Read The Memory Game for Free Online

her to come out for school.  I figured I
might try to apologise, if she stops long enough to let me, and then maybe she’ll
talk to my mum for me.  Maybe she even knows about my dad, or she can at
least tell me what’s going on.  I’m not sure what she is or why she can
see me, but it has to mean something. I’m sitting on the same wall as I did
last night.  I tried to talk to the horse earlier but it just looked at
me, blew a great smelly plume from its nose and walked off. Does that mean it’s
scared of me or just bored?
    After the
graveyard last night, I wandered over to Ingrid’s house for a while. I thought
about going in, but I knew that Matt was there and I wasn’t sure if I’d like
what I found.  It’d drive me mental, seeing him all over her again.
Instead, I went home to see what Mum and Roger were doing. 
    Roger had bought
mum takeout curry.  I suppose he was trying to cheer her up. It smelt good
to me, even though I wasn’t hungry. She didn’t eat much, she just pushed it
around her plate and said sorry but she was feeling a bit sick.  He looked
annoyed but he didn’t say anything, he just took her plate away and chucked it
all in the bin. Then he went to bed and she started crying again.  I sat
next to her for a while and told her that she would feel better soon, but I
don’t know if that’s true.
    Later, when Mum
had fallen asleep on the sofa, I checked out my room.  It was a lot
cleaner and emptier than last time I saw it.  A lot of my stuff was
stacked in bin bags piled against the wall, the bed had been stripped and the
curtains had been taken down. I suppose Mum wanted to wash them. I suppose
she’ll want to redecorate it soon. I sat in there for a while, but even that
doesn’t feel like home now that it’s all cleared out.
    When I’d had
enough of that I walked the streets and then out to the fields at the edge of
the village.  All the while I was alive I never noticed the amazing stuff
just beyond the tiny circle of my existence.  Like the rabbits I saw
playing, and the badger, and the slug dragging a sparkling trail across a dock
leaf.  Even the streets of the village have their own sort of beauty at
night, still and silent, as if they’re holding their breath for the new day. And then the dawn.   The last sunrise I watched was the
one just after I’d died.  It wasn’t the best, to be honest.  This
morning, the clouds tore open and the sun set them on fire in pink and orange
and this time I wasn’t staring down at my mangled body while all that drama was
going on in the sky, I just stood and watched. It’s funny how it takes death to
make you appreciate things like that.
    The row of
houses where Bethany lives looks even worse in the grey daylight than it did
last night – you can see just how dirty the paintwork is and how overgrown the
gardens are.  A couple of them at the end look ok.  I hope Bethany
lives in one of them or my mum might not take too kindly to her. 
    A cracked yellow
door, the paintwork coming away in strips, opens at one of the middle houses.
It’s probably the scruffiest one of the lot. Bethany
looks straight at me and freezes. I try to smile, but maybe it looks a bit
sinister because she doesn’t smile back, and she seems absolutely terrified
now.  She races down the steps, so fast she almost trips, and then turns
and starts to walk really quickly towards school.
    ‘Bethany…’
I start to follow her but she doesn’t look round. ‘Bethany,
wait!’ I jog to catch up.  My footsteps make no noise but she walks faster
anyway, even though she hasn’t looked back, like she somehow knows I’m running
after her.
    ‘Bethany,
I don’t want to scare you, I just want to talk to you.’
    She stops, turns
around and glances up and down the deserted lane, biting her lip and fiddling
with the strap of her rucksack. Then she looks at me and opens her mouth like
she might say something but quickly turns around and carries on walking, only
slower