Yes.
Suddenly the whole world seemed brighter. I went to bed on Sunday night not even minding about going back to school the next day.
And then, on Monday morning, the bombshell dropped.
21
‘What’s the matter with Grace?’ Emmi whispered.
We were in the middle of our first lesson – English. Emmi had spent ten minutes before class telling me again that I’d missed a great night with her, Alex and their friends on Saturday. We’d noticed that Grace hadn’t shown up for registration and assumed she was probably just a bit late. But now, as I followed Emmi’s pointing finger, it was clear something was very wrong.
Grace was standing in the doorway, ashen-faced. Mrs Bunton waved her impatiently to her seat. Grace’s cheeks remained pale as she crept past everyone towards her desk. That, in itself, was odd. Grace normally went red if someone asked her what the time was, let alone if she had to cross a crowded classroom with everyone staring at her. I peered more closely. Was she wearing really heavy make-up? Grace drew nearer, her head bowed. Jeez, she was. Masses of foundation, then loads of black eyeliner. She looked like a different person. She glanced at me as she took her seat. Whoa. Close to it was obvious that she had been crying. Her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. Was the make-up an attempt to disguise that?
I raised my eyebrows at her. ‘What’s the matter?’ I mouthed.
Grace shook her head and bent over her bag. She didn’t look up again.
After English she rushed off to her next class without speaking to either me or Emmi.
‘Where’s she going?’ I said.
‘Geography,’ Emmi said. ‘I’ve got it too. I’ll find out what’s going on. See you lunchtime, yeah?’
I nodded, wondering what the matter could be. From the state Grace was in it looked serious. I couldn’t believe it was anything to do with James. I couldn’t imagine him either dumping her or cheating on her. Maybe it was something at home, something to do with her parents.
It niggled away at me throughout the rest of the morning. I felt guilty as well as worried. Grace had been so generous recently, letting me borrow her phone to call Flynn when Mum was still checking my call log. How was it possible that I had no idea what was upsetting her now? The more I considered it, the more I realised how selfish I’d been. So wrapped up in my own problems I hadn’t thought about anyone else.
As soon as the bell rang for break I went to look for Grace. She was probably still with Emmi, but they weren’t in any of the places I’d have expected: not the cafeteria nor the patch of garden outside the gym nor our form room. I checked out the toilets on every floor too. There was no sign of them – and both their phones were switched off.
I wandered around the school, hoping I’d bump into them. I tried the cafeteria one last time then headed across the playground.
There. I saw them in the distance. Even before I could hear them it was obvious they were arguing. Emmi was poking her finger in Grace’s face and Grace was weeping and gesticulating with her hands.
As I got closer I caught Emmi saying, ‘Of course you can. You have to.’
‘I can’t,’ Grace wailed.
They didn’t notice me until I was just a few metres away. As they turned in my direction it was obvious Grace had been crying again. Her black eye make-up was in streaks down her face.
Both of them looked embarrassed at having been seen.
‘What’s going on?’ I said uncertainly.
Emmi looked across at Grace.
‘No,’ Grace hissed.
‘Are you all right?’ I said, feeling all my old insecurities twisting in my stomach. What was going on? Why didn’t Grace want to talk to me? Why was it okay for her to talk to Emmi but not to me?
Emmi shuffled impatiently. ‘James did something she’s annoyed about so . . .’
‘Not here,’ Grace hissed again.
The bell rang.
Grace grabbed Emmi by the wrist and started dragging her towards the school building. ‘Hurry up, you need to help me with my make-up before I’m late for something else.’
As Emmi let Grace pull her away, she looked over her shoulder.
‘My place after school, Riv? Okay?’ she said.
I nodded, feeling confused. The sun came out as I walked across the playground. It sounded like Grace was upset over something James had done, but maybe Emmi was making that up to stop me from guessing what the real problem was.
Was it something to do with my friendship with Emmi and Grace? Neither of them much liked Flynn. I’d refused to see Emmi on Saturday and I’d hardly talked to Grace about her life for weeks.
I felt desperately torn. On the one hand, when I imagined the moment I’d tell Flynn I was coming to see him, a warm glow spread through me. But, on the other hand, when I took a step back from my relationship, I could see how it was creating a big distance between me and my friends.
I drifted through French and then history, barely paying attention. As the bell rang for the end of the day I looked over at Grace again. She looked unbearably miserable. I felt another stab of guilt. She’d been so supportive, always, about me and Flynn. And recently – I felt ashamed to think it – I really hadn’t been a very good friend to her.
Well, tonight I would be. If she was having problems with James, I would listen and do whatever I could to help.
Emmi sauntered over and raised her eyes at us both. ‘Can we get out of here please?’
I called Mum and told her I was popping into Emmi’s on my way home but that I wouldn’t be late. Grace was very quiet all the way there. As we followed Emmi up the wide staircase to her huge bedroom I squeezed her hand, wondering what on earth James had done to make her so upset. She didn’t look around.
We walked into Emmi’s room. She slammed the door shut and flopped down on the bed. ‘Right, Grace. Enough already. Tell River.’
‘Tell me what?’
Grace looked at me anxiously.
‘Go on,’ Emmi said exasperatedly.
There was a long pause. ‘I saw something on James’s phone this morning when we walked to school together,’ she stammered.
I stared at her, not seeing what she meant. Then I thought I understood. ‘You mean . . . you mean pictures of girls?’ I said.
Grace looked at Emmi’s pale green carpet.
I glanced at Emmi. She was staring crossly at Grace.
‘Is that why you’re upset?’ I said to Grace. ‘Because . . . I know it’s disgusting but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you. Anyway, they all . . . Unless. Oh, Grace. It wasn’t something really gross, was it?’
‘Me and James had a huge row.’ Grace’s eyes welled with tears. ‘I don’t think he’s talking to me now.’
‘Oh, Grace, that’s—’ I started.
‘For goodness sake, Grace,’ Emmi snapped. ‘Will you explain this properly, please?’
Grace didn’t look up from the carpet. ‘It was on Facebook,’ she mumbled.
On Facebook? Now I was confused. You couldn’t post anything all that outrageous on Facebook – the network wouldn’t allow you to.
‘What?’ I said. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Look for yourself.’ Emmi snatched up her laptop and pressed the keys.
I sat, waiting, feeling completely confused.
And then Emmi turned the computer towards me and I saw.
It was Flynn’s Facebook page.
‘Check out his latest status,’ Emmi said, drily.
I looked more closely. There was a photo of Flynn, smiling, with his arm round a girl in a bikini, a fat wad of money in his hand. Underneath the picture it read: another awesome result from the iPad bank !!!!
I stared at the picture, my mind in free fall. ‘When did this go up?’ I asked.
‘Early this morning,’ Emmi said grimly, pointing to the date by the post.
I thought back to my conversation with Flynn yesterday. He’d said he’d done something stupid during the week . . . I�
�d imagined a fight . . . had he instead been out somewhere, posing for pictures with some bimbo and with more than enough money to pay for ten tickets home to see me?
I couldn’t process it. It didn’t make sense. If he knew he’d been stupid, why boast about it on his Facebook page where I was bound to see it? Or, if the boasting was the stupid thing he’d done, why not just delete the post?
‘Why’s he talking about an “iPad bank”?’ I said ‘What does that mean?’
Grace and Emmi exchanged glances.
‘It’s obviously a reference to all the money he’s made selling stolen iPads,’ Emmi said, drily.
‘What?’ I stared at her.
‘He must be referring to Alex’s iPad at the very least, don’t you think?’ Grace sniffed.
‘But Flynn didn’t take Alex’s iPad,’ I said, feeling completely bewildered.
‘I think this proves he did.’ Emmi snorted. ‘And from the look of all that cash and the word “another”, it looks like Alex wasn’t the only person he stole from.’
‘No way,’ I said. ‘I mean why would he boast about that?’
‘He probably thinks nothing can touch him, now he’s in Ireland,’ Emmi said. ‘Face it, River, he’s a thug and a thief. He’s obviously stolen loads of stuff.’
‘James didn’t think so,’ Grace said.
I turned to her.
‘What did James actually say?’ My voice sounded hoarse to my ears. I felt numb.
Grace’s eyes filled with tears again.
‘This page was open on his phone so I asked him what it was and he said “nothing” and I asked him if he’d looked at the girl in the bikini and he said of course he had because he was looking at Flynn with all that money and wondering how he’d got it. And I asked him how long he’d looked at the girl and he said he hadn’t been counting and I—’
‘Shut up, Grace.’ Emmi folded her arms. ‘The bikini pic’s the least of it. It’s the fact that Flynn’s boasting about his stupid “iPad bank”.’
‘But Flynn wouldn’t,’ I said, desperate for a different interpretation of what looked like proof Flynn had stolen stuff and lied to all of us. Lied to me. I turned to Grace. ‘James didn’t believe Flynn was a thief. You said so.’
‘James would always stick up for Flynn, whatever he’d done. You know that,’ Grace said gently. ‘He didn’t want me to show you this, but I had to say something. I couldn’t know and not make sure you knew too.’
I said nothing. I just stared at her, still feeling numb.
‘River, listen,’ Emmi said briskly. ‘The reason we’ve told you is to help you carry on getting over Flynn. I mean, you’ve seemed better this week, so I figured if you saw how he was moving on, then maybe you’d be able to move on as well.’
I barely heard her. ‘Thanks, Grace,’ I managed to say at last. ‘I’m sorry this caused a row between you and James.’
‘Are you all right, Riv?’ Grace said, her tear-stained face screwed up with concern.
‘Course,’ I said. But in that moment, the full horror of it swamped me. Flynn had stolen Alex’s iPad and others. He’d probably taken lots of other stuff too. He had loads of money and no intention of coming to see me. No, he was more interested in some girl in a bikini than me. Everything we’d said and done was tainted.
Everything was lies and pain.
My legs crumpled beneath me and I sank down onto the end of Emmi’s bed. She was beside me in a second, her arms wrapped round me.
‘I’m sorry, Riv. I know it’s hard to hear like this, but it’s better to face reality than live in a dream.’ She paused. ‘I haven’t told Alex yet, but he’s bound to see this and then Flynn will be in big trouble all over again. You’re better off out of it.’
A hot, fat tear trickled down my face. My plan to travel to Ireland to surprise him went through my head. How stupid was I?
Grace came over and knelt on the floor in front of me. She took my hand. ‘We did the right thing telling you, didn’t we? I mean you wanted to know, didn’t you?’
I nodded. ‘I ought to get home,’ I said. ‘Mum will have a fit if I don’t get back soon.’
‘No way.’ Emmi gave my shoulder a shake. ‘We’re going out. All three of us.’
I looked up at her. ‘Out where?’ I said, dully. ‘It’s Monday night and I’m in enough trouble at home as it is.’
‘Then a little more won’t hurt, will it?’ Emmi gave me a mischievous grin. ‘Let’s go to a club, just the three of us. Get all dressed up, yeah?’
‘Tonight?’ Grace looked scandalised. ‘I can’t, Emmi. I promised my parents I’d be home by nine.’
Emmi rolled her eyes. ‘You have to come, Grace.’
I wiped my eyes. ‘No she doesn’t.’
Grace threw me a grateful glance. She looked so miserable – and it was all because she’d gone against her boyfriend to tell me something she knew I’d want to know about. That was real friendship. Just as Emmi’s offer to take us out was her way of showing she cared.
‘I don’t mind coming,’ Grace stammered. ‘It’s just there’s something I need to do . . .’
‘You want to speak to James?’ I said.
Grace nodded.
I took out my phone. ‘Let me talk to him first,’ I said. It seemed like the least I could do.
‘River?’ James answered on the first ring, his voice all cautious. ‘What’s up?’
‘Hi, James, I’m with Grace.’
Grace looked at me, her lip trembling.
‘She’s just been a really good friend to me – and she’s really upset because you guys had a row so I’m putting her on now so you can make up.’
Without waiting for his response I handed the mobile to Grace. Her eyes widened but she took the phone and left Emmi’s bedroom.
I looked around. Emmi was already fishing clothes out of her wardrobe.
‘Whether Grace comes or not, we’re definitely going, Riv,’ she said. She took a low-cut black top off a hanger and shoved it towards me.
‘You’ll look great in this.’
I held up the top. It was pretty, but very revealing, and I could see already that it would make my boobs look huge.
‘I don’t know,’ I began.
‘Yes,’ Emmi insisted. ‘You do know. You’re going to wear the top. We’re going to get out of here. We’re going to have fun. Okay?’
I stared at her. Maybe she was right. Maybe this was just what I needed.
22
In the end, Grace did come with us – and so did James.
Emmi wasn’t best pleased. She’d wanted this to be a girls’ night out – but Grace looked so happy that everything was all right between her and James that it was impossible to be cross with her.
We got dressed up then sneaked out of Emmi’s house. I switched off my phone. It was reckless of me to antagonise Mum like this, but right then I didn’t care. Emmi bought some booze at the local shop that never asks for ID and we walked to the bus stop where James was already waiting.
He and Grace huddled together in the corner of the bus shelter, talking in smiles and low voices.
‘James looks like one of those dogs with its tongue hanging out,’ Emmi whispered.
I grinned. James, with his squishy, comfortable face and easy smile, was a bit like a dog. A golden retriever, maybe, or some kind of oversized spaniel. Anyway, he was clearly delighted to be making up with Grace.
I was happy for both of them. I tried not to think about Flynn. For a moment, as we got on the bus, I missed him so badly I could hardly breathe. Then I pushed it away. Tonight was about forgetting.
Tonight was about not thinking – just being.
We got into the club without any problem, mostly thanks to Emmi’s highly flirtatious manner with the guy on the door. I’d been drinking all the way there – trying to get Flynn off my mind – so I felt quite light-headed by the time we arrived. It was still early in nightclub terms, not even ten-thirty, though I was aware Mum would have started fre
aking out an hour ago when I hadn’t come home. At least when she tried to get hold of me at Emmi’s she would discover both of us had run off, so hopefully she wouldn’t think anything really bad had happened.
I pushed these thoughts out of my head with a final swig from Emmi’s vodka bottle. I didn’t want to think about Mum any more than I wanted to think about Flynn.
James bought a round of drinks then he and Grace snuck away into a corner booth. Emmi and I hung around the bar, chatting. After a few minutes one of the guys there bought us each a second drink. We knocked them back then the three of us headed for the dance floor. Normally I feel self-conscious when I dance, but not that night.
I let myself go, moving with the music, not thinking, just being.
A few minutes later Emmi went to the Ladies and I went back the bar. The guy who’d bought our drinks followed me. As he ordered another round, I watched the flashing lights strobing across the dancers. The club was just starting to fill up. James and Grace were out of sight, snuggled in their corner. Emmi was still in the Ladies. The music was loud and insistent, the strong bass line vibrating through my feet and up my legs.
A long glass of coloured liquid appeared beside me. I took a sip. It was stronger than the last drink – some kind of cocktail – not really my thing. The guy who’d bought it placed another cocktail, for Emmi, on the counter, then swigged at his own beer.
‘You never told me your name.’ He smiled – a leering, sleazy kind of smile. ‘I’m Ben.’
I looked him up and down.
On the plus side he was quite good-looking. A bit pudgy maybe, but tall and well-built, with a strong chin and a great haircut. On the downside, he had cold eyes which had already snatched two long looks at my chest.
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