by Sara Barnard
So anyway. She’s got a meeting with Mr. Henriksen (thats our head of year, Cads), so we’ll see how it goes. If it doesnt work the suspension is for the rest of the week, so I’ll be back at school by Monday anyway. Sarah says I have to go to the café with her so she can keep an eye on me for the rest of the week, and I’m not allowed to see anyone, including you two. Thats basically my punishment, but it could be loads worse.
We’re still on for Lev’s party though, right? Thank God I didnt tell Sarah about it before, because she def wouldnt let me go if she knew. She just thinks I’m staying at yours on Saturday, Roz, which is basically true.
OK, that’s pretty much it. Send me lots of texts and stuff until the weekend otherwise I’ll be lonely :(
Lots of love xxxx
Wednesday 1:18
From: Rosie Caron ([email protected])
To: Suzanne Watts ([email protected]);
Caddy Oliver ([email protected])
Are you sure it’s a good idea to go to the party, Suze? Dylan will be there.
Wednesday 1:20
From: Suzanne Watts ([email protected])
To: Rosie Caron ([email protected]);
Caddy Oliver ([email protected])
Why not?
Wednesday 1:22
From: Rosie Caron ([email protected])
To: Suzanne Watts ([email protected]);
Caddy Oliver ([email protected])
Suze, come on.
Wednesday 1:25
From: Suzanne Watts ([email protected])
To: Rosie Caron ([email protected]);
Caddy Oliver ([email protected])
Why should I not go because of him? He shouldn’t go coz of me.
Wednesday 1:30
From: Rosie Caron ([email protected])
To: Suzanne Watts ([email protected]);
Caddy Oliver ([email protected])
Maybe, but that’s not what will happen.
What if you go and get really upset or something? What if he’s a dick again?
Wednesday 1:32
From: Suzanne Watts ([email protected])
To: Rosie Caron ([email protected]);
Caddy Oliver ([email protected])
I’m not going to talk to him or anything, I’m not an idiot.
Wednesday 1:35
From: Rosie Caron ([email protected])
To: Suzanne Watts ([email protected]);
Caddy Oliver ([email protected])
I know, but you’ll be drunk, probs. What if he’s all nice to you and you think it’s a good idea to get back with him?
Wednesday 1:36
From: Suzanne Watts ([email protected])
To: Rosie Caron ([email protected]);
Caddy Oliver ([email protected])
Is that really what you think of me?
Wednesday 1:38
From: Rosie Caron ([email protected])
To: Suzanne Watts ([email protected]);
Caddy Oliver ([email protected])
Don’t be like that. I’m just worrying about you.
Wednesday 1:39
From: Suzanne Watts ([email protected])
To: Rosie Caron ([email protected]);
Caddy Oliver ([email protected])
Well don’t.
Wednesday 1:40
From: Rosie Caron ([email protected])
To: Suzanne Watts ([email protected]);
Caddy Oliver ([email protected])
Oh, fine, forget it.
Wednesday 1:41
From: Suzanne Watts ([email protected])
To: Rosie Caron ([email protected]);
Caddy Oliver ([email protected])
Fine.
Wednesday 4:04
From: Caddy Oliver ([email protected])
To: Suzanne Watts ([email protected]);
Rosie Caron ([email protected])
Um. So . . . are we still on for Saturday?
Wednesday 4:17
From: Suzanne Watts ([email protected])
To: Caddy Oliver ([email protected]);
Rosie Caron ([email protected])
Yeah. You two can be my chaperones.
Wednesday 4:41
From: Rosie Caron ([email protected])
To: Caddy Oliver ([email protected])
Argh I can’t talk to her anymore. You deal with her. Tell her to come to mine for 6 on Saturday, if she stops acting like such a petty bitch.
Wednesday 4:53
From: Caddy Oliver ([email protected])
To: Rosie Caron ([email protected])
Give her a break, she was suspended yesterday.
I’ll tell her, but I’m sure you’ll speak to her before then
anyway!
Wednesday 4:55
From: Rosie Caron ([email protected])
To: Caddy Oliver ([email protected])
Hmmm.
Wednesday 5:01
From: Caddy Oliver ([email protected])
To: Suzanne Watts ([email protected])
Shall we go together to Rosie’s on Sat? We should get there for 6.
xx
Wednesday 5:12
From: Suzanne Watts ([email protected])
To: Caddy Oliver ([email protected]
OK, Sarah can pick you up? Would that be OK with your parents?
xx
Wednesday 5:15
From: Caddy Oliver ([email protected])
To: Suzanne Watts ([email protected])
Yeah, it’ll be fine.
Any joy with your head of year?
xx
Wednesday 5:19
From: Suzanne Watts ([email protected])
To: Caddy Oliver ([email protected])
Nope. So I’ll be at the café tomorrow. Hey, if you’re free after school you should stop by for cake :)
Wednesday 5:22
From: Caddy Oliver ([email protected])
To: Suzanne Watts ([email protected])
Amazing! I will if I can. I’ll bring Roz, yeah?
Wednesday 5:23
From: Suzanne Watts ([email protected])
To: Caddy Oliver ([email protected])
OK.
xx
20
IN LESS THAN TWENTY-FOUR HOURS, Suzanne and Rosie seemed to have got over their snippiness and were back to their usual selves. I came home late on Thursday evening, after an exam prep evening at Esther’s, to find they’d both spammed my Facebook page with forty-eight photos and videos of Elton John.
If anything, Suzanne seemed to enjoy her three days off school and her time in the café. When Rosie and I visited on Friday afternoon she was behind the till, concentrating so hard on taking an order that she didn’t realize immediately that we were there. She brought us mille-feuille and chocolate milk shakes and we sat at the corner table together, people-watching and talking.
On Saturday, Suzanne texted me to let me know she was outside with Sarah and I went out to meet her. She was dressed in the most casual of Saturday clothes, the picture of a teenage girl on her way to a friend’s house for a sleepover.
“Just a quiet night for you girls then?” Sarah asked as she drove.
“Yeah,” Suzanne said before I could try to lie. “It’s been such a weird week I couldn’t face anything else.”
It was almost scary really. I knew she was lying, and even I was momentarily convinced. It wasn’t just what she’d said or even the placid expression on her face, it was the relaxed way she was sitting in the front seat, her overnight bag containing her going-out clothes right there on her lap, her fingers tapping her leg to the beat of the music. She lied with her whole body and it seemed effortless.
I thought about asking her about i
t later, but I couldn’t think of a way of doing it that wouldn’t come out confrontational. The last thing I wanted after everything that had happened that week was an argument.
Levina’s house lived up to its billing. It turned out to be much closer to my own house than Rosie’s, near the seafront and huge. Her older sister and brother—twins in year thirteen—had invited their own friends, so by the time we arrived you could barely move for people.
“Come and get a drink!” Levina squealed when we arrived, already giggly with alcohol. She was wearing a too-tight dress and a large hat in the shape of a birthday cake. “Oh my God, Suze, I can’t believe you came!”
“Happy birthday,” Suzanne said in reply, a tight smile on her face.
When we headed into the living room to find the alcohol, she turned to me and gripped my wrist momentarily. “Oh my God, I need a drink.”
“Me too,” I said, already feeling self-conscious and out of place. Suzanne had done a good job making me up on the outside, but it hadn’t had the transformative effect I’d hoped for on the inside. I was still me.
We took our drinks into another room which had a table covered in pizzas and a crowd of excitable teenagers and found a spot for the three of us on the bench that was built into the wall.
“Cheers,” Rosie said, angling her bottle toward me.
“Cheers,” I replied, more enthusiastically than I really meant, clinking my bottle against hers. Suzanne leaned over the two of us and jiggled her own bottle between ours.
“I see Dylan,” Rosie said quietly.
Suzanne took a sip from her bottle and made a face. “Can we pretend he’s not here?”
I was about to ask which one Dylan was, but there was no need. As soon as he spotted us his face changed and he started to make his way over.
“Oh great,” Rosie muttered to me. “Can’t we at least get a few drinks in first?”
When both Rosie and Suzanne had talked about Dylan, I’d expected a good-looking lad-type. Probably a bit obnoxious, aware of his appeal—hot in an obvious way. But Dylan was tall and lithe with messy dark hair and the unlikeliest blue eyes. He was wearing skinny jeans, a Bon Iver T-shirt and, most unexpectedly of all, a lip ring. This was not in any way a description I would have thought to put on a boy my two best friends both liked.
But then he smiled. And it made a lot more sense.
“Don’t even think about it,” Suzanne said.
He ignored this. “Hey,” he said, looking right at her. “You all right?”
Suzanne just looked at him. A fierce, furious glare.
“Want to come out for a smoke?” Dylan asked, undeterred. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and waved them slightly, still with that smile on his face. The smile said, Of course you do.
Unexpected. That was the only word I could think of for him.
“Dylan, just go,” Rosie said, her voice exasperated.
“Aw, Roz,” Dylan said, surprising me again. He called her Roz. “I’m building bridges here.”
I glanced at Suzanne just in time to see something flash across her face. She did want to go with him. Even if it was just for a second, she did.
“Run along, little boy,” she said instead.
Dylan slid a cigarette between his lips, a smirk crooked behind it. “See you later, then.”
After he’d gone, Suzanne’s tensed shoulders relaxed against mine. Leaning on me, she turned to Rosie. “Credit for that, please.”
Rosie grinned. “Well done, I’m so proud.” She reached over and adjusted the strap of my top. “What did you think of him, Cads?”
“Is there an acceptable answer to that?” I asked.
“Let’s not talk about him,” Suzanne said. “Let’s just have fun.”
“Yes,” Rosie said emphatically. “The three of us getting drunk on a Saturday night. Yes. And you . . .” She gestured her bottle toward Suzanne. “Are you going to disappear again?”
“No!” Suzanne said, looking hurt. “I’m here with you guys. I’ll stay with you. I promise.”
She didn’t.
To be fair, she lasted for over an hour, and by the time I turned and realized she’d disappeared I was having too much fun to really care. I was sitting around a ridiculously grand oak table with a plastic cup of beer in front of me, playing a complicated drinking game that involved numbers. Four rounds in and I still wasn’t certain of the rules. Levina’s boyfriend, Charlie, had taken charge, but most of the people I was playing with I didn’t actually know.
But that didn’t seem to matter, all of a sudden. We were just having fun.
“Five!” the girl next to me bellowed.
“Six!” I said.
“Seven!” Maya realized her mistake as soon as she spoke, but we all booed anyway. “Oh fuck. Shut up, okay.” She took a swig of her drink. “ONE!”
We started around the table again, me trying to concentrate on the numbers people were saying over the fuzzy blur of the beer.
“I’m going to get a drink,” Rosie said into my ear. “Want anything?”
“No, I’m good,” I said, lifting my cup as proof. “NINE!”
Rosie rolled her eyes, but she was grinning. She put her hand on my shoulder to hoist herself out of her chair, squeezing affectionately.
I was so engrossed in the game that I almost didn’t notice her return, until I felt a prod on my shoulder and turned distractedly to see her standing there, holding a bottle of Stoli. She gestured to me with her free hand. “You need to come and see this.”
I stood reluctantly and followed her through the living room. She stopped inside the patio doors and I looked out obediently. There were two figures kissing by the table outside. It took me a moment to realize it was Suzanne and Dylan.
Dylan was half sitting, half leaning against the table. Suzanne was standing between his partly open legs, her arms around his neck, his around her waist.
“What the fuck,” I said.
“I know.”
“Aren’t you going to say something?” I asked. We were both whispering, even though it was unlikely they could hear us.
Rosie’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that a serious question?”
“Don’t you think we should?”
“No. Not even slightly.”
“Isn’t it our job as friends to stop her doing stupid things?” I asked.
“I’m sure she’d take that really well,” Rosie said, sarcastic. She took a sip of the Stoli, her face set, a little too calm.
“Wouldn’t you want me to stop you doing something that stupid?”
“I would never do anything that stupid,” Rosie responded. “I have an ounce of sense. And self-respect.”
“Oh, Roz, come on.”
Rosie put her two hands palm up in front of her chest, as if physically distancing herself. “Oh, you go ahead. Don’t let me stop you.” She clearly didn’t expect me to take even a step in their direction.
I hesitated. As much as I wanted to help Suzanne and prove Rosie wrong in the process, I was still very much myself. I definitely hadn’t had enough alcohol to cancel out my life-learned aversion to conflict.
I was about to admit defeat and go back inside, leaving Suzanne to her own mistakes, when I saw Dylan move his hand away from her waist. He lifted his hand into the air above her head, making the okay sign with his finger and thumb. I heard a shout of laughter from the other end of the garden.
“What a dick,” Rosie muttered in disgust.
I stepped through the patio doors and walked over to them, my steps more decisive than I felt. I reached out and took a hold of Suzanne’s arm.
“Suze,” I said.
She broke away from Dylan, looking toward me with a dazed expression on her face. I tried to gauge how drunk she was, how culpable.
“What?” she asked. The confusion vanished, leaving annoyance in its place.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Who the fuck are you?” Dylan interjected.<
br />
“This is Caddy,” Suzanne said. She was looking at me with a less-than-friendly expression on her face, but still she said, “Don’t talk to her like that.”
I was still holding her arm and I squeezed it for emphasis. “Come on, Suze. Come and get a drink with us.” I gestured to Rosie, who had come to stand behind me.
“She’s got a drink,” Dylan said. “And who are you?”
“Caddy’s my friend,” Rosie said, before I could speak. “She goes to Esther’s.”
Dylan’s eyebrows raised as he finally registered my name. He looked amused. “You’re Caddy?” He took the entire length of me in at a glance, then laughed. It was the kind of laugh that made me feel like my skin had been peeled back, leaving every nerve on show.
If I could be anyone but Caddy Oliver, I would have been able to voice the words that had jammed in my mouth. Something confident and brazen, or even just “What are you laughing at?” But I was me. Self-conscious and tentative. Cowed by the casual cruelty of teenage boys.
“Don’t be such a dick,” Suzanne said, rolling her eyes.
She gave his shoulder a shove and he caught her wrist, grinning, and turned to me, his eyes mocking. “Hey, hey, I’m just teasing.”
“I don’t care,” I said, even though I definitely did. “Come on, Suze,” I said again.
Dylan moved his hand up from Suzanne’s wrist and entwined his fingers with hers, pulling her closer to him in one smooth movement. He looked at her, that smile on his face, and said, voice soft, “You’re all right with me, right, Suze?” He moved his free hand to her shoulder, curling around her neck, pulling her toward him.
Suzanne closed her eyes and leaned her head against his chest. I heard Rosie let out a groan. “Let’s go, Cads,” she said.
I didn’t move. “She got suspended because of you,” I said to Dylan. Something like rage was building inside me and it had nowhere to go but him.
“I didn’t throw any chairs,” Dylan replied, smirking.
“You called her damaged goods,” I said. Suzanne’s eyes, already closed, clenched further shut. “You said she was cheap.”
