by Sara Barnard
I tried to calm my racing heart with rationalizations. This was Rosie. My best friend. Even if she was angry, even if she yelled, it would pass.
‘Go on then,’ I said, trying to steel myself. ‘Yell at me. What did I do?’
I knew what I’d done.
‘You know what you did!’ Rosie burst out, her hands flailing awkwardly, like she wasn’t sure what to do with them. ‘You left me. You left me in fucking Levina’s house and you didn’t even say. I was looking for you.’
‘Suzanne was—’
‘I don’t give a fuck about Suzanne. This is about you. You’re my best friend. I’m supposed to be your best friend. And I’m the fucking moron walking around trying to find you, and then Tariq of all people finally tells me that you’ve gone. And you know, I actually didn’t believe him. I was like, obviously they haven’t gone. Caddy wouldn’t go without me.’
‘I texted you—’
‘So?’ she exploded. ‘A text? I wasn’t looking at my phone! Why didn’t you at least tell me you were leaving?’
‘I almost did,’ I said quickly. ‘I came to find you before we left, but you were with Liam, Roz, and I didn’t think that I should disturb—’
‘Oh for fuck’s sake, Caddy,’ Rosie interrupted, her voice suddenly snide. ‘You’re seriously trying to say you thought I’d be so wrapped up in Liam that I’d be fine with you disappearing with Suze, when you were supposed to be staying at my house? When Mum came to pick us up she was like, “Where are the girls?” And I had to say, “They left without me.”’
I felt sick with guilt now. In the afternoon sunlight, in the normality of my bedroom, I could see how right she was. How wrong I’d been.
‘I’m really sorry—’ I tried to say, but she cut me off again.
‘I don’t understand this,’ Rosie said, her voice strained with frustration. ‘I literally don’t. How are the two of you better friends than the two of us? How did that happen?’
‘Of course we’re not better friends than—’
‘I mean than me and her. Not you and me. Don’t even suggest that the two of you are better friends than you and me, because if you do, I might actually fucking die.’ She was breathing hard, her jaw set. I could see how hard she was trying not to get upset.
I had no idea what to say. Anything that came to mind seemed hopelessly inadequate.
‘You’re my best friend,’ I said finally, ridiculously.
‘And what about her?’ Rosie challenged. Her hands had balled into tight fists at her sides. ‘What is she?’
What was she? I had no idea.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Caddy . . .’
‘I really don’t. She’s my friend, OK? Does it matter? Best means best, and that’s you.’
‘It does matter. Because she’s supposed to be my friend, not yours. And now suddenly the two of you are all chummy, and she’s turned you into the kind of person who’ll leave me on my own at a party.’
‘You weren’t on your own.’ It felt important to point this out. ‘You were with Liam.’
For a split second I really thought she was going to slap me. But instead she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, tapping on the screen and then handing it to me.
‘Look at this,’ she said.
It was a string of text messages. Rosie had scrolled to where they began. Feeling apprehensive, I began to read.
09.39: What the hell happened last night? Where did you and Caddy go?
11.19: I don’t know, total blank on it all. I woke up at Caddy’s house.
11.24: You realize you both left me on my own?
11.29: Like I said, I’m blank on it. Ask Caddy.
11.31: Your stuff is still here.
11.34: Fine, I’ll come and get it then. When?
11.36: Are you not even sorry?
11.39: Roz, I’ve got such a major headache. Can we save this please?
11.44: Your fault for getting so wasted.
11.47: Don’t. Just tell me when to get my stuff OK.
11.49: I’ll bring it to school tomorrow. Do you remember what you did with Dylan?
11.50: Fine. Yes.
11.51: . . . ?
11.52: What?
11.54: Nothing to say about that?
11.55: I’m trying so hard not to get mad at you, Roz. Can we drop this.
11.56: I’m already mad.
11.58: Then stop texting me.
12.02: Why are YOU mad? I’m not the one leaving you behind and taking your friends.
12.05: Grow the fuck up.
12.06: Wow. OK.
My fingers felt itchy, my throat tight. It felt as if each savage text was directed at me. I handed the phone back to Rosie, trying to figure out what to say. She was looking at me expectantly.
‘You see?’ she said.
‘You were both horrible to each other,’ I said.
‘How was I horrible to her?’
‘Oh, Roz.’ I suddenly felt panicky, knowing that whatever I said was going to be the wrong thing. ‘Please don’t.’
Some people thrive on conflict. They enjoy the drama. I felt like I was being held underwater.
‘I said I was sorry,’ I added a little desperately, ‘and I really, really am. Please don’t be like this.’
I so wanted her to relax, laugh and make a joke about me caving so easily. But her face was still hard, her mouth an angry line.
‘Don’t be mad at Suze,’ I continued, when it became clear she wasn’t going to speak. ‘It’s really not her fault. I was the one who decided to come here instead of yours; she was totally out of it.’
‘No one made her get that drunk,’ Rosie pointed out, sullen.
‘No, but she was that drunk. I was trying to look after her. And I guess that means I wasn’t thinking enough about you, and I’m really sorry, you’re right, I shouldn’t have just left you there.’
Everyone says apologizing works, but it never really does. Not quickly enough anyway. Rosie looked away from me, her face pinched, but now her mouth was wobbling slightly, like she was about to cry. Rosie, who never cried.
‘Do you like her better than me?’ she asked in a rush, still not looking at me.
‘No, Roz. God. Of course not.’
‘You only really like her because she makes you feel needed.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘Yeah, it is. You think I didn’t notice that you only started being friendly after you found out about her being abused?’
There was a sudden guilty silence. I felt a bit sick, thrown by the truth of it. I had started liking Suzanne after the truth had come out. What did that say about me? Was it simply timing, or something else?
‘That’s not why I like her,’ I said finally, but I could hear the uncertainty in my voice.
‘Sure,’ she said, long and sarcastic. ‘Just like you didn’t leave with her last night because you wanted to be the rescuer? Just like she doesn’t only like you because you put up with her shit without telling her to get the fuck over it?’
I swallowed, close to tears myself now.
‘You don’t know her,’ Rosie said, her voice hard. ‘I can tell you think you do. But you don’t. You only see her when she’s putting on a face.’
My heart dropped. ‘What? What do you mean?’
I saw Rosie bite down on her tongue, then look away from me. ‘If you could see her at school. The way she is sometimes. Like she doesn’t care. I don’t mean, like, “Oh school’s so fucking boring I don’t care.” I mean, she really doesn’t care. About anything or anyone.’
I didn’t see what that had to do with how she was with me.
‘She’s just putting it on with you. Because she can. Because you believe it.’
I felt tears starting in the corners of my eyes. I opened my mouth. Closed it again. Another long silence. Finally, when I was sure I’d be able to speak without my voice breaking, I said, ‘Are you done?’
She nodded wordlessly, still breathin
g hard.
‘You have no idea what she’s like with me when you’re not around,’ I said, my voice shaky. ‘No fucking idea, Rosie.’ Her eyes widened. I’d shocked her for once. ‘And the reason we’re better friends than you thought is because sometimes she comes to my house at night and we talk. We probably talk more than you do. The one who’s wrong about her is you.’
I had never – ever – talked to Rosie like this. But it didn’t feel as liberating as I thought it might. It felt lonely.
‘I said I was sorry that I left you there,’ I said slowly, willing myself on. I had to say this. I had to. ‘That was a crappy thing to do. But I like Suze. I like us being friends. And she’s a really good one. I know she makes stupid decisions, but I just want to help. I would if it was you too. You know that, right?’ I had let my voice soften, trying to ease the knife-edge tension between us.
She stared at me, her eyes searching my face.
‘Can we hug it out?’ I asked, not really expecting her to say yes.
Rosie shook her head slightly, but she no longer looked like she was about to burst into flames. Progress. Then, ‘She comes to your house at night?’
Shit. That was something that should have stayed in my head.
‘Um. Only a couple of times.’
‘It didn’t sound like a couple of times.’
‘Just when she needed to get away for a bit. She just wanted someone to talk to.’
‘That’s not normal, Caddy.’ Rosie’s eyes were trained on mine. ‘There’s no “just” about sneaking out and going to wake up your friend in the middle of the night. Don’t you get that?’
‘What am I supposed to do? Turn her away?’
‘Yes!’ Rosie’s face scrunched, incredulous. ‘Yes, that’s what you do. You say, “Hey, let’s talk about this in the daytime. Go back home. Go and talk to the aunt who’s trying to help you instead.”’
The last time Suzanne had turned up at my window at night, almost a week ago, she’d brought me a magazine article about golf caddies that featured a picture of a girl who looked like me. ‘Isn’t it great?’ She had been thrilled, her eyes bright in the darkness. ‘I wanted to show you all day.’
How could I explain to Rosie what those visits meant to me? That they weren’t just for Suzanne’s benefit, but mine too? And that somehow Suzanne knew that, because she knew me? I couldn’t. It would only make things worse.
‘You’re right,’ I said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. She was right. I just didn’t agree. ‘Are you still mad at me?’
Rosie twisted her lip, clearly torn.
‘Do you forgive me?’ I asked.
She made a non-committal noise, but I was sure I saw her mouth twitch.
‘If it helps, my parents are both mad at me too,’ I said. ‘And they’ve banned Suze from coming over.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ Rosie said. ‘God, she’s such a fucking trouble-magnet. I wish she’d never moved here.’
‘No, you don’t,’ I said, attempting a smile. ‘You love her, remember? Even with all her dramas.’
Rosie raised her eyebrows. Don’t be so sure.
‘Plus, remember I’m the one who made us leave,’ I added. ‘Not her.’
She let out a frustrated sigh. ‘Caddy, you need to stop making excuses for her. She’s the one getting wasted and throwing herself at Dylan fucking Evers, dickest of all dickheads, who just got her suspended. And then she tells me to grow the fuck up!’
‘What do you want me to say?’ I asked. ‘Do you want me to say that I’ll stop being friends with her? Because I won’t, Roz. Yes, she’s a complete mess, but she needs us. We’re like her best friends. Both of us.’
I watched Rosie nibble on her bottom lip, and her eyes slid away in the direction of my photo montage. I reached out my foot and nudged her ankle. ‘Right?’
‘I guess,’ Rosie said. She paused for a long moment, then looked back at me, a resigned smile growing on her face. ‘All right. One last chance.’
I grinned at her, flooded with relief. ‘You’re the best. Can I hug you?’
This time she let me.
It turned out that, for Rosie, ‘one last chance’ did not exactly mean forgiveness. For the next few days after the party she was even more prickly than usual, replying to my texts with one-word answers and skipping our after-school phone calls. I knew that things between her and Suzanne were even worse, a fact that wasn’t helped by them having similarly combative personalities and a proclivity for the dramatic. For the first time ever, I was glad I was in a different school.
Just to make things worse for Suzanne, she and Dylan were all anyone at their school would talk about, meaning it was probably the worst time for her to lose her closest ally. By Wednesday, the rumour mill had gone into overdrive. ‘God, now ppl are saying she went down on Dylan on Lev’s patio. FFS!’ Rosie texted me that lunchtime. ‘This is getting stupid. I almost feel bad for her.’
I jumped on this hint of sympathy and managed to persuade them both to meet me at the beach after school on Thursday. It rained, so we took shelter in one of the cafes, sharing a plate of chips. Suzanne, wearing more make-up than I was used to and looking as a result a little scary and distant, was unusually subdued.
‘I just wish they’d hurry up and find something else to talk about,’ she said when I asked, tentatively, about school. ‘I mean, it’s not like I care what any of those knob-ends think of me. But it is fucking annoying.’
‘What are they saying?’ I asked.
She pursed her lips into a dry smile. ‘The usual. “Did you hear about Suzanne, she’s such a fucking slag, oh my God.”’ She put a voice on, exaggerating the disdain. ‘“Some girls are so pathetic.”’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Like I don’t know that already. I don’t need anyone to tell me I’m pathetic.’
I thought instantly of Rosie doing exactly that. How drunk had Suzanne been at that point? Did she even remember? I glanced at Rosie to see her reaction, but she was already on it. ‘Except me,’ she said. ‘You need me to tell you.’
‘Do I?’ Suzanne said mildly. ‘You don’t think that’s something I can figure out myself?’
‘Clearly not,’ Rosie replied.
‘Rosie,’ Suzanne said, ‘are you seriously sitting there calling me pathetic to my face?’
‘OK!’ I interrupted, putting my hand flat on the table. ‘Shall we talk about something else?’
Suzanne’s head snapped towards me. ‘Aren’t you going to tell her she can’t call me pathetic?’
Rosie’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Yeah, Caddy,’ she said, sarcasm saturating her words. ‘Aren’t you?’ She looked at me expectantly.
I could have said, I think you’re both being pathetic. Or, I’m not responsible for her behaviour any more than I am yours. Or even a simple, I’d rather you kept me out of this, OK?
I said, ‘Um.’
‘Oh, forget it,’ Suzanne said, picking up the receipt with restless fingers and beginning to rip it into pieces. I wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or annoyed.
‘I don’t think you’re pathetic,’ Rosie said, but she’d already won and we all knew it.
This was the dynamic I was working with as the weekend drew in. It seemed like a long time since my friendships had felt simple and uncomplicated, if they ever really had. Suzanne hadn’t come to my window once since the party, which was perhaps the most worrying thing of all. I wasn’t sure if she blamed me for her falling out with Rosie or the trouble she’d got into with Sarah, or if she was just trying to be good for a while. Either way, I missed her.
So when she texted me that Saturday morning, it felt like an opportunity. Or a test. ‘Hey! I’m going to do something very stupid. But fun! Want to come? xx’
I dropped my spoon back into my cereal bowl and tapped out a reply. ‘Sure! Details, please. xx’
Her reply was almost instantaneous. ‘Yay hooray! Meet me at the train station in an hour. xx’
I arrived at the station just before eleven to find her wait
ing for me by the ticket barriers, all smiles. ‘Congratulations,’ she said by way of greeting. ‘You are officially more adventurous than Rosie.’
‘She said no?’ I was surprised. It wasn’t like Rosie to turn down that kind of invitation, even if they were still sniping at each other. ‘How come?’
Suzanne’s grin widened, mischievous and engaging. ‘She asked more questions than you did.’
My stomach gave a kick I tried to disguise by smiling. ‘Right . . . and what questions were those?’
‘Where and what both featured quite heavily,’ Suzanne said cheerfully. ‘Come on! Train leaves in five.’
She turned to go and I grabbed her elbow. ‘Wait a sec – don’t I need to get a ticket?’
‘Nope, you can have mine.’ She passed me the strip of card. ‘Don’t worry. I’ve totally thought this through.’ She grinned at me again, and despite myself I laughed. ‘You go through first,’ she said. ‘Then hand the ticket back to me, but make sure no one sees. I’ll see you on the train. Platform Five.’
Bemused, I followed her instructions, certain such a cheap trick would never work. I was pretty sure the ticket barriers were sophisticated enough to recognize a ticket used twice in five seconds. I glanced behind me as I walked towards the train, and sure enough, the barrier beeped. Suzanne pulled the ticket back, an exaggerated expression of confusion on her face.
‘Damn,’ she said, not bothering to lower her voice. She waved a hand at the member of staff nearest to her, a man somewhere in his thirties. Out of range, I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I saw the amused smile on the man’s face, the grin on Suzanne’s, before he shook his head ruefully and waved her through the gate. She came jogging up to me, triumphant. ‘I said get on the train, not stand there admiring it.’
‘How did you do that?’
‘A little charm, a lot of style,’ she replied, then laughed, giddy and happy. She handed the ticket back to me. ‘Come on.’
We sat down just as the train began to move away from the station. Suzanne sat back in her seat, lifting her feet up to rest on the chair opposite. I did the same, nudging her thigh with my left foot. She grinned at me as my phone buzzed and I glanced down to see a text from Rosie. ‘You didn’t go with her, did you?’
