Knife's Edge

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

It takes two whole days for Stella and George to reach their decision about the concert. Two whole days consisting of Bailey's toxic silent treatment, three missed calls and five texts from Dylan, and a mere six hours of sleep.

It's been a long two days.

With everything falling to shit around me, I had fully expected them to say no. Stella's argument about Karen had been a solid one; I wouldn't have blamed them for it. So, I'm sure you can imagine my surprise on Friday morning, when she and George pulled me to one side after breakfast to give me the news.

Their answer was yes. We can go to the concert – subject to a few conditions, of course.

From what they were saying, it was Bailey and I who helped them reach their decision. By which I mean our rapidly depleting relationship has left them clutching at straws, scrambling for the only thing left they believe might actually salvage it. They, like me, can see the potential of this one night.

It's more than a concert; it's a chance for Bailey and me to bond over something other than our crappy childhood.

And, like Stella and George said to me this morning, if Karen has a problem with that then she can get fucked.

Okay, so maybe those weren't quite the words they used, I might be paraphrasing slightly there. But you get the idea.

If Karen has a problem with it, they're willing to fight in our corner. If going to this concert together will help mend the sudden crack formed between Bailey and me – the one splitting further each time she blatantly snubs me at the dinner table – then in their eyes it's worth the fight.

Unbeknownst to the girl, it was probably Bailey that brought about this conclusion.

I saw the way Stella's face fell last night when Bailey refused to so much as acknowledge my existence, let alone pass me the salt from across the table like I'd asked her to. I saw the look George gave us, a frown creasing his forehead and dissolving his usual cheer.

They were both devastated. They hate it when we fight.

Only, we're not fighting – not really. We're not even talking.

Bailey is practically treating me like a ghost: silent and invisible.

It's clear that she's still pissed about the Wilson's thing, and she refuses to acknowledge that she even did anything wrong. Meanwhile, I'm not prepared to apologise for doing the right thing, so we're stuck in this perpetual state of... nothing.

I try to talk to her; she won't even look at me.

I try talking to her again; she leaves the room.

I stop trying.

That's how it's been these past few days, tense and exhausting. Only, today, I refuse to give up. Today I have a reason to keep trying – because I can't take Bailey anywhere, let alone to a concert, if she keeps ignoring me.

The mending of that crack starts today.

With a deep breath, I steady my nerves as I knock on Bailey's door, a determined tap-tap-tap that sounds far more confident than I feel. The resulting snarl of, "get lost!" doesn't make that confidence grow any, but I push the door open regardless.

I find Bailey sitting on her bed, scrolling through her phone with that usual, angry scowl etched onto her face. At ten past eight in the evening, she's still dressed in her school uniform, her shirt untucked messily and tie loosened around her neck. The top button of her shirt is undone, revealing the skull-pendant necklace that Charlotte got her for Christmas peeking out from underneath.