Say Her Name by James Dawson Page B

panda eyes.
    The idea that time was running out caught up with her, a fantasy hourglass hovered over her head, sand pouring through at an alarming rate. What if she never saw her mum again? ‘Mum, can you fly home?’ The words popped out before she could stop them.
    ‘What?’
    ‘There’s something really weird going on. I can’t explain it.’
    ‘Don’t scare Mummy, darling. What’s going on? Are you in trouble? Is it drugs? It’s drugs, isn’t it? I shouldn’t have been so liberal, should I?’
    ‘No. No. God, no, it isn’t drugs.’ Bobbie took her glasses off and pinched the bridge of her nose, forcing back the threat of tears. She could feel herself regressing, becoming the little girl who just needed her mummy. ‘Mum, I’m scared.’
    There was a pause. ‘Darling, is someone giving you a hard time? Tell me who it is and I’ll have Dr Price expel them. It’s very simple. That’s your problem, sweetie, you’re too nice. You trust people and they completely take advantage. What have I always taught you … ’
    ‘Please, Mum. I just really miss you. I wanna see you.’
    ‘Bobbie, if you won’t tell me what’s wrong, there’s nothing I can do, is there?’
    Bobbie closed her eyes. Her head felt like it was full of noisy, jagged images and ideas rattling around like broken glass and nails. She felt powerless, useless. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’
    ‘Of course I do, darling. We all get homesick. I miss home all the time – what I wouldn’t give for a bit of proper bacon right now. The Christmas holidays will come around before you know it.’
    The first tear found its way out. A fat, warm thing, it dribbled down the inside of her nose and dripped off her nostril onto the phone stand. She couldn’t tell her mum that there was nothing beyond the next four days. There would be no Christmas – she wouldn’t even make it to Bonfire Night. ‘Mum, please … ’
    ‘Come on, Bobbie. You have less than two years left at school. I think you can cope. Mummy needs to be in New York at the moment. I thought you understood that.’
    Wiping the tear away, Bobbie nodded. ‘I know.’ She pulled herself together, knowing she would never convince her to fly over and, from the fate of Taylor and Abigail, that her escaping to New York wasn’t going to work either. Bloody Mary would find her however far she ran. Deep breaths. As tempting as ‘little girl mode’ was, she’d have to dig deep for ‘strong like she-wolf’. This was just a wobble – she could do this, she had to. ‘I’m sorry. It’s been a hard couple of days.’
    ‘This isn’t like you, darling.’
    ‘I know.’ Bobbie closed her eyes and imagined borrowing strength from her resilient mother through the telephone cables. ‘I’ll be fine.’
    ‘Are you sure? Do you need money?’
    If only it were that simple. ‘No. I’m okay. Just ignore me.’
    ‘Okay, sweetheart. I need to dash. I have a shiatsu massage at ten with Chloë Sevigny. I’ll leave my phone on though … If you need me, just give me a call.’
    Bobbie pulled her knees under her chin, feeling flaccid. ‘Sure. I’d better get to class.’
    ‘Kisses, sweetie!’
    ‘Bye, Mum.’ She hung up the phone.
    Bobbie attended Philosophy for the rest of the afternoon and then had to lip-synch through choir practice too. Her mind couldn’t focus for a second; it was hard to concentrate with an enormous, noisy, ticking clock clicking out the seconds. For the first time in her life, every minute counted and she keenly felt she was wasting them.
    She went to supper with Naya, but could only face a tragic bowl of vegetable soup. Solids were a no-no. Naya looked similarly unimpressed, poking some sort of gelatinous stew around her plate. ‘Do you think there’s carbs in this?’
    ‘It seems likely,’ Bobbie replied listlessly.
    She stuck her tongue out. ‘Man, I feel gross. Even the smell of it makes me wanna hurl.’
    Bobbie knew how she felt. The mood around Piper’s