Undone

  ‘Um . . . “Hello, boys! Come get me”?’ As soon as I’ve said it I wonder if I’ve gone too far – after all, I don’t exactly know Sasha that well, no matter how much she’s started to act like my BFF.

  ‘Ha! That’s precisely what I want it to say!’ She pushes up her breasts and I’m pretty sure they’re about to spill out. She turns and looks me up and down, head nodding approvingly. ‘Nice. It’s his favourite colour, you know.’

  Suddenly I feel deeply uncomfortable. ‘I didn’t know that. Um . . . I’m not going to buy it. I’m skint.’

  She grabs my upper arms in a vice-like grip. ‘You have to buy it! You have to you have to you have to! Go on, treat yourself.’

  I wriggle out of her grip. ‘Sasha! I’m broke!’

  Sasha sighs. ‘Let me buy it for you then.’

  I hadn’t thought I could feel any more uncomfortable. I was wrong. ‘I can’t let you do that. It’s really nice of you and everything, but . . .’

  ‘Nonsense. I’m buying it. That’s what friends are for, right? You’d do the same for me if you had some extra cash.’ She couldn’t be more wrong. If I had extra cash it would be going straight into my savings account.

  If the expression on her face is anything to go by, she’s clearly not going to give up. For some bizarre reason she really, really wants to buy me this top that she’s so convinced Lucas will like. I’m not sure if she’s doing this for me or for him. ‘OK, you can buy it. But on one condition: I’m paying you back as soon as I’ve got the cash.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, whatever,’ she says with a glint in her eye. She thinks I’m going to forget, but I won’t. I always pay my debts. Always. It used to drive Kai crazy that I kept a mental tally of things like that – if he bought me a can of Coke one week I’d make damn sure to buy one for him the week after. I don’t know why it makes me so antsy, accepting gifts from people. I’ve never had a problem accepting things from Mum and Dad, but that’s different, isn’t it? They’re supposed to spend money on you – it’s practically their main purpose in life. I just don’t like being treated like a charity case, that’s all.

  By lunchtime Sasha has accumulated five bags of clothes and shoes. Three pairs of shoes! That was the arduous bit – trying to maintain enthusiasm as she tried on pair after pair, mulling over the pros and cons as if this was something that actually mattered. Sasha doesn’t seem to notice my impatience, because all that’s required of me is to agree with her. There’s a lot of nodding involved.

  We get sandwiches from M&S and sit on a bench. Something tells me this isn’t Sasha’s usual mid-shopping lunch. She strikes me more like the type to get sushi from that fancy Japanese place that opened last year. I appreciate what is almost certainly a concession to my poverty (even though I’m not actually skint). There’s more to this girl than meets the eye. Sometimes (like right now) I find myself wondering whether I actually do like her. But then I think about Kai and I know it’s not possible. She is not, and never will be, my friend.

  I’m eating the last bite of my sarnie when she says, ‘He’s good at the kissing, isn’t he?’

  I chew my mouthful way more times than is strictly necessary because I have no idea how to respond to this. She laughs and says. ‘Are you ever going to swallow that?’

  I swallow with some difficulty. ‘It’s good for the digestion . . . um . . . lots of chewing.’

  ‘You’re hilarious, you know that? Anyway, feel free to thank me for his kissing skills. He learned everything he knows from me . . . and I mean everything.’ She nudges me with her elbow and I narrowly avoid spilling water all down myself.

  ‘You mean he was . . . before you two . . . ?’

  ‘Virgin? Yup. The biggest, greenest, scaredest virgin on the planet, bless him.’

  This news doesn’t just come as a surprise. It’s almost enough to knock me off the bench. Lucas Mahoney, the school stud. I was sure he was one of those boys who’d been having sex since he was about thirteen. And I don’t think I’m the only person in school who thought/thinks this way. He exudes sexual experience like some kind of pungent aftershave. Mind you, maybe he and Sasha had a lot of practice.

  Sasha’s watching me and I don’t know where to look. ‘It’s OK to talk about stuff like this, you know. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.’ I can’t tell if she’s being kind or patronizing – or kind of patronizing.

  ‘I know . . . it’s just . . . I’m not sure Lucas would like it.’

  ‘Who cares whether Lucas would like it or not?! It’s girl talk and therefore strictly classified. What’s said on the bench stays on the bench . . . or something. So, how long are you going to make him wait?’

  I would like nothing more than to teleport myself away from this bench. I wouldn’t mind where – pretty much anywhere would be preferable to this. ‘Um . . . we’re not even going out or anything. I don’t . . .’

  The dismissive sound she makes is something like Pssscccchhh. ‘Since when have you needed to be going out with a guy to do the nasty. I don’t mean you as in YOU, I mean you as in ONE – like the Queen. Although she probably didn’t put out till she was married. Ewwww, now I’m grossing myself out. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, you have to promise you’ll tell me when you’ve had sex with Lucas.’

  This has gone far enough. ‘No! And I’m not going to have sex with him! Not in the foreseeable future anyway.’ I grab the M&S bag and start clearing the remnants of lunch just to give me something to do to hide my extreme awkwardness.

  ‘We’ll see about that.’ Her knowing smile makes me want to ram a straw up her nose.

  ‘Can we talk about something else, please? Anything else?’

  ‘Whatever you say. As long as you know that if you need someone to talk to about that sort of thing, you can talk to me . . . Look, I know it must be hard for you. Anyone could see how close you and Kai were. I don’t know if you two ever talked about this kind of thing, but just in case you did . . . I’m here. I mean, I’m obviously no substitute for him, but I’ll try my best.’

  I can’t believe she said his name. Usually people go out of their way not to say it. No one should be allowed to say his name without my permission. And the idea that she could ever be anything close to a substitute for him is laughable. ‘Thank you. I’m . . . I guess I’m sort of private about that kind of stuff.’ As if there’d been any of ‘that kind of stuff’ to be private about!

  ‘That’s cool. I’ll try to rein in my curiosity, I promise . . . I’ll say one last thing on the matter and then we can talk about a subject of your choosing: you should definitely have sex with Lucas. Trust me, you won’t regret it.’

  This time I side-swiped her with the bag of rubbish. ‘Are you finished now? In that case we’re going to talk about something really, really boring. Like the weather. Yes, let’s talk about the weather. Hasn’t it been lovely this last week? I don’t like the look of those clouds though, do you?’

  Sasha rolls her eyes, but at least she doesn’t say a word about Lucas for the rest of the afternoon. I can’t help wondering why she’s being so nice to me. If she carries on like this, there’s a real danger I might actually start to feel guilty about using her.

  chapter thirty-one

  Lucas texts me later: Gd shopping with S? Buy anything nice? Talk about me much? ;)

  I reply: Gd, thanks. Got a top and didn’t talk about you AT ALL.

  He texts back at warp speed: Liar! ;)

  Lucas Mahoney is grand master of the winky face. I choose not to reply, since I don’t appreciate being accused of lying even when (especially when?) I actually am.

  He texts again ten minutes later: Fancy seeing a film later? I knew he’d text again. It’s as if I’ve had some kind of How Lucas Works manual implanted into my brain.

  I wait fifteen minutes before replying this time. I’m starting to enjoy myself: Bit busy but film sounds good.

  Not sure he’ll necessarily believe the bit about me being busy, but how’s he to know I spend most waking min
utes either in front of the TV or listening to music in my room?

  We arrange to meet outside the cinema at eight. The film sounds terrible – something to do with fast cars. Yawn.

  I stand in front of my wardrobe trying to decide what to wear. It’s a sea of black and grey and very dark purple, apart from a little splash of brightness on the right-hand side where my most recent clothes purchases reside. And then there’s the bag I chucked carelessly on the floor as soon as I got in. The bag with the green top in it. The green top that Lucas would ‘love’.

  I heave a great big sigh even though there’s no one to hear me. I’m going to have to wear it, aren’t I?

  Mum can barely disguise her glee when she sees me coming down the stairs. I’ve finally turned into the daughter she always wanted. A daughter she can be proud of. She can finally compete with those wine-swilling book-club harpies when they brag about their daughters. It’s always the daughters they brag about; none of the sons appears to have ever done anything particularly bragworthy. Or perhaps it’s just that Mum only tells me about the daughters. Either she doesn’t realize that I couldn’t care less about the achievements of these girls I’ve never met, or she knows full well and tells me anyway. Maybe hoping to inspire me to reach such dizzy heights as Getting a Boyfriend and Having a Hollywood-themed Birthday Party.

  At least Mum manages to keep her mouth shut though. Dad’s the one who says, ‘And where are you off to, looking all fancy?’

  Mum nudges him in the chest with her foot, which is easy enough to do, since she’s lying on the sofa with her feet in his lap. She knows me too well. She can sense that the slightest thing will make me run back upstairs to change my clothes.

  I try a breezy, nonchalant look on for size, knowing that the next words out of my mouth will floor them. ‘I’ve got a date.’ I struggle to maintain eye contact with Dad, but it’s worth it because I get to witness his eyes widening as far as they can go.

  ‘A date? With a boy?’

  ‘Yes, Dad. A date with a boy.’

  ‘Well. That’s just . . . um . . . Cath?’ He looks at Mum and she rolls her eyes.

  ‘That’s just wonderful, Jem.’ She’s doing a fair job of hiding her excitement at this revelation, I’ll give her that. She grabs the remote control and mutes the TV. ‘Who’s the lucky boy? If you don’t mind me asking . . .’

  ‘His name’s Lucas.’

  ‘Lucas? Nice name, isn’t it? Very . . . manly.’

  My mother has lost the plot. I have to get out of here pronto, even if it means diving through the (closed) window.

  ‘And when will we get to meet this Lucas character?’ says Dad. ‘I’m not sure I like the idea of you going out on the town with some strange boy we’ve never even met.’

  ‘Greg!’ Mum gives him another kick, less gentle this time. ‘We’re not living in the Stone Age. I’m sure Jem will introduce us to her boyfriend when she’s good and ready.’

  ‘Muuuuuuuum! He’s not my boyfriend. Can we just . . . not do this? I’m gonna be late. I’ll see you guys later, OK?’ I’m backing out of the living room, desperate to escape.

  The last thing I hear before I slam the door is Dad shouting, ‘No funny business, OK?’ and Mum admonishing him with an extra-stern ‘GREG!’

  Well, that was almost exactly as awkward as I would have expected. I have no earthly idea why I told them about Lucas. I could have said ANYTHING. Anything in the world and they’d have believed me. But no. I had to go and tell the truth.

  I kick myself all the way down the street and halfway to the cinema, reliving every cringeworthy moment of the conversation. And then I realize something. I wanted them to know. I wanted to see how they’d react. To see what it would be like for them to have a normal daughter who did normal things, instead of a freakish daughter obsessed with her dead best friend.

  It was a mistake though. I shouldn’t give them false hope. It’ll only make it that much harder for them when this version of me ceases to exist. When any version of me ceases to exist.

  Only four months to go.

  There are loads of people milling around the cinema entrance. Lucas is sitting on the front steps, leaning back on his elbows, catching some rays. His perfect face is bathed in sunlight. He looks like the sun should be worshipping him rather than the other way around. A bunch of twelve-year-old girls sit a few feet away, staring and giggling and nudging each other. I bet he gets that all the time. He probably doesn’t even notice any more – he’s so used to people looking at him wherever he goes.

  I stand right over him, blocking out the sun. Putting him in the shade. I like the way it feels, standing over him like this.

  He sits up and smiles. ‘Hey, you. You look really nice. Is that new?’

  I shrug and look down at my top. ‘Nah, just something I found lurking in the back of the wardrobe.’ I sit down next to him on the steps. Not too close.

  He smiles again and I can tell he knows. I bought it for his benefit and he knows. Arrogant bastard. ‘Don’t I get a hello kiss?’

  Another shrug from me. ‘Hmm . . . unsure. I think you have to work a little harder to earn a kiss.’ The twelve-year-olds are watching us. I’d usually feel uncomfortable under this kind of scrutiny, but today I don’t care. I’m pretty sure they think Lucas is out of my league, but I couldn’t be less bothered. There’s only one person I need to fool tonight, and from the way he’s looking at me, it’s not going to be too hard.

  Or so I thought.

  ‘Oi! Mahoney! Think fast.’ A scrunched-up Coke can hits Lucas on the chest. Lucas leaps up and launches himself at his assailant, rugby-tackling him round the waist and lifting him off the ground. Stu. And lurking behind him, looking gormless, Nina.

  Nina sidles over and sits next to me and we watch the boys grapple with each other in a way that can only be described as homoerotic.

  I have to make an effort to talk to her. She is one of Them after all, even if she is a peripheral bit of fluff. ‘I thought you’d be in New York by now.’

  She twirls her hair around her finger and I can’t tell if it’s a nervous tick or if she just really likes how it feels. ‘I’m off on Saturday.’

  ‘Oh.’ This is going to be hard work. ‘So . . . are you and Stu . . . ?’

  ‘Are me and Stu what?’ Either she’s playing games or she really is as stupid as she looks.

  ‘Um . . . a couple?’

  She stops staring at the boys for a second and there’s a spark of something in her eyes. ‘Yeah, I suppose we are. I mean, it’s not, like, official or anything. We don’t need to put, you know, labels on it. We both know where we stand, and yeah, it’s good.’ She nods emphatically, like she’s trying to convince herself.

  ‘Cool.’ I turn my attention back to the boys, who are now chasing each other around the art installation in the middle of the square – the one the local paper ran a big feature on last year. IS THIS ART? was the headline. Stu certainly seems to like it – he’s currently trying to hump it.

  Lucas is laughing this loud, booming laugh, but then he looks over at me and he stops straight away and jogs over. That was a mistake – letting my true face show, even for a second. I need to be more careful.

  His ‘sorry about that’ is accompanied by a bashful little-boy face.

  I give him what I hope is an indulgent smile and say nothing.

  Stu stops humping when he gets a stern look from this tiny old lady in a lilac hat. He meanders over, walking with this strange rolling sort of gait – half gangsta, half just-filled-a-nappy. He slumps down next to Nina and slings an arm over her shoulders. ‘So, what are you guys doing here?’

  I refrain from saying, What the fuck do you think we could possibly be doing, sitting right outside the cinema?

  To cut a not very long story even shorter, Stu and Nina decide to join us. It turns out Nina really likes action films and car crashes and explosions and that sort of thing. Huh.

  Lucas goes off to buy the tickets – his treat. I think this gest
ure is supposed to impress me, like he deserves a fucking medal for spending Mummy’s money. He does get a gentle punch on the shoulder and a ‘nice one, mate’ from Stu, so I guess that’ll have to do.

  Nina heads off to the toilets, and somehow me and Stu are left with the crucial task of choosing pick ‘n’ mix. I head straight for the fizzy cola bottles while he goes for the liquorice allsorts, which tells you everything you need to know about the kind of person he is.

  He carefully counts ten sweets into his bag, while I shovel a whole scoop of cola bottles into mine. I stand back and consider my next choice. It’s a serious business, pick ‘n’ mix. One bad choice can ruin the whole bag. Those big gummy strawberries might be my next victim. Suddenly I’m aware of him. He’s just standing there, watching me. I pretend to ignore him, but the truth is he’s standing way too close to ignore. ‘I didn’t realize you and Lucas were . . .’ His voice is low and somehow conspiratorial.

  I don’t know what to say to this, so I shrug.

  ‘I mean, you are . . . this is a date, right?’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘That’s . . . good. I mean, it’s cool. I mean, um . . . Lucas is a good guy.’ This is not the Stu I know and hate. This is new, improved Stu – with added mumbles.

  I look over my shoulder, praying that Lucas will rescue me from this. I’d even settle for Nina. That’s how awkward this is. Neither of them are anywhere to be seen so I’m going to have to say something, dammit. ‘Yeah, he seems nice.’ That’s the best I can do? YEAH, HE SEEMS NICE? Nina would be proud of such extreme levels of vapidity.

  Stu leans in even closer and I lean away, masking the action by reaching for another scoop of sweets. ‘Does he know? About . . . what you told me?’

  I should have known this would come back to bite me on the ass. ‘No. And I’d like to keep it that way, OK?’

  He nods and runs his hand over his fuzzy head. ‘Of course. I would never say anything. You can trust me, you know that? I know we got off to a bad start and everything, but I . . . er . . . didn’t know about . . . yeah.’ The idea that Stu thinks I would ever trust him is almost enough to make me laugh, but laughing would ruin everything. I’ve got him right where I want him – firmly on my side – and if I have to pretend he’s my confidant or whatever, then that’s what I’ll do. For now.