“Well, that is very generous of you, Sally. I’m sure Flo is very grateful. Gather your things together and go with Sally, Flo. Revision is very important for you all this year.”
Renée is silenced. Sally looks like the cat that got the cream. “Come on, now!”
She storms to the door and waits.
“You’re not going to go, are you?” asks Renée.
“But she is so mad. If I don’t go she’ll—”
Renée exhales loudly, throws down her pen, and sits back. “This is the moment we’ve been waiting for, Flo. She knows. Just leave her to go off in her tantrum and stay here with me.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t.” I gather my things and meet Sally at the door.
“I told you before, if you become friends with Renée Sargent, I’ll make your life hell,” Sally growls.
“We were just doing some science revision. She isn’t my friend,” I say, hating myself for lying.
“Good. Let’s keep it that way. Now hurry up. I have to tell you about Phil. I think it might get serious.”
Later, at lunchtime, I go looking for Renée. I see Margaret duck into the toilets and presume they are up to no good again, so I follow her in. “Margaret, have you seen Renée?”
She nods her head to the left, gesturing at a toilet stall. I push it open and see Renée on her knees stretching a roll of cling film over the toilet bowl.
“Hey, I just wanted to say sorry about earlier. I feel awful and I . . .” I realize what she is doing. “This was you guys too?”
I have just caught her in the act of the most annoying prank ever to be played at Tudor Falls. Unless you know it’s there, it is impossible to see the cling film when you sit on the toilet, so when you wee it sprays up and goes everywhere. I have been caught by this twice. Of course it was the work of Renée and Margaret. Who else would find that funny?
“I just wanted to find you to say sorry,” I repeat. “I chickened out again, and I feel really bad.”
She ignores me for a minute or two while she smooths out the cling film. When it’s completely invisible she stands up and faces me. “Any chance you could guide Sally this way? This one is for her.”
“I don’t blame you for being annoyed. I will tell her. I will. It just has to be the right moment. You will still come to my house Friday, won’t you?”
I expect to have to grovel more, but her face lights up when I ask about Friday. That apology was easier than I thought.
RENÉE
I’ve been sitting in the school hall for forty-five minutes, staring at the page. Have we really learned this stuff in science class? Why don’t I recognize any of it? The clock is moving so slowly. Everyone around me is writing answers at a hundred miles an hour. I can’t focus, and even if I could, I don’t know the answers. Daydreaming is my only option. In an hour and a half I will be at Flo’s house. Hopefully Julian will be there. I’ll have the white jeans on and act really cool. Keen enough to let him know how I feel but aloof enough to not look desperate.
But I am desperate. I am sooooo desperate. I have never wanted anything as much as I want him. I tick a few multiple choice answers and then wait. I’ll revise before my real exam in a few months. This one really doesn’t matter.
The bell rings. I’m out the door before anyone else has even left their seats. I need to get changed.
At home I run up the stairs and into my bedroom. Nell is lying on her bed, so frail and white. Just like Mum in this exact room eight years ago.
“Nell,” I whisper, because I’m finding it hard to breathe at the sight of her. “Are you OK?”
“I can’t do this anymore, Renée. Living here, it’s wrong.”
I don’t want to do this now, I want to see Julian, but I sit next to her on her bed.
“I can help you,” I say.
“You can’t help me. Of all people, you can’t help me. You’re the reason this is happening. You have no idea what it feels like to watch you being so happy all the time. I hate you for it,” Nell says, looking at me with total contempt.
“You think I’m happy? I think about Mum every day.”
“But you never show it. You’ve never tried to talk to me about it. You just carry on with your own life and forget about me,” she says bitterly.
I drop my head. How is this all my fault?
“There’s no point being all sad about it now, Renée. It’s too late for that.”
“But, Nell, I tried . . .”
“No you didn’t, you never tried. You acted like she was all yours. You had a week off school, when I was only allowed two days because everyone thought I didn’t understand what was happening. You all carried on concentrating on yourselves while I tried to tell you all that I missed her more than anything else in the entire world, but you never wanted to listen.” She rolls over and faces the wall. “Leave me alone, Renée.”
I get off her bed, squeeze myself into Gem’s white jeans, and leave. I have two choices in life: I either try to do the right thing and get accused of being selfish, or I just do what is right for me and get called selfish anyway. This time, it’s all about me.
“Look at you all dressed up,” says Flo as she opens the door.
“What? Really? These are the only things that fit me these days.” Nothing like a bit of self-deprecation to cover your tracks. “Hey, Abi, how are you?”
“Renéeeeee!” She runs up to me and gives me one of her amazing cuddles. “Will you play Legos with me?”
“Of course I will.” I take her by the hand into the living room.
“It’s so nice having help with her. Can you keep an eye on her while I go and get our sandwiches?” says Flo.
“For sure. We’re all good.”
In the living room Abi turns an entire box of Legos upside down.
“What are you going to build?” I ask.
“A new house for Fred.”
Flo raises an eyebrow as she walks in with two plates of sandwiches, clearly wishing Abi’s house for Fred was real.
“So how was your science exam?” asks Flo.
“Not great, but it’s fine. The real thing will be OK.”
“You need to start caring more, Renée. You’ll fail everything,” Flo says like a teacher.
“All right! Bloody hell, is this have-a-pop-at-Renée day or something?” I snap.
“God, sorry.”
We sit for a moment in an awkward silence.
“Who else has had a pop at you?” she asks eventually.
I tell her about Nell. How she says I could have made everything better if I had behaved differently. Flo squeezes my hand, and we both focus on Abi, who is building a really dodgy-looking house with her Legos.
“We were like her once. Clueless how people can let you down. Amazing to think there was a time when we thought someone would always be there to take care of us,” I say.
“I know, and I’m going to do everything I can to keep it that way for her. At least we have each other now, right?” Flo smiles.
I nod, my conscience not letting me look at her. Abi puts the last Lego on the top of Fred’s house. She looks pleased with herself.
“Now let’s hope he lives in it,” grumbles Flo.
The peace is broken when the front door bursts open. I hear a girl giggle in the hallway, then I hear Julian’s voice. My heart kicks off in a massive way.
“No, I have to go home. It’s my mum’s birthday,” says the girl.
We can see them through the gap in the door. The girl is now against a wall, Julian against her.
“But I want you to stay here. I’ll give you something nice to eat,” Julian says, smothering her face with his lips.
“I bet you will, but I have to go. Call me tomorrow. Next time, you drive. OK?”
She leaves.
“Gross,” says Flo. “Sorry you had to see that. One of the million girls he’s brought home this week.”
I try to hide my violent breathing. My gums tingle like they do after cross-coun
try.
“Are you OK?” Flo gives me an odd look.
“Yep, yep, I’m fine. Just a lump of bread in my throat.”
Come on, Renée, you are cooler than this with boys.
Julian is now in the living room. He’s covered in engine oil; his clothes are ripped. His face is dark with stubble. “Hello, Abi. You built a house. Aren’t you clever!”
“JULIAN!” Abi throws her arms around his legs, and he picks her up and holds her above his head. She giggles and giggles. I imagine she is our child, mine and his.
“OK, I need to go and have a shower. Where’s Mum, Flo?” Julian asks.
“Don’t ask me. She said she’d be back at six.”
He leaves. He didn’t look at me once the entire time he was in the room. Did he not see me? Did he not recognize me? Is he playing hard to get? I hear the shower turn on upstairs. I think about him up there naked. Soapsuds falling down his body. I close my eyes and imagine being in there with him, on my knees. Warm and wet, his hands on my head.
“Renée? Renée?”
I open my eyes.
“What’s with you tonight?” asks Flo. “You’re being so weird.”
“Sorry,” I mutter. “The Nell thing really threw me. I’m fine. Shall I make us a cup of tea?” I need to get out of the room for a minute.
“Sure.”
I stand trembling in the kitchen. My feelings are out of control. Poor Flo. She thinks I came to see her tonight, and all I want to do is get off with her brother. The brother she hates, and who makes her feel like crap about herself. I am in love with him. What kind of best friend am I? I put two tea bags into cups and stand with my hands on the work surface, my head down. Come on, Renée, don’t do this. Don’t do this to Flo. And then I feel his hands on my hips.
“You wore the sexy jeans for me?”
He presses himself against me.
“Did you miss me?”
I answer with a super-speedy and mortifying nod. He turns me to face him. I move like a zombie. He’s still wet, just a towel covering him from the waist down. His body is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I want to lick it. He smells of soap.
“Tell Flo you have to leave. I’ll meet you at the end of the road in ten minutes. Would you like that?”
“Yes. Yes, I’d like that.”
Zombie.
“Good. Ten minutes. Don’t be late.”
He takes one of the cups of tea I’ve made and goes back upstairs.
“Here you go.” I pass Flo her tea. Guilt rising off me like steam from the cup.
“You not having one?”
“No. You know, I don’t feel that great. I think I’ve eaten something, I haven’t felt right all day,” I lie.
“I hope it wasn’t my sandwich,” Flo says, worried.
“No, it wasn’t your sandwich. Probably just a mix of not enough sleep and stress because of Nell and stuff. I’ll be OK, but I should probably go.”
“Will you be OK getting home? The buses are only once an hour at this time.” She looks genuinely concerned for me.
“Yeah, I’ll walk. The fresh air will do me good. See you over the weekend?” I say, feeling sick with guilt.
“Maybe. I need to do some revision, and Sally wants to go into town to buy a new coat, but call me and let’s see,” Flo says.
I fight the urge to ask her why the hell she is going shopping with Sally, and why she can’t just tell her to go sod herself. But I hardly have the right to be righteous right now.
“Come on, get in.”
He pushes the passenger door open, and I get in the car. It smells of stale cigarettes. He drives so quickly that I’m scared. I want to ask him to slow down, but my fear of not looking cool is annoyingly overpowering. I hold on to the handle and close my eyes, opening them wide every now and then in case he looks at me. I don’t want him to know I’m scared.
“Where are we going?” I ask as he drives too quickly down lanes I don’t recognize.
“I know a good place. Somewhere private. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To be with me somewhere private?”
“Sure,” I say quietly.
“‘Sure’? That doesn’t sound very convincing.”
“No, I mean, yeah, I mean I want to do that. Private. Sure.”
Where has my personality gone?
Soon we are driving through town. I keep my head down in case anyone sees me in his car. I feel so conspicuous. I shouldn’t be with him.
He races along the front of town, and we pass Havelet Bay. I wonder if he knows that I helped spread his father’s ashes there a few months ago. He certainly doesn’t slow down or acknowledge it in any way. Then we start going up the Wiggly Woggly Road. I think of Mum coasting down it slowly, Nell and I laughing in the back. I would have fallen down if she had driven like this.
At the top he spins a sharp left and drives into Fort George, the “Beverly Hills of Guernsey.” An estate where all the rich people from England buy houses—it’s mansion after mansion with big, expensive cars in the driveways. It’s like another world and doesn’t feel like Guernsey at all. He puts his foot down then screeches to an abrupt stop at the bottom of a hill. There is silence. We are in a little lay-by. Herm Island is right in front of us. The sky is dark—there is no one around. He gives me a cigarette.
“Thanks.”
We smoke without speaking. He sucks on his fag so hard that it makes a sound when he pulls it away from his lips, then he blows the smoke out of his mouth like he’s trying to make it reach the moon. I am doing everything I can to be as quiet as possible. I don’t want to do anything wrong. I want him to notice me without noticing me.
“Finished?”
“Yeah, I’ve finished.” I throw the fag butt out the window and put my hands on my thighs. He turns to me.
“Have you done it before?”
“What, smoke? Of course I have!” How inexperienced does he think I am?
“No, not smoke. It. Sex. Are you a virgin?”
I didn’t think he’d brought me here for a nice chat, but sex? Are we really going to do it? I look at his face. He obviously isn’t joking. Sex? In a car? Sober?
“Of course I’m not a virgin. I’ve done it.”
“Good.”
He turns the cog on the side of my seat so that it goes back, then he does the same with his. We are gently lit by a street lamp and the moon. Enough to see what to do, but not so bright that he can see the details of my body. I can do this.
“Take off your jeans.”
I pull down the jeans and yank them over my feet. He undoes his too. I’m not scared, I’m not. I want this. His hand reaches over and pulls my knickers to the side.
“Do you want to go on top?” he asks.
“I don’t care.”
He leans over and opens the glove compartment, taking out an open packet of condoms. There is one left. I watch him as he rolls it on, glad he has thought to do this. I wouldn’t have known how to bring it up if he hadn’t.
He raises himself up and pulls himself over to my seat so he’s on top of me. His face next to my face, his chest pressed against mine as he reaches down to guide himself inside me. I am ready. Flo will understand.
A sharp pain shoots up me as he crams himself in.
I take a deep breath and try to relax. With one more thrust, he is inside me. We both breathe a sigh of relief.
I cling onto his shoulders like he is rescuing me from the side of a cliff. If I let go I will fall. A few times I whimper when that sharp pain comes back, and each time he slows back down. I can tell he doesn’t want to hurt me.
This isn’t how I imagined it. I don’t feel the pleasure I always thought I would feel when this moment came. It doesn’t feel how it looks on TV. It’s more like the time Margaret Cooper bet me to get my whole fist in my mouth. I am stuffed full. It feels as uncomfortable as it does unnatural. I feel nothing of the pleasure I felt in the kitchen. If it wasn’t for his breath against my face, his tongue occasionally in my m
outh, I might wonder what the point of sex is at all. Is it supposed to hurt like this?
His breath becomes shorter, and he moves quicker, but I can tell he wants to go even faster than he is. His entire body flexes, and he collapses onto me.
We lie still for a moment, my brain wondering, Is that it, is that it?
That is it.
He pulls himself back over to his seat.
“You lied about being a virgin.”
I don’t know how he knows, but there is no point in denying it.
“Sorry.”
“It would have been nice of you to have told me. I could get into trouble for shit like that. What are you, fifteen? You could say you changed your mind or something, and get me in a load of shit.”
I say nothing. I feel so stupid, so young, so silly.
He reaches into the backseat.
“Here, sit on this. I don’t want you making a mess of my car.”
Unsure of what he means, I pull up my jeans and push the plastic bag he gave me under my bum.
“OK, quick fag and then I better get you home.”
We smoke in silence, and then he starts the engine and drives off. This time much slower. This time I’m not so scared.
“Leave me here. It’s fine, I’ll walk up to my house,” I say as we get to the end of my road. I wonder if we will kiss good-bye, but he doesn’t offer, and I don’t try. I stand by the car, and I lean back in through the open door.
“Thanks for the lift. I had a nice time.”
“Yeah. Renée?”
“Yes?” My heart thumps as I prepare to be launched to girlfriend status. “Wrap your jacket round your waist when you go into the house.”
I close the door and he drives off. What did he mean about my jacket?
I look down and see a huge red stain on the crotch of Gem’s white jeans.
Shame, panic, fear, and a hundred other emotions hit me like a car. I pull off my coat and wrap it around my waist and make my way up to the house. Why? Why do things like this have to happen to me?
I open the front door as quietly as I can.
“Is that you, Renée?”
Obviously not quietly enough.
Paper Airplanes Page 14
