Don’t Believe Them by Leah Parker (the beginning after the end read novel TXT) 📖

It was time to fight. I stood in the canteen for about twenty minutes and didn’t see Tucker. I walked out slowly in case he was behind the corner waiting to ambush me, and guess what? He did. He jumped on me and he had a few friends with him. I was outnumbered, I was alone. One of the boys kicked the back of my knee and I dropped to the ground. I hit my teeth off of the ground and noticed that I was spitting blood. I looked up hesitantly and Tucker lifted his leg like he was going to stomp on my head, but something awesome happened; Ricky, Eilis and Mickey had come to my rescue. Okay, okay, I know what I said earlier. I’m sorry. Ricky started punching the living daylights out of one of the boys and Mickey and Eilis were beating up the other leaving me to deal with Tucker. We took his men, he was vulnerable.

Without me knowing, Tucker ran away. Luckily it was the end of the day and I could sprint home to keep myself. I thought I was knocked out because the only person who was there was Mickey, he told me that Tucker had ran off so they decided to go home. I was walking out the gate when I heard whimpering. It was Tucker, he was on the roof of the school. I was mesmerised. I didn’t even think about going to help him, I just stood dead watching him. Tucker was standing on the edge sobbing and he kept looking behind him. I knew things were real when he yelled:

“Here I go!” My heart was beating faster than the Euro Star and suddenly there was a huge THUMP! I closed my eyes as hard as I could but I could just imagine him falling- not in a good way. Like, even though I closed my eyes, I could still see him falling, but it was in my head. I opened my eyes and saw Tuck on the ground not moving. Dropping my bag, I ran over to him and immediately checked his pulse. He had a pulse but it was very faint. I grabbed my phone from my pocket and dialled 122. There was an engaged line so I called 999, which answered. I was stressing out and I couldn’t believe he’d do something like that. I was wrong. The emergency operator kept me calm and sent an ambulance to where we were. It was so horrifying and made me question life.

When the ambulance got to school, nobody was allowed to ride with Tucker as his parents were still in Dublin and he wasn’t staying with anyone. Everyone at school watched the ambulance zoom off and I even saw a few people hugging and praying. A tear dropped from my eye. My legs felt like jelly and when I looked to the sky, a raindrop fell onto my frozen forehead. A crow flew from one tree to another. It was then when I realised that this was real, this was happening. The rest of the night I was extremely depressed so I decided to lay in bed and eventually drift off to sleep. I didn’t get to sleep. I walked into the bathroom to wash my face to help me fall asleep and I looked up into the mirror and I saw a huge black eye. I took a picture of it and sent it to my mum hoping she’d take interest in me again.

While tossing and turning in bed, I couldn’t help but think about Tucker jumping and the reason I was fuming because of him. Okay, yes, he made my life a living hell, but I feel so guilty. What if I pushed him over the edge? What will happen if he doesn’t survive? What will happen to me? Will I be arrested? Surely that can’t be the case, he’s got to survive and be the same old Tucker Smythe.

All night, I’ve just been wondering how grandma would handle this situation. Maybe she’d help me through it by baking my cookies or bread pudding or something, but no, her Alzheimers has gotten that much worse she hasn’t got a clue who any of us are. And that breaks my heart because she’s always been my rock and my shoulder to cry on. My grandma was okay when I was little, I used to stay with her every time I liked and she’d make me cookies from scratch made from only the stuff in the cupboards, but they tasted so good. One day when I was eight, I walked in her house and I could smell the glorious bread pudding. I sat down in the living room on the couch and grandma walked in with a fresh tray of bread pudding. She grabbed a knife and cut it into little squares and we ate the whole lot. That was the last ever desert she had made for me before this disease took it’s toll. It’s really sad if you think about it; she’s my grandma but not my grandma, if you understand what I’m saying.

22/7

Last night I did get to sleep, but it was only a few dragging hours. My eyes are so sore because the night just dragged and there was nothing I could do about that.

When I went downstairs for breakfast, Mickey’s Mum, Mary, noticed my black eye. It’s almost the weekend and Mickey and I aren’t going to school as we were going to see Tucker laying still in the hospital bed half dead. Wow, that’s deep. My eye is actually swollen and purple. They must’ve hit me hard. I’m not worried about that anymore, I’m worried about getting Tucker well again. My appetite had gone; I knew that when Mickey’s Dad, Richard, made us a full English. I didn’t want to be rude so I scoffed it and faked that I felt full. I felt sick after that so I threw it all back up. On purpose. I didn’t even know why, but I felt like I needed to throw up. I think it was the picture of him falling, I couldn’t get it out of my head. It was engraved in my brain.

Staying off school was so boring. I felt as if the walls were going to cave in on me. I got so anxious before going to see Tuck. Part of me said that I shouldn’t be going to see him, but I’m a good person and it was me who was fighting him. He deserved my apology, and I was going to give it to him. I just felt so bad. We decided to go after lunch, when we had eaten. I didn’t feel great after this morning but I was starving. I ate my sandwich and a packet of crisps with a carton of apple juice. I was still hungry so with my money, I walked to the corner shop and bought some sweets. As a nice person, I shared them with the crew on the way to the hospital.

Looking through Tucker’s room window, I realised how far I pushed him. He was battered. Literally, he had two black eyes, grazed and cut face, his lips were all open, he had a fractured skull, his legs were broke and his right arm fractured and he had a ruptured spleen. The doctors said that they have to keep him in an induced coma, just in case his body starts fixing its self, but they did say that he could die. I couldn’t have that on my conscience. I walked into the melancholic room and tears automatically filled my eyes. I sat down in the chair next to his bed and glanced at all the wires going in and out of him. It was horrific. Staring at his beaten up face, I took his stone cold hand. A tear dropped down onto them.

“Tucker, it’s Jesse. I’m here to say I’m sorry.” I wiped a tear from my face. “I hope you can hear me. Please, please, please stay with us. You will be in pain, but the world needs you; I need you, Tucker. Your family needs you.” I put my head on our hands and I just felt a presence behind me. It made a shiver go down my spine. As soon as I kissed his hand, his nurse came in- just getting off the phone- and nodded his head at me. He walked up to Tuck’s life machine and I stopped him in his tracks.

“What are you doing?” I asked grievously. His head shot round and his big blue eyes stared into my soul, but he was a nice person.

“His condition hasn’t changed at all, actually, its got worse. He’s completely brain dead. I just told his mother and she wants me to pull the plug.” He couldn’t be serious, right? But he was. Perhaps it was better for Tucker. According to the nurse he was practically dead anyway. He pulled it. The plug. I didn’t let go of Tucker’s hand even when Mickey came in. We were escorted out of the room, but before we went, we kissed Tucker on the forehead. He was so cold and I guess you can’t survive an eighteen ft drop. It’s a drop to your death I suppose.

It was a silent drive home. When we got home, Mickey grabbed me and pulled me into a hug. He hugged and cried together. Something all friends do. It was nice to know that even though Mickey is not my biological brother, he is always a brother at heart.

I tried distancing myself emotionally from Mickey because I felt like I needed to deal with this alone. I was the reason he died. I don’t even like saying his name anymore; it’s too emotional and I can’t keep putting myself in that position.

I ate the last Bon Bon and I felt like I was teasing…you know who. I ran to the bathroom and stuck my fingers down the back of my throat until I purged. It felt horrible but I shouldn’t tease a dead kid with his favourite sweets.

Mickey heard me throwing up and ran straight into the bathroom where I was. I was crying because it felt horrible but I also felt skinny. I suddenly felt better so I went back downstairs with him and we ate a few family sized bags of crisps and drank a cup of tea. It was heaven. We had a chat about Tucker and how we would like to have a memorial service for him. I thought the idea and I’m glad I did, mainly so I can say sorry and goodbye, and we found Tucker’s parents on Facebook and invited them. They said they didn’t want to come because Tucker was adopted and they hated him and regretted the idea ever since they signed the papers. That was extremely disrespectful seeing as he’s dead.

18/9

Sorry I haven’t been writing, my life has been crashing down on me and smothering me until I’m dead. Pretty harsh thinking, I know, but that’s honestly how I feel right now. Lately, I’ve been purging almost everyday so Mickey’s Mum, Mary, is taking me to the doctors tomorrow, I’m pretty worried something is wrong with me. I think there is though, because I’ve proper gone off food but some nights I would binge eat ice cream and Curly Wurly’s. If I don’t throw up, I have a horrible pain in my stomach until I force myself to. Mary made some really nice smelling lasagne yesterday but I couldn’t get it to my mouth, my brain told me it wasn’t food so I couldn’t eat it.

Today, my sickness was the worst. I threw up about three times after lunch and it was like a volcano had erupted in my stomach and the lava went straight up my trachea- my throat. I could’ve sworn it had burnt holes in