Fix me

Chapter 30

Kimberley's POV

My mum turns to follow Cheryl, so I follow her. When we reach the door she turns around, slamming her hand on the frame. 'I said I don't want you in my house.'

I decide to get straight to the point while I have the opportunity. This is the last place on Earth I want to be, but I'm here; I might as well make the best of it.

'What exactly is your problem? Adam came to me, he's forgiven me, we're back to normal. I've got my brother back, he finally listened to me, why can't you?'

'I'm not talking to you about this.'

'Why?! Give me one good reason why you hate me so much, when Adam can forgive and forget? Give me one good reason why I nearly died and you still couldn't - I would never do that to you.'

I stop before I burst into tears. I think she knows that's where things are going. I hear Cheryl running back down the stairs. She has one of my old school bags slung across her shoulder. 'You ready to go?'

I just nod, and start walking away. Cheryl grabs my hand tightly, then stops and turns back. 'You disgust me.' She says. We get back in the car and Cheryl hands me the bag she came out with. I make the mistake of looking back at the house; she's gone back inside.

'What's in this?' I ask as Cheryl pulls out and accelerates up the road, back towards the motorway.

'What you wanted, babe.'

My hands are shaking on the clasp of the bag, so I give up and say to Cheryl, 'So what was my room like?'

She doesn't answer. 'Cheryl? I can handle it, it's alright.'

'Everything was boxed up.' Cheryl sighs. 'I made a bit of a mess, really... but the pictures... they were still on the window ledge.'

'Thank you... d'you mind if we pull over soon?'

'There's a service station not far, I'll stop there and we'll get something to eat aswell, yeah?'

'Yeah, that's fine.'

When we pull into the service station, which has a Burger King, Cheryl turns to me. 'D'you want me to leave you alone for a bit babe?'

'Would you mind?' I whisper, surprised she knew that's exactly what I want.

'Not at all.' Cheryl leans over and kisses me. 'I'll go and get us some food and stuff.'

When she's gone, I open the bag. The first thing I do is laugh. Cheryl seems to have grabbed all the CD's I owned and shoved them in. I take them out one by one and study them. My favourite ever book, 'The Catcher in The Rye', is in there too. Cheryl must have noticed how faded and dog-eared it is; I must've read it about fifty times.

I place the music and book on Cheryl's empty seat, then pull out the pictures; she grabbed four, none of them with my mother in them, which makes me smile. One of them is a black and white one of me, my dad and Adam from a photoshoot thing we did when I was about nine. One is me and my dad on the waterlog ride in Blackpool, taken on my fifteenth birthday. The third is a total caught-in-the-moment picture, my dad throwing a laughing, five-year-old me up in the air, his arms out ready to catch me again. The last one is just him, a bit of a close up. It was always my favourite, even though I have no idea where it was taken or when, but he is much younger in it than I ever saw him in life, a casual smile across his face. He's wearing a suit and holding a pint glass. Maybe he was at a wedding. Maybe it was his wedding.

When Cheryl comes back, I'm still holding this photo. I hurriedly shift the stuff off the driver's seat so she can get back in and stuff everything back in the bag. 'How are you babe?'