We girls head for the music and the front room while the boys are sent on a mission to find us drinks.
The room is pulsing with sound. My ears hurt, but my feet want to dance. There’s a small group of bodies, weaving and stomping in the center of the room. Around the edge, in huge chairs and sofas, more bodies are strewn. Some are girls, entangled with each other, looking out at the action. Others are couples, all roving hands and winding tongues, eyes shut. I try to see if any are Matt, without looking like some perv who likes watching other people snog.
I can’t see him anywhere. But the music is calling me and Dom grabs my hand and we start to dance. For a while, it feels like the best thing — the music pounding through me, friendly faces, Dom staring longingly. I’m happy when I dance, don’t care if I’m good or bad. I’m not out to impress anyone. I just want to move and feel the beat and, for a while, that’s enough.
Then someone changes the music and it gets grungy. I don’t hate it, but I can’t dance to it. Someone shoves a glass of something in my hand. I begin to feel a bit on edge. The glow is going off the day. Izzie is deep in debate with some guy. He’s clearly teasing her but she’s giving as good as she gets and they’re both having a good time. Can’t see Hannah, so I decide to try and find her — it gives me something to do and also gives me a chance to find Matt.
As I wander through the large hallway, I catch a glimpse of a tall blond girl with smoky eyes, a blue dress and black jeggings. It takes a second for it to sink in that it’s me, my reflection, caught in a long mirror.
I pull myself together and avoid the snogging couple sitting on the telephone table, as the telephone sadly beeps to itself on the floor. They seem to be having sex with their clothes on — at least it’s safe, but it looks like they’re gonna get clothing burns. “Get a room,” I say as I pass.
I drift into the kitchen. Cat is standing with a gaggle of tall boys around her who are taking it in turns to make her laugh. But where’s Jack? Is that why she’s happy, cos he’s not here? It’s nice, though weird, to see her laughing. I decide to give her a wide berth, but I do want a drink, so I sneak in. The kitchen’s huge, so I can get to the fridge without going too near them.
“That’s my sister,” I hear Cat call, and I turn, unsure of what reception I’m going to get. I mean, private Cat has thawed to me a bit, but public Cat? I might still be too fat and embarrassing for her. She is smiling as she looks at me and I can detect no obvious signs of menace. The boys all are smiling, too. “So, have you made any more crazy clips lately?” one says. This seems my cue to go and talk to them, so I do.
“I think that was my fifteen minutes of fame used up there,” I begin.
I quite like the next twenty minutes or so. It’s like I’m in some kind of spotlight that makes life sparkly. They laugh when I retell my story. Cat listens and laughs in the right places.
The boys seem to like me, either for me being me, or because I’m Cat’s sister. The surfaces in the ultra-modern kitchen are very shiny, and they act like mirrors so that I see Cat and then me.
“I need to find Hannah,” I say as I edge out, but no one looks as I go. I’m invisible again.
I’ve done the hall, the kitchen and both downstairs rooms. I’m beginning to feel a bit down now. I could go back into the dance room and find a boy. But I’m not quite up for that. There’s only one boy here for me.
I need a more chilled vibe, so I find my way through the French doors into the garden.
The cool air hits me, and instantly I relax. It’s beautiful out here, though I can barely see where I’m going in the dusk. I can just pick out a white lounger and aim for that. I stretch out on it, kick back and try to pick out how many colors there are in the warm evening sky. The sun’s long gone but what remains is pale green and yellow, melting into ever deepening shades of blue. I wish Hannah were here to help me name all the colors.
“Having a good time?” A voice comes out of the darkness. I peer forward. A guy slumps down on the lounger next to me.
Be still, my beating heart.
It’s Matt.
“Great,” I say, “but I need a minute to cool down. It’s too hot in there.”
“Yeah,” he says companionably and then starts to roll something that looks suspiciously like a spliff. “Sent any more teachers over the edge recently?”
As I sit up and edge onto the side of the lounger, I find him sitting close to me and putting the spliff in my hand. I take it from him; our fingers meet. I can feel the warmth of his leg next to mine, and his hand now sits partially on my thigh. His shoulder presses on mine. What do you say in a situation like this? Just get on with it and kiss me? But I want to savor every moment.
“No, I’m pretty much a model student at the moment.”
He seems to be laughing at me. Am I missing something?
“You gonna smoke that or just use it as a fashion accessory?” He gestures toward the spliff.
Embarrassed, I hand it back. “Sure, just get enough of that at home so I don’t really feel the need now.”
“Only the daughter of a rock star — sorry, rock twinkle — could say that.” He remembered something I said. Go me!
“We celebrity kids don’t need drugs to be cool,” I say.
He arches an eyebrow at me. “And I do?”
Now I’m flustered. “’Course not. And spliff as a fashion accessory — that’s a new idea. You could match the paper to what you’re wearing. Or the color of your eyes, I suppose.”
“What color do you suggest for me?” He leans in as if making it easier to see his face so that he’s tantalizingly close.
“You’ve got brown eyes, so the fashion guide recommends that burnt umber is the shade you’re after this season,” I say, working as hard as I can to be lighthearted.
“You know the color of my eyes? Cute. You noticed.” ’Course, I noticed.
“But what color are yours?” So, he’s never noticed, but now he peers into my face. I stop talking and turn to him. He smiles and I see again exactly how perfect he is. He strokes some hair away that was falling over my face and seems to consider me closely. For a second, I think that the world has stopped. Then I remember to start breathing. No one wants to kiss a corpse. He leans in closer.
This is it, I think. Don’t mess it up, this is the moment that it’s all been about.
“Matt, you idiot!” a voice booms through the dark as some mountain of a boy lurches through the shadows toward us.
“Here you are,” he shouts. “I’ve got him!” he calls back to the house. He stares cheerfully at us both, while a few others start to filter out to sit down and chat. I don’t know any of them, and Matt doesn’t introduce me or look at me.
I get up from the lounger, unnoticed, and go inside, invisible again. The spotlight has moved on.
In the huge, modern bathroom, I lock the door and take a minute to compose myself. As I stare at my reflection in the mirror, I can barely focus on myself. Is that me in the reflection, behind all that makeup? In my head, there’s a clip going round and round of Matt’s face, his lips — only a few inches from mine in the soft dusk. And then his friend calls out and he acts as if I’m not there. If I could just get him to look at me again, then maybe I’d have another chance.
For a moment, I wonder whether I’m going to be sick and, indeed, whether I should be sick. I drink as much water as I can manage and then there’s someone pounding on the door. I open it and some guy runs in and spews in the bath.
I go back into the main room. Izzie is now talking to Alex. She sees me and smiles joyously. I give her the thumbs-up and wander on. After a while, I slip off. I have to see Matt. It’s getting late and I can feel my time running out. I’ve no reason to see him after this, no reason to call round. I could message him but it’s not the same.
He sat close to me — I could breathe his breath.
; Back in the garden, there are just chilled bodies. I see one of the guys I was talking to earlier. “Have you seen Matt?” I ask. He shakes his head.
In the house, I can’t find him anywhere. I stand at the top landing, wondering whether I can look around upstairs or not. Then I see his tall shape at the bottom of the stairs, wineglass in hand. Garden Guy walks past: “Matt, dude, how’s it going?”
“Looking up, man, looking up.”
“How so? Hey — that girl was looking for you.”
“Which one?” Matt’s distracted and looking up the stairs.
“You dog! You know — YouTube girl, Cat’s sister?”
“Jess? Nice girl but …”
“Big girl, too.” Garden Guy laughs. “Well, by the look of it, she wants a piece of you. Don’t think so. Her sister, now that’s a very different proposition.”
Matt’s impatient. “You’re boring me now, man. Zara’s waiting for me.” With this, he jumps up from stair to stair.
“Now you’re talking,” Garden Guy shouts. “Go get her!” I push back behind some cupboards. He bounds past and his eyes flicker in my direction, but he doesn’t see me. A door opens, and Zara is framed in the doorway, smiling, a large shirt hanging off her, showing her bare shoulder and long, thin legs. She backs in, Matt follows her, the door slams shut.
It’s like I was never here.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
Observation #9:
There are the things that you know you know. And the things that you don’t. And then there are the things that you suddenly realize you knew all along, but never admitted to yourself.
I slump to the ground. My heart lies torn in rags. The words ring around me, burning in the air. Big girl, Cat’s sister, don’t think so, Zara’s waiting. Upstairs now, his hands are on skinny Zara, his lips on hers. And I am crying in a corner, feeling fatter than ever before.
I feel someone sitting down next to me. Someone gives me a tissue. I look up. It’s Alex. He doesn’t smile or talk. He just sits there.
“Thanks,” I say.
He nods; we continue sitting like this.
“I’m not really having a great time,” I say.
He nods again and goes off. I can’t think what to do next. I look at my phone. I’m way past my curfew. There are several messages from Mum and Dad. I’m in deep doo-doo. I don’t think that I can even walk home now.
A heavy tread on the stairs. Alex again, with a glass of water. I drink it, I say thank you. I take the chance to look at him. He has Hannah’s dark eyes but his hair is deep brown, not really red now that I look at him properly. He’s tall and slim. I begin to see why someone might like him.
“Do you want to go home? Cos I’ll take you if you do.”
I nod. “But I need some fresh air first,” I say.
He pulls me to my feet and pushes me up another set of the stairs. I try to blank my mind about which room Matt is in now and what he’s doing to Zara or she’s doing back to him.
Alex opens a door and pulls me through. I find myself on a rooftop patio, complete with seats and potted plants. We are high up, higher than the tall trees in the garden and on the street. The sky is inky black now, but stained in the distance with the orange lights of central Manchester.
I sit down on a chair and Alex pulls one close to me.
I don’t feel the need to make conversation. Some stars seem to be changing color and jumping around a bit. A cool breeze hits us. I shiver but I’m glad. The whole evening, week, three weeks, have been overheated, and it’s good to feel cold. It feels real.
“He’s my friend, but he can be an idiot,” Alex says simply. “I didn’t know that you liked him. I would have said something if I had.” There is a pause. “You’re not his type.”
I don’t question what this means. I don’t need to be told the subtext.
The breeze, the water, the sudden peace — all begin to calm me down. Maybe I’m too calm. Maybe I’ll break down when I’m on my own. Or maybe I can just bounce back — I’m a fat girl after all, bouncy old me. Dust myself off and go back to being feisty Jess, good for a chat and a snog.
It’s too late now. Hot tears begin to slide down my cheeks. I don’t shake or sob but I can’t stop them, even though I know my makeup will follow their course.
Alex puts his hand on mine. I don’t stop crying and I don’t respond. Then he puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. It feels good, his warmth and strength. My tears fall on his hand and he doesn’t wipe them away.
I’ve known him all my life and he’s never been anything but kind and funny to me. And he’s here now and he’s not leaving. I look up at him. He stares at me and wipes away a tear from my cheek. My makeup leaves a black stain on his finger.
“I’m a mess,” I whisper. He says nothing but leans in to kiss me.
What? “No,” I say and push him away. “Sorry, but no.”
He pulls back like he’s been electrocuted. “I’m sorry …” he begins.
“No,” I say, wiping away my tears. “You’re lovely. I just don’t want … I don’t know what I want.”
A door slams. I jump up, startled.
“Jess?” It’s Hannah. “Alex, what are you doing here?” Now it’s my turn to leap away from him as if I’ve been caught with my hand in the biscuit jar. “I don’t know what’s going on and, frankly, I don’t want to know. But Jess, you’ve got to come. It’s Cat.”
What remains of my heart starts to pound. “What’s wrong?”
“Just come.” She takes me by the hand and drags me down to a locked door. “She’s in there. She’s been awhile.”
“Is she drunk?” I say.
“No.” Hannah’s face creases with worry. “Worse.”
“What’s worse than that?”
“Jack.”
Of course. “What’s he done now?”
“He just turned up with another girl, his ex-girlfriend, and dumped Cat in front of a whole crowd of people.”
My insides burn with fury. A minute ago, I was down and out, ready to sob myself into a puddle and drown myself in my own tears. But now, that idiot is messing with my sister.
“Cat.” I hammer on the door. “It’s Jess.”
No reply.
“Cat.” I try again and listen to the door for any signs of movement. “Are you sure that she’s in there?”
Hannah nods. “I chased after her when it happened.” She pauses as if considering her words. “No one else went so I thought I better.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if someone did that to you or me, we’d watch out for each other.”
“Yes, and your point is?”
Hannah looks embarrassed. “Does Cat have any girlfriends?”
I look at the locked door and just the two of us standing by it. Below, in the huge stairwell, a few people are chatting and pointing, whispering behind hands. “Looks like it’s just me.”
I sit down next to the door. “Cat, I’m not going anywhere until you come out.” Still no reply.
“Okay, so now I’m going to talk very loudly and tell all the people who can hear me about all the stupid things you have done in your life. I am going to start with the incident at the age of seven, when you did cartwheels on the school field and had forgotten that you’d not put any knickers on … I think we’ll now move on to the famous incident involving …”
The door flies open. “Do you think this is funny?” Cat stands, a black figure silhouetted against the bright lights behind.
“No, I just want you out of here.” I move in for a hug but she pushes me away. “Let’s go, Cat.”
More chatter and laughter rise up from below and Cat recoils as if touching hot metal. “They can’t see me. How can I get out without being seen?”
I take her by the hand, and this
time, she doesn’t pull away. “I’m not going to let you run away as if you’ve done anything wrong. We go together with our heads held high.”
“I don’t think I can do that, Jess.”
I hold her and she slumps against me. “How could he do this to me? In front of everyone?”
“Because he’s the kind of guy who thinks it’s okay to look at Mum’s arse and my tits. And that’s why we’re going out the front. Okay?”
She sniffs. “Let me do my makeup first.” I don’t mention that her eyes are red and puffy and not much will cover that. I just let her get on and stroke her hair from time to time.
“Okay, let’s do this.”
We walk down the stairs. I try not to look upward. I try not to imagine that Matt will appear and say, “Jess, I’ve made a terrible mistake. It was you all along that I wanted.”
He doesn’t. It’s just me and Cat and a few bitchy girls and mean boys who watch our progress with smiles and rolled eyes.
As we reach the front door, someone wobbles up behind. “Cat, no hard feelings, eh?”
It’s Jack. Drunk, smiling, smug. “You’re great but a bit too — cold. A guy needs a bit more passion in a girlfriend, if you know what I mean.”
Cat is tense and shaking next to me. I snap.
“Cold? How’s this for cold?” I grab a flower vase next to the front door, take out the flowers and throw the water in his face.
“You crazy bitch,” he splutters.
I throw the flowers over him, for a final humiliation. Then I take Cat’s hand and we walk off into the night, without a backward glance. It’s only once we’ve got around the corner that I begin to sob.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
Observation #7:
Girls moan about pictures that make them feel bad about their bodies. Then they slag off every other girl’s body. Girls, get a grip.
“No,” Cat says, “we’re not doing that. Snap out of it.” She’s so fierce and so sad that I stop crying, wipe away a few tears. So we trudge home in silence. Once inside, we find Dad still up, strumming a few chords, sitting in a haze of smoke.
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