‘What can I say?’ I shrug. ‘Dad’s a nightmare. It’s nothing new, and it’s not the end of the world. You know me, I’ll bounce back.’
‘Of course you will. But if you ever want to talk about it …’
I sigh. I’ve done all my talking for now, but it wasn’t to my girlfriend – it was to my ex. She was in the right place at the right time, and somehow the hurt and the anger I was feeling about Dad came spilling out. Now, in the cold light of morning, I wish I’d kept my mouth shut; it feels like a betrayal, somehow.
Cherry is looking at me, her dark eyes anxious. She’s cute, she’s kind and she cares about me far more than Honey ever did, I know. I would be crazy to screw all that up by trying to rebuild a friendship with Honey … not that that’s what I’m doing.
Last night was a one-off.
‘I don’t really want to talk about it,’ I say, pushing aside the guilt. ‘I can’t, not just now. But I know you’re always there for me, Cherry … that means a lot.’
The bus chugs on, navigating the winding country lanes, and without warning a wave of anger and frustration washes over me; I’m trapped in this sleepy corner of Somerset for three more years at least. My days will unfold in exactly the same way as they always have done: breakfast, bus ride, school, sailing centre, maybe some time out with Cherry or a quiet hour with my guitar. It’s not bad, and many people have it a whole lot worse, I know, but suddenly it’s not enough.
I want to change the rules, push the boundaries, shake things up. I want to stop waiting for my life to begin and make things happen.
Is this how Honey feels?
‘Hey,’ Cherry says, nudging my arm. ‘You’re miles away, Shay!’
‘Sorry,’ I say, but a part of me wishes I was. Miles away from grumpy parents and perfect big brothers; from crazy ex-girlfriends and guilt-inducing current ones; from school and work and looming exams. With an effort, I drag my focus back to Cherry.
‘I was trying to tell you about Honey’s latest exploits,’ she goes on. ‘Boy, she’s really blown it this time! Out all Sunday night and truanting school – we thought she’d run away again! Yesterday was a total nightmare – Dad and Charlotte were arguing; Skye and Summer were crying; and Coco locked herself in her room and wouldn’t talk to anyone. And what does Honey do? Rage at Dad and Charlotte for calling the police and then slam out of the house and disappear again …’
Unease seeps through me. ‘So … she’s vanished again?’ I check. ‘I couldn’t help noticing she’s not on the bus …’
‘Couldn’t you?’
Cherry looks confused and a little hurt, and too late I realize that it’s not too tactful to tell your girlfriend you’ve been scanning the school bus for your ex. Oops.
‘Honey hasn’t vanished again, Shay, so you don’t have to panic,’ she says. ‘Charlotte drove her into school for a pre-school meeting with the Head and some of her class teachers. That’s why she’s not on the bus. OK?’
‘I just happened to notice,’ I shrug. ‘It’s not like I was looking out for her or anything. I mean … why would I do that?’
Stop digging, Shay, I think. You’re in enough trouble as it is.
‘Whatever,’ Cherry huffs. ‘She didn’t vanish, but she may as well have – she didn’t get home till gone midnight, so everyone was worried sick all over again. Goodness knows where she was because Dad and Charlotte rang all her friends …’
I can’t meet Cherry’s eye, but of course she has no idea that Honey was with me. It’s not something she needs to know. Ever.
The school bus shudders to a halt outside Exmoor High, and the crush of kids carries us forward and out into the bright, cool morning. Cherry’s other stepsisters, the twins Skye and Summer, walk past us. Skye reaches out to swipe my beanie hat, laughing, then chucks it back at me. I struggle to dredge up a smile.
‘Why would Honey even DO that?’ Cherry is asking, and I seriously, seriously wish she would just drop the subject. ‘Stay out so late when she was already in so much trouble? I don’t get that girl, not at all. It’s like she WANTED them to call the police again.’
‘Maybe she just wanted you all to back off,’ I sigh. ‘Take some time to cool down. I don’t suppose she even considers what it might be like for all of you – she’s hurting too much to think about anyone else.’
Cherry frowns. ‘Shay, you seem to know an awful lot about what my stepsister is feeling all of a sudden!’
The air between us crackles with tension – in a year of being together, this is the closest Cherry and I have ever been to a row. She’s angry, I know, and hurt too … Honey has made both our lives difficult over the last year. For me to start defending my ex must seem like a betrayal, but a little bit of me can’t help feeling sorry for Honey. And right now I am also irritated, annoyed; with Honey, with Cherry, with myself. I wish I could rewind, start the day again.
The last thing I want is to fall out with my girlfriend.
‘I don’t really know how Honey feels, I’m just guessing,’ I shrug, sliding an arm round Cherry’s waist as we follow the crowd into school. ‘It’s just the way she is – most of the time she just thinks of herself, how she’s feeling. Nobody else is even on her radar. That’s all I’m saying …’
‘I suppose,’ Cherry says. ‘Sorry, Shay, I didn’t mean to be clingy. You were with Honey for months – you’re bound to care about her, just a bit … that’s only natural.’
‘Hey,’ I tell Cherry. ‘You have nothing at all to worry about, I swear.’
‘Sure,’ she grins. ‘I’m being silly, right? But it’s just because I care.’
‘I know,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry too … I’m not in the best of moods lately, as you might have noticed. Blaming my dad for that. Plus, I am shattered – I didn’t get to bed till the early hours. I lay awake most of the night, but I must have dropped off in the end because I slept in and almost missed the bus. It’s just not my day.’
‘I bet you skipped breakfast as well,’ Cherry frowns. ‘You should grab something from the canteen, or you’ll be tired all day. I need some stuff from my locker, but can you get me a Twix bar too? Reckon I need chocolate today!’
She hands me some silver and peels away towards the lockers while I lope along the corridor to the canteen and queue for a smoothie, a muesli bar and Cherry’s Twix. The day has to get better, right? I have had enough bad luck for one lifetime, surely.
Or not.
I’m sitting on one of the tables slugging back the smoothie when Honey Tanberry walks in, her jaw-length hair perfectly tousled, her school skirt inches shorter than every other girl’s, her white shirt a shrunk-in-the-wash special. She looks a little too St Trinian’s to have just come from an emergency meeting with the Head, but of course Honey makes her own rules. She’s so catwalk cool and carelessly confident I guarantee nobody will have dared to challenge her.
‘Sheesh,’ she says, flopping down beside me. ‘I hate this dump, I swear. Thanks to Mum, the teachers are going to be watching me like hawks this term. I might as well be in prison.’
She picks up the Twix I bought for Cherry, tears open the wrapper and bites a piece off.
‘Hey!’ I protest. ‘That was for Cherry!’
‘Get her another,’ Honey shrugs. ‘Cheers for putting up with me last night, Shay. I don’t think anyone else would have had the patience to listen, and I can tell you right now that nobody else could have talked me into going home. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing …’
‘A good thing,’ I say. ‘Definitely.’
‘Maybe. Anyhow, I just wanted to thank you for last night.’
Without warning, she flings her arms round me in a dramatic hug that has heads turning all around the canteen. I am trying to untangle myself when over her shoulder I see Cherry standing in the canteen doorway, her face frozen, her eyes wide.
I have no idea at all how long she’s been there.
‘Hang on, Cherry … this is NOT what it seems!’ I yelp.
Honey steps back from me, amused and apologetic. ‘Oops!’ she says. ‘Didn’t know you were there, stepsis!’
‘Obviously,’ Cherry says, her voice a whisper.
‘I was just saying thank you,’ Honey explains. ‘Shay was a total lifesaver last night. He sat up talking to me till all hours, then walked me home.’
My heart sinks so low it’s probably in my Converse trainers. I am in trouble – big trouble, serious trouble.
‘Cherry, I can explain,’ I protest, although I’m not sure I can.
‘Don’t bother,’ Cherry says. ‘I think I can see what’s going on.’
A small crowd of kids has gathered to gawp at the showdown. They remember the days when I used to date Honey and are putting two and two together, coming up with all the wrong answers. Just like Cherry.
‘Are you cross because he didn’t return your calls?’ Honey asks brightly. ‘Because that was totally my fault. He wanted to, but you called right in the middle of a big heart-to-heart so I asked him not to answer … honestly, blame me!’
I wish the ground would open up and swallow me.
Cherry doesn’t even glance at her stepsister. She looks straight at me and I can see disappointment, disgust, dismay in her eyes. I hate myself for putting those things there.
‘So your phone was out of battery?’ she asks quietly. ‘Nice one, Shay. Next time just tell me straight that you don’t want to talk to me. Except that there won’t be a next time, OK?’
The kids crowded round hold their breath, and I stifle the urge to tell them all to get lost. It wouldn’t help.
‘Cherry, listen –’
‘There’s nothing you can say that I want to listen to,’ Cherry says. ‘Why would I believe anything you have to say? You’re a liar and a cheat!’
There is no comeback to that. I am not a cheat, but a liar? Guilty as charged. I have lied to my girlfriend and been caught out; it doesn’t matter that I lied for all the right reasons, to stop her from worrying, stop her from getting the wrong idea. She got the wrong idea anyhow.
‘Harsh, Cherry,’ Honey says, clearly amused. ‘But then again … well, now you know how it feels.’
‘Honey!’ I argue. ‘Cherry – it’s not the same at all, if you’d just listen –’
‘I’ve heard enough,’ Cherry says, and her voice cracks a little as she speaks. ‘Stay out of my way, Shay Fletcher. We’re through. I never want to see you again!’
She turns on her heel and walks away, and the watching crowd whoop and cheer their support and solidarity as she goes.
‘Loser,’ one girl snarls at me.
‘Idiot,’ another spits.
The bell rings out for the first lesson, way too late to save me, and at last the crowd splinters away, heading to different corners of the building, different classes. I am left alone in the empty canteen with Honey.
‘So … that was interesting,’ she says. ‘Who knew your little girlfriend could stand up for herself like that?’
‘Ex-girlfriend,’ I sigh. ‘Thanks to you.’
‘How was I to know you’d lied about your mobile?’ she asks. ‘And I take it you didn’t tell her you were with me last night. You should have known she’d find out some time …’
I glare at Honey. ‘Yeah, I should have known. Like I should have known you’d stir things up, make it look a million times worse than it actually was. Thanks a bunch.’
As I grab my rucksack and head to lessons, Honey shrugs and picks up the half-eaten Twix, taking another bite and wiping the chocolate from her mouth with a grin.
My life sucks, it’s official. My mates Luke and Chris tell me I must be mad to go messing around with Honey again, and when I tell them I really wasn’t, they smirk, disbelieving, and tell me Cherry’s way too good for a Romeo like me. Skye and Summer, Honey’s younger sisters, ambush me in the corridor at lunchtime, demanding to know why Cherry’s so upset.
‘What have you done to her?’ Skye demands, furious. ‘Every time I ask, she just starts crying again! There’s a rumour going round that you kissed Honey in the school canteen, and if that’s true I think I might have to strangle you.’
‘It’s not true,’ I huff.
‘You’re not welcome in our house any more,’ Summer chips in. ‘You cheated on Honey last summer and ditched her for Cherry – now you’ve dumped Cherry! What’s wrong with you, Shay? Do you enjoy hurting people?’
‘I haven’t – what? Of course I don’t!’
But the twins turn tail and are gone.
I scrape through the day, flunking a maths test, spilling ink all over my pencil sketch in art, breaking a guitar string in music. Yesterday’s gossip about my possible contract with Wrecked Rekords has been replaced with a twisted story of how I’m way too full of myself these days and how I think Cherry’s not good enough for me now.
It makes me sick.
I want to talk to Cherry, but her friends form a wall round her, warning me off. I try texting, until Cherry’s friend Kira tells me to stop, that Cherry’s deleted all my messages and blocked my number.
‘Give up,’ Kira tells me. ‘Haven’t you caused enough trouble?’
‘It’s all a mistake,’ I argue. ‘If I could just talk to Cherry, explain …’
‘Take the hint,’ Kira says. ‘It’s over.’
I make it to the end of the school day, then have to endure the bus journey home. Surprise, surprise, Cherry is not saving me a seat; she is guarded by her friends who glare at me as I mooch past, looking for somewhere to sit. Luke and Chris both live in town, so they’re not around for moral support. Summer and Skye and their friends give me the cold shoulder; Alfie, who’s been hanging out with us all though the holidays and has just started dating Summer, shrugs awkwardly, mouthing an apology, turning away as I pass.
‘There’s a spare seat here, Shay,’ Honey calls from the back, and everyone watches to see what I’ll do.
I am pretty sure they’d lynch me if I took that seat, so in the end I squash in beside Anthony, a quiet loner-kid from the village, who is known as a maths and computer whizz. His hair is greasy and still cropped into a little-boy bowl-cut, his shirt is greyish and un-ironed and his school trousers flap an inch above his ankles. Anthony doesn’t notice things like that, but he notices my misfortune all right.
‘Hear you’ve blown it with Cherry,’ he says brightly. ‘Too bad.’
‘It’s a glitch,’ I say. ‘A misunderstanding. Trust me, it’ll all be sorted by this time tomorrow.’
‘How?’ Anthony asks reasonably. ‘As far as I can see she wants nothing to do with you.’
‘I’ll email,’ I say confidently. ‘Or send her a message on chat, or on her SpiderWeb page.’
‘Don’t think so,’ Anthony says. ‘This afternoon she was asking me how to block people on email and chat and defriend them on SpiderWeb.’
‘She wouldn’t do that!’ I argue. ‘I haven’t done anything wrong!’
Anthony smiles. ‘I know a lot about computers. If I wanted to, I could probably show you how to get past Cherry’s security settings … it’d cost you, mind. But that still doesn’t mean she’d read your messages. Too bad, huh?’
‘Thanks for the sympathy vote,’ I huff. ‘If you’ve heard the rumours, they’re all rubbish – I was just talking to Honey, that’s all. It was totally innocent, like when you did that maths tutoring with her last term …’
He just shrugs. ‘I know her better than you think,’ he says. ‘We’re really close. Obviously, I didn’t believe the rumours. I don’t think anything’s going on with you and Honey – but Cherry does and that’s what matters. I happen to know that Honey wouldn’t take you back anyway. She says you’re vain and shallow –’
‘I’m vain and shallow?’ I echo. ‘That’s rich! This is all Honey’s fault!’
‘Is it?’ Anthony asks. ‘Are you sure?’
I scowl, staring out of the window for the rest of the journey. If I stay angry, the self-pity can’t creep in, prickling my
eyes with shameful tears. That can’t happen, it really can’t; boys don’t cry.
I learnt not to cry early on, soon after the incident with Ben’s go-cart. In my family, crying doesn’t earn you sympathy or hugs, just harsh words from Dad and smirks from Ben and pitying glances from Mum. It’s safer to put on a brave face, smile and hold your head high and pretend that nothing matters. You can build a wall round yourself that way, keep the hurt inside.
The trouble is, Cherry learnt the same lesson. She lost her mum when she was a little kid, and got picked on at school too; she perfected the don’t-care mask, the smile that hid a whole heartful of pain. When we got together, it was pretty much the first time either of us had learnt to be open and honest with anyone else – we taught each other to trust.
I’ve destroyed all of that now.
Days crawl by. I fix my brave face on each morning and cycle to school – let’s just say it beats the school bus. After the first day or two, I begin to enjoy the cool breeze on my face, the misty mornings, the fast pedalling along twisty moorland lanes … but school itself is grim.
Cherry acts like I don’t exist. I knew she was hurt, I knew she was angry, but I thought she’d calm down and let me put my side of the story. I didn’t think she’d shut me out, push me away, block my texts, my emails, my messages.
Why would she do that? I’ve messed up, I know, but surely I deserve the chance to explain?
‘Maybe she was getting fed up with you anyhow,’ my friend Luke says helpfully.
‘Maybe she was planning to finish with you,’ Chris chips in. ‘Maybe all you’ve done was give her a good excuse.’
‘Thanks, mate,’ I say. ‘That makes me feel a whole lot better. Not.’
‘It was just an idea,’ Luke shrugs.
I don’t like their idea, but I start to wonder if it might be true.
Back home, I eat tea while listening to Ben’s latest exploits, teach the evening kayak club at the sailing school, mop out the shower block and tidy up the reception area, hide out in the den and play guitar for hours. No matter what I do, everything seems grey and pointless without Cherry.
Chocolate Box Girls: Bittersweet Page 3
