To Be Honest(6)

“Just passing,” I breeze. My hands feel clammy and it’s not the dankness in the air.

It’s love.

I know it’s love because this is how it felt when I saw a picture of the fake leather skirt on Kate Moss in Erin’s Glamour at break. It’s how I felt when Edward leant into me earlier and I smelt the top of his head.

“Party tomorrow?”

I nod. He moves right up and touches my hair.

“Wear something special. You’d look well fit in a black dress. Tight.” Then he does something amazing: he actually touches my hair. You might even call it a stroke. “And short ... maybe ...”

The ball hits his shoulder blade and he lunges at Felix, then he’s gone, spinning back off to battle.

I stand there, not sure where to go or what to say. What a chauvinist! But how sexy is his back?! Two words. That’s all, but it’s two more than I’ve ever said to him ever before. And he knows my name. I walk home hugging myself and nudging bits of rubbish down drains with my shoe to tidy the world up. There’s no room for mess. Everything needs to be perfect. Like Kai’s smile. I need to be perfect. I need a new dress. Black. And short.

* * *

When I get home, Mum’s flying round the kitchen, making bread like her life depended on it. The oven hums like a well-trained tiger and the air smells just like a proper bakery.

“There’s enough to last the month if I can get some in the freezer,” she says. “I’ve made stew and éclairs. And a chateau.”

“Gateau.”

Mum looks confused. “No thanks darling. Bit busy at the moment.”

Mum always does a cookery push when she’s feeling strapped for cash. Since Dad left four years ago, I’ve come to recognise the signs: spending on silly things that make her feel better (cushions, clothes, jewellery, scent) followed by scrimping and saving like we’re going to be snowed in for the next six months. Actually, I quite like it. And last year we did get snowed in. For half a day, anyway. Tao was hilarious: he ran around like a mad thing in the park and we had to calm him down which never happened after ... but I don’t want to think about that. Anyway, it means I can’t ask for money and I’ll have to work on Sunday after all, to pay for the dress Kai wants me to wear and the Kate Moss skirt and the Oasis top Miss Mint’s got and the jacket. I can ignore the fact that I had my outfit all planned out. I can ignore it quite easily, thank you.





Chapter 3: Saturday


So Felix’s going out with Frankee, is what Erin reckons.

“He snogged her after school yesterday in front of everyone — ‘parently he’s been seeing her for weeks.

“Old news,” Josh says glumly. He’s tagged along after all — I knew he would: it’s that or take Dominic to football - and we’re sitting by Primark on the edge of the not-working fountain in the middle of the high street having breakfast and making game plans. I’ve got a Krispy Kreme, Rach is smoking. Courtney stayed at home in the end, getting ready and sending us stressy texts.

I’m not that bothered, to be honest. Felix isn’t my type, Frankee’s a complete cow and the only reason I’m at all interested is because Kai’s involved by default. They go around everywhere together. What’s going to happen now?

“Will Kai get a girlfriend, then?” I wipe my mouth and ask the question we’re all thinking.

Erin pulls out a pair of tights with a seam up the back. She’s already done half an hour; prefers shopping on her own and she’s an early riser. “Yeah. Me.”

“They’re gorgeous ,” I slather. I’ve seen them before.

“Miss Mint’s got some.”

“You wearing them tonight?”

She looks at me for a split second, and then drops them in my lap. “Nope. You are.”

I feel a bit dizzy. That’s so nice; I love Erin. We hug.

“If they ladder, I’ll buy you a new pair.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Josh plucks his shoelace. “It’ll take more than tights.”

“What’s wrong with you ?” snaps Rach. She and Josh have never quite got on: she reckons he’s a drama queen, which he is.

“Shh, look over there,” I clutch Erin’s arm.

Emerging from Boots is Miss Mint, clad in a peacock, flared coat with old gold buttons and military boots. Her hair’s swept into a low chignon like she often wears at school and she’s trying to put a small plastic bag into a massive, beautiful leather one.

“Pregnancy test,” Rach whispers, knowingly.

Miss Mint clips her bag shut and checks her phone. She looks up and I think she’s staring at me. I raise my hand to wave but then realise she’s looking straight through and to my left, to a man like a tank walking towards her. He’s wearing a navy blazer, jeans and posh looking shoes and I know then it must be her fiancé. We watch her hand lift, her mouth move but it’s too noisy and she’s too far away to hear. They kiss quickly, he scoops his hand under her elbow and they make their way through the crowd until they’re practically on top of us. I spring up. So does Erin.