Worse Than Boys(15)

I crossed my heart. I even crossed my eyes and that made Erin laugh again. But her eyes were nipped with tears.

‘What is it?’ I asked, desperate now to know.

Still she held back, bit her lip. It was almost as if she was in pain. She was finding it hard to say the words. But I knew she wouldn’t not tell me now.

‘Oh, it’s so embarrassing.’ And Erin blushed and I’d never seen Erin blush before.

‘You won’t embarrass me,’ I said, and I clutched at her hand.

‘The reason I don’t sleep over anywhere is because …’ There she went again with the long pause. ‘Because I wet the bed.’





Chapter Thirteen


I was totally gobsmacked. ‘You do … what?’

Now she’d said it, she couldn’t stop everything else from tumbling out. ‘I still wet the bed. Almost every night. I hate myself. I don’t know why. My mum even had me at a child psychologist … Nothing worked. I still wet the bed. It’s so embarrassing.’

For a moment I didn’t know what to say. It was the last thing I’d expected. Then before I could stop myself, I started laughing.

Erin was horrified. She tried to spring to her feet till she remembered she was drunk. She was almost crying. ‘Hannah!’

I couldn’t stop laughing. I lay along the floor of the toilets. ‘I thought you were going to tell me something earth-shattering … You’ve got two weeks to live … Your mother’s had a sex change operation and she’s really your dad … Anything … And what do you tell me? … You wet the bed … I’m nearly wetting myself now … pssssh …’ I made a sound like running water.

Erin didn’t know what to do. She was watching me, hate and puzzlement in her eyes. I pulled her close and hugged her.

‘Erin … It’s not the end of the world. And I promise I’ll never tell. Cross my heart and hope to die.’

Erin smiled, unsurely, then she began laughing too. ‘But you’ve really got to mean it. You’ll never tell. I’d die if anybody else found out.’

At that moment I wished so much I had a secret I could share with Erin. But even my mother’s secret was something everyone knew of, but never talked about. My life was an open book. I couldn’t come up with a thing. ‘I’ll never tell,’ I said. ‘Never in a hundred million years. I swear on my mother’s grave.’

‘Your mother’s not dead,’ Erin reminded me.

‘I’ll go home and murder her tonight and bury her. OK?’

That made her laugh again. ‘You promise? Oh, please, please, don’t tell.’

‘Never,’ I said, as I helped her to her feet. ‘Pssshhhh …’ I said again. ‘Psshhh.’

She stopped me. ‘You’ve got to promise this is the last time we’ll ever talk about this. You’ll never mention it again. It’ll be as if I never told you in the first place.’

I knew then I could never joke about it with her. Not ever again. It was too embarrassing for her. I pulled a zip across my lips. ‘Never again.’

We were arm in arm as we came out of the toilets. I’d never felt so close to Erin as I did that night. Erin had trusted me with her secret. A secret never to be told. No one else. No doubt about it now. I was Erin’s best friend.

Heather was waiting for us at the door of the toilets, ready to drag us back into the middle of the dance floor. ‘They’re going to play “Loch Lomond”!’ she screamed. ‘I thought you were going to miss it.’

We all gathered round in a circle ready to sing and dance. I grasped Erin’s hand as the music began and squeezed. Our secret, a secret never to be told. My best friend had trusted her secret to me. And I would never break that trust.





Chapter Fourteen


My mum wanted to know everything about the wedding next morning at breakfast. I had a splitting headache and a mouth like the bottom of a budgie’s cage. I kept thinking about the vodka Calum said he’d put in the punch and wondered if I might have a hangover. If this was a hangover I promised myself I would never drink again.

‘Did you have a wonderful time?’

I nodded, and felt as if a brass bell was clanging inside my head. ‘Great,’ I muttered.

‘Erin looked lovely,’ Mum said dreamily. ‘She fair suits that colour with her lovely golden hair. She’s a real strawberry blonde.’ She looked at me then, at my hair, and I knew she was comparing us and I was coming off worse. My hand automatically moved to my head. Mousey, my mum always called my hair. I told myself I didn’t care. I could dye it when I was older.