‘She just called actually,’ Jojo adds.
‘She all right?’
‘Yeah, she’s really good. Back on form.’
‘Good. That’s good.’
I mean it. Frankie and I may have crashed and burned, but I’m glad she’s doing well. At the end of the day, she’s a good person. No, scratch that, she’s a great person. She’s just not my person. And I’m not hers.
‘How about you?’ Jojo asks.
‘Yeah, I’ve been OK. Same as you really, school stuff mostly. Thinking about university and UCAS and all that, which seems a bit mad.’
‘Wow. That’s come around fast.’
I grimace. ‘I know. It’s all the teachers want to talk about at the moment.’
‘Where do you want to go?’
‘My first choice is probably Cambridge. But I’m also interested in LSE, UCL, Durham, Glasgow and Nottingham.’
‘I’m officially impressed.’
‘Well, I haven’t got in anywhere yet.’
‘You want to study law, right?’
‘Yeah,’ I say, flattered that she’s remembered.
‘Sometimes I wish I wanted to do something dignified and respectable,’ she says with a sigh.
‘Really?’
‘A bit, yeah. I mean, even if I do get into the Arts Academy, and that’s a big if, and a really good drama school after that, there are still no guarantees I’ll have any sort of career.’
‘Does that put you off? The uncertainty of it all?’ I’m pretty sure I couldn’t hack it.
‘In theory, yes. But the sad fact is, I just can’t imagine doing anything else with my life.’
I’m weirdly envious. My choice to study law is largely a practical one. It’s a good solid career, one that will enable me to look after Mum and Laleh and Roxy.
I pick up Jojo’s book. ‘Sparkling Cyanide,’ I read aloud. ‘That’s quite a title.’
‘I know, right?’
‘So, whodunnit?’
‘Hmmm, it’s a bit early to make an educated guess, but if I had to go for anyone at this stage, it’d be Victor.’
‘Victor, eh? And what’s this Victor like?’
‘In the words of Agatha Christie, “a bit of a rotter”.’ She says this in a flawlessly posh accent.
‘Will you read me some?’ I ask before I can stop myself.
I’ve always loved being read to. Before Laleh and Roxy came along, every night before bed, Dad and I used to snuggle up on the sofa together with a book. He’d do all the voices and sometimes make me laugh so much I thought I was going to be sick. It’s one of my very happiest memories of him, which inevitably also makes it one of the saddest.
‘Seriously?’ Jojo asks. ‘You want me to read to you? As in, right now?’
‘Yeah. I mean, only if you want to,’ I say, my cheeks heating up.
She pauses and I’m about to tell her to forget about it when she says, ‘It’s a slightly bizarre request, but yeah, OK then. Call it a New Year’s Eve treat.’
‘Really? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.’
‘No, why not. It’ll pass the time if anything else. We’ll have to switch the big light on, though. If I keep using the torch, my phone’s going to go dead.’
I turn on the light.
‘From the beginning?’ Jojo asks, opening the book.
‘No, no, wherever you’ve got to will be fine.’
‘OK, then. Here goes.’
She clears her throat and begins to read.
And she’s brilliant.
I sit there in awe as she jumps from character to character, one second playing the flighty heiress, the next the dowdy secretary, before suddenly transforming into the louche cad who sponges off his aunt.
This is the first time I’ve ever seen Jojo act and I’m bowled over.
She reaches the end of the chapter and looks up. ‘What?’ she says, worry clouding her eyes. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’
‘You’re really good,’ I say.
She shakes her head and laughs, clearly embarrassed by my praise.
‘No, I mean it,’ I say. ‘That was insane. Full disclosure, I don’t know much about acting, but the way you became all those characters, it was … well, it was amazing.’
‘Really?’ she says, looking doubtful. ‘I was just reading out loud.’
‘Really. It was so fucking good, Jojo.’
She smiles. ‘Well, thank you. That’s nice of you to say.’
There’s a pause.
‘I reckon you’re right, by the way,’ I add.
‘About what?’
‘That Victor bloke. He’s definitely got something to do with it.’
‘Right?’
‘Guilty as sin.’ My phone buzzes. ‘Sorry,’ I say, removing it from my pocket.
It’s a text from Maxwell.
I tap out a quick reply.
‘Not that I was reading over your shoulder or anything, but you really don’t have to keep me company,’ Jojo says. ‘Honestly, I can entertain myself.’
‘I know,’ I reply. ‘I want to keep hanging out with you. I mean, if that’s cool.’
She pauses before answering. ‘It’s cool,’ she says lightly.
‘Cool,’ I echo.
On the other side of the door, people are chanting and stamping their feet. ‘Down it, down it, down it!’
Jojo grimaces. ‘I liked parties a lot better when I was younger,’ she says.
‘Yeah?’
‘Absolutely. Pass-the-parcel, jelly and ice cream, party bags … And best of all, they always had a strict cut-off time.’
‘That’s true. If this was a kids’ party, it would have been over hours ago.’
‘Exactly. Now, speaking of party games …’ Jojo shuts the book and jumps down from the washing machine. She studies the shelves in front of us. They’re rammed with board games – Scrabble and Trivial Pursuit and Monopoly and Kerplunk and Guess Who? and Mousetrap – all of them well played if the faded and falling-apart boxes are anything to go by. She turns back round to face me. ‘Wanna play something?’ she asks.
‘Yeah, go on then,’ I say, smiling.
We inspect the games together, rejecting anything with too many pieces or too much setting up involved.
‘Cards Against Humanity?’ I suggest.
‘Minimum of four players,’ Jojo says, reading off the box. ‘Plus, you really don’t want to play that with me.’
‘How come?’
‘I’d slaughter you,’ she replies simply.
I put my hands on my hips. ‘Would you now?’
‘I’ll have you know I’m a demon at Cards Against Humanity.’
‘You? I don’t believe you for one second.’
‘Why not?’
‘You’re far too sweet and lovely.’
She tuts. ‘But that’s what makes me so great at it. The element of surprise.’
‘OK, now I really want to play it with you.’
‘Do you want to recruit two more players?’
‘Not especially.’ The idea of venturing back out into the party holds no appeal whatsoever. ‘Why, do you?’
‘Nope.’
I’m kind of thrown by just how relieved I am by her answer.
‘Back to the drawing board, I guess,’ Jojo says.
We end up going for Bananagrams.
As we play, sitting cross-legged on the lino, we relax into being around each other again, laughing and joking and teasing like we were never apart. It’s one of the few times I’ve ever been alone with her and I’m surprised by how natural it feels. We always hung out as a threesome, only really getting one-on-one time if Frankie was in the loo or getting ready. I’d also forgotten how funny Jojo can be, how sharp and witty and observant. Plus there’s something extra fun about hiding away from the rest of the party, like we’re playing truant from school or something.
‘Ten! Nine! Eight!’
The counting is coming from the other side of the door.<
br />
‘It can’t be midnight yet, can it?’ Jojo asks.
I remove my phone from my pocket. 23:59. I hold it up so she can see.
‘Wow, that hour went by fast,’ she says.
‘Four! Three!’
We scramble to our feet.
‘Two! One!’
In the kitchen, everyone whoops and cheers.
‘Happy New Year,’ I say.
‘Happy New Year.’
I hesitate before leaning down and kissing her on the cheek.
She smells nice.
Really nice.
Jojo raises her eyes to meet mine and for a few seconds we just look at each, our gaze fixed. She has such great eyes. Green with a circle of hazel around the pupil. How have I never noticed how cool they are before? The air feels thick with something I can’t quite put my finger on. An energy. A force invisible to the naked eye.
Jojo looks away first, pulling out her mobile phone.
In the kitchen, someone has started a clumsy rendition of ‘Auld Lang Syne’. Within seconds, the entire party seems to be singing.
‘I should probably go find Bex,’ Jojo says, not looking up from her phone. ‘Make sure she’s OK.’
I clear my throat. ‘And I should probably hunt down Maxwell.’
Together we silently pack away the Bananagram tiles and put the yellow case back where we found it.
By the time we emerge from the utility room, ‘Auld Lang Syne’ has petered out, replaced with a slow, sexy R&B number. We squeeze past snogging couples and make our way into the living room.
Jojo stands on her tiptoes as she looks around for Bex. ‘Ah,’ she says.
‘What?’
She points through the tangle of entwined bodies. ‘Over there,’ she says. ‘The blonde girl in the green dress.’
‘You mean the one with her tongue halfway down my mate Maxwell’s throat?’
‘Wait, that’s Maxwell?’
‘Yep.’
‘Oh my God.’
We both laugh, Jojo’s amazing eyes sparkling as she shakes her head.
‘So, you gonna head?’ Jojo asks.
‘Head?’
‘It’s after midnight. And, call me presumptuous, but I have a feeling Maxwell isn’t exactly going to mind if you skip off without him.’
‘Ha. Yeah, maybe you’re right. What about you? You going to hang out for a bit longer?’
‘I dunno. I was supposed to be getting a lift home with Bex, but that’s not going to be until two …’
‘In that case, look, I don’t know about you but I’m kind of partied out. You wanna hang out at my house for a bit?’
‘At your house?’ Jojo asks slowly.
‘Yeah,’ I say, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. ‘I mean, if you want to. It’s not that far. I have Bananagrams and loads of other board games. And a fridge full of food left over from Christmas. Do you like chicken drumsticks? We have like a million of them.’
‘I’m a vegetarian.’
Shit. I knew that.
‘Er, crisps then? We have a shitload of crisps. And biscuits. And pickled onions, weirdly. Like five jars. They must have been on offer at Aldi or something …’
Jojo smiles. ‘I’m not doing to deny it, the promise of unlimited pickled onions does sound extremely tempting.’
‘I’m sensing a “but” coming.’
‘I don’t know, I just …’ Her voice trails off.
‘What is it?’
‘I don’t know,’ she says, fiddling with the hem of her top. ‘Frankie, I guess.’
‘Frankie?’
‘Yeah.’
‘What about Frankie?’
‘I just don’t know how she’d feel about it.’
‘It’s just two mates hanging out,’ I say. Even as the words leave my mouth, I’m not entirely sure I believe them. I wonder if Jojo does.
‘I know,’ she says. ‘I just … I don’t know.’
‘OK. Well, I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.’
There’s a pause.
‘Maybe if I called her,’ Jojo says.
‘Called her?’
‘Yeah. Just to run it by her.’
‘Oh. OK.’
‘I’ll be back in a sec.’
While she’s gone, I retrieve my coat, then sit on the stairs to wait. I’m scrolling through my Instagram feed when Jojo returns, her own coat draped over her arm.
‘Frankie says “hi”.’
‘It’s OK then?’ I ask, scrambling to my feet.
‘Yeah. She was totally cool about it. Overwhelmingly so, actually.’
‘That’s great. You ready to go then?’
‘Ready.’
Chapter 30
We chat the entire way back to mine, fireworks exploding above our heads as we amble through the streets, filling the sky with glitter. Drunken groups pass us, pausing their garbled renditions of ‘Auld Lang Syne’ to wish us a ‘Happy New Year’. We smile and return their wishes. I wonder if they assume Jojo and I are a couple. It’s weird but I sort of want them to.
In spite of the cold, we take the long way home, through the park, the ground littered with beer cans and burned-out sparklers from the earlier fireworks display. As we weave amongst the debris, we talk.
We talk about everything: our earliest memories (mine: getting stung by a wasp on a family holiday in Spain, Jojo’s: being propped on the back of her grandad’s motorbike for a photo); which superhero power we would choose (mine: flying, Jojo’s: time travel); which food we couldn’t live without (mine: pizza, Jojo’s: her mum’s aubergine parmigiana); the film that made us cry the most (we both agree on Dumbo). We debate the death penalty, flat earth conspiracy theories, old age and free speech.
And it’s great. Like, I have a laugh with Maxwell, but our friendship is built almost entirely on banter and Marvel references. It’s rare we really talk like this. I’m struck by how easy it is, how energising. I love the way Jojo takes her time before answering and how carefully she listens when it’s my turn to respond. I love that she has opinions, but equally isn’t afraid to say ‘I don’t know’. I love that she isn’t trying to show off or look cool in front of me.
As we turn into my street, we fall silent for the first time since we left the party. I suddenly feel nervous but don’t have a clue why. I glance across at Jojo to try and work out where she’s at but she’s too bundled up for me to gauge anything, just her eyes and the tip of her nose peeking out over the top of her bulky grey scarf.
‘Er, this is me,’ I say, pointing at my house. I push open the gate and gesture for her to go first.
On the doorstep, I fiddle with my keys, dropping them on the concrete step with a loud clatter. Why am I being so clumsy?
‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘Cold hands.’
‘No problem,’ Jojo replies.
I usher her inside. The house, usually noisy and tropically hot, is cold and silent in Mum’s absence. ‘I’ll put the heating on,’ I say. I push open the living-room door and turn on the light. ‘Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.’
‘Shoes on or off?’ Jojo calls after me.
‘On is fine.’
I dash into the kitchen and turn on the boiler. ‘Would you like a drink?’ I holler.
‘Just water, please.’
I pour us each a glass of water, and fill up a tray with crisps, biscuits and the promised jar of pickled onions before returning to the living room. Jojo is perched on the edge of the sofa with her coat still on. Her phone in her hands. I set the tray down on the coffee table and switch off the main light, turning on the Christmas tree lights instead.
‘Your house is really nice,’ Jojo says.
She’s kind of got a point. Mum has always been pretty OTT when it comes to Christmas decorations but she’s really outdone herself this year, cramming every available surface with tacky ornaments and hanging so many paper chains it looks like that scene from Elf.
‘I wasn’t completely s
ure you celebrated it,’ Jojo adds. ‘Christmas, I mean.’
‘Oh, yeah. So my dad never went in for any of the religious stuff, but he was always happy for my mum to go to town with the decorations and presents and things.’
I kneel down and turn on the gas fire, the fake coals glowing orange. ‘Sorry it’s so cold,’ I say. ‘It’ll warm up soon, I promise.’
‘It’s fine,’ Jojo says, smiling.
I join her on the sofa.
‘I was just texting Bex,’ she explains, putting her phone down on the mosaic coffee table. ‘In case she comes up for air and wonders where I’ve disappeared to.’
‘Good idea. I should probably text Maxwell too.’
I take my phone out of my pocket. There’s a message from Mum.
I quickly reply, then compose a message to Maxwell.
‘Done,’ I say, laying my phone face down next to Jojo’s.
There’s an awkward silence.
‘Er, Happy New Year,’ I say, picking up my glass of water. ‘Again.’
‘Happy New Year,’ Jojo echoes, reaching for her own glass.
We clink them together.
‘There’s alcohol if you want it,’ I say. ‘I think there’s some Prosecco in the fridge I could open. Or Baileys?’ I’m pretty certain there’s still half a bottle left over from Christmas.
‘No, thank you,’ Jojo says. ‘I don’t actually drink.’
‘What, ever?’
‘No.’
‘Me neither.’
We sip our water.
‘Why don’t you?’ I say. ‘I mean, if you don’t mind me asking.’
‘Oh, no sinister reason. I just don’t like the way it tastes. Or the way it makes people act sometimes.’
I nod.
‘How about you?’ she asks.
I hesitate. I usually keep things simple by saying I’m allergic, but for some reason lying to Jojo just doesn’t feel like an option. ‘My dad was using a zebra crossing when he was hit by a car and killed,’ I say. ‘The driver was five times over the limit.’
Jojo’s hand flies to her mouth. ‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry,’ she says. ‘I knew your dad had passed away, but I had no idea that was what happened.’
‘Yeah. I don’t tend to talk about it very much.’
‘Did the driver go to prison?’
First Day of My Life Page 18
