Page 35 of The Dare

Who said you have to see your dad? You can just come for a walk, can’t you?

Before I get a chance to hear what she has to say, Suzanne seems to want to speak for everyone, which is totally at odds with her ‘none of your business’ attitude.

She might want to take a dose of her own advice there.

“Well,I’mgoing with your mom to see her off and to say hi to your dad. Even ifyoucan’t be bothered,” she snaps at her best friend, making Natasha look visibly wounded.

Suzanna grabs hold of Renee and makes for the doorway. “I’ll see you down there,” Renee clips to Natasha. Politely ignoring me.

Was a pleasure to meet you, too, Renee.

I can see Natasha’s longing look as she meets my eyes, but she’s grappling with her choices. I can see that clearer than anything.

Suzanna calls her name, and I catch her narrow eyes on me. Really hating me.

Really feeling how close she is to losing her best friend to me because that’s exactly what’s about to happen.

I think Natasha knows it too.

She’ll always have her best friend Suzanna, her mom, and even her dad that she doesn’t like too much.

But after today, after what we’ve both just experienced and what’s to come from here on?

Her life’s never gonna be the same and she knows it.

Anyone who knows Natasha could see the change in her already.

She’s finding her voice. She’s almost a complete full-grown woman.

Almost.

“Natasha,” Suzanna growls for the last time, eventually turning her back and jogging to catch up with Natasha’s mom.

I follow her with a glance, noticing how close Suzanna and Renee are, and turn back to Natasha only to see an empty space where she just stood.

Gone.

She didn’t follow her friend and she didn’t get past me.

The only other way out is a door opposite, but that leads straight out onto the tracks.

In a split second, I’ve pushed it open, relieved to see Natasha.

Not so relieved to see her back to me, lifting her feet high as she makes her way across the tracks away from the train, into the darkness away from the station.

I call out to her, leap down and slam the train door shut behind me.

I can see her head shaking, and then turn when I call out her name again.

“Maybe I just wanna go for a walk by myself,” she shouts, her voice thick with emotion as it’s carried through the chilled night air.

I look up and then down the silvery, snaking network of steel tracks she’s walking between.

All clear for now, but I won’t have her out here at night like this. It’s stupidly dangerous at any time of the day or night.

I open my mouth to call out again but stop. My legs are already making double time much faster than my mouth can run.

She hears me running up behind her and stops, turning to speak, to tell me to leave her alone most likely.