Skin Deep. Laura Jarratt

on the table by accident. I was folding it up when I saw the headline on the front page:

      STRENTON MAN TAKES ACTION AGAINST THE MENACE OF DANGEROUS DRIVERS

      I frowned and sat down to look at the article, my skin flushing and crawling the more I read:

      Local businessman Clive Reed has taken his campaign to Parliament after enlisting the support of Whitmere M.P. Trevor Davies.

      Following the car crash that led to the death of two teenagers and left his fourteen-year-old daughter horrifically disfigured, Clive Reed has been campaigning for action to be taken by county police to combat dangerous driving on our roads. The outcry caused when the eighteen-year-old driver of the car, Steven Carlisle, also of Strenton, was given a suspended sentence has made him even more determined to bring the issue to national attention. Carlisle was driving under the influence of alcohol and drugs, but walked free from court in June after the judge heard a range of character witnesses speak in his defence, including representatives from Whitmere Rugby Club. Carlisle received a lengthy driving ban, but with local opinion running high, Mr Reed’s pressure group has swelled in number.

      David Morris, whose daughter was one of the two girls who died in the accident, has given the campaign his full support. ‘Clive has been amazing,’ he said. ‘After Charlotte was killed my wife and I were too distraught to organise something on this scale. Clive’s made people around here sit up and realise that we need to do something to keep our children safe.’

      Mr Reed spoke to our reporter yesterday. ‘This verdict is a travesty of our justice system. The only fair result would have been a custodial sentence. We are now seeking a review of the handling of this case and we’re calling for tougher sentencing and a greater police presence on our roads.’ Mr Reed’s distress was clear as he added, ‘I would hate for any other parent to have to go through what we have all suffered.’

      I was shaking when I stopped reading, and I was shaking again when Dad got home that evening and I confronted him. ‘When were you going to tell me?’ I asked as I threw the paper down on the table.

      He sat down wearily. ‘When we thought you were ready.’

      ‘Horrifically disfigured – you let them print that in the newspaper. And down here’ – I prodded the paper – ‘it says a photo of me will be used in your leaflets. You’re going to put my photo in there. Without telling me. Without asking me.’ My voice rose to a scream. ‘What the hell gives you the right to do that?’

      ‘That was taken out of context,’ he protested. ‘It was only a suggestion from Charlotte’s dad. He thought it might help. Your mum said it wasn’t the right time to talk to you about it. We wouldn’t have done it without –’

      ‘Oh yes, like you told me about this whole campaign?’

      ‘Jenna, for God’s sake, we have to do something. That boy has ruined your life!’

      The words were out there, though he looked like he could have bitten his tongue off for saying them. I got up and ran blindly to the door. He followed me up the stairs, putting his foot in my bedroom door as I tried to slam it.

      ‘Jenna, I didn’t mean that your life is over. Of course not, it’s all ahead of you. But look what he’s put you through, the pain, the operations. You could have died too!’

      ‘You didn’t even wait until the mask is off.’ I tore at the plastic mould on my face, but he grabbed my hands to stop me. ‘It’s me who has to wear this. Me!’

      He hung on to my wrists. ‘Don’t. You’ll hurt yourself. It’ll be off soon. You’ll get back to normal then, see your friends.’

      ‘Oh yes, except my best friend is dead! It won’t be back to normal for her, will it? It won’t ever be normal.’ I hated Dad then. I’d heard him talk to Mum about how Lindz changed after her mum left and seen the frown crease his forehead when we went out together. He thought she was a bad influence. He couldn’t see her the way I did. How she glowed brighter than other people and that I wanted to sparkle like her.

      ‘But you’re alive, Jenna. Thank God, you’re alive.’

      ‘Yes, and I wish I wasn’t!’

      Dad let me go and backed away. Mum came running upstairs and pushed him aside and he left me for her to deal with.

      What he said stayed with me. There was no way out of this. I couldn’t go running to my parents and have them make it better like when I cut my knee playing with Charlie when we were little, or when I got stuck on my maths homework. This was never, ever going to go away. Like the man on the market stall, I’d be stared at. I’d be wrong all my life. No going back. No making me right.

      Too soon we pulled into the drive. Mum had to park on the lawn because there were so many other cars there.

      ‘Why is he having it here?’ I muttered, wanting to know, but not wanting to speak to her either.

      She hesitated before she answered. ‘Last time they met at the village hall, but the cars were vandalised. Paintwork keyed and the tyres let down.’

      And I knew who’d have done that. We all knew.

      ‘They’ll be in the kitchen,’ Mum said. ‘Go in through the front door and straight upstairs if you don’t want to see them. I’ll bring you a hot chocolate.’

      Charlie was doing trumpet practice in his room so I lay on my bed with my iPod turned up high to drown him out. Sometimes now I scared myself. Sometimes I couldn’t hold it in and go back to being Mum and Dad’s normal Jenna, even in the safety of my home. I wasn’t sure if any of that girl was still left. Perhaps the thing inside me had eaten her all away. Maybe I only acted at being her now.

      Before the accident, I used to daydream about meeting a boy who didn’t want Lindsay or a Lindsay wannabe. He only wanted me. That was crazy thinking because Lindz was catnip for boys. She could get anyone she wanted. I’d watch her go into action, torn between admiration and jealousy, knowing I could never be like that. When she wanted the rich and unattainable Steven Carlisle, she’d even hooked him. But this dream boy would only be interested in me. We’d do regular things like go to the cinema, bowling with friends, hold hands, kiss eventually. Things I was ready for. Things Mum and Dad would be happy with. Things Lindz would laugh at as babyish.

      And sometimes, after the accident, I used to dream it could still be possible. That someone would see past the scars and not care about them. Hopeless dreams. Stupid little girl dreams.

      Dad sat on my bed and I jumped. With my headphones on I hadn’t heard him come in.

      ‘We’re having coffee and cakes. Come down and say hello.’

      I turned the iPod off. ‘Why? So you can exhibit your freak to the crowd?’

      His eyes registered his hurt and disappointment. ‘Where did that come from? Have some manners. Those people down there care about you. You’ve known most of them since you were a little girl. They’re doing this for you.’

      ‘If they care then they should leave me alone, like I want.’ I reached to turn my iPod on again, but he snatched it away.

      ‘Don’t be so selfish and rude. I want you down there in five minutes.’

      So five minutes later, I went down to play the part of Daddy’s good, tragic little daughter. I smiled at the people while they smiled at my left ear. Mrs Crombie from the village shop cut me an enormous piece of chocolate cake and pressed me to eat it. Charlotte’s dad asked me heartily how school was going, which was brave of him, I guess, considering. Mrs Atkins from Belle Vue Cottage told me about her new kittens.

      ‘Does it make you sick to look at me?’ I wanted to ask. But Mum and Dad would never have forgiven me if I did, so I put the old Jenna on for them until I could escape back to my room.

      Later, when they’d all left and the coast was clear, I crept down to the kitchen for a glass of milk. Mum and Dad were in the sitting room whispering to