13 Minutes-9780575097407

by Sarah Pinborough

  They didn’t make it to his flat. Instead, they pulled into the car park by the woods and killed the lights. Within seconds, she’d kicked her jeans off and straddled him, pushing him far inside her, grinding on him like she couldn’t get enough. And she couldn’t. For the first time sex was something for her, not just some mystery for him, and as he pushed her T-shirt and bra up, his eyes glazed and breath heavy, she slid one hand down to touch herself as she fucked him.

  ‘Jesus, Becca,’ he said, and the helpless need in his voice intensified her own lust. She was lost in the sensation, and as she rode him and worked herself, feeling him getting harder as he fought to control the urge to come, she moaned load and hard and adult. Finally, she collapsed on his shoulder and it was his turn to cry out, all the need, all the anger and lust and love pounding into her with his last few thrusts.

  When satiated sanity returned, they smiled and giggled at each other as Becca pulled on her jeans, her legs suddenly cold without the car engine and heater running. Aiden rolled another joint and they shared it in a comfortable silence, both staring out at the night and basking in their afterglow. Becca, although no longer rushing, was still too high to feel awkward or embarrassed about their sex, as she usually did if she thought about actually letting go and doing what made her feel good. Tonight was like the first time all over again. Except this time she felt like an actual woman, not a girl.

  As they passed the joint between them, Aiden looked at her, almost in awe, and she was hit by the thought that there was nothing dirty in enjoying her body or his, and that he might actually like it if she did just do whatever she wanted. There was nothing to be ashamed of. It wouldn’t stop him loving her. Judging by how he was looking at her right now, it might just make him love her more.

  Sex was weird. Or maybe it wasn’t so much that sex was weird, it was just that it was like drugs. All the way through growing up, people tell you how you shouldn’t do it. Then you do it and it feels great. Why didn’t they ever tell you that bit? And at least sex wasn’t illegal. But why make you feel so guilty about something you’re actually allowed to do by sixteen? Not that age had stopped plenty at school. Jenny for one. Everyone knew that Jenny fucked around. Even Becca’s mum knew. When they’d bumped into Jenny clothes shopping with her mum, after the polite hellos and quick escapes, Becca’s mum had glanced back at the rack they’d been browsing and quietly sneered, Like mother, like daughter. She might as well have spat sluts at them. It was all in the look. Maybe her mum was jealous. Maybe her dad didn’t cut it in the bedroom department. That was a thought and an image she really didn’t want to linger on – there weren’t enough drugs in the world to make her want to think about her parents fucking – so she turned on the radio and let the music distract her.

  When they’d finished the spliff, Aiden drove them home, Becca’s head on his shoulder even though it meant her midriff was uncomfortable with the stretch. She didn’t care. She loved him. She loved touching him.

  It was gone two a.m. when they crawled, naked, into his cold bed, huddling together under the duvet until their feet thawed, and as their shivering subsided, they did it again. It was quieter this time. Gentle. Lovemaking, Becca thought, even though the word made her cringe. But that’s what it was.

  Seventeen

  Taken from DI Caitlin Bennett’s files:

  Extract from Natasha Howland’s notebook

  I let Mark Pritchard snog me. I could see Hayley watching when he did it and I stared right back at her, as if I was victorious. I was victorious. She was like an ice queen, as if she was the one who’d frozen to death and come back to life. Perhaps Hayley has grown prettier than me, but she doesn’t have what I have. She doesn’t have my mystique. Not now. She doesn’t have Mark Pritchard chasing her like I do.

  I met her eyes as he pushed me up against the wall. He was trying be all manly but just made himself seem too eager, and he hurt my spine against the dado rail. Despite that, it didn’t even feel like he was there. Not really. It was all about me and Hayley. Our gazes were locked as he wormed his way between my lips, pushing his thick tongue against mine. She tried to smile but her neck was going blotchy like I’d almost drawn blood.

  I pretended I’d done it because I was off my face, the same reason I gave for coming back home rather than staying over at hers with Jenny, but that wasn’t the truth. I don’t know what the truth is. I didn’t want to snog Mark. I just know it felt good to see Hayley beaten. Cool, calm Hayley. The running star. The girl with the perfect abs. The girl who was my second and is now becoming something of her own. Sometimes I think they’re strangers. We’re all strangers. Circling each other.

  I see the same thing with my mum and her ‘ladies’ lunch’ group. They laugh and joke and say how much they love each other, but as true as that might be, they still watch each other for weakness. For chinks in the armour. I don’t think boys are the same. Boys are dogs. Women are like cats. Individuals by nature. We are not pack animals. And now that we three, we inseparable, admired rulers of the school roost, are almost women, maybe that’s starting to show.

  Hayley didn’t shout at me or snap or anything. She pretended it was totally cool. She said she didn’t even really like him and I could have him. I laughed at that. I don’t want Mark Pritchard. He’s a dick. I think most of the boys at school are dicks. I think maybe it was worse for Hayley that I said I didn’t want him. It was mean. True, but mean. I just wanted her to know that I could have him. That he preferred me.

  Jenny isn’t so good at hiding her feelings. She’s our sheep, after all. A sweet, funny, sexy sheep. Sometimes I’m not sure if she even has a mind of her own, or just some mash-up of mine and Hayley’s. She kept looking at me, confused. Half-going to say something and then stopping herself. When I said I was heading home rather than coming to Hayley’s, neither of them really argued. They looked relieved. Maybe they were. They’re whispering together again, like they did before my accident sometimes. They think I don’t see, but I do. Maybe that’s why I snogged Mark. Maybe I needed to remind them who’s in charge.

  I still wish I’d gone to Hayley’s, even though it’s better that I didn’t. Not while I was still high.

  If I’d gone to Hayley’s, I might not have dreamed. I thought getting high would save me from the fear of that darkness. I thought it would protect me from the nightmares. But it didn’t. After I finally fell asleep, I woke so drenched in sweat that I thought I was back in the river, trapped there forever.

  I can’t remember the whole dream. Only fragments. I was in the terrible, endless darkness. It swallowed me up. I was alone. It was beyond cold. I couldn’t breathe. I wasn’t supposed to be there. It was wrong. I tried to propel myself upwards, swimming breaststroke, but I didn’t move. I don’t think I moved, anyway. It was hard to tell. There was no sense of anything around me. No water. No current sucking at my feet. I was just suspended in the void.

  And then someone whispered my name.

  I froze, hanging in the nothing, unable to see. They whispered it again. A voice I knew I should know. Closer. And then I was screaming silently into the dark.

  Eighteen

  The Barbies would probably die if they were seen anywhere as tacky as Frankie & Benny’s, but Becca, still a bit wired and on a major comedown, was glad of the starchy, fattening food by the time two o’clock came around.

  Still, she thought as she drained another Diet Coke and wished her mouth would feel less dry, it was a bit lame to take your best friend out on your mum’s birthday lunch. Parents’ birthday meals were a drag at the best of times – not something you’d want to put someone else through. But then not everyone got on with her family in the way Hannah did. Becca looked at them, all smiling and happy to be with each other. Maybe that’s what came of being the absolutely least cool kid in school – you got to stay friends with your parents.

  ‘And you’re doing all the stage set and design, Hannah say
s?’ Hannah’s mum, Amanda, said. ‘That’s quite a responsibility.’

  ‘She did it last year, too,’ Hannah cut in, as if Becca needed the support, as if Amanda with her doughy body and slack bosom was anything other than fully supportive at all times. ‘And it was amazing. Really was.’ Hannah grinned over at her, and for an instant Becca could see her as a mum, a skinnier version of Amanda, but filled with that same yearning to live through someone else rather than risk living for herself.

  ‘Katie Groud did most of it last year, but she’s at Uni now.’

  ‘I’m sure it will still be brilliant.’ Amanda looked from Becca to Hannah and back again. ‘With you two working on it, I can’t see how it couldn’t be.’ Her eyes and smile were so full of warmth Becca almost blushed. Hannah was clever and had got all A*s in her exams and would go off to Oxford or something, no doubt, but sometimes Becca thought that she was Hannah’s greatest school achievement in her parents’ eyes. If Hannah had a friend like Becca then she couldn’t be doing too badly. She wasn’t one of those girls with no friends who got bullied online and hanged themselves.

  Becca wished she could tell Amanda that she didn’t have to worry. Hannah hadn’t even been bullied when they were young. Hannah was too bland, too invisible for that. Always had been, always would be. While they were at school, at least. People couldn’t be bothered to bully Hannah. Becca bit into her burger, the juice running down her chin, and her stomach growled. How had she ended up Hannah’s best friend? Wrong place at the wrong time, probably. Paired up in Science just as Natasha had dumped her. And here she now was, in Frankie & Benny’s for Hannah’s mum’s birthday like they were kids. It was depressing, even if she felt bad for thinking that way.

  ‘And how’s that boyfriend of yours?’ Amanda asked. ‘Does he have any nice friends for Hannah?’

  ‘Mum, please!’ Hannah’s pasty skin flushed. ‘Dad, tell her.’

  ‘Don’t embarrass her, Amanda,’ Mr Alderton muttered from behind a fistful of sticky ribs.

  ‘What? I was just asking a question.’

  ‘He’s fine.’ Becca swallowed her burger and spoke through meaty teeth, eager to answer and stop Amanda going further. She wasn’t backward in coming forward, and while Hannah was a shy virgin, Amanda had no such reserve. ‘But I’m not sure his friends would really be Hannah’s type.’

  She caught the sideways glance from Hannah, a defensive pre-empting of hurt, unsure if this was a little dig or not. ‘Hannah needs someone brainier.’ Becca smiled. ‘She’s too clever for most of the boys Aiden knows. Hannah needs, like, a doctor or something.’

  ‘You’re right there.’ Amanda nodded approvingly. ‘She’s academic. She needs someone who can match that.’

  ‘Come to the loo with me,’ Hannah said, tugging on Becca’s sleeve. ‘Let’s have a moment’s sanity.’

  ‘I thought it was just a stereotype that women went to the toilet in pairs,’ Mr Alderton said. ‘What can you two have to gossip about when out for lunch with just us?’

  Amanda slapped him playfully on the arm with her napkin. ‘They’re teenagers. They’ve always got something to gossip about, isn’t that right?’ She winked at the girls and they dutifully smiled back, sliding quickly out from the booth.

  It’s a sitcom, Becca thought. Hannah’s living in a sitcom without much intentional com. She suddenly felt sorry for her. It must be hard being liked by your parents all the time. Having to be nice to each other constantly. She couldn’t remember ever seeing Hannah just grunt a moody hello at Amanda when they got in from school. Not once. There was always a smile and a quick chat about the day as they grabbed drinks and snacks. Very different from her home where just a slightly odd look from her mother could send Becca into a full teenage flounce to her room.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ Hannah said as the door to the ladies’ swung closed behind them. ‘I’m sure she’s getting worse.’

  ‘She’s still better than my mum,’ Becca said, although she wasn’t actually sure she’d ever want to swap.

  There was a moment of quiet as they went into cubicles side by side and willed their bladders to work knowing other people could hear them.

  ‘Did you stay at Aiden’s last night?’ Hannah asked through the thin wall. ‘You look tired. Your eyes are a bit stoned still.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Becca said, and then flushed. Hannah emerged at the same time and they went to the sinks. Becca kept her head down as she focused on washing her hands. ‘I went to the party for a bit.’

  ‘Natasha’s one?’ Hannah stared at her.

  ‘I didn’t stay long. Just thought I should show up, you know. She did invite me and everything.’ She felt uncomfortable. She’d considered not telling Hannah she’d been to the party, but that would have been stupid. Hannah would’ve heard at school. And really, why should she lie? It wasn’t like she’d done anything bad. Hannah wouldn’t have wanted to go anyway. It was just a party. No big deal.

  ‘Sure,’ Hannah said. She paused, though, as if she hadn’t quite said everything.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Just be careful.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘You know. It’s Natasha. Be careful. I don’t trust her. She can be mean. Amongst other things.’

  ‘You don’t know her,’ Becca snapped. Maybe she can be mean to you, she wanted to say but bit it back, because yes, Natasha and the Barbies had sneered at Hannah over the years, but they’d also sneered at Becca. Hannah knew that. Becca knew that. ‘Look,’ she said, calmer, ‘I’m not planning on getting all close with her again. Those days are done. She asked me and in the end I thought it was polite to go. That’s it. I mean, she nearly died and we still don’t know how she ended up there.’

  Hannah shrugged. ‘I just worry about you.’

  ‘Now you sound like my mother.’ Becca rolled her eyes and then squeezed Hannah’s arm. ‘Come on – I really need one of those huge chocolate sundaes that make you want to puke by the time you’ve finished them.’

  They were giggling when they got back to the table and Amanda’s approving smile. That was when Becca noticed the text message on her phone.

  Want 2 come over l8r? Bout

  4/5? Let me know. Tash.

  Her heart thumped. What was going on with Tash and the other Barbies? Why would she want Becca there and not Hayley or Jenny? Or would they be there, too? Why was Tasha being friendly again?

  Sure, she sent back. See you then.

  ‘Aiden?’ Hannah said. ‘Does he looove you? He want to kiiisss you?’

  Becca smiled. ‘Something like that, you dick.’ It wasn’t even a proper lie. She hadn’t lied. She hadn’t said if it was or wasn’t Aiden. It didn’t matter anyway. They were allowed other friends. Well, Hannah would be if she ever made any.

  Still, she only ate half her ice cream when it came, and as they walked out into the cold and the other girl linked arms with her, Becca couldn’t help but feel she was somehow betraying Hannah. Maybe she wouldn’t go to Tasha’s. Maybe she’d text again and say she couldn’t make it after all.

  *

  It was weird being back in Tasha’s house. Alison pulled out the leftovers of some huge chocolate cake and said how urban Becca’s look was as she cut them big slices despite Becca saying she honestly couldn’t eat any, which appeared to win her more approval from Alison Howland. They sat at the kitchen table with her for a few awkward minutes of polite conversation until Becca, her shyness making her clumsy, nearly spilled her Coke all over a pile of neatly stacked magazines balanced on top of a slim Airbook.

  ‘Don’t worry, don’t worry,’ Alison said as Becca grabbed a cloth to mop up the spillage she hadn’t quite prevented before catching her glass. ‘I never use the thing. All that’s damp is a corner of some celebrity’s face.’ She held up the wet magazine. ‘See?’

  ‘We’re going upstairs now, anyway,’ Tasha said. ‘Com
e on, Bex.’ She left her plate of barely touched cake behind and Becca did the same.

  ‘Nice to see you again, Mrs Howland.’

  ‘You, too, Rebecca.’ The older woman squeezed her arm. ‘And thank you. For being there. It really helped.’

  ‘No problem.’ Becca’s face flushed hard. Adults being grateful to teenagers was weird. And a little bit scary. Like they were all becoming equals and there was no safety left in the world. Their childhoods were over. They were in a waiting room at the cusp of adulthood. No-man’s-land, neither one thing nor the other. Sometimes it was brilliant. Sometimes it totally sucked.

  *

  Natasha’s room had changed. Gone were the boy-band posters and pink walls, now replaced with a pale yellow, stylish mirrors and a dressing table. One wall had a photo collage on it and Becca glanced over it. It was mainly Barbie selfies. And mainly from a year or two ago, pre-Instagram. Their lives were all online now. It was a bigger admiring audience that way, and the Barbies definitely needed an audience.

  ‘If you want to smoke, go ahead.’ Natasha locked her bedroom door and then opened the window.

  ‘Your parents let you have a lock on your door? They are so not normal.’

  ‘Girl needs her privacy. I’m past the age when I’ll risk my dad walking in and seeing my boobs. Or worse.’

  ‘Gross, Tasha. Most dads just knock.’

  ‘You know my parents – they like an easy life. I wanted a lock. I got one.’

  They swung one leg each over the old windowsill and sat half-in and half-out of Natasha’s room, cold air one side, central heating warm on the other. They had done this many times in the long-ago past, but right now Becca felt like Alice in Wonderland after she’d drunk or eaten whatever it was that made her grow. The windowsill looked so much smaller. The last time Becca had sat like this, she didn’t need to hunch and her hanging leg hadn’t felt the drag of gravity. She lifted it and let it rest on a branch of the old tree whose limbs had carried Natasha out into the night and to the river. It was an easy reach.