Two weeks had passed before Wesley climbed Garden Hill, early enough that the rising sun smouldered on the horizon, and met Kat at the edge of the browning trees. The dewy grass was already clogged with fallen leaves.
What he had to say was far more than a fortnight overdue. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘For everything.’
When she had got in touch and asked to meet him there, he had almost been too ashamed to go. But he owed her this, and so much more besides. Now he was there, he couldn’t keep the words from spilling out.
‘I told my mum and her boyfriend about the car.’ Wesley had never seen Mum look so disappointed, but it meant Jordan could come back. It gave them another chance to fix everything. ‘And I told the police everything I knew about the attack. They might bring charges against me.’ If that was what he deserved, he would accept it.
Framed by the trees, Kat hadn’t even looked at him. They were separated by a wide patch of overgrown grass, and neither moved to close the gap.
‘There’s nothing I can say to make this right, but—’
‘I know how you feel about yourself.’ Kat turned to him, expressionless. ‘Do you know what I did to you?’
Wesley shifted uncomfortably. The urge to find her, to be close to her, had dissipated soon after she had run away from the car, but the painting on his bedroom wall still gnawed at him in a way that felt similar. Like being caught naked. As if the contents of his soul had been spilled out in front of him.
‘You went . . .’
‘Honestly, I’m sorry for that,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t see any other way.’
It humiliated him, that somebody had seen who he really was. That she had seen. It made him want to hide his face.
‘That painting . . . is that what I look like inside?’
‘More people than you’ll ever know feel the same way you do.’ Kat’s expression darkened. ‘It’s no excuse for the way you acted. To be so . . . hateful.’
Wesley blanched at the word, stammered to defend himself, but Kat wasn’t finished.
‘Nobody would need to feel like that if we were kinder to each other. If we had more empathy.’ She nodded, as if egging herself on. ‘I’ve had to learn to be kind to myself. I can’t do that if any part of me is taken up by hatred for you. You don’t get to take anything more from me.’
‘I wanted to help,’ Wesley said. He had, hadn’t he? ‘I remembered you. Tried to keep you from fading.’
She fixed him with a look that filled him with shame. It was only when there was really no other choice that he had truly tried to help.
‘You were scared for yourself. That’s all. You don’t deserve credit for doing what any decent person would have done sooner.’ said Kat. ‘I know what you’ve done for the other Lonely People, and I’m glad. Being kind is how you won’t be forgotten. We have to stop the people who want us to hate.’
Wesley would do everything he could to make sure TrumourPixel was punished. To make amends to Mum and Dave. To welcome Jordan home. To be good to his new friends. It would be a start.
‘Thank you,’ he said.
‘It wasn’t my job to teach you.’ Kat began to walk, feet pressing the sodden grass flat, past him and onto the path. ‘I want you to remember me. But I never want to speak to you again.’
She moved away down the hill and left him behind, never once looking back.
Wesley waited there a while to watch the town below brighten and stir into life. Up here, he felt separate from the world. It spurred him to turn, and set off back along the path and home.