‘Like a cartoon dog.’
We both laugh.
‘Exactly.’
Meg mooches around the floor and looks for crumbs, but there aren’t any. She wanders off, bored.
‘Can I have another one?’ Ed leans forward, his elbow resting on his knee, chin cupped in his hand, and looks at me.
‘Thought?’ I say, even though I know what he means.
‘Biscuit.’ He gives me a smile that says, You know what I mean.
‘Go on, then.’ I take it out and hold it in mid-air, like a disc.
‘I was wondering why you come here to swim when there’s a perfectly good pool in Kilmuir.’
I keep hold of the Oreo.
‘Because you’re here, obviously,’ I tease.
‘Very good.’ He looks a bit pleased, even though he knows I’m joking. I think he might even be blushing, and that makes me feel – bolder. Braver.
‘Seriously, though . . .’ Ed leans in slightly closer towards me, as if inviting a confidence.
‘I don’t exactly . . .’ I look for another way of saying it that sounds less like the other me, and more like this interesting, new version of myself, but I can’t find one.
‘Fit?’ Ed says gently.
‘Yes,’ I say.
I shift my position on the log, feeling exposed and awkward. It’s not something that I’ve said aloud before – somehow joking about being the socially awkward outcasts with Rio and Allie feels different to admitting it out loud.
‘Well,’ he says, and he reaches forward to gently take the packet from my hands, ‘I guess that’s something else we have in common.’
I watch my fingers loosen their grip and his hand next to mine. He’s moved closer to reach them, and he doesn’t move back. He has freckles on his nose that I hadn’t noticed before, and his dark hair is damp with sweat and curling over one eye. I feel like my heart is beating so hard in my chest that at any moment it might burst out.
Then there’s a soft thud as something falls from the trees and lands on the log between us. As one, we both jump up to standing. My heart is pounding, and Ed’s so close that I can feel the heat of his skin through his T-shirt, and there’s a split second where – because we’re both as tall as the other – our eyes meet and it could go one way . . . We could step back and pretend that this hadn’t happened . . . or –
I don’t move. And neither does he. I can sense his chest rising and falling. I can see the smattering of freckles on his nose and the black of his eyebrows and my nose is almost touching his. I lean into him and somehow he inclines his head at exactly the same moment and his mouth is on mine. My hands are by my sides and I feel them balling into fists for a second and then I reach up and curl my arm round his waist as he lifts a hand to my hair and –
Ed pauses for a second and I feel his lips curling against mine in a smile.
‘Sorry.’ He pulls away slightly.
‘No,’ I say, and I pull him back towards me.
Meg interrupts us, eventually, weaving between our legs and knocking us sideways so I topple slightly and Ed’s hand on my hip is the only thing that stops me falling back against the log.
‘It’s a bird’s nest,’ he says, looking over my shoulder.
I turn around. On the ground there’s a faded grey woven jumble of twigs and leaves.
‘We should keep it as a memento.’ Ed grins.
‘A bird might need it.’
‘I think they might be a bit late, somehow. It’s June.’
He swings my hand in his and I feel shy for a second. I bite my lip.
‘So –’ I begin.
‘Here we are,’ says Ed, but he looks me directly in the eye and raises his chin slightly, as if challenging me.
‘Penny for your thoughts, you said.’
I look at the empty Oreo packet lying on the ground, and we realize at the same moment that Meg has wolfed down the rest of them when we weren’t looking.
‘I was thinking –’ he reaches over to tuck an unruly curl behind my ear, and the coolness of his fingers rests for a second on my neck before he runs his hand down my arm to lace his fingers between mine – ‘that I wanted to kiss you.’
And he leans into me again, his mouth brushing against mine for just a second before he takes a step back, holding both my hands and lifting them up so we look as if we’re about to dance, or wrestle, as if he’s sizing me up.
‘But I kissed you instead.’
‘I don’t think so,’ he says, laughing and pulling me close for a moment. ‘I was definitely the kisser.’
‘You were not,’ I say into the side of his hair. His dark curls smell of something lemony and fresh.
‘Was too.’
He pulls back and goes to kiss me on the mouth, but I duck my head at the wrong moment and he misses, the kiss landing on the tip of my nose, which makes us both laugh.
‘Let’s go before we get attacked by any more flying birds nests,’ I say. I feel like I need to take a breath to digest what’s just happened.
We start walking back down the hill through the trees. For five minutes or so, we walk along in silence – but a good sort of silence. It feels like the kind when you stop holding your breath. Ed’s holding my hand, and Meg – tired now – is ambling just ahead of us. It feels right.
I hitch the strap of my vest top back up on my bare shoulder and realize with a start –
‘My bag.’ It’s got everything in it – my keys, my phone.
‘Where is it?’
‘I think it’s by the fallen log.’ I turn to head back up the hill.
‘You wait there; I’ll run back up.’
‘Are you sure?’
He grins at me. ‘Course.’
I watch as he runs up the hill, following the path as it curves and then dips so he disappears out of sight. Meg wavers for a second, looking at me and then at him, then canters off. I’m alone for a moment and I spin round, hearing the crack of a branch echoing through the silence.
There’s nobody there.
I stand on tiptoe, trying to see where they’ve gone. And for a second I feel my stomach drop and the feeling sneaks in again. I remember being last to be chosen for the team in PE last week and the look on Lauren’s face as she stood watching me as the team captains picked – one by one by one – everyone in our set until I was the only one left.
And for a fleeting moment, I think maybe Ed’s realized that he’s made a terrible mistake and I’m standing here alone, again.
And then his dark head comes into view, his arm aloft, holding the bag. And Meg comes hurtling down the path towards me and I bend down to welcome her with open arms and I realize that sometimes good things can happen . . . even to me.
CHAPTER TWELVE
When I get ready for school on Monday morning, I look at my reflection and trace a finger round the outline of my mouth and remember that it wasn’t just my imagination. It was real.
I decide not to tell Allie and Rio, even though they’ve saved a space for me at lunch and are asking what I’ve been up to. I half expected everyone to know already – for the head teacher to pull me up in assembly and say, ‘Right, everyone, we’ve got an announcement to make – Holly Gilmour has kissed a boy, and not just once, either.’
‘So what did you do in Edinburgh?’ I ask them.
‘My dad sold four paintings, so he gave us thirty quid to go and do whatever we wanted.’
‘And we went up to the Meadows and bought pizza and pretended to be students and someone asked us directions.’ Allie preens slightly. She’s completely obsessed with the idea of being a student in Edinburgh. ‘They were going for an open day and they thought we were at the university.’ She flashes a grin of genuine delight.
‘And I got a ton of stuff in the sale,’ says Rio.
‘Hence the smell,’ says Allie, shoving him with her elbow so he sways forward and I catch a throat-tightening whiff of about five different artificial man-smells. It makes me think of Ed’s hair and the fai
ntest scent of lime and my stomach tightens in excitement and nerves. ‘What did you do?’
‘Me?’ I look down at the floor, swinging one leg and tracing circles on the wood with my toe. ‘Nothing, really. Worked. Went for a walk.’
‘You could’ve come with us.’
‘I was getting the box room ready for a house guest.’ I realize they don’t know the whole story.
I lean in and explain, quietly, that Lauren – currently sitting on the opposite side of the room with Madison and the rest of the gang – is coming to stay, and why.
‘Bloody hell!’ Allie’s jaw drops open and her eyes pop wide.
She does a comedy double take from Madison’s table back to me.
‘You –’ she raises her eyebrows – ‘are going to be having her as a house guest?’
She turns to Rio, her audience. For a split second I wonder if he’s going to join in and start booing. I realize that to them Lauren’s one of those people – the ones who’ve studiously avoided making friends with them. The ones who make them feel uncomfortable because they don’t conform to the same identikit pattern as everyone else.
‘Yes.’
‘And how do you feel about it?’
I poke at the plastic lid of my coffee cup. ‘Lauren’s OK when she’s not with them.’
Allie’s eyebrows shoot up skywards.
Rio chokes on a mouthful of coffee. ‘Seriously?’
Allie looks unimpressed. ‘What was it she called us?’
‘Social rejects,’ says Rio, doing a passable impression of Lauren’s high-pitched voice, flicking his imaginary hair over his shoulder.
‘Lauren said that?’ I can’t quite believe it.
‘Not her – the other one.’ Allie flicks a glance in their direction. ‘Madison. Queen Bee.’
‘Lauren’s not really like that. Honestly.’
I feel awkward. I’m defending her, but I can feel the atmosphere is uncomfortable and weird.
‘God. Sorry,’ says Allie. ‘I’m being tactless again. I’m sure she can’t be completely awful if she’s related to you – or close enough.’
The thing is, Allie doesn’t have any idea about Lauren and Neil being part of our family. She was still living in Birmingham when they moved out and into Clare’s huge house down on the shore. And it must be pretty weird to think of someone like Lauren being sisters with me.
‘She’s not all that bad,’ I surprise myself by saying.
We’re not allowed to check our phones in school. If we’re caught with them out, they’re confiscated and can’t be returned unless a parent comes to the office to sign them out. Mine is in my bag, on silent, and I am aching to check it.
‘Miss,’ I say, midway through RE. ‘Can I just . . . ?’ I look at my bag fleetingly, and then widen my eyes imploringly.
‘Do you need to be excused?’ says Miss Thomson.
She’s the one teacher I know will fall for the ‘I’ve got my period’ excuse without fail. She’s lovely, but this is her first year teaching, and she still hasn’t worked out that most of the girls in her class must have major gynaecological issues if they all have their period when they say they do.
I pick up my bag and slide out of my chair. Normally I wouldn’t draw attention to myself like this, but I need to check my phone. I go to the bathroom, lock the cubicle door and switch it on.
It’s not silent and it bleeps so loudly when it comes to life that I expect a flock of teachers to appear, peering over the top of the door.
Ed: 3 New Messages, the screen says. I sit down on the lid of the loo. The mobile reception in here is awful and I can’t connect to the school Wi-Fi, but after a second it connects to the Messenger app.
Morning.
He’d sent that in reply to mine, which was typed from Cressi’s car.
I would have written more than Hi, hope you have a nice day if she hadn’t peered over my shoulder at a junction and asked to whom it was, and if I had ‘a significant other’ with a knowing look. I’d said no, and felt my cheeks stinging red, switched my phone off and stared out of the window for the rest of the journey, listening to the host of the Radio 2 breakfast show chattering away and the swish of the windscreen wipers in the rain.
What are you doing later? Are you coming up to the pool tonight? x
And the third message, sent at break:
This is the longest day ever. Wish it was yesterday x
I feel the corners of my mouth turning up in a smile, which stays on my face as I type my reply.
Me too. I’m teaching 4 to 6, and then I’m free.
And then just before I hit send, I type
x
And it makes me smile even more. Because, later tonight, I can kiss him for real.
I’m still smiling when I walk back into the classroom and take my seat.
I stop smiling a second later when Miss Thomson’s lecture on women’s rights in Northern Ireland comes to an end at exactly the same time as my phone – which I’d forgotten to turn off in my excitement – bleeps and vibrates in my bag on the floor.
The class is silent.
‘Whose phone was that?’ Miss Thomson casts her eyes about the room.
There’s a shuffling of feet, and several people cast surreptitious glances at their bags.
‘Quiet.’ She sounds surprisingly fierce, and we all sit there for a second.
‘You gonna search all our bags, miss?’
She shakes her head, thin-lipped. ‘Hardly, Michael.’
I sit for the remaining twenty minutes of the lesson with my fingers crossed, begging my phone not to give me away.
‘You home straight after swimming?’ Mum calls to me in the hall as I pick up my bus pass.
‘Might be a bit late. Depends if Cressi needs me to cover an extra class. In fact –’ I cover my back – ‘I might stay and have a swim.’
‘Text me and let me know when you’re on the way,’ she says.
‘You’re looking very smart this evening,’ says Cressi, looking up from her clipboard.
I tug at the collar of my council-issued polo shirt. We’ve all been given new ones. Navy blue for the qualified teachers, and orange for the assistants. Orange, which clashes so badly with my hair that just looking in the mirror makes me want to hide forever.
‘Smart?’
‘Put it this way: we’re not going to lose you.’
‘Cheers for that.’ I shake my head. Maybe it’ll look less awful when I get in the water.
‘Holly!’ says Theo, one of the terror twins, waving.
It’s not their day for a lesson. At least there’s that. I raise a hand briefly and wave.
‘We’re here for swimming lessons again,’ says Ezra, the other half of the duo.
They’re identical in green swimming trunks and bright blue goggles. If it wasn’t for their named swimming caps, I wouldn’t have a clue who I was talking to.
‘Mummy’s changed the day.’
‘And you’re here!’ chirps Theo, shoving his brother so he slips on the tiled floor. ‘Hooray.’
I grit my teeth in a smile. ‘Hooray.’
‘Boys, you go and sit down over there.’ Cressi points at the bench by the edge of the pool. Her sergeant-major tones are far more effective than my attempts – they actually listen to her and sit relatively politely, waiting for the rest of the group.
The time passes quickly. It’s funny how a day at school can drag so much, but hours in the pool can go by in moments. Despite the twins (who refused to listen to me, and ended up ‘helping’ Cressi by the side of the pool for the second half of the lesson), I enjoy teaching the little ones. There’s something really nice about knowing that you’re sharing something you love.
‘You all right?’
I hear the voice and turn round reflexively, realizing before I see his face that it’s Ed. He’s standing in front of me, his hair hanging in dark, wet waves over his eyes. He pushes it back and smiles at me. His long eyelashes are starfish spikes.
> I put a hand to my hair, forgetting that it’s tied back. And I can’t help it. I smile back at him and the orangeness of my shirt is forgotten.
‘Edward –’ Cressi raises a hand – ‘you angling for a job?’
‘Perhaps,’ he says, and his cheeks dimple as he smiles at her and ducks his head, looking adorably shy for a second. He turns back to me. ‘What time did you say you finish?’
I don’t know what to do with myself. I tug at the hem of my awful orange polo shirt and try to ignore the fact that he’s once again standing in front of me – topless – only now I’ve kissed him and I feel like my face is tomato coloured with embarrassment and everyone in the entire pool is looking at me. I look up at the big clock at the end of the pool.
‘Half an hour.’
‘I thought I’d swim until you were done. Cool. See you outside?’
I nod, biting my lip.
Cressi looks across at me, her eyebrows raised. ‘You done?’
‘Coming.’
Ed dives into the pool, disappearing out of sight and re-emerging halfway down. I head back over to the side of the pool, picking up the clipboard to check the numbers of the next class.
‘He must have been in a team, your Edward.’
The blush that was dissipating flares up again, and I can feel my cheeks are burning hot. ‘He’s not my Edward.’
Cressi’s nostrils flare and her eyebrows rise at the same time. She gives a snort of disbelief. ‘He looks like it from where I’m standing.’
‘We’re just friends.’
‘Course you are.’ She barks a laugh like a sea lion and turns back to the children who are lined up neatly by the side of the pool. ‘Right, then. Backstroke.’
Afterwards – having tamed my hair with half a bottle of conditioner in the shower and smudged some eyeliner and mascara on – I roll my swimming stuff up in my bag and head out into the foyer of the pool. Ed’s sitting, his long legs splayed out, reading a book. He’s far too big for the chair in the waiting area. When he sees me standing with my hand on the door of the changing rooms, he springs up, shoving the book in his back pocket, and runs a hand through his shaggy still-damp hair.
‘You’re the only person I know who actually carries a book around,’ I say, and I can feel my whole self smiling. It’s such a strange feeling.
My Box-Shaped Heart Page 10
