The See-Through Leopard Read online

  The See-Through Leopard

  Sibel Hodge

  Most sixteen-year-old girls are obsessed with their looks, but Jazz Hooper's obsessed for a different reason. After a car accident that kills her mum, Jazz is left with severe facial scars and retreats into a dark depression.

  Fearing what will happen if Jazz doesn't recover, her dad makes a drastic decision to move them from England to a game reserve in Kenya for a new start. And when Jazz finds an orphaned leopard cub, it sets off a chain of events that lead her on a two year journey of discovery, healing, and love.

  “A percentage of the royalties from the sale of this book will be contributed to Panthera, a leading international conservation organization dedicated to protecting and preserving the world’s big cats.” -- Sibel Hodge, Author

  Also by Sibel Hodge

  Fiction:

  Trafficked: The Diary of a Sex Slave

  Fourteen Days Later

  My Perfect Wedding

  The Baby Trap

  How to Dump Your Boyfriend in the Men’s Room (and other short stories)

  It’s a Catastrophe

  Fashion, Lies, and Murder (Amber Fox Mystery No 1)

  Money, Lies, and Murder (Amber Fox Mystery No 2)

  Voodoo, Lies, and Murder (Amber Fox Mystery No 3)

  Chocolate, Lies, and Murder (Amber Fox Mystery No 4)

  Non Fiction:

  A Gluten Free Taste of Turkey

  A Gluten Free Soup Opera

  Healing Meditations for Surviving Grief and Loss

  About the author

  Sibel Hodge is the author of bestselling romantic comedy Fourteen Days Later. She has 8 cats and 1 husband. In her spare time, she’s Wonder Woman! When she’s not out saving the world from dastardly demons, she writes books for adults and children.

  Her work has been shortlisted for the Harry Bowling Prize 2008, Highly Commended by the Yeovil Literary Prize 2009, Runner up in the Chapter One Promotions Novel Comp 2009, nominated Best Novel with Romantic Elements in 2010 by The Romance Reviews, and a Finalist in the eFestival of Words 2013. Her novella Trafficked: The Diary of a Sex Slave has been listed as one of the Top 40 Books About Human Rights by Accredited Online Colleges.

  For more information, please visit http://www.sibelhodge.com/

  “And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through,

  how you managed to survive.

  You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over.

  But one thing is certain.

  When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in.

  That’s what this storm is all about.”

  -- Haruki Murakami

  Chapter 1

  Do you believe that everything happens for a reason? Mum did, in a big way, although I never quite got it, and I’d thought about it a lot in the year since the accident. I mean, if good things happen, then yes, maybe you can find a reason. But when bad things happen to people, tragedies, how can there be a good reason for it? It was a question that stayed in my mind all the time these days, but I was still no closer to justifying a reason for what had happened.

  I was thinking about it again as I slid the key in my front door lock, head down, eyes averted from any possible neighbours watching, which had become my usual stance now. I took a deep breath and opened the door, knowing that Dad was home and bracing myself for him to ask about my day.

  Slinging my school bag down on the floor and kicking off my shoes, I breathed out a heavy sigh of relief. One more day left of school. One more exam and then I’d be free of them all.

  Dad poked his head out of the kitchen door with an encouraging smile. ‘Hi, how was your day?’

  I shrugged. What was I supposed to say? That I’d had yet another day of the taunts and whispered bitchings and the blatant name-calling: ugly, scarface, weirdo, freak. Their words echoed permanently in my ears.

  Dad stood there with a quiet expectation, hoping I’d tell him things were looking up. That I was feeling better about everything. That I had friends again.

  ‘It was OK,’ I mumbled.

  ‘Only OK?’ He walked over to give me a hug, enveloping me with his arms and pulling me in tight.

  I could smell his familiar odour of the outdoors and animals from his job as a vet at Longleat Safari Park. It was comforting somehow, familiar. I fought back the tears stinging my eyes. I was sick of crying about it all.

  He rested his chin against the top of my head. ‘Did the exam go all right? All the hard revision you’ve been putting in, I’m sure you thrashed it.’

  ‘Yeah, well, it’s not like I’ve got a life, is it? What else is there to do except school work and TV?’ I tried to wriggle away. Next, he’d be telling me to get out more with my friends and go and do what other normal teenagers were doing. Except my friends weren’t my friends anymore, and I was far from normal now.

  He gave me a squeeze and pulled back, arms resting on my shoulders as he looked into my eyes, searching for something I couldn’t tell him. ‘Only one more exam left, Jazz, and then you’ll be leaving. Have you thought about what you want to do next?’

  I looked away at a spot on the carpet where a thread had come loose. Of course I’d thought about it. I wanted to get my GCSEs out of the way and do my A-Levels. I wanted to do a law degree and work for the Crown Prosecution Service. I wanted to stand up in the middle of a packed courtroom and fight for justice. Except that wasn’t going to happen now. I couldn’t stand in front of one person and hold my head up high, and no one was going to employ someone who looked like me.

  The anger came bubbling to the surface again as I remembered I wasn’t the old Jazz anymore. I was just a freak.

  ‘Stop hassling me all the time.’ I rushed past him and stormed up the stairs to my bedroom, slamming the door.

  I threw myself on the bed and stared up at the luminous plastic stars on my bedroom ceiling that lit up at night. Mum had put them up there a few years before when she’d decorated because they reminded her of the night sky in Kenya, where she and Dad lived before I was born.

  Mum, I miss you.

  I felt a suffocating pain in my chest and turned onto my side to stare at the photo of her on my bedside table. If she were here, she’d know what to do. She’d give me good advice and warm smiles. She’d make me creamy hot chocolate with marshmallows on top. She’d dish out hugs and jokes and let me know everything was going to be OK.

  I heard the doorbell ring downstairs and the sound of Dad’s voice.

  ‘Hi, Jazz,’ Aunt Katrina called up to me.

  Great. She was the last person I wanted to see at the moment. If I stayed up here long enough maybe she’d be gone by the time I went down. She was my mum’s identical twin, and every time I looked at her it was like seeing a ghost. Sometimes I’d get home from school and she’d be sitting with Dad in the kitchen, chatting over a cup of coffee, and the breath would just evaporate from my lungs in a painful blow. Every time, for just a fleeting moment, I’d think Mum was back. That the accident didn’t happen. And then the reality would sink back in again and I’d realise it was just Katrina.

  ‘Hi,’ I yelled back down, grabbing my chemistry textbook and notes and wiping away the tears that had started falling with the back of my hand. I already knew the text off by heart, but I needed something to distract the thoughts from tumbling in again. It was either that or watch TV, and I wasn’t in the mood for watching perfect-looking people on their stupid programmes.

  Later, as the light faded from the room, I glanced at the clock and saw two hours had passed. I hadn’t heard Katrina go and I was dying to go to the toilet. If she heard me, I knew she’d call up to try and make me come downstairs for a chat. I was sur
prised Dad hadn’t tried already. If I was quiet, I could make it up the corridor to the bathroom and back to my room before they even heard me.

  Gripping the door handle, I pushed it down slowly, waiting for the small click as it opened. I padded barefoot down the hall, carefully avoiding the squeaky patch of floorboards outside Dad’s bedroom. Their low voices wafted upstairs…

  ‘When are you going to tell Jazz?’ Katrina said.

  I stopped at the sound of my name. I know they say that eavesdroppers never hear anything pretty, but there was nothing pretty about me, so what did it matter?

  ‘I wanted to wait until she’s finished her last exam. I don’t want her worrying about this, too. She’s under a lot of pressure, and I don’t know how she’s going to react,’ Dad said.

  ‘I think it’s a good idea,’ Katrina said. ‘I think it will be the best thing for both of you.’

  He sighed, like he often did these days. ‘I’ve thought about this for months and I’m sure it’s the right decision.’

  ‘It is. You both need time to heal.’

  What? What’s a good idea?

  ‘I think it’s the only thing to do under the circumstances, but I don’t think Jazz will see it like that,’ Dad said.

  Every muscle tensed as I stood there, straining my ears.

  ‘When will you be going?’ Katrina asked.

  ‘In three weeks. I’m renting the house out. I’ll give it a year and see what happens.’

  ‘Well, I can’t wait to come and see you when you’ve got settled in. I’ve always wanted to go to Africa on safari. All the stories you and Leigh have told me over the years make it sound amazing.’

  I gasped.

  Africa? What the hell is he going on about? We’re not going to Africa!

  Maybe I’d misheard. I crept back down the hallway to the top of the stairs, sitting softly on the top step. This couldn’t be right. There must be some mistake.

  ‘Since the accident, Richard and Jenna have been in constant touch,’ Dad said. ‘They were so sad about what happened to Leigh. They loved her, too. And the game reserve has just lost a vet, so it kind of seems like an opportunity has come up just at the right time, really.’ Dad’s voice was enthusiastic but laced with worry. ‘Do you really think it’s the right thing? I just don’t know what do with Jazz anymore. I can’t get her to open up. It’s like she’s sinking into this depression, and I can’t seem to reach her. I think we need a new start away from all the memories.’

  ‘I know. And I’m sure this is what you both need,’ Katrina said. ‘You and Leigh loved Kenya; maybe it will be cathartic for you to go back now.’

  The anger that I’d felt earlier erupted into a volcano of bursting energy. No way. No way was I going to Africa. I stormed down the stairs and barged into the kitchen.

  ‘I’m not going to Africa!’ I yelled at Dad.

  Katrina exhaled a sharp breath. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, as if it was all her fault, but I couldn’t even look at her.

  Dad sat at the kitchen table, his tall frame suddenly looking small and defeated. He stared into my flashing eyes and gave me that look. The look I’d seen a million times since the accident. I could never quite work out what it was. Pity? Concern? Shame? Blame?

  ‘I didn’t want you to find out about it like this.’ He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, shaking his head.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ One hand flew to my hip. ‘How can we go to Africa? How can we leave this house? This is Mum’s house!’

  His hand dropped to the table lifelessly. ‘But your mum isn’t here anymore, sweetheart.’ He tried to reach out and take my hand, but I snatched it out of reach.

  ‘I know that!’ I screamed, tears springing into my eyes.

  ‘I think we need to get away,’ he said. ‘A place where you can make a fresh start.’ He stood up and paced the floor, avoiding my gaze as his words poured out. ‘It’s not healthy for you to stay locked in the house all the time. You never go out; you’ve got no interest in anything. All you do is stay cooped up in that bedroom and it’s not healthy. You don’t even climb anymore, and you used to love doing that. I’m worried that you’re not getting over this.’

  I pointed to the scars on my face. Even though I’d had a fringe cut into my long blonde hair to cover the scars on my forehead, it did nothing to hide the angry pink slashes on my cheeks and nose. ‘Would you want to go out looking like this? I’ve got a permanent reminder etched into my face. How can I get over it?’ I snapped. ‘Mum’s grave is here. How can you leave that? Have you forgotten about her already?’

  ‘Of course he hasn’t, darling,’ Katrina piped up, her eyebrows furrowed in a sympathetic frown. ‘And your scars will fade in time.’

  I choked back the tears. I wanted it to be Mum sitting there with Dad, instead of her double.

  ‘They’ll never fade!’ I glared at them. ‘And, I’m not going. I’m sixteen. I can legally leave home now. You can go to Africa on your own.’

  ‘And how are you going to look after yourself?’ Dad asked. ‘You haven’t got a job. You won’t be able to afford a place to live.’

  ‘So.’ I shrugged and jerked my head at my aunt. ‘I can get a job on the Internet so I don’t have to see anyone. And I can live with Katrina.’ I gave her a challenging stare through the tears, trying to focus. Even though being with her would be a constant reminder of what I’d lost, I didn’t want to leave the only place I still felt a connection to Mum.

  She stood up and walked towards me. ‘Oh, darling, I’m sorry, but that’s not possible.’ She held her arms out, inviting a hug. ‘It’s only for a year, just to get some breathing space. When you come back, maybe you’ll feel more confident about studying law again.’

  I stepped back and she dropped her arms to her sides with a soft slap.

  ‘This is all about you!’ I turned towards Dad. ‘You’re just thinking about yourself. Anything so you can be with your stupid animals all day long. What about me? What about what I want?’

  ‘Believe me, Jazz, this is all about you,’ he said.

  ‘How can you say that?’ I spat. ‘I don’t even want to go there.’ I dropped the hand from my hip and bunched it into a fist, nails digging into my palm.

  Dad got to his feet, towering above me, giving me that look again. ‘I’ve been offered a veterinary job at Richard and Jenna’s game reserve. You know how much your Mum and I loved it out there, and I’m sure you will, too. It’s an amazing opportunity. They’ve also been kind enough to give you a job there as a chambermaid. Hopefully, keeping busy with something will take your mind off things.’

  My eyes widened. ‘What?’ But I didn’t wait for him to answer. ‘Don’t you get it, Dad? I don’t want people staring and laughing.’

  ‘They won’t laugh at you,’ Katrina said.

  ‘Yeah?’ I sneered. ‘Like the kids at school don’t laugh at me, you mean?’ No one looked at me and saw Jazz anymore. They just saw an ugly girl to make fun of. I glared at Dad. ‘You know I don’t want people to see me. How could you do this?’ My voice cracked.

  ‘You can’t live the rest of your life locked up in a box,’ he said. ‘This is for your own good.’

  I threw my hands up in the air. ‘No, it’s not, don’t you see?’

  Dad looked up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath. He stayed like that for a few minutes while I simmered away, trying to think of something to say to make him change his mind. When he finally turned back to me with a steady and determined gaze he said, ‘I’m not saying that this is going to be easy, but you can’t live in the past forever. I can’t either. You need to let go and start to live again. We have to find something better, something happier in our future.’ He paused to make sure I was listening. ‘We’re going to Africa and that’s the end of it.’

  He just didn’t get it, though. It was all very well running away, but I couldn’t run away from the thing I most wanted to. It’s not like you can ever get away from yourself
, is it?

  Chapter 2

  Over the coming weeks, I tried everything I could to change Dad’s mind. I yelled and cried and gave him the silent treatment but nothing worked. He arranged for the house to be rented out, and I had to endure strangers poking their noses around while they scrutinised our house as a prospective place to live. Usually, I’d hide myself away on a bench in the far corner of the garden, head down, shivering in the wind until they’d gone. I think I hated him at that point. I couldn’t understand how he could just leave everything behind. How he could leave the memories of us with Mum in this house and go to some stupid game reserve in the middle of nowhere. Why did he think that would help me move on?

  Slowly and painfully our personal possessions were packed away to go into storage, but the worst thing was finally getting rid of Mum’s belongings. All her lovely clothes that had remained in their wardrobe since the accident; her beloved vinyl record collection, her books, her makeup. It was like the final piece of her was being thrown away—a betrayal of her life, and it cracked my heart into a thousand pieces all over again.

  It was my fault. That was the worst part.

  If only I hadn’t been running late for school she wouldn’t have been driving too fast. If only I hadn’t been rummaging around in my bag searching for my English homework, she wouldn’t have been looking at me and telling me to put my seatbelt on. If only she hadn’t been distracted by me, she would’ve noticed the red light and not driven through it. If only the lorry hadn’t ploughed into our car and crushed her.

  If only. If only.

  The scars on my face were a constant reminder that I caused her death. I relived the scene again and again. The explosive sound as the other driver crashed into Mum’s door. The windscreen crunching as we were pushed into a nearby tree, and then nothing but blackness. That was why I’d banned any mirrors from the house. I couldn’t bear to look at myself, not just because of what I saw on the outside. I hated the inside more.