LITMIR.BIZ

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immediately screamed ‘I am broken’, so I gingerly wiggled the toes on my right foot. Then my left. So far, so good. I tried my fingers. Everything seemed to be working as it should, so I tried turning my head a little to the left—no flashing lights, no attack of the woozies—then back to the right. It would be a miracle if I wasn’t black and blue by morning, but I didn’t think I’d done any serious damage.

       Wow!

      ‘I …’ My throat felt as if I’d swallowed the razors the band had been using and my voice cracked. I coughed to clear the blockage, trying not to wince and jar anything else. ‘I think so.’

      ‘What the devil were you doing, barging in here like that?’ the man asked, raising his hands into the air and leaving them up there.

      ‘Chased … two men,’ I blurted, incapable of stringing more than a couple of words together. ‘Had to … get away.’

      ‘What? Chased?’ The man’s legs disappeared from view, heading in the same direction I’d just launched myself from, and the bell above the door tinkled.

      A blast of cold air rolled over my prone body—he’d opened the door—and here I was, lying down and feeling incredibly vulnerable. Everything hurt, but I ignored the throbbing pain and dragged myself up to a sitting position, then turned around, resting my back against the counter. If this was some crazy old Tom and Jerry episode, there would be birds or stars spinning around my head, rather than the entire room whirling in front of my eyes. Motion sickness kicked in big time, despite the fact that I’d barely moved, and I wasn’t going to try again any time soon, given that there was no way I could stand until the room stopped pitching and rotating.

      All attention centred on the wide-open doorway, including mine.

      A slow prickle of terror crept down my spine and traced a path to my stomach. Had I not already wanted to be sick, my nerves would have done the job, no problem. I really didn’t want to think about what could have happened had the goons caught me: I’d have far bigger issues than a few bruises and bout of nausea to contend with, that was for sure. But what if I’d been wrong about the car picking them up again? What if the men were still out there, waiting for me?

      ‘Gone,’ the man said from outside. He stepped back inside and closed the door behind him, looking at me intently. ‘Are you sure?’

      Yeah right, like I’d make it up just so I could come crashing through their door and nigh on kill myself for no reason. It was how I got my kicks on a Friday night, obviously, who didn’t? I bit down on my tongue and nodded, not trusting myself to speak. What was one more pain when everything else hurt, anyway?

      ‘They must have carried on running, then,’ he said. ‘There’s nobody out there now.’

       Thank goodness for that!

      ‘You should not be out walking alone this late at night, miss,’ the lady said. She squatted down beside me, her tone half reprimand and half concern, reminding me of my mum.

      ‘N-no. Didn’t mean to. S-s-stranded,’ I stuttered. Crap, I’d only bitten my tongue, and not even that hard, so what was going on with the rest of my mouth? ‘C-could I b-borrow your phone p-p-please?’

      The lady nodded. Her knees cracked as she returned to standing and she passed through the open section of counter right beside me, then returned with a cordless phone in her outstretched arm, holding it at my eye level. Heat scorched my shoulder as I reached up to take it. I held onto it tightly, as if it were my only lifeline, and I stared at it, my mind alarmingly blank.

      One of the downsides of having a mobile phone was that I’d got lazy, no longer bothering to memorise phone numbers any more. They were just there, stored in my contacts. To be fair, I can’t remember the last time I had to physically dial a number—even the phone at home had a built-in phone book. Speaking of which, even my own home number was foggy, and I wasn’t usually that stupid, but it wouldn’t be any good to me anyway: Mum and Dad would still be at the Wheatsheaf, and they rarely got home before two o’clock in the morning on quiz night.

      The only other number I usually knew off by heart was Gemma’s home number, after years of calling it, which would have been great if I didn’t already know she was hanging out with Ben tonight. She talked about going to the late showing at the cinema, so I’d be amazed if she was home already, but I didn’t stand a chance of reaching anybody else. Trying had to be better than doing nothing, I supposed. I certainly couldn’t sit on the shop floor all night, so I punched in the number.

      At least that was the plan, but I misdialled a couple of times, thanks to my trembling fingers, and had to start over each time before I finally got it right and pressed the green button. The dial tone buzzed in my ear, closely followed by a series of bleeps and then a clunk as my call was connected. It rang at the other end; once, twice, three times … Come on, pick up, please. But by the fifth ring my heart was doing the drumming thing inside my ribcage again and I moved my finger to hover over the red button, ready to end the call.

       Now what do I do?

      ‘Hello?’ came a sleepy male voice.

      ‘Umm … h-hi,’ I don’t how I managed it, especially as I’d already pressed the button halfway down, but I moved my finger away and the line miraculously stayed connected. ‘Is G-gemma th-there p-p-please?’ I stammered, no idea who I was talking to.

      ‘No, who is this?’

      Ah, the voice belonged to Jake, Gemma’s brother; older than we were by a few years, but he was nice, and he hardly ever teased us. He was also the least likely to freak out, which was a huge bonus.

      ‘H-hi J-Jake.’ If my mouth didn’t start functioning properly soon, I was going to scream. ‘It’s L-l-Lena.’

      ‘Lena? You sound really weird. I didn’t even recognise you. Gemma isn’t back from Ben’s yet, but she’ll have her mobile on her. Or have you tried that already?’ Jake must have heard the catch in my throat because he didn’t wait for me to reply. ‘Lena, what’s wrong?’

      ‘I n-need her to p-pick me up.’

      ‘Will I do?’ Jake asked softly. ‘Where are you? I don’t recognise the number.’

      My lip wobbled and my eyes brimmed with tears. Even my elbow was shaking under the strain, and it dawned on me that I was clinging onto my self-control by only the thinnest of threads. A strange chattering sound distracted me from answering, I realised it was my teeth only when violent jerks and shudders seized control over my arms and legs. The handset slipped from my fingers, impossible to hold onto, and landed in my lap, where it bounced and jumped before scuttling to the floor.

      The nice Indian lady crouched down beside me and picked it up, putting it to her ear. ‘One second please,’ she said to Jake, before looking at the man and saying something in a language I didn’t understand. Everything was getting a bit disjointed, so she could have been saying the alphabet, or counting from one to ten, and I’m not sure I’d have understood any better. He nodded and disappeared out the back as the lady started talking to Jake again. Again, her words went over my head, but I was mesmerised as this stranger talked to my best friend’s brother on the phone.

      Don’t ask me why, I couldn’t explain it if I tried, but it was suddenly the funniest thing I’d ever seen. Giggles bubbled up inside my chest, then came bursting out of my mouth, right at the same time as water started pouring from my eyes. Tears cascaded over my cheeks and ran down my chin before dripping into my lap leaving little dark spots in the denim where they landed, spreading out like ink in blotting paper.

      A door opened and closed somewhere behind the counter, and the man reappeared with a blanket in his hands. His eyes widened when he saw me, and he shot an alarmed look at the lady, but she just gave him a pointed nod. Who could blame him? I’d be pretty freaked by me too given the circumstances. He edged closer and I leaned forward enough for him to drape the blanket around my shoulders.

      When I say ‘leaned forward’

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