I winced.
‘But anyway … I don’t want to bore you with all this stuff,’ she said, looking worried. ‘You’ve got homework to do, I bet.’
‘It’s fine, honestly.’
‘And let me know what I owe you for those,’ she added, indicating the tissues. ‘I’ll replace them.’
‘Fletcher—’ Suddenly my irritation took over. ‘It’s just a tissue, for God’s sake! I know you’re trying to be nice but it’s really, really annoying!’
She looked at me and burst into tears.
‘Oh. Gosh, I’m so sorry!’ I ran over and gave her the world’s most awkward hug. What was I thinking? I was a monster.
Through tears, she said, ‘That’s what Hunter always says about me.’
What a prince. He had a point, but still.
‘It’s Tariq I feel bad for, really,’ she said. ‘He’s worked so hard on figuring out some positive plans, and then Hunter comes in with his stupid pancakes and everyone goes crazy for it.’
‘You don’t think he’ll win, do you?’
‘I don’t know. Our year will vote for Tariq, and probably the IB Two as well. But the rest of the school, I’m not so sure. Have you talked to Tariq?’
‘No.’ It was true that ever since the hustings, he’d been very elusive. ‘Want me to see if he’s home?’
‘I’m too sick to talk to anyone.’ She looked miserable again. ‘And anyway, he’s bound to be out. Staying in on a Friday night is like death to Tariq.’
‘Look, why don’t we watch an episode of The Office?’ I suggested.
‘The US Office?’ Fletcher asked hopefully. ‘I mean, the UK one is funny too. But—’
‘I know. The US one is happier.’
It was a particularly funny one, where Kevin makes a giant chilli and spills it all over the floor. Fletcher laughed so much she said it hurt, but in a good way.
‘Thanks, Lola,’ she added, as I got up to leave. ‘I hope I can do you a favour soon …’
‘Honestly, Fletcher, I think you should start asking for more favours, not less.’
A thoughtful expression crossed her face. ‘In that case. Will you be my jogging partner? Or at least try it?’
Jogging?
‘No. Sorry, but I’ve tried it before and it was impossible. I’m not cut out for it.’
‘We’ll start slow,’ she said. ‘I promise. One minute slow jog, one minute walking. Just try it once, and if you don’t like it I will never make you do it again, I promise.’
She might be too nice but she was also very tenacious. ‘Fine,’ I said. ‘I’ll try it.’
Chapter Forty
Talking to Fletcher about her family had made me think of mine. I felt really guilty: it had been ages since I’d talked to them – properly, not just messages. I decided to Skype them there and then.
Lenny answered. It had only been about ten days since I’d last seen him on screeen. But he looked older. Not just his face; his whole expression. And was that stubble I was seeing?
‘Sup,’ he said. ‘Should I get Mum? She’s in the bath, but for you she would drip.’
‘No, wait – hang on! How are you? How was your school trip?’
‘It was OK.’
‘What do you mean, OK?’ I said. ‘It looked like a honeymoon, not a school trip. Seriously – you’re living the dream.’
‘Living the dream?’ Lenny said. ‘I’m not living any flipping dream.’
‘What do you mean?’ Now I was indignant. ‘Was I imagining the Segway – and the chocolate croissants – and the staying out til all hours? Not to mention you’ve destroyed my room, and you have a girlfriend now? What am I missing?’
‘Chocolate croissants?’ said Lenny. ‘You seriously think a few chocolate croissants can make up for all the other stuff that’s happening?’
‘What other stuff?’ My heart thumped. ‘Are Mum and Dad fighting?’
‘Um, of course. When they’re not micro-managing everything I do.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like – we have dinner together every night. At the table, not on the sofa.’
‘Oh God, really?’ That sounded intense. Dinner at the table was normally only Christmas and Sundays.
‘And they make me tell them my best and worst moment of the day.’ He sounded full of horror. ‘And they look at my internet search history every day. I’m only allowed my phone for an hour every evening. It’s like living in a police state.’
‘Come on. A police state? You’ve got a girlfriend!’
‘Yes,’ said Lenny. ‘And I’m not allowed to tell her where my sister is.’
‘But – why does she …’
‘Why does she care? Because it’s weird! It’s like we’ve disappeared you! You can’t just go off somewhere and have people not ask where you went. It doesn’t work like that.’
Confused, I said, ‘But … Mum and Dad are telling people I’m in Paris. Can’t you just say that?’
‘No! Because you told me not to!’
‘Oh.’ I hadn’t expected that Lenny would even remember me asking him that. ‘Well – you can tell her. Just don’t tell her why I left.’
‘You don’t think she already knows?’
‘I suppose,’ I said, awkwardly. ‘I mean course I do. I just don’t want people here knowing, is all.’
‘Delilah. They’re going to find out eventually. You’re in Paris, not on the moon.’
I blinked. Was that really Lenny talking? Suddenly, he sounded like Dad.
‘But it’s too late,’ I said. ‘It’s too late to tell anyone here. I’m so steeped in blood that returning were as tedious as going back.’
‘Steeped in blood? What the hell have you done now?’
‘I was joking! It’s from Macbeth.’
‘Very funny. I’ve got to go.’ And he logged off, without waiting for my reply.
Chapter Forty-One
That night, I couldn’t sleep. My mind was such a jumble of thoughts – about Lenny being angry with me, as well as him growing up so fast and me missing it all; about whether I would ever go back to being Delilah again; and about poor Fletcher, Tariq and the Student President election. I sighed aloud, tossing and turning, until I got out of bed. Restless, I walked to the window. There was a full moon. I turned my light on, and decided to try to read.
A few minutes later, there was a knock at my door. I opened it, half-expecting it to be Fletcher.
It was Tariq. I blinked at the sight of him; half-swaying in the doorway, dark hair ruffled over his forehead. If I didn’t know better, I’d have said he was … Drunk?
‘Pause. Record scratch,’ he said. ‘You’re probably wondering how I got here!’
I bundled him inside quickly before anyone heard him.
‘So sorry to call by so late. I just saw your light was on,’ he said. He was obviously being careful to speak distinctly. ‘And I thought I’d see if you wanted to come up on the roof, for some fresh air.’
‘Tariq! Keep your voice down. What roof?’
‘The roof of the school,’ he said patiently. ‘Look.’ He produced a key. ‘The key to the old fire escape.’
I knew I should shut him up and persuade him back to his room, but I could tell there would be no peace unless I let him. Instead I found myself pulling on my dressing-gown, and my monster slippers.
Tariq looked at them. ‘Oh, Lola. Are you eight?’ He started to giggle.
‘Shhh,’ I said. ‘Come on. Let’s go on the roof, if we’re going.’
My heart was in my mouth as we tip-toed along the corridor, keeping to the edges to avoid creaks. Tariq made a huge racket unlocking the door, but miraculously, no one appeared.
‘Is is safe?’ I asked, creaking cautiously up the metal stairs. They were very steep, and very close to the edge.
‘You are going to love the view,’ Tariq said.
‘The view of my life flashing in front of me as I crash down these stairs? Oh.’
All of Paris lay sprea
d out before us. The Eiffel Tower was sending out its searchlight, catching all the slanted grey rooftops of the seventh, sixth and fifth arrondissements, under the light of the full moon. Behind us, the Panthéon was lit up in all its grey glory, and turning the other way, across the Seine, I could see Notre Dame and the tiny white dome of the Sacré Coeur.
‘Look over there. You can see the Arc de Triomphe.’
I shook my head. ‘This is just incredible. Why have I never been here before?’ I said.
‘Um, because it’s completely forbidden and I don’t want to get kicked out of school?’
That made me laugh out loud. ‘You’re not going to get kicked out of school. Anyway,’ I added teasingly, ‘your dad is a diplomat, isn’t he? Couldn’t you just get him to make a phone call?’
‘I don’t think you understand,’ he said. ‘The whole point of being a diplomat is not to make trouble. And avoid headlines. “Pakistani ambassador’s son in drink-fuelled rooftop escapade”. That kind of thing.’
He went over to one of the eaves, where there was an old cushion as a sort of makeshift seat. People had obviously been up here before.
‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I’m a little drunk.’
I sat down beside him, leaning my back on the tall window eave. I was tempted to say, ‘I would never have guessed’ but I didn’t think he would get the sarcasm right now. ‘Where have you been?’
‘With Nicolas,’ Tariq said. ‘Drinking whisky. Trying to forget the car crash of the other day.’
‘It wasn’t a car crash. Hunter is a dimwit, Tariq. Nobody is going to vote for him, or his pancakes.’
‘I’m not so sure. People like pancakes. And maybe they don’t want to have their Vittel taken away. Or their Evian, or their Badoit. I know how the French feel about mineral water.’ He was talking to himself now. ‘Why did I have to go all out on that? Why didn’t I have some fun policies?’
‘I think it’s a really good idea!’
‘I looked like a complete killjoy. Not to mention the ball. I’m like the Grinch that stole Christmas.’
‘But that was a complete lie! I’ll tell people that’s not what happened.’
He looked so utterly miserable that I searched desperately for a way to cheer him up. ‘Look. It’s just a student election. I mean, really – is it really the end of the world if you don’t win? Really?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said indistinctly.
I felt his head jerk abruptly onto my shoulder.
‘Tariq –’ I lifted my hand to push it off, but then I stopped. Because having his head on my shoulder felt nice. It shouldn’t have, but it did.
‘Can I tell you a secret?’ he said.
I was a bit worried now. Should he really be telling me this when he was drunk? But maybe this was the only time he could tell me.
‘When I was little, I used to organise my Sylvanian Family animals into a parliament, and hold parliamentary debates with them.’ A minute later, he said, ‘Lola? It’s not that funny.’
I was laughing so hard, it was a while before I could say, ‘It is, you know.’
‘Ow.’ He sat up, disturbed by all my hysteria. Then he collapsed back down again, lying sideways this time – with his head in my lap.
I froze, my hand half-raised. Then I brought it down to rest softly on his head. Without even letting myself think about it, I stroked his head, softly.
‘That’s nice,’ he muttered.
His hair felt just as soft and touchable as it looked. I allowed my hand to travel over his head, not thinking of anything.
‘Who was your Sylvanian President?’
‘A squirrel.’
I kept stroking his hair. Now I was noticing things like his strong eyebrows, his beautiful nose and his amazing fan of eyelashes that spread out over his cheek.
‘Are you awake?’ I said softly.
His eyes stayed closed.
‘You know,’ I said quietly, ‘I did something embarrassing too, but it was much worse than playing Sylvanian families.’
Silence.
I continued, ‘I did something stupid on the internet … I said something very stupid. And I became notorious. So, that’s sort of why I’m here.’
I breathed out slowly. Just saying that out loud – even to someone who was asleep – was massive. I looked down, braced for more questions – which I wouldn’t answer.
No reply. He was out for the count.
The minutes went by, as I looked at the beautiful view around me, and the even more beautiful boy. We couldn’t stay here all night – tempting as it was. The trouble was, he was fast asleep. I would have to wake him. Any minute now …
‘Boo!’ Tariq said suddenly, sitting up.
‘Aagh! Shut up! You’re going to wake the whole school!’ I pushed him away, heart pounding. He was sitting up and laughing.
‘Sorry,’ he said, grinning.
Then his smile faded and he pulled back, as if suddenly realising what he’d been doing. The moment became intensely awkward. We looked at each other in the half-dark until suddenly I couldn’t look any more.
‘We should go to bed,’ I said. ‘It’s really late.’
He nodded, and came down the stairs after me without saying a word, and walked to my door where we said an awkward, fast goodbye.
Chapter Forty-Two
Twelve hours later, I was still in a daze – trying to read up on French grammar, but simultaneously trying to figure out what on earth had happened with Tariq the other night. I had never thought of him that way before, ever. And I knew that he would never think of me that way. Which meant that I had behaved in a really creepy way, by stroking his hair. What if he thought I liked him? He would be so freaked-out, especially since he would think I thought he was straight … I bit my pen, groaning in mortification.
‘Lola?’ There was a knock on my door.
‘It’s just me,’ said Fletcher, bouncing up and down on her toes. She was dressed in her running outfit.
‘Oh no,’ I said.
‘I promise, it’ll be fun. Just try it once – that’s all I’m asking.’
I had hoped I could plead lack of proper gear, but Fletcher said my trainers would be just fine. I grumbled and sighed myself into my clothes, and we went down the stairs and out the front door.
‘I’m not a runner,’ I warned her.
‘I know, I know,’ Fletcher said, ignoring me.
I started off at my usual pace, dreading how unpleasant this was going to be.
‘Wait!’ she said. ‘What?’
‘Slow it right down! If you go too fast at the start, you’ll burn out. Think one pace up from slo-mo.’
‘OK,’ I said, amused at how bossy she sounded, compared to her usual self. Not bossy. Confident.
Slowly, slowly we jogged towards the Jardin du Luxembourg, and went in through the great gold-topped black railings. Fletcher didn’t seem remotely bothered by all the people who had to dodge out of our way. She just kept to her ultra-slow pace, while she told me about her family. Her parents lived in Astana, which was the capital of Kazakhstan, along with her eight-year-old sister, who was adopted from the Congo two years ago.
‘It must be hard to keep in touch?’
‘It is. But I call them as often as I can,’ she said. ‘I email them, I send them pictures … I don’t want to regret anything with my parents.’
I was really stunned by this. It seemed such a mature thing to say – I’d never heard any of my friends talk about their parents like that. I was still thinking about it when we got onto the topic of Hunter and their break-up.
‘The thing is,’ she said, as we turned down another gravel path, ‘I was actually thinking of running for Student Pres. Not because I really wanted to all that much, but I thought it was important that a girl should run.’
‘Good for you. Why didn’t you?’
‘Hunter! He told me not to! He said it would be way too much work, with the SATs and everything, and it would mean we couldn’t go away
for weekends and stuff. And then he put his own name in.’
‘Without even telling you?’ I panted. While Fletcher was able to talk in a completely normal voice, I sounded like I was having a heart attack.
‘Exactly. I’m such an idiot, I believed him when he said he’d had a sudden change of heart and just emailed his application in the middle of the night. I was annoyed, but I thought it would be petty to break up over something like that. I thought we could work through it.’ Her pretty face darkened. ‘But then, in the hustings … he knows why we had to cancel the ball, but he twisted the truth to use it against me. I’ve never felt so betrayed or humiliated in all my life.’
I just shook my head. Partly because there were no words to say what a dick he was, but partly because I could barely breathe.
‘You know what else?’
Saying ‘No,’ was beyond me so I shook my head.
‘When I was thinking of running, he said, “They’ll never elect a girl.” And it’s true. There has never been a female Student Pres.’ She shook her head. ‘And there won’t be one this year either. I can’t believe I was that stupid! Oh, sorry. I speeded up.’ She grinned at me. ‘Being angry always makes me run faster.’
We slowed down – thank God. We were nearly at the end of this avenue. Surely we would stop here or at least turn round? Only my pride was preventing me from collapsing on the floor.
‘You were right to dump him,’ I said, once I’d recovered my breath.
‘Do you think so? Riley and August think I’m being really unsupportive.’
‘They’re crazy. Really,’ I panted. I was beginning to see stars.
Fletcher glanced at me. ‘OK, let’s cool the jets. That was fifteen minutes. Well done!’
‘Only fifteen minutes? It felt like hours.’
‘Yup. Which means, you jogged over a mile! Awesome!’ She held up her hand for a high-five. ‘Now let’s walk for a bit.’
I limped along, realising that this was further into the park than I had ever come by myself. The chestnut trees were putting out soft, green leaves. People were sunbathing on the special green metal seats, which came in two varieties; upright and reclining. An ice-cream seller had replaced the man who used to sell chestnuts.
Lola Offline Page 13
