Eight Boys and a Walker girl

25 | Sugar

25 | Sugar

I have to take a bus home. I spend the journey sat in my seat, shivering, hugging myself to try and warm my frozen arms. I'm beginning to hate this dress.

By the time I get home, it's practically midnight, and it's pitch black outside. I let myself in with my key, and after receiving no shout from Mum, which lets me know that she's asleep, I drag myself up to my room, change out of my dress and into an oversized shirt of Jamie's and a pair of sweatpants, and climb into bed.

I can't sleep. I keep going over and over what happened tonight in my mind- Julian's face, his clenching fists, the fury in his voice as he told me not to hang around him anymore. His departing back, the sound of the car-door slamming, and finally the cold realisation that nothing could mend our friendship after this.

Tonight, I saw a side of Julian that I'd never seen before.

What is it about this 'Jen' that gets him so triggered?

I blink, rubbing my eyes, trying to get to sleep- I'm tired, after all. Tomorrow's a Saturday, which means I can lie in, but I still want to sleep now. But after several minutes of tossing and turning fruitlessly, I have to give up. I'm not going to be able to doze off after the eventfulness of the night. My mind won't let me rest.

I slide out from under my covers and sit up, flicking on my bedside lamp. I reach out towards my bookcase, planning to read until I fall asleep of my body's own accord- but then I stop.

I can't sleep- but everyone else in the house is. I'm the only one awake- so no one will disturb me. I can do anything I like.

Meaning...I can search Julian's room.

That probably sounded really creepy, but my intentions are purely innocent. If Julian won't tell me who Jen is, I'll just have to find out myself- and what better way than to look through his things? I push down any pricks of guilt I feel at the thought of invading his privacy, telling myself that it's his fault. If I have to be sneaky to find out the truth, he only has himself to blame for not telling me.

All the same, fear and shame gnaws at me as I tiptoe out of my room and along the landing, up the stairs, and hover outside the door of the attic bedroom that he and Frankie share. I'm about to do something bold, dangerous, and sly. If Julian catches me, he'll never speak to me again.

So don't get caught, Evvie!

Taking a deep breath, I ease his door open.

I remember which bed is his from the time we watched The Hate U Give in his room. The photo with his family and mother is in the same place as last time- propped up on the bedside table. I head for it first.

That's when I realise- Julian isn't in his bed.

A cold chill runs down my spine. What does this mean? It means that Julian could be anywhere. He could be in the bathroom, and burst in any moment, and that would be any chance of us rekindling our friendship gone. I badly want to leave, to run back to my room and hibernate under my blanket until morning- I probably would have done- if it weren't for something catching my eye.

It's the photo of his family- the frame. There's something off about it.

I peer at it more closely, picking it up carefully, heart still hammering from fear that Julian will come in and find me amongst his personal things. I run a finger along the ornate frame, smiling at the cuteness of all the McCartney boys, all looking so alike yet unlike, their current selves-

My finger stops. It's been stopped- by something sharp. An edge.

I squint down at what has prevented my finger from moving along the frame, and realise that it's the corner of a piece of paper- the sort of hard, shiny paper that could only be one thing- a polaroid. It's been concealed beneath the original photo, hidden in the frame. Inhaling, I gently unclip the original family photo from the back of the frame, laying it down on Julian's bed, and remove the polaroid, of which I can only see the back, from the frame. I turn it over in my hand- and gasp.