by KE Payne
Barnaby Rudge: Twigs, I’m gonna go get something to eat.
Twiggy: Sure. Be back later?
Barnaby Rudge: Try and stop me!
Twiggy: You know we ain’t done any virtual karate for a while. Fancy an arse-kicking later?
Barnaby Rudge: You’re on!
I sent a quick message to Joey to tell her I was leaving and she sent me one back, her message littered with apologies ’cos she’d gone quiet on me. I grinned and told her it was fine, then said good-bye to her and Twiggy, not waiting for a reply this time. Instead I logged off and headed downstairs where I was greeted by the sound of pots and pans being clattered about by Mum and a smell of something spicy in the kitchen that made my mouth water and suddenly made me realise just how hungry I was.
*
I got kinda caught up in college work for the next few days, only managing to text Fickle a few times throughout the day rather than our usual twenty or so daily texts to each other. I’d done nothing all week but think about her and think about seeing her on the following Saturday, and not being able to catch up with her properly had nearly killed me. Finally, on Friday, I decided I’d done enough college work all week to warrant being allowed a night in front of the computer without feeling guilty for neglecting work.
I brought up a train website on the screen and started looking for trains for the following Saturday, to Birmingham again. Feeling a warm glow of contentment inside me, happy that it was only eight days until I’d see Fickle again, I grabbed my bank card and booked the same 10.00 a.m. train that I’d caught last week. This time, though, I booked an open return, thinking with a kinda smug satisfaction that there was no way I’d be bailing out on her early again this time.
I snatched up my phone and instinctively rang Fickle to tell her I’d booked, and that she should get her arse moving and book her train too. She picked up within two rings and I felt, as I always did when I heard her voice, my heart quicken slightly.
“Hey,” she said, in her gorgeous, soft voice.
“Hey you,” I replied. “So, I’ve booked my train for next Saturday. Just thought I’d ring you and tell you.”
“Oh right,” Fickle said, kinda slowly, I thought. “Okay.”
“For Birmingham, of course.” I carried on, idly flicking screens on my computer. “Same time as last time?”
“Perfect,” Fickle replied.
“You not booked yours yet, I take it?” I asked.
“No.” Fickle paused. “To be honest, Immy, funds are a little, uh, a little tight at the moment.”
“Oh.” I suddenly felt a bit deflated. “Right.”
“But I’m sure it’ll be okay to book next week,” Fickle went on.
“They’re not much,” I persisted. “I just got mine for £20 return. If you book today you might get it at the same rate?”
“I can’t book it today, Im,” Fickle said. “I’m down to my last few quid.”
“I could pay for it and you pay me back?” I said, hoping I didn’t sound too desperate.
Fickle laughed.
“No, Immy, you don’t need to do that. I’ll book something nearer the day.”
“I don’t mind, honest,” I persisted again, thinking that the fares would rocket next week.
“No,” Fickle said, kinda impatiently, I thought. “But I appreciate the offer, honey.”
There was a bit of a silence. I wasn’t sure what to say and, if I’m honest, I was kinda embarrassed at having apparently pushed it with Fickle. She spoke first.
“Have you had a good day? I’ve been thinking about you loads.”
I perked up a bit, hearing that she’d been thinking of me.
“Yeah, it’s been fine,” I said, watching the computer screen as I saw Joey logging onto MSN. “Just shitloads of work at college at the mo. I mean, my exams aren’t for, like, ages yet, so what’s the deal with all the work?”
A message flashed up from Joey, just kinda saying hi and asking how I was. I nestled my phone in the crook of my neck and tapped out a quick message back to her.
Barnaby Rudge: Hey Joe! Just on the phone to Fickle. Howz you?
“Tell me about it,” Fickle was now saying to me on the phone. “Get this, right, I was given a fifteen-hundred-word essay to write about—in French, mind you—the rising fuel prices affecting Western Europe.”
“Jeez, Gemma!” I whistled under my breath. “That’s a bit heavy going, isn’t it?”
“That’s what I said to my teacher,” Fickle said. “Not that he took a scrap of notice of me.”
“And I thought my piddling little assignment was tough going.” I laughed.
“So it kinda means I’m not going to be around much this weekend…” Fickle’s voice trailed off.
“You’re kidding me?” I felt my heart sink. “When’s it gotta be done by?”
“Monday,” Fickle said.
“And when did he give it to you to do?”
“Today,” Fickle replied. “Uh, no, uh yesterday. Yeah, yesterday. Shit, isn’t it?”
“You’re telling me!” I glanced at the computer screen and saw Joey had replied.
Joey: K, kiddo. I won’t disturb. Catch you later maybe?
Barnaby Rudge: No, stay Joe! Be good to talk!
I meant it. I’d missed talking to her for the last few days. And if, as it seemed she wouldn’t be, Fickle wasn’t going to be around, then who better to have a laugh and a chat with but Joey?
Joey: OK! I’ll sit here and paint me nails or whatever while you finish with Fickle!
I grinned. Joey painting her nails wasn’t an image I thought I’d ever have in my head.
“I’m sorry I won’t be able to speak to you so much, Immy,” Fickle was now saying. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too,” I said truthfully.
“I better go. Mum needs me downstairs for something,” Fickle said, sighing.
“Will you be back later tonight?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.
“Doubt it, hun,” Fickle said, adding, “Sorry.”
“S’okay. I understand. I’ll text you later, yeah?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“I love you, Gem.”
“Catch you later, Immy. Miss you already.”
And then she was gone. I held my phone, still warm, in my hand for a while, thinking about what she’d said, and tried to stop the feelings of complete disappointment inside me. All my excitement of booking my train and thinking that I would have Fickle all to myself all weekend had completely disappeared. I looked back at my computer.
Barnaby Rudge: Hey.
Joey: Hey! Fickle gone?
Barnaby Rudge: Yeah. #Sigh#
Joey: Aw! You got it bad, ain’t you?
Barnaby Rudge: Yeah. #Sigh#
Joey: LOL.
Barnaby Rudge: And the pisser is that she’s not going to be around so much all weekend ’cos she’s got so much work on at college.
Joey: That’s a bastard.
Barnaby Rudge: Tell me about it! I was sooooo looking forward to having her to myself all weekend.
Joey: Are you still seeing her next week?
I grinned.
Barnaby Rudge: Yeah. Just booked my train tickets today too. Can’t wait.
There was a long pause.
Barnaby Rudge: Joe?
Joey: I’m here.
Barnaby Rudge: Ah. You went quiet.
Joey: Did I? Soz.
Barnaby Rudge: S’OK.
There was another long pause, longer this time. Then:
Joey: Is she around tonight? Perhaps if you can’t talk to her over the weekend you can at least have some time with her tonight.
Barnaby Rudge: No. She said she doubts she’ll be around. She’s gone now anyway, said her mum needed her or something.
Joey: Right.
Barnaby Rudge: What’s going on, Joe? You seem awful quiet tonight.
Joey: I’ve kinda got a lot on my mind at the moment. Soz.
Barnaby Rudge:
Claire?
Joey: Sorry?
Barnaby Rudge: Are you thinking about Claire?
Joey: Oh! Sorry! No, not thinking about Claire.
Barnaby Rudge: Oh, right. Just checking.
Yet another long pause ensued. After staring at my computer screen for what seemed like ages, I decided I’d had enough of trying to get anything resembling conversation out of Joey and told her I was going.
Barnaby Rudge: It’s a bit like pulling teeth with you tonight, Joe!
Joey: Thanks.
Barnaby Rudge: So I’m gonna go.
Joey: Wait. Don’t. I’m sorry.
Barnaby Rudge: I really ought to go, anyway. My parents haven’t seen me for days. For all they know, I could be covered in dust and cobwebs up here!
Joey: I have a dilemma, Imms, and I dunno what to do about it. That’s why I’ve been quiet.
Barnaby Rudge: Oh right. Well, maybe I can help? I like a nice dilemma! Go on, spill!
Joey: But I don’t quite know where to start!
Barnaby Rudge: At the beginning? It’s a very good place to start. Did okay for Julie Andrews, didn’t it?
Joey: LOL. Yeah, I guess.
Barnaby Rudge: Try me. I’m very good at dilemmas. Well, usually.
Joey: I found something out about someone and I don’t know what to do about it.
Barnaby Rudge: Well, share! I’ll help you decide what to do. Well, hopefully!
Joey: You might not like this, though. It’s about you and Fickle.
I frowned at the computer screen. Me and Fickle?
Barnaby Rudge: Go on.
Joey: More specifically Fickle.
Barnaby Rudge: Fickle? What about Fickle?
Joey: And I don’t really know how to tell you about what I found out about her.
Barnaby Rudge: I’m listening.
Joey: It’s difficult…
Barnaby Rudge: Jeez, Joe! Just cut to the chase, will you?
Joey: Fickle. I think she’s cheating on you, Imms.
Chapter Sixteen
I stared at Joey’s words in front of me, my mouth slightly open, my heart caught well and truly in my throat. Fickle, cheating on me?
Barnaby Rudge: What are you talking about, Joe?
Joey: Don’t get angry with me. Promise you won’t get angry with me?
Barnaby Rudge: I can’t promise anything.
Joey: Then I won’t tell you.
Barnaby Rudge: Oh, you will! You can’t tell me you think Fickle’s cheating on me then not tell me anything about it.
Joey: I don’t want to upset you.
Barnaby Rudge: Then why bring it up in the first place??
Joey: ’Cos I’ve been wrestling with it for days and I know things and I think you should know them too. Specially ’cos you like Fickle so much. It’s only fair.
Like Fickle? I loved Fickle. At least I thought I did.
Barnaby Rudge: So tell me what you’ve “found out” then.
Joey: I post on another website as well as the L&S one. Another one dedicated to Jess and Ali from Lovers and Sinners, you knew that, yeah?
Barnaby Rudge: OK.
Joey: And they have a message board there as well, kinda like the one we all post on.
Barnaby Rudge: OK.
Joey: And last week I saw Fickle’s name on there.
I laughed.
Barnaby Rudge: She’s allowed to, you know! And, y’know, it could have been another Fickle.
Joey: I know, but it wasn’t, I checked. It was her. Same e-mail address, same location, same date of birth, everything.
Barnaby Rudge: Why did you check?
Joey: Because she was flirting on there like there was no tomorrow.
Barnaby Rudge: So she likes to flirt! I knew that when I hooked up with her! That’s what made me fall for her in the first place, Joe!
Joey: But she was flirting with one girl on there in particular. Like, PROPER flirting.
A whooshing sound enveloped me and I realised it was blood pumping furiously in my head. I stared at Joey’s words.
Barnaby Rudge: What a crock of shit! I don’t believe you.
Joey: Why would I lie? I’m not doing this to hurt you!
Barnaby Rudge: I dunno. ’Cos you’re sore about Claire? ’Cos you think everyone’s like Claire and cheats? You tell me.
Joey: Don’t be like this, Imms. I’m telling you ’cos I don’t want you getting hurt.
Barnaby Rudge: Even though you’re talking bollocks? Fickle wouldn’t do that to me. She loves me, she told me.
I looked down and saw that my hands were shaking. My breath was getting faster and faster and I suddenly felt like the room was going round. Without waiting for Joey to reply, I quickly typed:
Barnaby Rudge: So what was it that Fickle was supposedly saying to this other girl? I assume it was a girl?
Joey: Yeah, it was a girl. It was just dead flirty, very sexual, you know? She was telling her she missed her and couldn’t stop thinking about her. You want me to show you the link, if you don’t believe me?
Barnaby Rudge: Why not? It’ll all be a mistake so I’m not bothered what you do.
The truth was, I felt sick. Staring dumbly at the screen, I suddenly said to Joey:
Barnaby Rudge: Still could have been someone pretending to be Fickle. Why would Fickle go onto another board and start flirting with someone else when she knows I could see it? It’s a bit public, isn’t it?
Yeah, I know. It was desperate, but what was I supposed to do? I was clasping at straws right now.
Joey: I don’t know, Imms! Maybe she just doesn’t care? Who knows what goes on inside her head?
I watched as Joey posted the link to the website and read her last message again. Who knows what goes on inside her head? Not me, obviously.
Barnaby Rudge: If it’s her, then that would show I don’t know her as well as I thought I did, huh?
Joey: Go read it, Imms. It’s deffo her. I got chatting to someone who knew the girl that Fickle was flirting with on MSN and asked her if she knew what Fickle’s real name was. She told me it was Gemma. That’s Fickle’s real name, isn’t it?
I paused.
Barnaby Rudge: Yeah.
Joey: I’m sorry, Imms. Seems Fickle ain’t what you think she is.
I thought for a minute.
Barnaby Rudge: Yeah. Listen, Joe, I’m gonna go. See ya.
Without waiting for a reply, I minimised MSN and walked slowly to my bed, kinda in a daze. My phone rang pretty much immediately, but when I saw it was Joey ringing me, I cancelled the call and switched the phone off, flinging myself down onto my bed, and my phone to the floor. I lay there for a while, hands folded behind my head, just staring up at the ceiling, my mind blank. Finally I closed my eyes and let the tears that had been threatening for the last ten minutes come streaming down my cheeks.
*
After an hour of just lying there, turning things over and over in my head until I was beginning to think I was incapable of rational thoughts anymore, I suddenly got back up and went over to my computer, which was still switched on. I maximised MSN again and found the link that Joey had sent me, directing me straight to the Ali and Jess website’s message board.
Joey had made a mistake, that was all there was to it. Fickle wouldn’t do this—not to me. Not wanting to, but knowing that I had to, I scrolled down the numerous threads and messages until I found what I was looking for:
Username = Fickle.
There she was. Attached to her name were, like, about thirty or so threads and messages; it looked like she’d been busy over the past few days. Almost as if I was on autopilot, I clicked on some of her messages and read them, my heart racing, my hands shaking. There were messages, dozens of them, to someone called LisaD, and as I read them in silence, I could feel the tears that had only just dried up ten minutes before start to fall down my cheeks again.
There was no mistaking that it was Fickle. I recognised the words, the style of writing, the flirting, the winki
ng signs—everything she’d been doing to me over the last month, she was now doing to LisaD. I couldn’t stop reading their messages to each other, almost as if I wanted to punish myself, like I wanted to prove to myself what an idiot I’d been. Then I saw that she’d posted a message only about a few hours ago—when she’d told me she had been too busy to talk to me on MSN.
A message from Twiggy flashing in the corner of my screen suddenly caught my eye. I’d been so engrossed in what I’d been reading I hadn’t even noticed that she’d logged on. I didn’t want to speak to her and really wished I’d killed MSN or set my status to Away, or whatever. But it was too late. Her message was there waiting for me.
Twiggy: Hey, BR! How are you?
Did she know? Did Twiggy know? I was being paranoid! How could she know?
Barnaby Rudge: Twiggy.
Twiggy: How’s your day been?
Barnaby Rudge: OK till now. Now it’s shit.
