‘That would be my genes.’
‘Let’s go upstairs.’
‘I can’t believe you mentioned us on TV,’ Sarah says. She touches her heart. ‘I cried.’
‘You guys saved my life. Of course I mentioned you.’
‘We didn’t save your life,’ Alex says. ‘We liked you.’
‘When I needed to be liked.’
‘We weren’t doing you a favour, Rache,’ Alex says. ‘If we didn’t like you, we wouldn’t have hung out with you.’
‘Still—’
‘Still, nothing.’
‘I can’t believe Rebecca was such a total bitch to you,’ Sarah says. Then she glances at Maggie in panic. ‘Witch. Total witch.’
It’s too late. Maggie’s laughing like she’s just decided it’s going to be her first word.
‘She’s being written out of the show.’
‘Cow,’ Sarah says, then remembers Maggie again. ‘What does the cow say? What does the cow say? Moo. Moo. The cow says moo, doesn’t he?’
‘She,’ Alex says.
‘She, jeez.’
I laugh.
‘How much longer d'you think you’ll have on D4?’ Alex asks.
‘I don’t know. Josh is leaving at the end of the month. So probably not much longer.’
‘You’ll get other stuff,’ Sarah says optimistically.
‘I’m not worried.’
‘We missed you,’ Alex says. ‘You’re the glue that holds us together.’ She says it in a corny voice and we all laugh.
‘I don’t think we were the only ones who missed you.’ Sarah raises her eyebrows.
‘If you’re talking about Mark, he just wants to be friends.’
‘I don’t believe that,’ Alex says.
‘What if you die next year?’ Sarah asks.
I shrug. ‘Then we’ll die friends.’
‘But you’re mad about each other.’
‘You know what? It’s better this way.’
‘Sure,’ Sarah says like she doesn't believe me.’
‘I need a break from all that relationship stuff. I just want to chill for a while.’
Sarah raises an eyebrow.
‘So! What’s been happening while I was away?’ I ask quickly.
‘Ab-sol-utely nothing,’ Alex says. And I know she means Louis.
TWENTY-SIX | Sleeping Beauty
On Monday morning, our first class is Double Biology. At the top of the lab, the teacher is going through the experiment, reading aloud from our textbook. I’m looking at a tuft of hair sticking up at the top of Mark’s head, wanting to flatten it down and watch it spring back up again.
‘Could Rachel Dunne please come to the principal’s office,’ announces a voice, over the intercom. People turn in my direction. I get the usual, ‘Oooohs’ and ‘Raaachels’.
I get up, not caring.
In his office, I sit looking at the principal, remembering that scene in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, where Ferris breaks his girlfriend out of school by pretending to be her dad. It’s the kind of thing Mark would do - or would have done, if I’d let him. He would have been right.
‘I saw you on the Late Late Show on Friday night,’ he says. ‘You were inspirational.’
He called me out of class for this?
‘As you know, Rachel, we run an anti-bullying programme in the school. I’d love you to become involved. Your story, your attitude, are so powerful.’ He looks at me hopefully. ‘Would you speak to a class? Maybe every class, in time?’
‘What would I say?’ There’s no point unless I make a difference.
‘Just tell your story in the same honest way you did on TV. Take questions. That’s it.’
‘And you think that will change things?’
‘I think we need to come at it from a few angles. We’re about to review our anti-bullying policy at the school. Would you consider sitting in on our meetings?’
I smile. ‘I would.’
When I get back to class, everyone’s in pairs, dead frogs in front of them, scalpels in hand. Some are tucking in enthusiastically; others, looking pretty white, are standing back. I look to see if anyone’s missing a partner. There is one person standing alone, about a foot from the bench holding a scalpel, the frog in front of him, untouched. He’s looking at me and mouthing the word, ‘Help.’
Smiling, I go over to Mark.
‘I thought you’d never get here,’ he says.
I take the scalpel from him and step forward. ‘Poor little guy,’ I whisper. Then I cut him open.
‘Aw, crap,’ Mark says. He’s gone kind of green.
‘Don’t faint,’ I warn.
He faints.
At exactly the same time, two other people drop.
Everyone delightedly abandons their frogs.
I kneel beside Mark and open his tie. He looks so adorable, all pale and vulnerable, his eyelashes making long shadows on his face. It’s so hard not to bend down and kiss him. Sleeping Beauty.
I control myself - but I do flatten the tuft of hair. It springs back up just like I imagined. I even know his hair.
I open his top button.
‘Steady,’ one of his rugby friends jokes.
‘Just throw cold water on him,’ Peter Sweetnam says.
‘No!’ I glare at him. He’s not soaking my just-friend.
Finally, Mark opens his eyes.
I smile. ‘Hello!’
‘Hello!’ someone mocks.
‘I didn’t faint, did I?’
‘Yup.’ ‘’Fraid so.’ ‘Sure did,’ come a load of male voices. They're all such hard men. Mark jumps up. ‘Oh crap,’ he says as he wobbles. He grabs the bench and manages to stay up. He is the colour of chalk.
The teacher is beside us now, having dealt with the girls first. ‘Take him outside. Get him some air. But keep him sitting, OK?’
I nod. ‘Come on, let’s go.’
Out in the corridor we sit, side by side, on red plastic chairs.
‘Frogs will never be the same,’ he says wistfully, like they were his favourite animal.
‘Poor frogs. Minding their own business.’
For a while we’re quiet. I shift in my chair.
‘Don’t make me go back in there,’ he jokes in a panicked voice.
I smile. ‘I'm in no hurry.’
It feels like nothing’s changed, like it’s just the two of us and we still love each other. I look at him.
‘How’s this going to work, this friends thing?’
‘Oh, right.’ He scratches his head.
I laugh. ‘It’s OK, I was joking.’
‘No. We should meet up. Definitely. Go for coffee or something.’
‘Honestly, I was only messing.’
‘Jitter Mug. After school.’
I shrug. ‘OK.’
At lunch, I sit with Alex and Sarah.
‘Want to come to mine later?’ Alex asks.
‘I meeting Mark for coffee.’
They look instantly hopeful.
‘As friends,’ I clarify.
‘Yeah, right,’ Sarah says.
I glance over at him. He’s laughing at something someone’s said. I want to know what it is, which is not good. Maybe we shouldn’t meet for coffee. Maybe I should move schools and never see him again.
‘Hey, do you guys want to come?’ I ask.
‘Eh, no,’ Alex says.
Sarah just smiles.
At the Jitter Mug, Mark orders me a fruit smoothie without asking what I want and pays without thinking. Our usual seat is free and he heads for it.
‘This is weird,’ I say, sitting down.
‘Yeah,’ he says, like he’s just remembered.
We go quiet.
He looks out the window at the sea, which is wild.
I search my brain for something to say. ‘I was thinking about Ferris Bueller’s Day Off today.’
He smiles. ‘I always wanted to be Ferris.’
‘He's kind of like you.’ Oh, God, did that sound f
lirty? It wasn’t meant to.
He looks at me. ‘Yeah, well, you’re a hell of a lot better looking than his girlfriend.’
Do just-friends say things like that to each other? Would Alex or Sarah say it? OK, they probably would. It wouldn’t mean as much, though. God, this was a mistake.
After a silence, Mark clears his throat.
‘I was wondering. Was Rebecca French as bad, second-time round?’
I tell him about BatmanReturns. And about trying to turn Sarah and Alex against me.
‘Why do people like that exist?’ he asks, squinting. ‘Do they ever provide anything? Or do they just take?’
Exactly, I think. ‘She’s been fired.’
‘You could probably sue her for libel or slander or whatever. Do you remember that talk we had in TY?’
I smile. I always thought he was the opposite of me. Now he’s thinking like me. ‘Yeah, I don’t want the hassle, the publicity. I just want to move on.’
He nods. Then, he’s squinting again. ‘How do people change? Grow from cute, innocent babies into monsters?’
I feel like saying, I know. ‘Maybe we infect each other, or something?’ I say instead. ‘You know what I’d love to do? I’d love to teach the entire world of small children that if someone’s mean to you, it makes them a lesser person, not you.’
‘At least we’ll know that for our children. Not our children. Together,’ he rushes, actually blushing. ‘Just, you know, our separate children.’
I laugh. ‘Yes, Mark.’
‘Shut up. You know what I mean.’ Unfortunately. I do.
‘The principal wants me to talk about bullying.’
‘To who?’ he asks, surprised.
‘All the classes, eventually.’
‘Are you going to do it?’
‘Yeah. I can’t give out about no one helping if I don’t do something myself.’
He smiles. ‘Careful or I’ll start thinking you’re better than me again.’
I want to kiss him.
We talk till the Jitter Mug’s closing. And laugh when we realise it is.
In the D4 canteen next day, I’m finishing lunch and going over the conversation with Mark in my head for the hundredth time. I’m smiling at the whole ‘our children’ thing. I’m thinking maybe we could get back together. If we stay friends, keep seeing each other, maybe . . .
Josh is pulling out the chair opposite me.
‘Hello, Mr Hollywood. Still talking to us amateurs?’
‘It’s killing me but, yeah.’
‘Two more weeks.’
‘And counting. Hey, what did you think of Rebecca’s quote in the Evening Herald?’
‘What quote?’
‘Oh, I thought you knew.’ He looks awkward.
‘What did she say?’
‘It was pathetic. So obvious really.’
‘Josh!’
‘Something like …’ He makes his voice all girly. ‘“Rachel’s so sweet. When she was nominated for the IFTA, she said I should have been picked because I’m a better actress.”’
I smile. ‘You’re such a good mimic.’
‘You’re not pissed off?’
And I don’t want to sound smug or anything but, ‘Who’s got a job and who hasn’t?’
Later, I’m called to Emily’s office.
‘Rachel, I just wanted to let you know that you’ll be finishing with us at the end of the month.’
Even though I knew it was coming, it’s still a shock.
‘That you’ve stayed with us so long is a testament to your acting. You were so good, we kept writing you in. We’d have made your role more long-term - somehow - if Josh wasn’t leaving. But he is. So that storyline is over. Our plan is for Naomi to die and for Josh to commit suicide. A modern day Romeo and Juliet.’
It's a storyline that will generate loads of publicity. There’s only one problem: ‘Naomi’s condition is going to have to get worse very fast.’
She nods. ‘She’s going to get MRSA.’
It’s like a punch to the chest - that’s what killed Shane. I can’t let it happen.
‘How about you really go down the Romeo and Juliet route? Naomi commits suicide first.’
She considers it.
I help her along. ‘She’s not the kind of person to go out without a fight. She’d want to do it on her own terms. I know Naomi.’ So well now.
She nods slowly. ‘I’ll talk with the team. It would be very dramatic. But we shouldn’t shy away from that. Leave it with me.’ She looks at me. ‘I’m going to miss you around here.’
Funny thing is, it feels like my time’s up. Like I’ve learned all I can, got all I can. And it’s time to move on - which is great, because I’ve always dreaded leaving.
TWENTY-SEVEN | Crunchie
I’m in D4 all the following week. Dying.
It’s actually a relief to go back to school. I open my locker, after our last class, thinking, Thank Crunchie it’s Friday.
Mark passes by. ‘Have a good weekend.’
I smile. ‘Thanks. You too.’ So formal. For us.
He starts to walk off, then stops and turns back. ‘Don’t suppose you want to do something tomorrow?’
I try not to look enthusiastic. ‘Like what?’
‘Don’t know.’ He thinks for a moment. ‘Bowling’s quick, in case you’ve to go somewhere after.’
I’d spend the whole day with him if I could. ‘OK, yeah, sure.’
We arrange to meet at two in Stillorgan.
I take ages to get ready. I wear skinny jeans and a hoodie he once said he liked. I put on just enough make-up to look like I don’t have any on. I half-straighten my hair, then tie it up. Such effort to look like I didn’t try. He’ll probably see right through me.
We meet at Stillorgan Bowl. He’s sitting on the steps outside, waiting. He’s got a new hoodie. Purple with bright green writing. It suits him. A lot. He stands up. It feels wrong, not hugging or kissing, just standing there, saying, ‘Hey.’ All this awkwardness, like a first date. I tell myself to chill. We can be friends.
We go inside. Without touching. Without talking. I can’t think of anything to say. It’s weird being nervous with Mark.
At the till, he tries to pay. This time I’m ready.
‘It’s OK,’ I say, handing over a twenty.
He looks at me.
I shrug. ‘Friends pay for themselves.’
‘OK,’ he says, like he’s agreeing to new rules.
‘Can we put up the sides?’ I ask.
‘No.’
‘What? Why not? I’m totally crap without sides.’
‘I know. It’s hilarious.’
‘You know what? I’m fine with no sides,’ I say indignantly. ‘In fact, I’m a bowling ninja.’
He laughs.
‘Let’s put money on it,’ I suggest. ‘Twenty quid says I win.’
‘It’s OK.’
‘No. Come on. I’m loaded. I’m a working woman. At least I am till the end of next week.’
He looks shocked. ‘You’re finished?’
‘Yup.’
‘Damn.’
‘It’s fine.’
‘Let’s get the sides.’
‘I don’t want your pity,’ I say dramatically. Then smile.
I’m not totally hopeless. I’ve had two accidental strikes. No idea how, or I’d do it again. There’s a bunch of cool Asians beside us. They are amazing. They’ve all this technique. I try to ignore them, but can’t help watching in admiration. It’s my turn now. I get up and wait for my favourite ball to pop back. Then try to use some of that technique. It starts off like it’s got potential, then drops into the side and rolls away.
‘Bums,’ I say and turn around. Oh, my, God! I stare at Mark as I walk back. ‘You were looking at my ass.’
‘No I wasn’t,’ he says, like he’s horrified.
‘You so were. I caught you.’
He gets up and reaches for a ball. ‘I’m a guy. Occupational hazard.’
<
br /> No way. ‘If I was a granny would you have been looking at my ass?’
He makes a disgusted face, then takes off with the ball.
I sit watching him. Just before he throws the ball, I shout, ‘Nice ass.’
He bursts out laughing and messes up his shot. He’s still grinning when he comes back to take his second shot.
‘What are you waiting for?’ I ask.
‘My lucky ball to come back.’
I roll my eyes.
This time he knocks three skittles.
‘Hard luck,’ I say, smiling.
I collect my lucky ball, go up, swing it, then turn suddenly to catch him out.
‘What?’ he asks.
‘Just checking.’
He holds his hands up like he’s innocent.
I shake my head then take my shot, hoping so hard that he still fancies me.
We play two games. He wins both.
‘You were lucky,’ I tease, not wanting to go. ‘Maybe. Or maybe you were crap.’
I hit him. Officially, a touch. I snatch back my hand. I’m starting to blush so I walk ahead. Outside, I wait for him. It feels like there’s all this tension, like people who fancy each other but haven’t got together yet. It feels like something’s going to happen. I don’t want to speak in case it breaks the magic.
‘So,’ he says.
‘So.’
‘That was fun.’
I hand him a twenty.
‘I’m not taking your money.’
‘A bet’s a bet,’ I say, shoving it at him.
‘Yeah, well, I’m not taking it.’
I could try stuffing it in his pocket but I’m not going to risk touching him again.
He looks at the cinema billboard across the way. ‘We could blow it on a movie?’
I try not to let him see how happy I am about that. ‘Sure. What’s on?’
He squints at the billboard. ‘Don’t know. Want to go over and see?’
‘Sure.’
As we walk through the car park, I get a text. It’s Alex, wondering if I want to call over. Halfway through texting back, I glance up to see Mark watching me.
‘What?’ I ask.
‘If you want to go, it’s OK.’
‘I don’t want to go.’
We walk to the cinema in silence. Then start to check out the movies.
The Butterfly Novels Box Set: Contemporary YA Series (And By The Way; And For Your Information; And Actually) Page 79
