by Sara Barnard
Here I was, somehow, sitting in a random park in the middle of Reading with people I didn’t know. I thought with a sudden, unexpected pang of Brighton beach, with the uncomfortable, cold pebbles I’d complained about for years. The sea stretching out in front, the city behind, and the two piers like goalposts in the night. You always knew where you were in Brighton.
“What time is it?” I asked Suzanne.
“Just past seven,” she said, glancing at her phone.
I took a more restrained sip from the bottle and passed it over to her, trying to calm the flutterings of anxiety in my stomach.
Just past seven was still early. We had plenty of time to get home before my absence became noteworthy.
Tarin 7:36: Hey, when will you be home? I want to watch The Lion King. Watch it with me? :) xx
7:40: Not till late. Sorry! xxxx
7:43: Where are you, btw?
7:58: Just out.
8:02: . . . my sister sense is tingling. Everything OK?
8:03: Haha yes of course! xxx
It wasn’t. It was getting harder to ignore my nerves. It was just past eight p.m., and the journey back to Brighton would take close to three hours. Suzanne was showing no signs of intending to leave, and neither was anyone else. Worse, my phone battery was getting dangerously low.
“Hey,” I said to Suzanne, dropping my voice so her friends wouldn’t hear. “Um . . . are we going to head off soon?”
“It’s way too early to leave,” she said, her tone dismissive. She leaned forward, away from me. “Hey, Toby, can you spare a cigarette?”
“Suze—” I touched her arm, waiting for her to look back at me. “Seriously. If we’re not going to leave now, then when?”
Toby glanced at me, a packet of cigarettes in his fingers, then looked back at Suzanne, who held out her hand. “Are you causing trouble?”
“Me?” Suzanne responded, half innocence, half mischief. Toby let out a short laugh, then handed her a cigarette. There was a moment of silence while she lit it before she turned to me. “Hey—” Her voice was suddenly upbeat, but a little too casual. “You know, we could just stay the night here.”
I blinked at her. “What?”
“Instead of going back to Brighton,” Suzanne said. She was smiling her fullest, most engaging smile. “Why not just stay? My parents won’t be back until tomorrow evening, and we’ll be long gone by then.”
“My parents are expecting me home tonight,” I said slowly.
“So? Tell them you’re staying out with me.”
“I can’t.” I didn’t even want to think about how my mother would react if she found out I’d upped and left Brighton for the night without even telling her. “It’ll make it worse if I say I’m with you.”
“God, Caddy.” She rolled her eyes, looking wearily amused in a way that made me want to pour the contents of the Coke bottle into her lap. “So what? Stay out. Go home tomorrow. So they’ll get mad—so what? Who cares?”
“I care,” I said. “I’m the one who’ll have to deal with it.”
“Deal with what? Them being ‘disappointed’ in you?” She raised her fingers into sarcastic scare quotes. “How terrifying.”
I bit my tongue. “Don’t be—”
“It’s not like they’ll stop loving you,” Suzanne interrupted, “just for staying out one night without telling them. What are you so scared of?” She reached out and poked my shoulder. “Come on, Cads. Nothing significant will ever happen unless you get out of your comfort zone every now and then.”
I caught her eye and looked at her levelly, waiting for the expression on her face to falter. Eventually it did. “Did you do this on purpose?” I asked. The question was unnecessary. She had clearly done this on purpose.
She at least had the grace to look sheepish. “Maybe a little?” Seeing my face, she added quickly, “I didn’t tell you because I knew you wouldn’t come, and I wanted you to come. Oh, please don’t be mad. It’ll be fun.” Her eyes were full of sparks and mischief. “Don’t be mad. Are you mad?”
Was there any point in being mad? Had I really thought we’d go to Reading and back again in a day?
“Why did you bring me?” I asked. “Why would you even want me here so much?”
Her forehead crinkled, the corner of her mouth quirking into a smile. “Is that a serious question? Because you’re my best friend and I love you? Because I have fun with you? Because I wanted you to meet my friends? And because you’re a good influence. I’m much better with you.” She made a face. “In a non-rom-com kind of way.”
“You’re a bad influence on me,” I replied, but I was smiling despite myself.
She looked startled. “Am I?”
“Uh, yeah? Didn’t you notice?”
“I’m not a bad influence, I’m a fun influence,” Suzanne said confidently, but her expression was still a little troubled.
“Maybe we balance each other out,” I suggested, reaching for the Coke bottle. “I’m good, you’re fun. Or something.”
“Ooh, yes. That’s good. What’s Rosie though?”
“The spirit level,” I said. I’d meant to joke, but the image was so unexpectedly accurate I laughed. “She is definitely the spirit level.”
“What’s a spirit level?”
“The thing you use to check shelves are straight,” I said, still laughing. The vodka was clearly starting to work its magic.
She looked baffled, which only made me laugh harder. “God,” I said, trying to calm myself down. I reached for my phone. “Right. Okay, so I’m staying here tonight. Shit, my battery’s almost out.”
“That’s good,” Suzanne said. “No fallout till tomorrow. This is a great opportunity for you to learn to live in the moment.”
“Seize the day,” I said, flexing my fingers over my phone and trying to decide who to text first. “Carpe diem.”
Battery: 5%
8:14: T, I’m going to crash at Rosie’s tonight. Will you tell Mum? Be back tomoz x
8:17: ? Why not come home? Have you got stuff with you?
4%
8:18: Roz has pjs. Battery’s about to die. See you!
3%
8:19: If anyone asks, I’m staying at yours tonight.
8:23: No you’re not.
8:24: ??? Wtf Roz?
2%
8:28: Is the fuckup catching up with you?
8:29: ROZ seriously my batterys dying. Are you kidding?
8:36: Nope. Have a good night.
As I stared at the phone in genuine shock, the screen went black as the battery died. I felt a moment of pure panic, imagining the possible scenarios that could play out when I got home. And then I let it go. It was done. I was either in the biggest trouble of my life or I wasn’t, and there was nothing I could do about it now.
23
AN HOUR LATER OUR GROUP had swelled as more people arrived. I’d long since given up trying to take in anyone’s name, but that didn’t seem to matter much in the dark. To my relief, Suzanne stayed sitting next to me, guiding me gently into conversations when she could and reminding me of people’s names as we talked. She was hugging her knees, a lit cigarette dangling between her fingers, her eyes bright.
“Did Suze tell you she had her first kiss here?” Toby asked me, grinning.
“Fuck off—no, I fucking didn’t,” Suzanne said, laughing.
“Oh, shit, yeah—that was me.” He laughed too, loud and amiable. Out of all of the strangers here, Toby was definitely my favorite, with his cheerful brown eyes, quick smile and eyelashes that put mine to shame. “But you were there.”
I looked at Suzanne, assuming this was an extension of a joke, but she just rolled her eyes and grinned at him, settling the cigarette back between her lips. She caught my eye and shook her head a little. Don’t ask.
“How are things going with Liz?” she asked, a little pointedly. At some point—I had no idea when—Toby’s girlfriend had departed from the group and not returned.
Toby flashed her a gr
in. “Pretty good. How about you? Got a boyfriend down in Brighton?”
“Oh, please.”
“Brighton boys not good enough?”
“Not all girls need boyfriends,” Suzanne said. “I’m a happy soloist, thanks.”
I took another sip from the Coke bottle and thought about this, zoning out of the conversation I had little to add to anyway. Technically Suzanne and I were both single, but I’d never thought of myself as “happy” about it. Did it all come down to who had the power? Suzanne was single out of choice (she could clearly have anyone she wanted), while I was hindered by a lack of interested parties, let alone options. And even when there was a hint of interest, in the form of the sweet Tariq Laham, I chickened out.
I tried to imagine how different things could have been for me if I’d led a different, less sheltered life. Not going to private school, to start with, but maybe even growing up here, with Suzanne, in this city, instead of Brighton. Would I be more confident and extroverted? Or was my self-conscious introversion just part of who I was? Maybe it would actually have been worse to be surrounded by boys every day, who would probably have teased me relentlessly rather than fall in love with me.
Still, the thought process was an oddly unsettling one. I’d always thought of my personality as a fact of my life, a given, regardless of my circumstances or friends. But maybe it wasn’t.
The word “pot” jolted me back to my surroundings and I looked up, suddenly anxious. One of the newer arrivals, a boy with sweeping brown hair whose name I thought might begin with a J, was rolling a joint.
“Is that for me?” Suzanne asked, stretching out a hand toward him. Joe? Jack? Jay?
“Get your own,” Joe/Jack/Jay said, laughing. “Dirty scrounger.”
“I am getting my own,” Suzanne said. “From you. Go on.” She grinned flirtatiously at him, wide and dazzling. It was her usual winning smile set on fire. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“Oh, I bet you will.” There was a devilish smirk on his face. He wound up his arm and tossed the spliff into Suzanne’s lap.
“Lighter?” she prompted.
“God, you’re demanding.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a metal Zippo. “There’s a cover charge, you know.” As he threw it at her, he glanced at me. “Does your friend want one?”
“We’ll share,” Suzanne said immediately. “Caddy doesn’t want to make anything up to you.”
The laughter seemed to come from all around me, and I wondered how many people were actually there. I tried to smile, but I felt so out of my depth I wanted to sink into the ground. I’d never felt so private-school girl in my life.
“Hey”—Suzanne had leaned her head close to mine and was speaking softly, directly into my ear so no one else could hear—“that was just for show. You don’t have to have any.” I could hear the protective affection in her voice, the reassurance; and the anxiety that had seized me at the first appearance of the joint disappeared.
“Can I try it?” I whispered back.
“Do you want to?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes! Gimme.”
She laughed, putting her hand through the crook of my elbow and squeezing. “I completely love you.”
“Watts!” someone called. “Are you done yet?”
Suzanne fumbled with the lighter, cupping one hand around the flame as she lifted it to the joint between her lips. I watched her confident movements, the ease in the way she inhaled before tossing the lighter to whoever it was who’d spoken. I’d never seen her do this, yet how many times had she clearly done it before? I thought about Dylan and his friends. Maybe even Rosie?
She handed me the joint, smaller and lighter than I’d expected, and put her head close to mine again, in the pretense of leaning against my shoulder, her voice low. “Make sure to breathe in normally.” Was this the dreaded peer pressure the professionally anxious had always warned about? Half drunk with a friend I loved and trusted in the middle of a park in Reading? It didn’t feel like it.
I inhaled, trying not to think too hard about what “normally” meant, given that I’d never even smoked a cigarette, and felt the smoke burn into my mouth, curling in my throat. It tasted thick and hot and disgusting. I choked out a cough, spluttering out a humiliated “Sorry” as I pushed the joint back into Suzanne’s hand. For all her whispered instructions, I’d made it pretty clear it was the first time I’d tried one, but I was gagging too much to really care.
I could see Suzanne trying not to laugh, her hand on my back, patting slightly. “It’s okay,” she said. “It’s not for everyone.”
“It’s exactly like breathing in smoke,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Why would anyone do that for fun?”
“It gets better,” she said. “Want to try again?”
I looked at the little stub of a spliff caught in her fingers. “Maybe in a minute,” I said, imagining a layer of ash coating my throat. “Or, you know, maybe never, ever again.”
Suzanne laughed properly and reached an arm around me, squeezing my neck in a brief, tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said.
* * *
By the time I’d stopped keeping track of time I’d finished the bottle of vodka and Coke and had taken four more “experimental” puffs on the joint. My head felt spongy, my eyelids heavy, the world around me slightly blurred and sparkly. I was lying on my back on the grass, my head in Suzanne’s lap, listening to her and the others talking. There were just six of us left now, slumped in a sort-of circle. Joe—his name was definitely Joe—had found a tennis ball under a tree and we were tossing it back and forth between us.
“What time is it?” a girl with dark brown hair asked. I thought her name might be Emmie. Or Ellie. E-something.
“Nearly one?” Hasan pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at it.
“Is it? Shit.” She started scrambling to her feet. “I have to go home.”
“What?” Suzanne’s voice was an affected whine. “No! Stay! You can come back to mine. It’ll be like old times.”
E-something was already pulling the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “Sorry, Zanne. Give me some more warning next time, yeah?” She came over and knelt to give Suzanne a hug. “So amazing to see you.”
When she’d gone, the five of us that remained shared the last few dregs of alcohol between us—a cheap cider I mercifully could barely taste—then left the park.
“So are we going to yours?” Joe asked, his arm slung around Suzanne’s shoulders. “Like old times, right?”
Suzanne, who had her arm linked through mine, shrugged him off. “Probably not a great idea.”
“Come on, just for a bit,” Toby coaxed. He grinned at me. “You think it’s a great idea, right?”
“Yeah,” I said, buoyed and bouncy. “What are you so scared of, Suze?”
She laughed. “You’re supposed to be the good one.”
“Not tonight,” I said.
“I’ve got to head off,” Hasan said.
“Oh, what?” Suzanne stopped in her tracks. “If we’re going back to mine, you have to come, Has. Please?”
He grinned an easy, lazy grin. “Next time. Promise. See ya.”
“Damn,” she muttered into my ear as he walked away. “I thought you two might hit it off.”
“Really?” He’d barely looked at me all night. “Why?”
“Because he’s funny and nice. Plus he actually has a brain. And there wouldn’t have been any pressure because you wouldn’t have to see him again, so you could just relax and see what it’s like.” She let out a sigh. “Oh well. We’ll get rid of Toby and Joe as soon as we can, yeah? Then we can stay up and talk.”
“It’s so weird being back here,” Toby said when we got to Suzanne’s, craning his neck to look up the stairs.
“Weird for you,” Suzanne said, flicking on the hallway lights. “Imagine what it’s like for me.” She looked at us, the cheerfulness gone from her voice and face. “Don
’t smoke in here, okay? And don’t spill anything.”
“Chill out, Snooze,” Toby said lightly. He swung an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “We know the rules.”
“I don’t,” I offered.
“Make a mess and you’re dead,” Joe said. He laughed. “Right?”
Suzanne glared at him. “Not you, fuckhead. Me. I’d be the dead one.” She hesitated. “Maybe you should just go.”
“Relax,” Joe said, either missing her tone entirely or choosing to ignore it. “Have a toke.”
“What’s a toke?” I asked. It felt as if the vodka had infected my vocal cords. Wozzatoke?
“Jesus,” Joe said, his eyebrow raised. “Where’d you find this one, Zanne?”
“That’s not very nice,” I said, offended. “I have a name.”
“A weird name,” he said. “Hey, what’s with the weird name?”
“Leave her alone.” Suzanne sounded exasperated. She glanced at Toby, who smirked at her. “God, what am I doing here?”
“Chilling out and having fun,” Toby said. This time he put both arms around her, hugging her from behind like a bear, his chin on the top of her head. “With your friends.”
No one had ever hugged me like that. It looked nice. Was this what I was missing out on, being in a girls’ school? Not boyfriends, but boy friends?
“I want a hug,” I said abruptly. All three of them turned to stare at me. “A hug,” I clarified, because they looked so confused.
“Cads, maybe you should sit down for a bit,” Suzanne said. She broke away from Toby and looped her arm through mine, guiding me into the living room. “Want some water?”
“If you put some vodka in it,” I said agreeably. I felt fuzzy and happy, like I was seeing myself from the outside for the first time. Look how much better I was with the fuel of alcohol and drugs! No wonder people got drunk and stoned. I was like Caddy 2.0. Beta Caddy. I nudged her. “Hey, Suze?”
“Yeah?”
“Am I doing okay?”
She stopped, right in the middle of the living room. “What?”
“Am I doing okay?” I repeated. “Like, am I cool? Do you think they like me?”
