The Disconnect Read online

  Not that I get to go on planes much, but maybe this will change that! Hopefully I’ll win the £1,000 so I can come to New York!

  Did you get my first card? Have you sent me any cards? Did you explain The Disconnect to Dad? Send him my love.

  Miss you.

  Esther xxxxxxx

  10

  Spies

  I get my first postcard from Rosa the next Monday. On one side is a picture of the Statue of Liberty. On the other she’s written:

  Dear Essie,

  Love you and miss you loads. Looking forward to getting your first card and maybe Skyping soon. Zack misses your face on our phone! Dad’s babysitting tonight and Carlos and I are going out. First date since Z was born! Squeezing into my black dress.

  Love, love, love you, little sis xxxxxx

  PS You are brave Disconnecting. Wish I could.

  I love it. I love it so much that I burst into tears over breakfast and Mum offers me her phone to FaceTime Rosa. Luckily, we realise it’d be too early for her. “It’s not really cheating, is it?” Mum asks. “It’s my phone and my account.”

  I dither. “It’s not strictly cheating, but it is cheating,” I say. “I mean, I wouldn’t feel good about it. And I think it’d make The Disconnect harder.”

  “I remember when I gave up sugar,” Mum says. “It was hell for a fortnight and then I felt better than I ever had. And I lost two stone so easily.”

  “So why didn’t you keep off it?” I ask.

  “I wanted to,” Mum says as she spreads marmalade on her toast. “And then I made an exception for our wedding cake. And then it was my birthday, and then … well, I love marmalade. And cakes. And now I run a cafe. It was just too hard.”

  “Hmm,” I say. “I’d better be going. Don’t want to be late for school. Maybe we can Skype Rosa later.”

  “And your dad,” Mum says.

  At lunch‑time, I remember Maura and look around for her. She’s sitting on her own in a far corner of the playground, eating a sandwich and reading a book. I nudge Natalie.

  “Look, Maura,” I say. “All on her own.”

  “So what?” Natalie says.

  “Well, couldn’t we go and keep her company?” I suggest.

  “What and hear more about life without a smart phone?” Natalie moans. “Listen, Esther, don’t go weird on me here. We’re doing this to get money and buy better phones, OK? And clothes and make‑up and stuff.”

  “And a ticket to New York,” I remind her.

  “That Maura shouldn’t even be allowed to take part in The Disconnect,” Natalie says. “She said it herself. She’s got nothing to disconnect from.”

  “She seemed really nice though,” I say. “And a bit lonely.”

  “Well, you go if you want to. I’m going to talk to Tommy. Look, River’s with him.”

  There is no way that I’m going over there with Natalie, who’s so keen on Tommy that it’s a bit embarrassing. Also, I’m kind of annoyed that she thinks she can give me permission to spend time with Maura. I make my own decisions.

  “OK,” I say to Natalie. “Say hi from me.” And before she can reply, I’m walking towards Maura. I can imagine Nat’s face – her eyes, like lasers, shooting holes in my back.

  It’s not that Natalie’s very bossy or I’m especially quiet. It’s just that we’ve been friends since we were nine, and Natalie is the sort of person that you keep being friends with because you hear what she says about her enemies.

  Not seeing Natalie online, not seeing her comments – it’s been a relief. And I’ve managed fine without taking six pictures of myself every day to send to her for approval before I leave the house.

  In fact, maybe I’d rather stay Disconnected from Natalie for longer than six weeks.

  By the time I reach Maura and sit down next to her, Natalie’s with Tommy and River. She’s laughing, touching River’s arm, glancing over at me. I refuse to imagine what she’s saying.

  “Hey,” I say to Maura. “Hope you don’t mind me sitting here.”

  “Not at all,” she says. “Thanks for Friday. I love your cafe.”

  “Oh well, it’s my mum and stepdad’s, not mine. It was nice to see it full of people.”

  “Isn’t it normally?” Maura asks.

  I explain about the toxic review.

  “I can tell people about it,” says Maura, “like my parents. And my grandparents.”

  “Thanks, Maura,” I say.

  “And couldn’t you advertise?”

  “They tried that,” I tell her. “But I think people look the cafe up online first.”

  “Annoying,” she says. “I’ll think about it. I’m sure there must be a way. How are you coping without a phone? What’s the worst thing?”

  I explain about Rosa and Zack and Dad in New York, and she sympathises. I tell her about the postcards, and she says she knows a good shop for cards, just up the road in Stroud Green, and maybe we could go there together after school. Then the bell goes and we walk across the playground together. She seems like such a nice girl. And she lives fairly near us, just over the other side of the park.

  We’re going into the side entrance, by the school hall, when we see a woman coming towards us. Black trouser suit. Clipboard. White hair. Pearl earrings. Dame Irene Irvine is visiting again.

  “Hello, girls,” Dame Irene says, stopping in front of us. “Coming to the hall?”

  “Err … I’ve got Maths,” I say.

  “But you’re part of the Disconnect programme, aren’t you?” Dame Irene asks, and bares her dazzling white teeth. “Emma … no, Esther …”

  I’m stunned that she knows my name.

  “Yes, but—”

  “We’re monitoring you all very closely,” Dame Irene says. Her smile is like a shark that’s spotted a tasty shoal of mackerel. “How’s it going, dear?”

  “Err, OK,” I say. “But I really have got Maths.”

  But then River and Natalie and Tommy appear, and it turns out that we have all been told to go to the hall. “See you there,” Dame Irene says, and she trots off down the corridor.

  We sit in a row, and I’m in prime position to notice that Natalie and Tommy keep bumping knees. River, on my other side, has used aftershave, which he certainly didn’t do when I sat next to him in Year Seven – back when he used to pretend that he was a champion sky‑diver descended from Saxon royalty. Then I thought he was strange. Now, as River turns and smiles at me, I’m thinking that I’m glad we’re friends. And I’m glad he’s still in The Disconnect, because not many other people are. Maybe forty of us in total, all crammed into the first few rows in the hall.

  Mr Lamarr says a few words, mostly along the lines of well done, keep going, stay strong. Then Dame Irene shimmers onto the stage. She’s not smiling any more.

  “Well,” Dame Irene says. “How interesting. You are the strong ones. You are the ones who are not scared to go against the flow. You are the outliers. You are the mavericks.”

  “The what?” Natalie whispers to me.

  “We’re weird,” I whisper back.

  “You aren’t scared of standing out from the crowd,” Dame Irene continues. “You’re bold and independent and strong.”

  I’m getting bored. We’ve got a Maths exam coming up and I can’t afford to miss a lesson to listen to this.

  Dame Irene gets to the point.

  “But it wouldn’t be fair if some of you were cheating,” she says. “So, we’re asking you to keep an eye on each other. Is anyone bending the rules? From now on, no borrowing phones from friends or family. No use at all of social media accounts. We’ll be monitoring you, and you’ll be monitoring each other. And if you report someone and it’s proven they were cheating … Well, their £1,000 goes to you.”

  11

  Running

  It’s 7 a.m. on Saturday morning and River and I are heading for the park. I’m a bit self‑conscious in shorts and a T‑shirt, but Mum assured me I looked fine, saying, “And anyway, you’re going running
. Not to a fashion show.”

  Not for the first time, I wish that Rosa still lived with us. And I actually wish I’d been able to take a selfie and send it for Natalie’s approval – except then she’d know what I was doing. And there’s something a bit exciting about not having told any of my friends what I’ve got planned.

  Who’d have thought I could be so secretive? Or is this just what privacy means?

  We get to the park and walk up to the bit with the cafe and the loos and the playground, because River thinks it’s best to run downhill first, to warm up. “Twice round the perimeter is 5k,” River says, “but if you’ve never run before, that might be a bit much for you.”

  “I’ve run a bit, but not for ages,” I tell him.

  Why not? I used to be busy all the time. But now I realise that a lot of being busy involved keeping up with stuff on my phone. And also, running was something that Rosa and I did together. And she’s not here any more.

  We start off down the hill. The weather is perfect – not too hot, but not cold at all, a little breeze, a bit of sunshine sparkling on the lake. There are geese and ducks, crows and gulls crying from the trees. And I’m remembering how good it feels to be running – to feel alive from my head to my toes. To feel that my whole body is doing something, not just my head or my eyes or ears.

  We round the corner and jog on to the part of the park that Rosa calls the ugly bit, but I like it because it’s a wide avenue lined with trees. You can hear traffic and you can see buses and buildings, and you know you’re part of a big city heaving with people, but you’ve found a little bit of peace and space for yourself.

  And then we’re climbing up the steepest part of the hill again to take us back to where we started.

  “Phew!” I say. I’m tired but up for another lap. This time we go slower, and at the end I slow to a walk, but River’s impressed.

  “It won’t take you long,” he tells me. “You’ll be back doing 5k really soon.”

  I’m sure my face must be bright red, and I can feel sweat trickling down the back of my neck. I must look awful. But I don’t really care. River is looking pretty sweaty himself.

  “I didn’t think you’d be that good,” he says.

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know, I never saw you as sporty.”

  “I don’t like school sport really,” I tell him. “I don’t like competitions, teams, that sort of thing. It makes me worried about letting people down.” I have a flashback to the Year Five netball tournament. I threw the ball to the wrong person and Natalie refused to talk to me for what felt like a month.

  “I used to be into football,” River says. “But then things went a bit crazy in my life and I stopped. Maybe I should start again.”

  We go and get water from the cafe and then wander along the path that runs down the middle of the park. Then, suddenly, River stops dead.

  “What is it?” I ask him.

  “There – look – on that bench,” he says.

  River points, and I see right away. Even though they have their backs to us.

  Tommy and Natalie. And they’re looking at a phone.

  12

  Choices

  My head is spinning with all the options.

  We could get their £2,000! But we’d have to prove it somehow. Could we stop a passer‑by and get them to take a picture on their phone?

  We could confront them! That’s what River wants to do. I manage to stop him by shaking my head hard and pulling him backwards. Now he looks like he thinks I’m mad.

  We could ignore them altogether. Pretend it never happened. But they’re cheating! It’s not fair!

  Maybe it isn’t even them? But it’s Natalie’s blonde ponytail and skinny shoulders all right, not to mention the fuchsia nail varnish.

  We could get their £2,000! But Natalie wouldn’t be my friend any more.

  Would I care that much? That’s a lot more money for a trip to New York. And Natalie can be a bit of a snark.

  River breaks into my thoughts. “Esther? What are we going to do?”

  “Can we stop someone and get them to take a picture?” I suggest.

  “What?”

  “We could win their money!” I say. “But we need proof, and without a mobile phone …”

  “What? No!” River says. “I’m not spying on them!”

  I should have realised that’s how he’d feel.

  “Sorry,” I say. “It’s just that they’re cheating. Clearly breaking the rules. And it doesn’t seem fair …”

  “I’m not spying, no matter how much money’s at stake.” River is looking at me, puzzled. “I didn’t think you were like that.”

  I’m trying not to feel too upset. But it’s a bit much to be told off and at the same time lose your chance to have plenty of money to take Mum and Avi to New York.

  “I’m not!” I tell him. “Are you saying I’m greedy? I have a good reason for wanting to win as much money as I can.”

  River shrugs.

  “Seriously!” I say. “Are you so rich that you don’t care about money?” He has no answer.

  We’re halfway up the path. We watch as Natalie and Tommy put the phone away (in Natalie’s bag) and walk out of the Manor House exit of the park.

  Huh.

  “I’m going home,” I say. The beautiful day, the great run – it all feels spoiled.

  “Look, we need to talk about this.” River’s frowning. “Why don’t you come back to my house?”

  “I need to have a shower and get changed,” I tell him.

  “Come round after, then. We’ve just moved house – it’s a bit of a mess.” River gives me the address and leaves me by the entrance to the park. I’m suddenly aware of all the people in the street, and how sweaty and messy I must look. So I run all the way home.

  “There you are,” Mum says as I come in. “There’s another postcard for you from Rosa. And Dad really wants you to Skype.”

  “I can’t,” I tell her. “I need to have a shower and then I’m going out.”

  “But, Esther—” She’s interrupted by her ringtone (Elton John). “I’d better get this,” she says.

  I take the postcard. A picture of Central Park, which looks – I can’t lie – a lot smarter than Finsbury Park. The other side is covered with small writing. I’m so happy! I decide to save it until I’ve had my shower.

  The shower feels good. I take my time, drying my hair, choosing what to wear. (I go for my black dress – I like to think it makes me look older, taller and like I might be a very young MP or someone else important and serious and interesting.) I do my make‑up. And I twitch to take a selfie and send it to Natalie, but that makes me remember her secret phone and I feel cross all over again.

  I mean, why didn’t Natalie tell me? Does she think she can’t trust me? I bet Shaquilla and Sophie know. And what’s going on with her and Tommy? Normally I’d know every detail by now.

  At last. Time for Rosa’s postcard.

  Hi Essie!

  How are you? How’s The Disconnect going? How’s the cafe, and Mum and Avi?

  It’s all fine here. Zack is so cute. He can sit up all by himself, and roll over, and he’s babbling all the time. It’s like he’s practising being able to talk. I’m beginning to realise that he won’t be a baby for long! I know that sounds silly, but I never really thought beyond the first year. It was such a huge thing – “I’m having a baby!” – that I never really thought about him being a real human. Someone who can talk for himself. His own person.

  Anyway, it’s all going well with Carlos. I know it was a bit touch and go for a while, but he’s really committed to Z, and me, and he wants us to come with him when he goes to San Francisco. Like, to live with him. Wouldn’t that be cool? So we’re going to have a look, next week. Just to see what it’s like. California! Can you imagine?!

  Lots and lots and lots of love

  Rosa xxxxxx

  13

  Info check

  On the way to River�
��s house, I stop by the shop that Maura told me about and buy a bunch of postcards. They’re nice – all sorts of designs – but I’m too upset to spend much time picking them. I grab some at random and then go into the post office to buy stamps. I stand at the counter to write one (it’s got a picture of Buckingham Palace):

  What? San Francisco? But I’m going to come and see you in NEW YORK! Now I have to choose between you and Dad. That’s not fair, Rosa.

  That’s if I finish The Disconnect. Otherwise I guess I’ll never see you again. Or Dad.

  It’s not OK when you never see people. It’s not the same, talking on a phone or sending postcards. It’s nothing like the same. You KNOW that. Why did you have to go so far away? Why can’t you come home?

  My friend is cheating. She’s breaking the rules. And I don’t know what to do about it.

  I shove it into the postbox. Then I think some more and pick another card (a kitten in a plant pot):

  Actually, Mum and Avi are really worried, and the cafe is losing money. Someone’s leaving bad reviews on the internet. I don’t know what to do.

  And my friend who’s cheating? I don’t even know if I want her to be my friend any more. So maybe I should tell on her and get the money?

  But River – he’s my new friend – he’s really against spying on principle. And I don’t know how I’d prove Natalie’s cheating anyway.

  I wish you were here! I MISS YOU SO MUCH. It’s not like missing Dad. He was never here.

  I post that one too.

  Then I walk to River’s house, getting lost twice because how does anyone find their way without GPS? It turns out River lives in a big house up the hill, and I really should have got the W3 bus because it stops next to his street.

  I never knew River was rich, I think as I walk up the path to his front door.

  The door is opened by a tall white guy with the shiniest hair I’ve ever seen, and the longest legs. He’s holding a tiny baby and he looks a bit harassed.