Virgin(75)

“Tell me about it. Now I can actually read Kerouac without having to think about his relation to the modernist movement.”

I laughed politely, relieved that I’d never be the kind of person who would reread Jack Kerouac for fun.

“Anyway,” he carried on, “are you coming to our big party tomorrow night? To celebrate handing in the dissertation?”

“Party? Um, no, I hadn’t heard anything about it,” I replied honestly.

“Oh, it’s just a Facebook thing . . . I’m sure you’ll have the invitation on there. We’re having a party at Matt’s, Opal’s and mine. It would be cool if you could come.”

I shrugged my acquiescence. “Sounds good. See you there.” I smiled at him as I edged towards the staircase. The essay was in and now I had time to focus on fixing my friendship with Lara. I’d wasted weeks avoiding this. Now it was time to get my best friend back. I walked quickly out into the quad and sat on my favorite steps, overlooking the front of the university.


Lara, are you free to chat? Really want to talk! xxx

I sent the text and sat waiting anxiously, tempted to imitate Lara’s childhood habit of biting her nails even though I’d never done it myself. A few minutes later, my phone beeped.


Hey, Ellie. Sorry but now isn’t a good time. I’m home in Guildford with the fam. Will speak soon though. xxx

My heart sank in disappointment. Why didn’t she want to talk? I hated that she was still avoiding me—our fight was so irrelevant. If I could get over it and try to be the bigger person, why couldn’t she? Then I reread her message. She’d responded quickly, and she’d sent the same number of kisses back. If she was mad at me, she wouldn’t have done either of those things.

She was in Guildford and she didn’t hate me. I suddenly realized that this was perfect. I could go to her place today, right now, and see her there. It was only an hour or so on the train. I grabbed my bag and headed for the tube.



I walked down the familiar road to Lara’s parents’ home. The silver sports car was outside the house so I knew they were in. My feet crunched on the beige gravel of their driveway. My heart was beating nervously and my palms were sweaty. I told myself to calm down. I was visiting my best friend; I’d spent half of my life in her house, and her family was basically my second family. I could do this.

Biting my lip anxiously, I buzzed the bell and closed my eyes, saying a very quick prayer. Please God, or Gods, or karmic spirit, help me. Make her not hate me. Make me brave. Alexander the Great, if you’re up there, can you help a bit, please? I know it’s not as big a deal as you conquering Asia Minor, but—

The door opened and Lara’s mum stood there, looking flustered. Her normally immaculate hair was tied up in a ponytail and she was wearing a fleece over leggings. I didn’t even know she owned a fleece. Her trademark pearl stud earrings were nowhere to be seen.

“Stephanie?” I asked cautiously. “Is everything okay?”

She looked at me, relieved. “Oh, thank God, Ellie,” she breathed out. “I was hoping Lara would come to her senses and call you. Come in. She’s in her room.”

I looked at her in confusion as I stepped into their marble hallway. “She kind of . . . didn’t call me,” I disclosed. “But can I just go up anyway?”

“Oh . . .” said Stephanie, her face falling. Then she shook her head gently and smiled at me. “Sorry, what am I doing? Come in, come in. You know the way.”

I shot her a smile and went upstairs to Lara’s room. I was officially confused. How come Stephanie knew about our fight? I knew Lara and her mum were close, but not that close. Lara and I always used to say mums and daughters who got on too well were creepy. I knocked on her door.

“Yeah?” she called.

“It’s me,” I said, tentatively pushing the door open. Lara was sitting on the bed, her long blond hair pulled into a messy bun on top of her head. She was surrounded by stuff. Clothes, makeup and books were spilling out of large brown boxes.

She stared at me in complete shock. “Ellie, what . . . what are you doing here?”

“We . . . I wanted to talk to you,” I said numbly. “But what’s going on? What’s with all the boxes?”

She looked at me and her face crumpled. She burst into tears. In all our years of friendship, I’d never seen her cry in front of me. I stood dazed, frozen in shock, before instinct kicked in and I ran over to hug her. We sat on the bed, my arms wrapped around her. I held her as she cried onto my striped gray jumper. Eventually her sobs subsided and turned into sniffles.