rooftop
The rooftop was new for her only a few months. Everything changed when Tom, the boy nearly everyone in school fancied, actually messaged her: “Wanna hang out?”
She was sure someone was winding her up at first. Everyone knew she liked Tom; theyd snigger, but not in a nasty way. She was popular, helpful always let people copy her work, always the first with her hand up when others were stuck.
“Emily, I picked you last time! Whats with the waving?”
“Miss Jenkins, its just the topics so interesting! Was George III a tyrant, do you think? Is it fair to call his rule oppressive?”
Their grumpy history teacher, strict as anything, would give in and then everyone else could relax, knowing thered be no pop quiz.
So when Emily showed the message to Molly, her frenemy, Molly just rolled her eyes.
“And? So what if he texted you?”
“But its really him?”
“For goodness sake, Em, go ask him! Stop flapping about like youre in a Victorian novel! Its the 21st century, girls ask boys out all the time!”
Emily couldnt really explain why the single word “Wanna?” from Tom set her heart fluttering as if the letters were jumping off her screen.
She went. And after that, life completely changed.
The top of the old block was their spot now totally abandoned, a bit of a dump, but it was where everyone went. Not exactly safe, but every time Tom took her hand and whispered, “Careful, mind your step,” Emilys heart would pound faster, and shed count the stairs in her head.
“Seventeen Eighteen Go on, dont be frightened, hes right here next to you”
Thats where Tom put his arm around her for the first time. No big declaration, just a casual, “Shes with me now,” for all to see.
And nobody objected, though Emily saw the looks from the other girls in his old class. Hed known them since he was little, so why her? But it was her hed chosen.
On the roof, he kissed her the first time too.
They were alone everyone else had gone off to the cinema. Emily wanted to go too, but when Tom squeezed her fingers and said, “Lets go another day, just us,” she just nodded, already knowing this evening would be special.
And it was. She still caught herself sometimes, even at the oddest moments, eyes closed, remembering his gentle voice:
“Emily, I like you. A lot. Im not good with words, but youre the best girl Ive ever met Can I?”
Those warm lips, so soft, so gentle.
Emily shut her eyes, reliving that happiness, when she heard Mums gentle tap at the door:
“Em, youll be late Dinners on the table”
A fresh wave of irritation crashed over her. For crying out loud!
She stormed out, as furious as she ever got. And she mustve looked just like that meme she once saw angry woman with wild hair screeching at someone off camera.
“What do you WANT? I remember everything! Leave me alone! Dads had enough of you? Left you already? Well, Ill go live with him too! Got that? If you dont stop”
She didnt get to finish. Her mum gave an odd little sigh and smacked her not hard, but enough to shock her.
“Go on, then. But when you come back, dont forget youve got a mock in English tomorrow. Youll need a proper nights sleep.”
Emily was stunned. Mum had never once so much as raised a hand to her. It wasnt the slap that stung, really shed kind of asked for it but it shook her to realise Mum had finally had enough.
Not that Emily was going to surrender just like that. She grabbed her bag, coat, headphones She wanted to slam the door so hard the whole building would shake but managed to resist. No point giving Mum yet another reason to say she was being dramatic.
Emily hurried outside, checked her phone. Right. An hour all told: there and back, plus the tutor. She wouldnt be able to meet Tom until gone six. Fine the rooftop itd be. Let Mum cool off and worry for a bit; might do her good. Dad never answered her calls first attempt these days anyway. And Emily shed talk things through with Tom. Hed know what to do. His parents were brilliant. They didnt interfere at all. He had his own bank card with a limit set by his parents, best trainers, clothes, the lot, but no nagging. His mum was too busy, and his dad reckoned sixteen was the right age to figure life out himself. Gave Tom his freedom, even let him earn his own cash and manage revision on his terms.
Some parents really had their heads screwed on.
Not like hers
Her phone buzzed. Dad, just as she reached the tutors gate.
“Whats going on this time? Your mums ringing me, saying youre moving in with me?”
“Oh, Dad! Dont listen to her! Why should I get involved in your problems? Your girlfriend Kates about to go into labour any minute; you want me to be a babysitter? Ive got a life, you know!”
“Right. Just dont shout at your mum. Or Ill cut off your money, got it?”
“Thats what I love about you, Dad straight to the point. Got it!”
“Good. Now be nice to your mum. She doesnt deserve all that.”
The line went dead. Emily clenched her jaw.
Always the same fight like cats and dogs with each other, but when it comes to her, theyre united. So weird.
The new tutor was a disappointment. He tutted at her clever musings about idioms, handed her some random book, told her to read the highlighted chapters for next time. She was annoyed to begin with, but after a few examples, decided that reading wouldnt hurt.
She really didnt want to look stupid. Tom was clever; she ought to try and keep up. All those videos about relationships kept saying the same thing: “A girl should be smart and independent!” Too soon for independence, maybe, but intelligence well, Mum was right about that: it could be worked on. Mum had pulled herself together, got her degree in the end, even with a kid and a divorce to handle.
Mum had left uni when Emily was born, first taking time out, then quitting altogether Emily was ill all the time, no grannies to leave her with. Nursery was a bust: Emily lasted a week at a time, then another month or more off sick. She hated it. Horrible porridge, mean kids, no Mum to cuddle her. Dad once told Mum:
“Youre too attached. If she never leaves your side, youll only make it harder for her later.”
When Emily hit year two, Mum got a neighbour to pick her up from after-school, went back to her studies, and started working.
Good thing too, Emily thought. Otherwise shed be stuck now, counting pennies and resenting the world. At least this way, Mum had her own little business putting on events, making venues lovely for parties. Emily liked her work; it was creative, feminine somehow. In the office, Mum transformed, no longer the quiet homebody, but a boss, giving orders, showing staff what to do Emily was a bit in awe, seeing in her the strength she wished she had herself.
Still, though, Mums constant checking-in really grated. The worst kind of hassle, and for once she agreed with Dad about that. Shed trained Mum to knock before entering her room, not to stick her oar in too much, but Mum managed to keep tabs on everything anyway not through threats, Dad-style, but with her endless, soft:
“Em, hows it going? Whats on today? Hungry?”
That kindness could be maddening. Sometimes Emily wanted to scream, “Leave me alone! Im not a kid anymore!”
Sometimes she actually did. Shouting, stomping her foot, convinced Mum only saw her as a sulky child.
Emily rushed from the lesson to where she and Tom always met, desperate for his arms around her, to forget about parents and exams and all the rest, just for a couple of hours. There was a life waiting, and hers seemed to be all drama, all the time.
But by the gates, Tom wasnt there. She hung around a bit, messaged, called, but nothing. Odd he always picked up. Something was off.
She took the stairs to the top, starting to feel nervous. Usually Toms hand was there, warm and strong. Tonight, every step was harder.
A gusty spring wind and silence greeted her on the roof. It was empty, eerily so.
Emily was about to leave, pulling out her phone to switch on the torch, when she saw movement at the far edge. Every muscle tensed with fear, not daring to breathe, and about to cry out when she recognised his figure.
“Tom”
He was sitting dangerously near the edge, legs dangling, hunched over. Even though she barely knew Tom that well yet, Emily felt certain in that moment something terrible had happened. He seemed lost, adrift, nothing left of his usual swagger.
Fear for what might happen next gave Emily enough courage to act. She slowly put her rucksack down, stepped onto the felt roof, not daring to call his name.
“Hey”
She sank down on the parapet, a safe distance, feet planted. She didnt look down. Heights gave her the creeps, but she pushed those feelings aside, reminding herself why shed come, why she needed to be here.
“Hi.” Toms voice was flat, not even looking her way. Emily reached for his hand, pressing his icy fingers.
“Youre freezing”
He blinked at her, hollow-eyed, nothing like the Tom she knew. The fear running through her of not being able to reach the person you love caught her off guard. Suddenly, she understood, just a little, what lay behind Mums worry, all those desperate pleas to open up.
“How are you?”
Her voice, it struck her, sounded just like Mums sometimes. The same gentle, urgent, “Come on, talk to me! Tell me whats going on!”
It worked.
“I feel awful,” Tom said softly, closing his hand round hers. “Really awful, Em.”
“Somethings happened,” she said, not even really asking, just making it clear she was there, whatever it was.
“Yeah.”
“Can I know? I get it, we havent been together forever, but maybe you could tell me?”
He looked at her, the pain in his eyes so raw she shivered.
“Do you think were not close?”
“No, I mean youre special, but I dont know how you see me.”
“Em, youre all Ive got, honestly.”
Her heart did a mad little flutter. She could swear Tom would actually hear her chest pounding.
“What do you mean, all youve got? What about your family?” The question slipped out before she thought, but at once Tom flinched and jerked his head so hard she panicked.
“Careful!”
“Go on, let go of me! Like they did!” he shouted.
“Who?”
“Them the people I called Mum and Dad! Theyre not mine. Not really. My mum gave me my adoption papers today. Turns out Ive always been theirs, but not by birth. I guessed, on some level, but now I know. I took up someone elses place, Em! Not mine, someone elses!”
He was in pieces, breaking apart on that ledge. Emily gripped his hand, terrified hed actually do something desperate.
And she realised: all her drama, all her raving about wishing her life were different, was nothing. Here was someone whose world genuinely just ended.
“Tom, Im scared,” she said without even realising shed started to cry and that brought him back, just a bit.
“Hey, Em, whats wrong?”
She melted into him, hugging him as hard as she could. “Dont promise me you wont If they treated you like that, I never will. Youre everything to me, Tom, you hear?”
“Im not even called Tom.” His voice was deadened, hollow. Through her tears, Emily tried to make out his face.
“What do you mean?”
“My real names Alex. I used to have a different surname, even.”
“Doesnt matter. No one cares about your name. Not me! Youre you, thats all I know. You, and thats all that counts.”
“Maybe not everyone will think so Em, what am I supposed to do now? Where do I go from here?”
“Cant go home? Did they throw you out?”
“No. Mum sobbed, begged me to stay. But Dad. I hit him.”
“What?!”
“He tried to keep me inside, said I didnt understand a thing”
“And do you? Do you actually know everything? Are you sure?”
“What else is there to know? What are you on about, Em?!” He sounded so close to snapping, she chose her words carefully.
“Why did they tell you now, though?”
A gust blew away her question. It took Tom a while to answer, but when he did, the anguish was less stark.
“I dont know,” he said at last, and Emily breathed out quietly.
There was a question now, hope even. Until he got an answer, he wouldnt do anything silly. The edge was holding him, but not forever.
“Want me to come back with you?”
“What for?”
“To see them. Well go together, and theyll explain why they picked now to say all this. If, after that, you still want to come back up here, I wont stop you but Ill come with you. Youre not alone.”
He looked at her, searching, almost in disbelief. Then, slowly, she pulled him away from the edge. He climbed back, and together, slowly, they crept to the stairs, Emily with the torch on, holding his hand.
“Im pathetic,” he muttered.
“Not true!” Emily snorted, pulling him along. “Honestly, anyone in your shoes would lose it! I would, and so would anyone else!”
She stumbled, and Tom caught her, steadying her.
“Careful now!”
“Ha! Thats rich, coming from you!” she laughed, squeezing his hand. “Come on, weve got things to do tonight!”
Theyd always remember that evening.
The conversations with Toms parents hard, raw, but healing in the end.
She learned that his birth dad was getting out of prison soon, wanted to meet, wanted to stir things up thats why they had to tell him now, not later. That his mum, the only proper mum hed ever known, was truly his best friends mum, who died in a tragic accident. That hed been just a baby. Everything changed in that second.
“My Mum the real one?”
“Yes, Tom. Your father”
“And now he wants?”
“He wants to see you.”
“I dont want to.”
“Thats your choice. We just wanted you to hear it from us, not him. Were sorry it had to happen like this, but it wouldve come out soon hes being released early, you see.”
“I dont want anything to do with him.”
“We respect that, love. We support you, whatever you choose.”
And they talked and talked, and Emily realised: the roof, their secret escape, wasnt needed anymore. Not now, not ever. The past was shifting, and they were finally free to move on.
Later, close to midnight, Emily crept home, let herself in quietly, coat still on, and padded over to the kitchen window where she found her mum waiting in the dark. Emily hugged her, burying her face in her mothers curls, breathing in that familiar, comforting perfume. Then, at last, she said the word that cleared away all the trouble and left only what mattered:
“Sorry”
And quietly, from her mum, the answer for whom nothing in the world would matter more than Emilys worries and little heartaches came back:
“So am I, love. Hungry?”
“No, Mum, thanks. You know what I think I passed an exam today.”
“What do you mean? Your GCSEs arent for ages!”
“I mean the most important one, Mum. Ill explain later.”
“Why later?”
“Because tomorrow Ive got my English mock and I probably ought to actually get some sleep.”
