Undone

  Another minute and I am shagging Lucas Mahoney in the stationery cupboard. Thank Christ he had a condom in his wallet, because I’m really not sure what I’d have done if he hadn’t. Let’s just say I’m relieved the issue didn’t come up.

  The sex is good. Really good. Better than before, even. Less self-conscious. He knows how to push all the right … um … buttons.

  It’s my first orgasm with a boy. That’s some kind of milestone, I guess. All I know is that I want lots more of them (orgasms, not boys). I’m starting to think this sex thing could become slightly addictive.

  This is far from ideal.

  We go back to Lucas’s house straight after school and do it again. And again. He hasn’t said anything, but I can tell he’s surprised. As if boys are the only ones who are allowed to be horny or something. He doesn’t mind though, obviously.

  We lie in his bed and talk for a while. He asks a lot of questions about me and my family. Every question he asks leads to another question, and another. It’s like he’s storing up information about me for future use. I’ve never talked about myself so much in my whole life. He must be bored senseless, but he does a good job of pretending to care.

  When I’m getting dressed, and hunting under the bed for a rogue sock, he says, ‘I really like talking to you, Jem.’ He’s still lying on the bed, hands behind his head. The duvet is covering him, but only just. Every (straight) girl’s dream.

  ‘Er … thanks.’ I find the rogue sock and sit down on the bed to put it on. Lucas scoots over and kisses my back, which is bare apart from my bra. Tiny kisses sneaking down my spine, making me shiver. Making me want to jump his bones again. But I can’t. Mum will kill me if I’m not back in time for tea.

  He lies back again while I pull on my top. ‘I’m really glad you’re in my life, you know.’

  I lean over and kiss him on the lips. The kiss lasts slightly longer than I’d intended.

  I leave him lying there after making arrangements for me to come over again tomorrow. As I plod down the stairs, I can’t help thinking about what he said. It was a nice thing to say. It was a nice thing to hear, even from him. And I think he probably expected me to say something back.

  I make it home as Mum’s putting dinner on the table. ‘Just in the nick of time!’ she says, smiling. She’s in a good mood. I wonder what sort of mood she’d be in if she knew I’d been shagging Lucas Mahoney half an hour ago.

  She asks where I’ve been and I stab a piece of broccoli and stuff it in my mouth to give myself time to think. I really should have thought about this before, but this sneaking-around-with-boys thing is still new to me. I chew the broccoli for longer than broccoli (or anything for that matter) would ever need to be chewed. By the time my mouth is rid of every last trace of food, I have it. ‘I was at the library with Lucas. Study date.’

  ‘Study date? Well, that’s nice, isn’t it? As long as you actually managed to get some work done and didn’t spend all your time fluttering your eyelashes at him!’ She laughs and Noah laughs too, the little traitor.

  I roll my eyes. ‘Mother. Have you ever known me to flutter my eyelashes … ever?’

  Noah attempts to flutter his eyelashes; he looks like he’s having an epileptic fit.

  Mum tries not to laugh at Noah’s antics, but she can’t help herself. ‘Sorry, love, but anyone can see you’re smitten! You keep staring off into space, you’ve lost your appetite – although you seem to be quite keen on that broccoli. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about … we’ve all been there.’

  ‘I haven’t!’ Noah says with as much indignation as someone with ketchup smeared around their mouth can muster.

  I can feel myself blushing, which is too stupid for words. There’s no point in arguing with her though – that would only make her more convinced of my smittenness.

  Mum takes pity on me when Noah starts pointing and laughing about the fact that I’m blushing. She tells him to shut up and start eating. It seems like a good time to inform Mum that I have another ‘study date’ scheduled for tomorrow. ‘Don’t study too hard,’ she says, which makes me wonder if she knows that I’m lying after all. She has that Mum-knows-all look going on. But if she knew I was lying, surely she’d ground me or something? Unless she’s secretly happy that I’m getting laid at long last.

  Later in the evening we’re sitting in front of the telly and she says, ‘You know, you and Lucas are perfectly welcome to study here whenever you like.’ I turn to look at her, but she keeps her eyes on the TV. It’s not that she’s smiling, not exactly. There’s just something about the look in her eyes, something about the corner of her mouth that looks like it could twitch into full-on smile mode any minute now. She knows. Balls.

  chapter forty-two

  Today’s task is Stu. I could have done it sooner, I suppose. But it’ll be all the sweeter now that I’ve laid the groundwork with Nina.

  I get up an hour earlier than usual, which is doubly hard because of the terrible night’s sleep I had. I’m leaning against the kitchen counter eating Weetabix and rubbing the sleep out of my eyes by the time Mum comes in. She raises her eyebrows, but says nothing.

  I have to make a detour on the way to school. I’d hoped that I’d have what I needed at home – or maybe Dad would have something in his office that I could use. But my requirements are very specific – it has to be exactly right to make an impact.

  There’s a big queue in WHSmith – mostly people buying newspapers. The back of the store is pretty empty though, so I take my time choosing my weapon. I buy some other things too – a protractor and some highlighters. I don’t know why I bother, because it’s not like the sales assistant pays me the least bit of attention (except to ask me if I want a half-price bar of Dairy Milk with my purchase). And it’s not like I’m committing a crime or anything. At least … I don’t think it’s a crime. Not that I care either way.

  There are a couple of keen beans in school early, but no one I know. I steer well clear of the common room just to be on the safe side. I head to the science-block toilets first because they’re closest. There’s a moment of hesitation just before I do it – only a moment though.

  There are three more girls’ toilets to get through. I go to the main ones next; I want to get them out of the way before the normal people start arriving at school. I check my watch. I reckon I have fifteen minutes tops before school starts filling up.

  By the time I’ve finished I’m sweating from the stress. The only person who sees me anywhere near any of the toilets is a tiny little Year 7 girl. Her blazer is three sizes too big and her skirt is all uneven at the bottom from being taken up by someone who knows jack shit about sewing. She’s delving into her school bag (also three sizes too big) and bumps into me as I’m heading out of the door of the last lot of toilets. She’s all mumbly and apologetic and doesn’t really look me in the face. She looks miserable. The school has clearly done a number on her already. She was probably completely normal and happy and smiley until she came to this shithole. I feel bad for her.

  I’m not too worried about her seeing me. No way would she have the balls to say anything, even if she’d caught me in the act. There’s something about her though. For some reason I find myself thinking about her for most of the morning. I hope she has a friend to look after her. I hope she has her very own Kai. And I really hope he doesn’t go and die on her.

  I can’t concentrate at all for the first couple of lessons. It’s only a matter of time.

  I should have chucked away the evidence. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. And I realize I didn’t do a very good job of washing my hands, so I keep rubbing at the marks until there’s not a trace left. I must look like some kind of weird version of Lady Macbeth or something. No one sees though. That’s the benefit of sitting at the back of the classroom in every single lesson.

  The usual suspects are all in the common room at break time. The only one who’s missing is Amber, but no one seems to notice when she’s not around. Her pre
sence is not needed in order for the group to feel like the group. Pretty much all she adds is a pair of humongous breasts and that annoying laugh of hers. I’ve noticed that Bugs has been paying her a lot more attention recently, as if that will offset the gay rumours. Amber loves the attention; the poor girl has no way of knowing that he only notices her when Sasha’s not around.

  No one else notices when Amber arrives, aims a worried glance at Stu, who’s grabbing a can of Coke from the vending machine near the door, and drags Sasha into a corner and starts whispering. Lucas is too busy tracing circles on my thigh with his finger, and the others are engaged in a heated debate about something meaningless that I’m trying my best not to get involved in.

  I watch Sasha and Amber leave the common room. I don’t feel nervous, exactly. It feels a little bit like nerves, but slightly different. It’s an anticipation that’s only one tiny step away from excitement. I wish I could follow Amber and Sasha and listen to what they’re saying. I still could, I suppose. But I don’t want anyone getting suspicious. Speaking of suspicious, I wish Louise would stop looking at me. It’s been going on for the past couple of weeks and I really, really don’t like it. She keeps catching my eye. I mean, I suppose it’s not that weird. We hang out in the same group pretty much all the time. I probably wouldn’t even notice if it was Nina or Sasha or even one of the boys, but with her I always notice. I don’t know why it makes me so uncomfortable. She’s been perfectly friendly since she and Max wheedled their way back into Team Popular. Not that we’ve spent any time together on our own or anything, because that would be properly awkward. It would be worse than me and Amber hanging out. (I still shudder to remember the time we had to spend ten minutes alone together because Sasha was running late. Scintillating conversation is not her strong point. In fact, I’m pretty sure she couldn’t even spell ‘scintillating’.)

  Lucas’s hand has crept further and further up my thigh and I didn’t even notice. Now I notice. No one else can see though, because of the table. He’s talking to Bugs about football and touching me there. Bastard. I should stop him. I really, really should … stop him. Fuck.

  My hand grips the edge of the table and there must be some chewing gum or something equally gross stuck on the underside because I feel something disgustingly sticky and pull my hand away. In doing so, I accidentally swipe at the half-empty can of Coke in front of me. Which ends up on Lucas’s lap. Which stops him doing what he was doing. Lucas jumps up and swears. And that’s when Sasha and Amber reappear. And I’m left wishing some dirty skank had disposed of their gum in the bin. And wishing everyone apart from Lucas would magically disappear so I could help him out of those jeans (and more importantly, he could help me out of mine).

  Sasha looks Lucas up and down and rolls her eyes. Then she turns her attention to Stu, now sitting with Nina on his lap, looking very pleased with himself. ‘Stu? Can I have a word?’

  Stu does not look pleased. ‘Can it wait? I’ve kind of got my hands full right now.’ He squeezes Nina’s waist and she giggles and squirms. ‘Oh yeah, that’s right, baby … don’t stop.’ He throws back his head and groans in mock ecstasy. The boys all laugh at this little performance, even Lucas, who’s busy sponging his crotch with a napkin.

  Stu smacks Nina’s arse as she dismounts from his lap. ‘Same time next week, darlin’?’ he says in this crap Cockney accent he likes to adopt whenever he’s being filthy (which is often). He gestures for Sasha to take Nina’s place and she snaps at him, ‘Stu! Can you be serious for one fucking second?’

  It’s like a flick of a switch and he’s in Serious Mode. Sasha NEVER loses her temper, so everyone knows it must be something important. I notice that more than a few girls are looking over at our table – at Stu specifically. He notices too. ‘Sasha, what is it?’

  She pulls him aside and whispers in his ear, which is totally pointless because everyone else is going to find out in a matter of minutes. He balls his hands into fists and for a second I think he might really lose his shit, but he just stomps out of the room. Probably going to see for himself.

  Sasha fills in the rest of us, and everyone’s all What?! No way! That’s bullshit! Who would do something like that? The No way! was my contribution. I think they bought it.

  Lucas is the one who suggests we go and find Stu. He doesn’t seem embarrassed about walking round school with a wet crotch.

  We head for the nearest girls’ toilets en masse. And sure enough, Stu’s there, staring into the first cubicle. A couple of girls are standing nearby, whispering. None of them tell the boys to get the fuck out of the toilets – they want to see how Stu reacts. So do I.

  He punches the cubicle door so hard it rattles on its hinges. Then he goes from cubicle to cubicle, checking each one. One more punch – aimed at the wall this time – before he storms out. Lucas and Bugs follow him. Everyone else stays behind.

  I admire my handiwork. The handwriting doesn’t look like mine – I made sure of that. A couple of girls in the year below crowd round us, giggling and gossiping. Sasha tells them to fuck off. Nina looks like she might burst into tears. ‘I don’t understand,’ she whines. ‘Why would anyone say that?’

  One of the girls Sasha told to fuck off – it’s impossible to tell which one since their backs are turned – mutters, ‘Probably because it’s true,’ as she walks away. Nina makes as if to go after them, but I grab her arm. ‘Don’t. They’re not worth it.’ She starts to cry and I put my arm around her. ‘Hey, it’s OK, Nina. Don’t worry about it. It’ll all blow over before you know it.’ She snuggles into the crook of my arm and really starts bawling. I’m worried she’s going to snot all over my shoulder.

  Sasha wets a paper towel and starts scrubbing at the wall. It’s going to take a lot more than that to get rid of permanent ink. She gives up after a couple of minutes and mutters something about going to find the caretaker.

  Louise comes in right then and informs us that it’s in all the girls’ toilets – every single cubicle in the whole school. Sasha shakes her head, ‘What a fucking twisted thing to do … I mean, I know Stu can be a bit full on and stuff, but this is bollocks … isn’t it?’ I love the uncertainty in her voice. I love that she’s not really sure. I love that Nina is so bloody impressionable that I can tell the doubt will start to infect her too – any minute now, probably.

  There’s a beat or two of silence, which is more telling than any words anyone could ever say, and then Amber chips in, ‘Of course it’s bollocks. Of course it is.’ She couldn’t sound less sure if she tried.

  This is where I step in. ‘If it was true, then whoever wrote it would have gone to the police instead of scrawling it on the wall.’ I give Nina’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. ‘Don’t worry about it, Nina. Really.’

  ‘I … I don’t want everyone thinking my boyfriend is a …’

  Say it. I want her to say the words out loud. But she doesn’t. It’s OK though, because the writing’s on the wall in big fat red letters:

  STUART HICKS RAPED ME

  chapter forty-three

  By lunchtime it’s all anyone’s talking about. Stu’s been called into the head’s office, and the caretaker and his assistant (who knew caretakers had assistants?) have been despatched to scrub the walls like they’ve never scrubbed before.

  Nina’s doing a brilliant job of playing the victim, which is pretty fun to watch. Lucas (now in his slightly grubby football shorts after the crotch-spillage) tried talking to Stu, but Stu was having none of it. Bugs just looks a bit confused by all the drama. He clearly doesn’t know what to do with himself, since it’s probably a little too early to joke about things.

  While Stu’s in Mr Heath’s office the others can’t help talking about it. The number-one question on everyone’s lips is obviously the identity of the mystery scribbler. No one actually comes out and says that the accusation might actually be true, but the names thrown up are those of Stu’s conquests (of which there are many).

  ‘He probably broke some girl’s
heart and this is her way of getting revenge,’ says Sasha, and the others nod and mutter in agreement.

  Bugs finally has something to say. His brain must ache from the effort. ‘Pretty extreme way of getting your own back though. I mean, accusing someone of that is no joke.’ More nods of agreement even though he hasn’t exactly added anything to the debate.

  Louise says, ‘I just can’t think who would do something like this.’ And she looks right at me for a fraction of a second. Then she looks at Sasha, then Nina and the others. But she looked at me first. I grip Lucas’s hand a little harder and I sense him turn to look at me. I don’t look at him though – I can’t.

  Weirdly, Nina’s the first one to mention the police. She asks Lucas if he thinks the school will call them in. I’m not sure why she asks him, like he’s the authority on everything. ‘I doubt it. The police have got better things to do than piss about investigating graffiti.’

  ‘It’s more than graffiti though, isn’t it? It’s, like, a campaign or something. I mean, why else would you go to so much trouble?’ Louise again. I don’t know if she looks at me because I won’t allow myself to look at her. I stare at my apple core instead.

  Nina’s voice cracks as she says, ‘I can’t even … I mean, what if it’s … ?’ Then she properly breaks down in tears. Sasha puts her arm around her on one side and Amber does the same on the other side. No one else knows where to look. The sobbing doesn’t abate and even Nina eventually seems to realize it’s getting a little embarrassing. She pushes her chair back and hurries out of the canteen. Sasha and Amber look at each other to decide who’s going to follow, and Sasha shrugs and hurries after her.

  As soon as they’re gone the atmosphere changes. Everyone relaxes a bit. Lucas doesn’t though – he’s abnormally quiet and he’s let go of my hand. I rest my palm on his bare leg and whisper into his ear, asking if he’s OK. He nods and shrugs. ‘We’ll talk later, OK? You still coming round after school?’