There. Simple. Buy one top/dress. You don’t have to wear it though... not yet anyway. Baby steps, yes?
Don’t hate me. I’m doing this for your own good. And maybe a little bit for my own amusement. It almost makes me wish It’s nice picturing you doing all these things. I like thinking about all the wonderful things future Jem has in store for her.
I love you, pickle. Never, ever forget that.
Kai
xxx
Kai’s missions (demands) were getting a little bit old. I was tired of playing puppet to his puppet-master. I promised myself I wouldn’t do anything else unless I wanted to – unless it fitted in with the Plan. It just so happened that most of what he’d asked me to do so far had worked out that way. But it wasn’t cute or funny any more. It was a major pain in the arse.
To fortify myself on Saturday I started off in a shop I didn’t completely despise. I bought a few T-shirts, one skirt and a pair of jeans (nothing black or grey). I wouldn’t go so far as to say it was fun, but it certainly wasn’t as bad as I’d been expecting. The things I bought were still me – as in, they weren’t bright or garish or particularly revealing – they were just things I wouldn’t necessarily have thought to wear before. I had a brief look at the shoes, but that was one step too far. It would take more than a crazy revenge plan to make me forgo my trusty old biker boots (Converse in summer, obviously).
While I was on a roll I rushed next door into The Shop That Shall Not Be Named, grabbed a top in my size off the rail closest the door and headed straight to the counter. I was in and out in five minutes. It would have been four if the hungover-looking girl with the talon-like nails hadn’t taken her sweet time folding the top oh-so-carefully, like it was made of the finest silk instead of fifty per cent acrylic.
The stupid thing went straight to the back of my wardrobe as soon as I got home.
chapter twenty-two
The news about Sasha and Lucas spread through the school faster than you would believe. The unthinkable had happened: the Golden Couple was officially no more. Lucas Mahoney had dumped Sasha Evans. I imagined a stampede of girls heading to the toilets, checking themselves out, fixing their hair and make-up just in case he was ready to audition for a replacement.
Opinions varied from I told you she wasn’t good enough for him to I thought they’d be together forever and have the most beautiful babies the world has ever seen.
At lunchtime all eyes were on their table, everyone gleefully expecting a Sasha-shaped hole in the ranks. I’ll admit that I was semi-gleefully expecting the exact same thing.
But there she was, sandwiched between Bugs and Stu. She looked completely at ease, as if she hadn’t even noticed that the eyes of the whole school were on her. Lucas looked as calm and relaxed and Lucas-like as usual, leaning back in his chair, legs spread wide as if his bollocks were so huge they really needed that much room. Amber Sheldon was sitting on his right side and I could smell the desperation from where I was sitting. Not a chance, love. Not a chance.
I was leaving the school premises with my customary speed – something akin to a death-row inmate given a last-minute reprieve – when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Sasha.
‘Wow, you’re pretty speedy, aren’t you? Didn’t you hear me calling you?’ I’d been thinking about Kai. Wishing he’d been here today for the Lucas/Sasha speculation; he would have loved it. ‘Don’t suppose you fancy grabbing a coffee or something? It’s been a bit of a crazy day and I could really do with the company . . . if you’ve got nothing better to do, that is.’
It was like Sasha Evans was asking me out on a date. Of course, I knew she wasn’t asking me out on a date, but that’s exactly how it felt. Not that I was particularly accustomed to being asked out or anything. I’d been asked out twice in my whole life. (Twice if you’re being generous, once if you’re not.)
I felt cornered. I wanted to say no but I couldn’t think up a decent excuse quick enough. Potential ways out would flood my brain minutes later – dentist, doctor, babysitting for Noah. So many plausible excuses, but none of them available when I needed them most. I should be happy, I reminded myself. This was exactly what I wanted; Sasha was my way in. She was my golden ticket to the realm of the in-crowd. I wasn’t even having to work for it. It was almost as if she actually wanted to be friends with me or something. Incomprehensible.
So I said yes and we had coffee. Well, Sasha had coffee (double soy something latte) and I had a pot of tea. Without even asking, I got the low-down on the whole Lucas situation: she broke up with him after sex because she figured he’d be more chilled out then; he was pretty chilled out about it and they agreed to stay friends; Lucas wanted to keep the benefits but Sasha was having none of it; she sweetened the pill by saying he could tell people he was the one to break up with her. I couldn’t believe she was OK with everyone thinking she was the one who’d been dumped, but Sasha just shrugged and said, ‘What does it matter? People can believe what they like – I know the truth and that’s what counts, isn’t it? Besides . . . boys’ egos are so very fragile.’ She laughed and I laughed right along with her.
It was starting to dawn on me that Sasha was a decent person. This made me deeply uncomfortable for a couple of reasons: it meant that I was a truly terrible judge of character, and it made me feel a little bit guilty.
I was using her.
I’d never really thought of myself as the kind of person who would use someone.
That was the day I read Kai’s fifth letter.
Dear Jem,
I hope you’re not bored of me yet? Wishing I’d shut the hell up and get on with being dead? Let me cut to the chase...
You are the best friend a boy could ever wish for. I never needed anyone else, you know? You were always more than enough. Why bother making new friends when I already had the best one in the galaxy? But I think maybe it was unfair of me to keep you to myself. It was selfish of me. I can’t help thinking that if we‘d both had other friends - real, proper ones rather than people we merely talked to now and then (and said horribly mean things about later) - things would be easier for you now. With that in mind, this month’s mission is this: talk to someone new. Bonus points (and who wouldn’t want bonus points?!) for going completely out of your comfort zone. For the record, ’comfort zone’ may be defined thusly: anyone you sit next to in lessons. You never know, that girl standing next to you in the cafeteria queue could well be your new best someone who shares your questionable taste in music.
What I’m trying to say is that you never really know a person until you know a person. Pretty deep, right? They’ll probably print that on a tea towel one day.
Oh God, Jem. I’m scared. I know it’s hideously unfair of me to be telling you this, because there’s really nothing you can do about it, is there? I’m sorry. I wish I could talk to you right now, but you’re at Mr Chow’s for family night. I wish my family could have done that once in a while. I can’t even remember the last time the four of us had dinner together. They always blame it on Mum’s shift work, but I know it’s not that. There’s nothing to stop her sitting down with a bowl of cornflakes while we eat our dinner, is there?
You’re lucky. I know you’re never believed that, but it’s true.
If I could talk to you right this second, I’d ask if I was doing the right thing. And I know you’d say no.
Of course you’d say no. But if you were in my shoes I honestly think you’d understand. It’s too hard. It’s all too hard. It’s not just the video. Jem, I don’t think I could ever be happy in this world - a world where people are ashamed to admit who they really are.
I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not ashamed of who I am. I happen to think I’m a fairly decent human being, all things considered - one with exemplary manners and style, for that matter. But that’s not enough to keep me going. And you’re not enough.
Let’s be brutally honest here, because what’s the point in kidding ourselves now? The London plan was never going to work out, was
it? It was always my dream, not yours. You hate big cities - they make you nervous. But I know you’d have done it for me. You’d have applied to any university I chose, just to keep your promise. But you’d have been miserable, and I would have been miserable knowing you were miserable. And what would have happened if either of us had got a boyfriend? I know I’d have been insanely jealous and watching like a hawk to make sure he treated you like you deserve to be treated - and you’d probably have been the same way.
What it comes down to is the fact that I’m not strong enough to be here anymore. But you are. You don’t know how strong you are, but maybe Future Jem (five months older, five months wiser) is starting to have some idea. I hope more than anything in the world that you’re beginning to realize how truly amazing you are.
Fuck. Wow. Sorry about that, my dear. I was trying to keep these letters light and fluffy, dagnammit. Must. Try. Harder. Until next month,
Love,
Kai
xxx
I wanted to forget I’d ever read this letter. I hated this letter.
Still, there was a certain grim satisfaction, knowing that I’d already achieved this month’s annoying mission. With bonus points. Even in Kai’s craziest dreams he would never have imagined that I would be hanging out in a coffee shop with Sasha Evans. It felt like I’d beaten him at his own game.
Two weeks later, coffee with Sasha paled into insignificance when I somehow found myself sitting next to Lucas Mahoney in the common room. If he’d wanted to he could have reached out and pushed my hair behind my ear. If I’d wanted to I could have reached out and touched the stray eyelash that was perched on his cheek. Of course there was no hair-pushing or eyelash-touching or any touching at all for that matter.
Bugs and Sasha were dominating the conversation – for very different reasons. Bugs because he was Bugs – talking was his default state. Sasha because she was clearly trying to make an effort to make this seem normal for everyone, despite the fact that there was an interloper in their midst.
I wanted to disappear into the graffiti-strewn bench we were sitting on. I willed myself to melt and trickle through the cracks, but it didn’t seem to be working. Sasha was trying her best to include me in the conversation, but I wasn’t exactly helping, with my one-word answers and blatant awkwardness. Things weren’t quite going to plan.
I was full of grand ideas about how I was going to take these people down, like some kind of (slightly tame) movie vigilante . . . yet here I was, nodding along and smiling shyly. Yes, I despised these people and everything they represented. And I knew full well that one or more of them was ultimately responsible for my best friend’s death. I was full of righteous indignation and anger and a whole lot of scheming. But I couldn’t escape the uncomfortable truth: these people intimidated the hell out of me.
I hadn’t meant to do anything so soon, but the opportunity seemed too good to miss. I’d been sitting in the common room, pretending to read a book for English. Team Popular were occupying their usual spot by the pool table, being obnoxiously loud. Normally Sasha was right in the thick of it, messing around with Bugs or giggling with the girls, but today she was sitting a few feet away, reading the same book as me. I gathered my stuff before I had a chance to chicken out, then I walked over to where she was sitting. The direct approach seemed like the best option.
I coughed to announce my arrival, and Sasha looked up and smiled. I held up my book. ‘Snap!’
She grimaced. ‘You too, huh? Talk about the most boring book in the entire history of the universe.’
I sighed. ‘Tell me about it. I’m not even halfway through yet and I already want to slit . . .’ Slit my wrists. That’s what I’d been about to say – on purpose, of course. It did the job, because Sasha winced and jumped in with, ‘Hey, why don’t you sit with us? I can’t take any more misery on the moors right now.’
I paused before nodding shyly, as if this hadn’t been what I wanted all along. Sasha shoved the book in her bag and jumped up, steering me towards the others with a hand on my arm.
They were all looking at me and I was wondering if my hair looked OK. I couldn’t check though – I wouldn’t even allow myself to run my fingers through just to make sure. Because then they’d know how uneasy I was.
Lucas was smiling up at me. ‘What have we here?’ No surprise there. I was a what rather than a who.
Sasha answered before I had a chance to embarrass myself. ‘Everyone, this is Jem. Jem, this is everyone.’ She might as well have said, Jem, this is anyone who’s anyone.
I said an awkward ‘Hi, everyone,’ and Lucas said, ‘Hello, Jem. Sit.’ He patted the space next to him and I sat like an obedient dog. If anyone else had said that to me I would have told them where to go, but this was Lucas and it was all part of the Plan and there was something commanding about him that made it impossible to refuse.
The reactions of the others ranged from entirely uninterested (Amber and Nina, aka New Blonde Girl, who probably hadn’t been granted the right to speak yet), the friendly (Bugs) and the hostile (Stu). He was careful not to let the others see him glare at me, because then he might have had some explaining to do. After a minute or two he jumped up and challenged some random boy to a game of pool.
Then Bugs and Sasha started talking and Amber asked for Nina’s opinion about whether her boobs were looking saggy or not and all I could do was try to remember to breathe. I was determined to keep my mouth shut and listen, because that was the only way I was going to come up with some decent ideas of how to hurt them. Know your enemy – isn’t that what they say?
A couple of minutes later and I’d stopped listening to Bugs’s and Sasha’s conversation. I couldn’t help thinking about how different it was to sit here. The whole common room looked different from this angle. Was it the most desirable place to sit purely because they sat there? Or did they choose that spot because it was the most desirable place to sit? Maybe it was the best seat in the house because it was next to the pool table, or because it was furthest away from the door so you weren’t subjected to that blast of cold air every time someone came in or out? No. I was pretty sure it was them. They made it desirable.
I was vaguely aware of Lucas turning to face me. He didn’t say anything at first, so I didn’t turn towards him. But I could see his face in the corner of my vision and he was definitely looking right at me. Heat crawled all over me, but I tried to ignore the sensation and concentrate on what Sasha was saying.
‘Hey,’ he said softly.
I had to turn to look at him then, didn’t I? I couldn’t very well sit there and ignore him. ‘Hey.’ I had never seen his face so close up before. It was as ridiculously perfect as it was at a distance – maybe even more so. Lots of people look good from a distance, but not many hold up to close scrutiny. This was Lucas Mahoney in High Definition. His eyes were such an impossible blue that I wondered if they might be contact lenses. Looking at his stupidly perfect face made my skin itch. If a baseball bat had magically appeared in my hands, I wouldn’t have hesitated to smash his face with it. Of course, that would have got me arrested, but it would almost have been worth it, just to rearrange those perfect features.
‘So, Jem, what do you have to say for yourself?’
‘I . . . nothing much, really.’
He smiled, but not unkindly. ‘I find that very hard to believe. OK, tell me something about you that no one else knows. Here, I’ll go first. Um . . . right, I’ve got one. Up until last year I still had a night light in my bedroom. It was shaped like an alien and glowed green in the dark.’
‘You’re scared of the dark?’ I didn’t want to smile but I couldn’t help myself.
‘Past tense, thanks very much! I’ve managed to face my fears and now I don’t even have to leave my bedroom door open to see that crack of light from the hallway. Pretty impressive, right?’
I know what you’re doing. This is supposed to be charming and endearing. But why are you doing it? Either he was just trying to put me at
ease, make me feel comfortable, because he recognized this must be weird for me, or this was what he did with everyone. This was what made him King Lucas. Insincere self-deprecation and a sweet smile. I had to admit it was a pretty effective combination, but I could see through this boy like a pane of newly polished glass.
‘Yeah, that is pretty impressive. Your parents must be so proud.’ My sarcasm was carefully judged – enough so he knew it was there, not enough for him to think I was a bitch.
His smile faltered a little. ‘Parent. Singular.’ He fiddled with a thin strip of leather tied around his wrist.
That stumped me. ‘Oh. Right . . .’ I trailed off, not wanting to ask what he meant but not wanting to gloss over it either.
‘It’s all right, it’s no big drama or anything. I never knew my dad – he scarpered before I was even born. Tosser.’
‘I’m sorry.’ This seemed like the right thing to say. I couldn’t help wondering why Lucas had brought it up. There was no need for it really. He could have just ignored my proud parents remark, couldn’t he? That’s what I’d have done. Did he want me to feel sorry for him? Was that it?
Lucas shook his head. ‘No need to be sorry. My mum’s pretty amazing . . . and she’s clearly done an awesome job raising me, right?’
‘I . . . yeah.’
He laughed. ‘Jeez, I was kidding! How arrogant do you think I am?’ I chose not to answer that. ‘So come on then, fair’s fair. Tell me a secret.’ He leaned a little closer and I had to force myself not to lean back.
‘I don’t have any secrets.’
‘Everyone’s got secrets, Jem. It’s what makes people interesting.’ The way he was looking at me made me feel naked. His gaze was magnetic. Maybe that’s why he was so popular – he hypnotized people into liking him.