by Cat Clarke
Um. What? House in where? This is news to me. Why is Sasha doing this to me?!
Sasha sees my look of utter bafflement and laughs. ‘Yeah, sometimes my folks take pity on me having to hang out with them in the middle of the Highlands, so they let me invite a friend along … and I thought you … might like to? It’s not for a month or something, so you don’t need to decide now.’ She seems almost shy all of a sudden, as though she genuinely gives a toss whether I go to bloody Scotland or not. I mean, who even has an extra house in Scotland?! A house in France would be acceptable, Italy would be even better.
I fake my most winning smile, which really isn’t all that winning, and say, ‘Sounds cool, I’d be up for that … Now, we’d better get ready if we don’t want to be late.’ Then I grab Sasha by the shoulders and manoeuvre her out of the room like a shop dummy. There’s zero chance of us being late. We’ve planned to get to the party no earlier than eight thirty and it’s not even six o’clock yet. But Sasha insisted on coming round crazy early; she is seriously high maintenance.
I shoo Sasha up the stairs, and as soon as I close the door she says, ‘What the fuck have you done to your hair?!’ Her facial expression is confused more than anything else.
I tug at the ends of my hair, all self-conscious and lame. ‘I just fancied a bit of a change, that’s all.’
She throws her bag and coat on my bed and turns to face me. ‘A bit of a change? Moving your parting is a bit of a change, wearing your hair in a ponytail is a bit of a change … this is an epic change!’ Now she’s the one manoeuvring me so that we’re both standing in front of the mirror that’s on the back of the door. She narrows her eyes and looks at me like I’m a painting and she’s an art critic and she’s not at all sure she likes what she sees. ‘Hmm …’ She starts running her hands through my hair, fluffing it this way and that, and I really, really want her to stop. But I smile and do my best to act like I’m completely comfortable with this situation.
‘It’s going to take some getting used to, that’s for sure. You know … you look kind of dangerous. Like you should ride a motorbike and have loads of piercings and drink tequila.’
‘It’s the exact same colour my hair used to be.’ Suddenly I want her to remember that I was a person before. That I didn’t just spring to life the moment she noticed me.
‘Is it? Mmmm …’ Like she’s not really listening. ‘I think it’s going to be fine, you know. We can work with this. Maybe red lipstick? I happen to have the perfect colour, if you don’t have any. Has Lucas seen it yet?’
I must remember that it really wouldn’t be OK to punch her in the face. ‘Not yet.’
‘Ooooh, I wonder what he’ll make of it. He’ll probably think it’s hot. It’ll be like having a whole new girlfriend or something.’ Maybe a small punch would be OK … a quick jab to the jaw perhaps.
I shrug off Sasha’s hands, because the touching is going on way too long for my liking. ‘I’m not all that fussed about what Lucas thinks, to be honest. What I do with my hair really isn’t anyone else’s business.’
I open my wardrobe and stare at the contents so I don’t have to witness whatever irritating look Sasha’s giving me right now.
‘You’re so right, you know. I wish I could be more like you.’
I can’t help it. I snort with laughter and slam the wardrobe doors closed again. ‘Sasha, that may well be the funniest thing you have ever said.’ And for some reason I’m laughing hysterically and I couldn’t even stop if I wanted to. Luckily it feels so bloody good to laugh – to properly laugh like I haven’t done in so very long – that I have no desire to stop. I don’t even care that she’s looking at me like I’ve completely lost the plot.
I’m laughing so hard I can’t even stand up straight. I collapse face first onto the bed. My stomach feels like I’ve done a thousand crunches. Just as I start to get a grip, I hear Sasha start to giggle, and then the giggles turn into full-on proper laughter. She flops down onto the bed next to me and we’re both just lying there laughing our stupid heads off. And I don’t want to admit it to myself, but it feels incredible. It feels like before.
‘Oh my God, Jem! Has anyone ever told you that you’re fucking crazy?’
‘It may have been mentioned once or twice. Why do you ask?’ I prop myself up on one elbow and look at her. Sasha looks more normal, more human, than I’ve ever seen her. Even when she was crying that day in the toilets. She’s hardly wearing any make-up and she looks something close to beautiful.
‘Can I tell you something? You have to promise not to laugh, OK?’ She looks almost shy.
‘I think it’s safe to say I’m pretty much laughed out for the time being.’
‘OK, this is really lame and everything … and I know it’s the kind of thing you say when you’re, like, twelve … but what the fuck, I’m going to say it anyway. You’re … sort of my best friend. And I just wanted you to know that. I mean, Amber and Louise are fine. I like them, I really do. But you’re different to them. I feel like we connect on another level or something.’ She cringes and laughs. ‘Told you it was lame!’
I’m focusing on the little flash of her toned stomach that’s peeking out above her jeans. And all I can think about is all those times lying here with Kai. My actual best friend. No one could ever replace him. Certainly not this girl with her perfect hair and perfect body and perfect everything. I only have to pretend for a little longer. You can do anything, say anything, when you know the end is in sight.
‘It’s not lame. OK, it’s really quite lame … but I feel the same way so it’s cool.’ You can say anything.
I do my best to match the grin that’s spreading across her face. ‘Yay! We’re, like, totes besties!’ I think (hope) she’s being ironic, but it’s really hard to tell. ‘Shall we hug it out? I think we probably should, don’t you?’ She hauls herself up into a sitting position and I do the same.
While we’re hugging she says, ‘We should probably get a couple of those BFF necklaces, don’t you think?’
‘Why stop there? Why don’t we get those classy broken-heart pendants … you know, the ones you put together to make the heart whole again? Or matching tattoos, maybe? That would be such a good look.’ Sasha starts to giggle, which makes me laugh.
The weird thing is, I can almost imagine a future in which we are the kind of friends she thinks we are now. I’m not entirely sure how I’ve ended up in a place where I can imagine such a thing, but I really, truly can. We would go and stay at her house in Scotland and steal a bottle of something from her dad’s drinks cabinet and stay up late talking about boys and go hiking in the mountains the next day. This almost-possible future shimmers in front of me, vanishing whenever I try to focus on it. It’s just as well really, because if I could see it properly it might actually be a future I would want. A future almost worth living for.
chapter forty-eight
Mum and Dad are watching TV when we eventually come downstairs. We’re running late, of course. Sasha couldn’t make up her mind about what to wear. She brought three tops with her, tried each one on twice, asked me detailed questions about how awesome her rack looked and then ended up wearing something of mine she found by rummaging through my wardrobe when I was in the shower. It’s not even new – some old band T-shirt I haven’t worn in years. She decided to go for a ‘rock chick’ look, as she calls it, in honour of my new hair. She looks good. I won’t be getting the T-shirt back, of course. Not that it matters.
We’re both wearing short skirts and boots. Sasha’s wearing tights but I’m not. I have my reasons. I’m going to be fucking freezing, but I don’t care. I’ll just stand right next to the fire for most of the evening or something.
Mum makes us parade in front of her, much to Dad’s embarrassment. There’s not much a dad can really do in this situation, is there? Nothing he says will be right. Mum says we look lovely – she’s not the least bit bothered that my skirt’s even shorter than Sasha’s. She even compliments Sasha on the bloody T-
shirt, which is strange because she never liked me wearing stuff like that. (‘Couldn’t you wear something a bit less … black?’) Then she says something ridiculous about us looking like sisters, which really tickles Sasha for some bizarre reason. She slings her arm around my shoulder and calls me ‘sis’ on the way out of the front door. Sasha’s slightly pissed. I’m completely sober, even though she thinks I drank as much as she did of the vodka she brought. Not very observant, that girl. There’s no way I can risk being wasted this evening.
Mum and Dad think the party is at Lucas’s house. I probably didn’t need to lie, but you can never be entirely sure about the things parents will freak out about. And Mum knows that I can’t stand being anywhere near the bridge these days, so she’d probably think something was up. Dad’s given me money to get a taxi to be home by one at the very latest. Sasha’s never allowed to stay out past midnight, so she won’t shut up about how ‘cool’ my parents are. ‘I’m staying at your place every weekend from now on … you don’t mind, do you?’ I link arms with her and say, ‘Of course I don’t mind.’
We meet Louise and Amber at the church, which is looking even creepier than usual. I’ve only ever seen it in the daytime before. The graveyard is one of those really old ones with headstones sticking out of the undergrowth at odd angles. It’s the complete opposite of where Kai is buried; he’d have preferred it here. The two of us used to come up here and wander about, reading the inscriptions. There was never anyone else around and it was nice and peaceful among all the dead people.
Amber’s wearing a fake fur coat that makes hugging her a pleasant experience for once. Louise is wearing as little as possible – not even a coat. She clearly doesn’t want to hide her assets, even if it means a slight case of frostbite. I can’t tell if she’s smirking or smiling when she says, ‘Nice hair,’ to me. Amber says she LOVES it and wishes she could get away with something so extreme. Extreme hair? Fuckwit.
Louise leads the way through the graveyard – she’s even brought a torch. There’s a beautiful stone archway you have to go under to get to the path through the woods. I have a picture on my phone of Kai standing there with his arms reaching out to touch both sides of the archway. The photo is one of my all-time favourites – he looks a little bit like an angel.
I wonder if Louise is thinking about him or if she genuinely has no problem being this close to the place he died. She certainly seems fine, yammering on about Max, but maybe she’s trying to distract herself. Amber’s trying to talk to me about Lucas, but all I can think about is how cold my legs are and how I’m a complete fucking idiot for not wearing jeans or long johns or something. The others don’t seem the slightest bit bothered by the cold, which makes me wonder if maybe I’m shivering because I’m nervous – scared, even. I keep telling myself that it will all be over soon. A few more hours and I’ll be back at home in my own bed and I’ll never have to spend another minute in the company of these people.
We hear the party before we see it. Crappy R & B music blaring out through the woods, and it jars somehow. There should be someone playing an acoustic guitar at the very least, accompanied by some bongo drums perhaps.
The bonfire is smaller than the one at Max’s house last year. I guess someone doesn’t want to risk a full-on forest fire breaking out. There are loads of people here already; I recognize some of the faces from last year. That ramps up the anxiety levels a little. Some older boys sitting around the fire don’t even try to hide the fact that they’re blatantly ogling us the minute we enter the clearing. One of them looks so much like Max that they could be twins. He jumps up and says, ‘Welcome, ladies! Grab a blanket and make yourselves comfortable.’ He wraps Louise in a big bear hug. ‘Hello, dear almost-sister-in-law … always a pleasure.’ They hug for slightly too long and Sasha and I exchange A Look. Once the too-long hugging is over, Louise introduces me to Max the Elder (Sebastian, which is the perfect name for a sleazy wanker if ever there was one). The other girls must have met him last year. Another reminder that things were very, very different back then.
Max and his brother might look the same, but Sebastian makes Max look like a Jane Austen hero (not that I’ve read any Jane Austen novels, but I’ve seen enough TV adaptations to give me a fair idea). He hugs each one of us and spends an unnecessary amount of time stroking Amber’s fur coat. Amber loves it, obviously.
I look around while Sebastian introduces his equally sleazy mates to Amber and Sasha, who are in full-on girly giggle mode. I’m embarrassed for them. The boys – our boys – are milling around near the ‘bar’. This consists of three cool boxes and a few random bottles sitting on a tree stump.
I wander over and snake my hands around Lucas’s waist; he doesn’t even flinch. He must be used to girls molesting him in public. He slips his hands over mine and I rest my head on his shoulder. I like having my body pressed up against his like this. He feels solid and strong. But he’ll be broken soon enough.
Bugs rummages in a cool box, cracks open a can of beer and hands it to me. He looks me up and down and says, ‘Nice pins, Halliday. Not sure about the hair though … !’
So obviously Lucas has to turn around to check me out. ‘Whoa.’ Long pause. ‘You look so … different! Good different, I mean. Not that I didn’t like the way you looked before of course … I should probably stop talking now, right?’
‘That would probably be a good idea.’ I’m grinning like a fool, I can’t help it. I like it when Lucas acts like one of us normal people.
His eyes flicker down to look at my legs. ‘You look awesome, babe. Cold, but awesome.’ His kiss tastes like beer.
I smile my most un-Jemlike smile. The one Lucas seems to find irresistible. ‘Well, you’ll just have to think of a way to warm me up, won’t you?’
His eyes light up. ‘I’m sure I can come up with something.’
Bugs starts making alarmingly realistic vomiting sounds. ‘Jesus, aren’t you two over that annoying honeymoon period yet? You’re making the rest of us feel bad … ain’t that right, Stu?’ He elbows Stu in the ribs and Stu winces. He tries to laugh to cover it up, but we all noticed. ‘Dude, I hardly touched you! I appreciate you playing along to make me look all strong and manly in front of Halliday here, but it’s really not necessary. Anyone can see she wants a piece of the Bugsmeister … as soon as she’s got over this ridiculous infatuation with Mr Perfect here.’
Lucas pretends to be affronted at the slur on my name, and he and Bugs start a sword fight (with invisible swords, of course). Stu and I stand back and watch. He’s uncharacteristically silent.
One of us has to say something, and it looks like it’s going to be me. ‘Are you OK?’ He looks confused until I indicate the fact that he’s still clutching his ribs with one hand.
His hand drops to his side and he takes a massive swig of beer. ‘Yeah, I’m fine. Just got the shit kicked out of me at tae kwon do last night.’
I nod and take a sip of beer just for something to do. One measly beer isn’t going to hurt. I can probably have two or three and still be totally fine. It might help warm me up a bit. My teeth start chattering and Stu gives me an amused look. ‘You’re not exactly dressed for the weather, are you?’
I shake my head, still shivering.
Stu laughs. ‘Girls are weird. Do you want, like, a blanket or something? I think Seb must have raided the local homeless shelter. Here.’ He reaches into a bulging black bin bag and hands me a bundle of tartan. I sniff it dubiously just in case he’s not kidding about the homeless shelter. It smells fine so I put it over my shoulders.
The shivering starts to abate just as Bugs dies a protracted mock death and Lucas wipes the mock blood from his mock sword on his real jeans. He does this ridiculous sweeping bow in front of me. ‘May I claim a kiss, my lady? I have vanquished the evil Count Numbnuts, and your reputation as a lady of impeccable taste and virtue has been restored.’
I pretend to swoon into his arms. ‘My hero!’ Then we kiss for a bit until I feel a tap on the should
er. ‘Sorry, Luke, urgent girl talk is required.’ Sasha drags me away from Lucas and behind a tree.
‘Nice blanket you’ve got there, by the way. Refugee is a really good look for you! Right. Here’s the deal. One of Sebastian’s friends is super-hot and clearly into me. I think his name’s Rory … or maybe Corey … it’s definitely something with a ‘y’ on the end anyway. So … what do you reckon? Should I shag him?’ She talks fast and keeps on peeking round the tree as if her prey might make a run for it any minute.
Why the fuck are you asking me? That’s what I want to say. But I guess in Sasha’s world this is exactly the sort of conversation best friends are supposed to have. ‘Sash, we’ve been here all of ten minutes. You don’t need to decide now, do you? Why don’t you talk to him a bit more? Find out some more about him … starting with his actual name, perhaps.’
She laughs. ‘Honey, I’m not looking for a husband for Christ’s sake … I just want to get laid.’
I cringe and she laughs and calls me a prude.
‘Hey! I’m so not! I just … I don’t know. I think you deserve better than a shag with some random posh boy in the woods, that’s all.’ I’m surprised to find I actually mean it.
She smiles at me indulgently like I’m a toddler who’s just done something totally adorable or used a potty for the first time. ‘Awwww, you’re too cute. Really. Thanks for looking out for me, best friend. But don’t try to tell me you and Lucas won’t be at it like rabbits before the night is out.’ Her laugh is filthy.
She knows me too well. Even though she doesn’t know me at all. ‘Fine, go shag Rory-Corey-Balamory. I’ll catch up with you later, OK?’
She grins. ‘You’re the bestest best friend ever, you know?’
I roll my eyes. ‘Yeah, yeah.’ I grab her arm just as she’s about to scarper. ‘Make sure he uses a condom, OK?’
‘Yes, Mum!’
Then I’m alone. I could slip into the woods and head home. I take a single step away from the firelight and music. Then another step. The moonlight is more than bright enough to guide me through the trees. Before I know what’s happening, the trees have thinned and I’m standing on the edge of the ravine. Looking down at the river. The bridge is on my right, but I’m careful not to look at it. The lights twinkle in the corner of my eye, trying their best to attract my attention, but I’m stronger than that.
