"i'm crazy but you like that" - skins

(2) Episode 1.4

The whole gang of us were gathered in the sports hall, overlooking a police officer at a small desk in the centre of the room interviewing one student at a time.

Katie had just been called to answer. Emily and Naomi were sat up on desks. JJ was stood opposite us looking worried, and Pandora stood at the edge of the group with a concerned expression. Freddie had his arm draped around Effy, and the pair regularly exchanged reassuring glances.
I wasn't getting any reassuring glances.
Cook stood a foot away from me, letting his eyes meet anyone but mine, and he shuffled in his spot.

"This is fucked up," Emily spoke first, shaking her head. "They're treating us like criminals."
"I know," Effy rolled her eyes. "It's not like we even knew her. How's it our fault when some kid tries to off herself?"
"Because she's dead," JJ answered in a flat tone. "And we were there."
"Still," Emily continued, "it's fucked up. Right, Naomi?"
I turned to look at Naomi beside Emily, who wasn't even slightly engaged in the conversation. She seemed in a world of her own, staring at the wall behind JJ.
"Naomi?" Emily prompted her again.
Naomi snapped out of whatever daydream she was in and turned to look at Emily. "Uh, yeah. It's fucked up."

We exchanged eye contact for a moment, but she'd have known what I was thinking. Why are you acting off? She looked away immediately.

The lot of us all stood silently for another few minutes as the interviews continued, before I watched Cook quickly walk towards the door, with no explanations for his departure.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" I called, taking a few steps to where he'd halted.
"I've got to slash, don't I?" He gestured to his crotch, still shuffling on the spot.

I scanned him up and down for a few seconds before narrowing my eyes. "What the fuck is up with you?"
"Nothing." He replied with a defensive tone.
"Why the fuck are you acting sketchy then? Do you know the girl or something? Shagged her?" I demanded, feeling crazily paranoid.
"Wind your fucking neck in." Cook demanded, shaking his head at me. "I don't know the girl. And I'm not acting weird. You're just being a fucking psycho."
"James Cook, I swear, if you're lying to me, I will make your life a living hell, alright? You better not have the fucking nerve to lie right now." I threatened.
He rolled his eyes. "Fine. Deal. Now do I have permission to go piss now or what?"
I scoffed before walking off.

Emily had been called to interview so I climbed on the desk next to Naomi.
"Hey," I smiled. "Everything okay with you?"
"Everything's fine." She replied instantly. "What about you? Everything okay with Cook?"
"Yeah," I nodded. "I'm just tense about this whole situation." I felt the wave of nausea as I said it.
"How so?" Naomi questioned further.
"It's just affected me to see a girl die, I guess. It's fucking weird. And I've been ridiculously nauseous since then, even throwing up. I just feel... off. Maybe I'm fucking traumatised or something." I shrugged.
"Seems unlike you." Naomi stated.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, don't get me wrong, this is bad. But it's not like you to get mentally affected by something like this. You're the one that keeps everyone's head above water and the humour going with heavy and dark situations. I wouldn't expect you to be so affected by it." Naomi explained.
I shrugged again. "Who knows? Maybe I've got some post-fucking-trauma shit going on."
"It'll be fine." Naomi nodded.

In that exact moment, I instinctively clutched my mouth, feeling the wave of nausea rise further.
"Tell them I'm ill," I managed to break out before running out of the hall.

I sprinted to the nearest toilets, and without even looking at which handle I'd grabbed, I burst inside, still hoping to refrain from vomiting for another moment.

There was a brief moment after I'd opened the door where I'd saw what was happening.
Thomas had Cook pinned against the wall with his forearm, and Cook was angrily shouting into his face, encouraging him to punch him.
The moment was brief of acknowledging this, before my restrain couldn't hold anymore, and I vomited on the floor next to the door for a good ten seconds.

"What the fuck?" I shrieked as I lifted my head, grabbing a paper towel from the wall beside me and aggressively wiping the edges of my mouth.
The pair of them stood with their angry expressions, unsure of what to say. "Huh?" I yelled to prompt them.

"Are you okay?" Cook stepped towards me but I shoved him back harshly, causing him to stumble backwards and into the door of the cubicle.
"What the fuck is going on?" I demanded again. "Why are you fighting in the toilets right now, when they're calling our fucking names in the hall?"
Cook scoffed. "You're accusing again, aren't you?" He snarled, before shoving past me and storming out before I had a chance to say anything else, carefully dodging the pile of vomit as he left.

"What the fuck, Thomas?" I scowled.
Thomas sighed before starting to walk off. As he held the door handle, with his feet also carefully placed so that he didn't touch the sick, I spoke again. "What was that about?"
Thomas briefly looked back. "You should speak to your boyfriend, Jofie. And remember what I said to you this morning." And then he left.

I sighed, staring in the mirror at my mascara-stained eyes from my tears after vomiting and my flushed cheeks on my unusually pale-looking skin. "Fuck this," I whispered under my breath before sitting on the floor with my head in my hands.

***

Effy and I sat at either end of her bed in the middle of her messy room, both smoking a joint each.

"Where did Cook go today?" She asked.
"Well, I found him fighting with Thomas in the toilets," I filled her in, shaking my head as I did so.
"What? Why?" She wondered.
"Fuck knows. Because he's a massive dick?" I gave a guess and she smiled. "I think something's going on with him."
"Like what?" She asked, taking a puff of her joint.
"I don't know. Something fucking weird. He's been sketchy since the weekend."
"You don't think he knew her?" She raised an eyebrow.
"He said he didn't."
"Well, why would he lie?" She questioned, a flat expression on her face looking for a genuine answer to this question.
I shook my head. "I don't know. But I know him enough to know when something's off."

Effy and I lay smoking for a few more minutes before I shot up, palm clenched over my mouth as I rushed to the window.
I stopped once I reached it, letting the wave of nausea pass with a few deep breaths before returning to my seat on the bed and sparking the joint again.

"What the fuck was that?" Effy grinned.
"Think I concluded that I'm suffering with trauma from this whole shit-show."
Effy gave a chuckle. "What?"
I chuckled with her. "It's fine. It's nothing. Just these weird waves of nausea since the incident. You got lucky that time. I nearly threw up on the shit pansies that your mum has planted."
"Sounds odd. I hope you aren't pregnant after your rambunctious summer," she winked, cracking a joke.

But I hadn't even thought of that. Why should I think of that? I wasn't pregnant.
"What? No." I quickly replied, but my gaze trailed off as I attempted to reassure myself.
"Wait." Effy stopped once she'd examined my concerned expression. "There isn't a chance, right? You're on the pill?"
I nodded. "Yeah. I'm on the pill."
"Then you're alright, right?"
"Yeah. Yeah, right. I mean, I missed a few over the summer when we kept passing out early, and I'm just forgetful sometimes... and, that's fine, right? As long as it's not like... a full week of forgetting?" I rambled. Effy had gave me a fuck load of anxiety in that moment.
"You know the answer to that." She scolded.
And she was right. I did. I'd just been too ignorant to consider it or be concerned over it until it was displaying a clear potential worry.

"Fuck. Fuck, no!" I stood up and stamped my foot. "I've missed pills in the past and I've been fine."
"You're probably fine now." Effy shrugged. "But we should probably check to be safe."
"Right," I agreed. "You got any lying around?"
She scoffed and shook her head. "I'm not such a dickhead that I'd risk ending up with pregnancy scares."
I shot her a glare, and she grinned. "Helpful." I snapped and shoved her.
"Not my fault you're a dickhead," she shrugged before laughing while I chased her down the stairs, not needing her jokes at this time.