The Plus One

by Natasha West

  But on one particular morning, there was one pamphlet mixed in amongst the usual unpaid horribleness that caught her eye. It was a three-week camp for twelve year olds and they were looking for people aged sixteen to eighteen to help oversee it. Charlie thought that maybe this one would actually work for her. Because firstly, it sounded like a lot more fun than being chained to the kettle and the photocopier. And secondly, it would get her out of the house and away from her mother’s incessant nagging.

  Charlie very quickly filled out the application, making up a load of lies about her love of kids and a future desire to teach. And a few weeks later, back came an acceptance. Two weeks after that, term ended and she got on a bus to Brecon Beacons in Wales. Her mother saw her off, very pleased with herself that her daughter had taken her advice. Charlie wanted to strangle her.

  She arrived at the camp site, a little nervous but hoping to maybe make a friend or two. And then she saw her. That blonde hair blowing in the breeze like she was in her own shampoo commercial. Amy frigging Sinclair. Charlie couldn’t believe it. How had this ridiculous coincidence occurred? Charlie wasn’t even pleased. She was just scared. She’d thought she was going to get a break from her school persona. But if Amy was here, it was a sign. It was going to be like it always was. Charlie would be the invisible girl, as ever. No one would see her. Amy certainly wouldn’t see her.

  Amy saw Charlie and thought ‘Doesn’t that girl go to my school?’

  A few days went by and somehow, Charlie and Amy kept getting thrown together. Supervising the craft hut, going on the same bivouac, slopping food in the lunch line together. But still, not a word was spoken between them. Charlie’s fears were fully confirmed.

  Until one day, Amy was on lifeguard duty out at the nearby lake watching the kids learning to kayak, when she had a sudden need to pee. She turned to find someone who could take over while she relieved herself and there was Charlie, a few metres away, untying tangles from abseiling ropes, counting karabiners.

  ‘Hey, you!’

  Charlie looked around her, positive Amy meant someone else.

  ‘I’m talking to you. Charlie, isn’t it?’

  Charlie felt her head go wobbly. Amy Sinclair was talking to her. Amy Sinclair knew her name.

  Thank god that at the moment, some inner drill sergeant spoke inside Charlie’s mind.

  ‘Pull yourself together, Black! Answer her and be confident, dammit!’

  Charlie found the teeniest bit of swagger.

  ‘Yeah, I’m Charlie.’

  ‘Great. I need to piss.’

  Charlie hadn’t expected her to say that.

  ‘Okay…’

  ‘Can you just watch this lot for a minute while I go to the toilet?’

  ‘What do I-’

  ‘It’s fairly simple. Don’t let them drown. OK?’

  Charlie nodded and Amy ran off.

  A few minutes later, Amy returned to see Charlie burning holes in the children with her eyes, taking her task extremely seriously.

  ‘Hey, thanks. Sorry if I was a bit rude just then. Something about a full bladder, it makes me forget to be polite.’

  Charlie shrugged.

  ‘S’alright.’

  Amy smiled.

  ‘Cool.’

  And with that, the conversation had come to its end. Charlie turned to leave, not wanting to ruin the moment by simply staring at Amy with her mouth open while neither of them said anything. But Amy, perhaps a little homesick and wanting something familiar, even it if was some nobody that went to her school, wasn’t quite done with Charlie.

  ‘Hey, I’m Amy, by the way.’

  Charlie turned back, caught by surprise.

  ‘Yeah, I know.’

  Amy raised an eyebrow and Charlie thought perhaps she shouldn’t have said that.

  ‘I mean, it’s a small school. And you’re…’

  Charlie didn’t know how to finish that. How to explain someone like Amy to Amy? But Amy had actually understood immediately. She knew that people throughout the school probably talked about her, people she’d never met. Maybe they even bitched about her, envy being what it was.

  ‘Oh, you mean that I’m the blonde girl with the big tits that goes to every party?’ Amy said, a little defensively.

  Charlie was shocked at the reductiveness of her self-description. Yes, Charlie had certainly noticed her hair and her proportions. But the Amy Sinclair that she saw was a lot more than that. To Charlie, she was magic.

  But hearing Amy talking about herself that way, it was like seeing the real person underneath it all, if only for a second. It made Charlie forget to be cautious.

  ‘Do you think that’s what people say about you?’

  Amy smiled coyly.

  ‘Are you going to tell me it’s not?’

  Charlie shrugged.

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t really talk to people that much. Or they don’t talk to me, anyway.’

  A lot of people might have been embarrassed by Charlie’s admission of her loser status. Amy didn’t notice it.

  ‘But you hear people, things they say. You must know more than I do about it. Not that it matters to me what anyone thinks’ she added quickly.

  But it was too late. Charlie knew it did matter. It lessened her nerves considerably.

  ‘The truth is, you’re like a celebrity at Harewood. They think you’re Little Miss Perfect.’ Charlie shrugged, conceding ‘But yeah, they do also talk about your big tits and blonde hair.’

  Amy laughed, caught off guard. Charlie was ecstatic that she’d managed to get a laugh out of her. But she had the good sense not to let that show.

  And Amy was beginning to think that maybe Charlie might be just what she needed right now. She was stuck in the Brecon Beacons alone due to her father’s insistence she take a break from her ‘busy social life’ (his euphemism for drinking too much) to get some real country air and good wholesome fun. But if she had to be without her friends, maybe Charlie had the potential to be someone she could waste some time with. Yes, Amy thought, she might do.

  The next morning Charlie was on the breakfast shift. So was Amy. But this time, they said hi. And when the kids had finished eating and it was their turn, Amy sat down and waved Charlie over, patting the seat next to her. Charlie sat down like it was no big deal. Inside, it was like fireworks in her stomach. Terrifying, but somehow not quite unpleasant.

  They chatted about the camp and initial impressions, Charlie being overly careful not to say something stupid, Amy vigilantly maintaining her cool poise. But then one of the other counsellors, Jeremy, who was the same age as Charlie and Amy, but felt he had seniority due to his two-year tenure at the camp, walked by and spotted them.

  ‘You two should’ve been in the craft tent five minutes ago!’

  Amy raised an eyebrow.

  ‘You know you’re not in charge of us, don’t you?’

  ‘This is my second year. You’re supposed to listen to me.’

  ‘Who says?’ Amy asked, getting a little het up herself.

  ‘Dave says.’

  Charlie watched the back and forth, anger growing at this jumped up little prat.

  ‘I have no idea who that is’ said Amy dismissively.

  ‘Get in there now before I explode!’ Jeremy shouted at Amy.

  Charlie, usually quiet, had reached her limit.

  ‘That’s what your Mum said to me last night.’

  As comebacks go, it wasn’t original. But Charlie’s timing was enough to cause Amy to spit the milk she’d just taken a sip of. Jeremy, whose life had included one too many incidents of girls laughing at him, scuttled off red faced.

  Amy was left covered in milk. She looked down at herself, immediately embarrassed. Charlie grabbed a roll of kitchen towel and handed her a few sheets. As Amy dabbed herself down, they caught each other’s eyes and unexpectedly, they were laughing together. Amy forgot her poise. Charlie forgot to be careful. In a moment rare for teenagers, they’d both forgotten to stop being them
selves.

  As they walked to the tent, the conversation between them had changed. It was easier. It quickly turned to making fun of the people that ran the camp, the other counsellors, even some of the kids. It went up to the line of being mean, without ever quite crossing it. Charlie was amazed to find out that all the vaguely cutting thoughts she had sounded pretty funny coming out of her mouth. They’d been talking for about twenty minutes when Charlie realised she was actually having fun. She decided then and there to stop censoring herself.

  And from then on, Charlie and Amy were a pair. They looked for each other at meals, tried to get assigned the same activities, hung out in the evenings. Charlie was having the time of her life. Because Amy wasn’t just this perfect creature that she worshipped from afar, she was actually cool to hang out with. She had a dry wit that Charlie would never have suspected. And she always knew how to give Charlie a hard time in a way that never made her feel defensive. They were sparring partners. Charlie loved it.

  But as the days wore on, Charlie began to dread the moment when it would end. That day was quickly approaching, as the camp was finishing at the end of the week. She wondered if she might raise the subject of what happened when they were back at school, perhaps broach the concept of future plans. She decided against it. She had an instinctive notion that this would all vanish back at Harewood. It was a correct assumption.

  Because although Amy enjoyed hanging out with Charlie, she knew deep down that there had to be an expiration date on the friendship. It was a shame though. Charlie was different from her other friends. When Amy made a joke at school, everybody laughed too loudly, as though that they weren’t really listening to her. Charlie didn’t do that. If Amy made a joke, Charlie would bat one straight back at her. The novelty of that was refreshing. But how could the friendship work back at home? The answer was simple. It couldn’t.

  On the last day of the camp, the kids were acting like sugared up little lunatics but by the end of it, they all fell into bed exhausted. And then it was time for the counsellors to have their fun. It was understood that the camp bosses were turning a blind eye to the amount of alcohol that had drifted into the camp via the underage staff. Charlie was a little nervous about it. She’d never really drank before; she’d certainly never been drunk. Her Mum let her have the odd sip of wine at special occasions but Charlie hadn’t really found a taste for alcohol yet.

  So when Amy produced a full litre of vodka and asked if she wanted to share it, Charlie wasn’t sure how to play it. But she didn’t want to seem stuffy in front of Amy so she took a heroic swig directly from the bottle, which she immediately spat out. Amy laughed at her.

  ‘Not a drinker, are you? Slow down, OK? We’ve got all night.’

  Charlie smiled ruefully and asked if they might mix the vodka with something. Amy was happy to oblige. She thought Charlie’s inexperience with booze was amusing, but Charlie was grateful to find that she didn’t seem to see it as a failing. The last thing she wanted was to lose cool points with her. And that didn’t seem to have happened. Charlie thought that was probably because Amy had never thought of her as cool to start with. She could only rise in Amy’s estimation just by not being boring. But whatever Amy thought about her, she had a way of making Charlie feel safe enough to be herself. Safe enough at least to make her first foray into real drinking with her.

  They went to the catering tent in search of something to take the edge off the vodka. There wasn’t much left in there but Amy found a large catering carton of orange juice and some plastic cups and decided to get the party started right there, sitting on the floor, leaning against a big stack of generic cornflake boxes.

  ‘Don’t you want to find everyone else?’ asked Charlie.

  ‘Nah, they’re boring. It’ll be more fun like this.’

  It was only then that Charlie had a hopeful twinge. They were alone and they were going to get drunk. Might this be her shot? She had no idea if Amy liked her in that way, or liked girls in general. Her comments so far in that regard had been limited to a few disparaging remarks aimed at old boyfriends. She seemed to be currently single. But did that mean Charlie had a chance? It seemed like a tiny one, if she did. But even the thought of that small possibility was making her nervous. Too nervous. Amy was starting to notice.

  ‘Hey, what’s the matter with you? You’ve gone all quiet.’

  Charlie shrugged and drank some more vodka. She found the more she drank, the better it tasted. A few minutes later, the vodka had granted Charlie use of her mouth again.

  ‘So, what happens when we get home?’

  Amy knew what she meant but she decided to play dumb.

  ‘When we get home?’

  ‘Yeah, when we go back to that place where we’re not friends anymore.’

  Amy knew some sort of conversation about how things would be when term time came was inevitable. But she hadn’t realised that Charlie knew exactly what the score was. It made her sad. Because Charlie had become her actual, real friend. Not just someone to waste time with. She made Amy feel like she could be more herself than she could with the minions who usually surrounded her. She wasn’t really ready for it to be over. But the thought of them spending time together at school… Well, it just wasn’t how the world worked, was it?

  The thought made Amy feel a bit morose. It might have been the booze, it might have been how close at hand the end was. It was probably a combination of both. But Amy was suddenly very sad to think she might have to hurt Charlie. She felt a sudden rush of affection for her. Tonight was really it for them.

  Charlie watched Amy’s face, seeing how her comment had affected Amy. She’d made her feel bad. She didn’t like seeing that.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get so needy.’

  Amy shook her head.

  ‘You’re not needy. It’s just, I don’t know, I was trying to not think about school and everything.’

  It was Charlie’s turn to be surprised.

  ‘I thought you’d be excited to go back there. Have everyone kissing your arse again.’

  Amy made a face.

  ‘You think that I like that?’

  Charlie shrugged.

  ‘Well, I don’t’ Amy said. ‘It’s just how it is. And I feel bad because you’re right, we probably won’t be friends anymore.’

  Charlie had been preparing for that but still, it stung. But they were talking about it now. She might as well say what she thought.

  ‘Isn’t that up to us?’

  Amy was amazed to find tears rolling down her own cheeks.

  ‘You know it’s not.’

  Amy was really crying now. Full on blubbering. She was prone to tears when drunk. And they’d managed to put away a fair amount of the vodka. The bottle was half empty.

  Charlie watched Amy cry for several seconds, not sure what to do. It was unfamiliar territory. Eventually Amy looked up at her, damp faced.

  ‘Hug me then, doofus!’

  Charlie didn’t need to be told twice. She slipped her arms around Amy. Amy leaned into it, holding onto Charlie until her tears began to subside. She wasn’t quite sure why she was crying anymore. But it felt good to have a blub. And Charlie’s embrace felt good too. She was… soft. It was making Amy think things she’d never thought about before. Exciting things. Naughty things.

  Charlie was in agony. She had Amy in her arms, an emotional wreck, and she had no clue what to do about it. Was she supposed to make a move? Or was it actually quite a shitty thing to try and take advantage of a girl who was drunk and crying? But she herself was drunk too, did that lessen the wickedness of it? Her research had not prepared her for this particular ethical quandary.

  But it didn’t matter, because suddenly, she felt lips on her skin. Amy was gently kissing her neck. Charlie froze. She still didn’t know whether she was reading this wrong. Maybe this was just something straight girls did with their friends?

  But then Amy’s lips found hers and questions went out the window, all thought went ou
t the window. It was Charlie’s first kiss and it was something she’d always worried about, but now, in this tent, vodka coursing through her system, it felt like the easiest thing in the world. All she had to do was read what Amy wanted by paying attention to what she was doing. If Amy wanted it to be slow, Amy would go slowly. If Amy wanted tongue, she’d offer hers first. That went on for a while, Charlie feeling like everything was suddenly simple. Amy could lead and she would follow. And she was willing to follow anywhere Amy wanted to go.

  As the kissing built in passion, it began to move on to something a bit more advanced, instigated by Amy. She’d never kissed a girl before but now she couldn’t really imagine why not. She’d had an idea that Charlie might have a little crush on her, but she’d ignored it before tonight. She didn’t have a problem with it, and sure Charlie was sort of cute when you really looked at her, but she never considered doing something like that because it was just not the kind of girl she thought she was supposed to be. But tonight, she felt different. Because Charlie was different. And she found she wanted something more from her, something she didn’t really understand. But she had an idea that it involved getting her hands underneath Charlie’s clothes.

  Charlie was on cloud nine. Her moment had arrived. And in some sort of crazy miracle, it was with Amy Sinclair, who was hotter than the sun and cooler than snow. And now that things were really starting to heat up, Charlie decided she had better start to take a more active role in deciding what happened next. All those hours of ‘research’, they were about to be put into practical use. Charlie thanked god she had prepared for this moment so thoroughly, although she’d always imagined she wouldn’t need it until some far off point, possibly years down the line. But the moment was happening, here and now. She prayed she’d be able to apply her knowledge skilfully. She began to pull Amy’s clothes off. She felt no resistance and soon she had the girl in her underwear.