Worse Than Boys(23)

How I hated going to school. I made futile excuses to stay home. They seldom worked. Mrs Tasker watched me closely. She knew her little ploy hadn’t worked, but she didn’t try again. I couldn’t blame her. It would have been no use. There was nothing left. It was as if me and the rest of the girls had never been friends.

Mum asked why my friends never came round to visit any more. Why was I never round at Erin’s? Why didn’t they phone? I made excuse after excuse. I became an expert at lying.

‘We’re all studying hard.’

‘Heather’s been grounded.’

‘Erin has flu.’

I even took to going to the cinema myself, and pretended I was meeting the girls there. Sad, or what?

One awful night I was sitting in the back row when they all came in, Erin and Rose and Heather. They were giggling, chucking popcorn at each other and everyone else, making too much noise, talking too loud. I slid so far down in my seat I was practically on the floor, terrified they would spot me – see how pathetic I’d become. And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to leave. I was mesmerised watching them, wishing I was still one of them, still sharing all that fun.

I wondered if they ever missed me too. Missed my jokes. Missed all the fun we’d had together. I watched them for ages in the dark of the cinema, then I snuck out, almost crawling on my hands and knees. Crawling like a dog. Ridiculous, and funny too. Even I could see the funny side of it.

That night I cried myself to sleep. I hated myself for being such a wimp. I wanted to be angry at them, but I couldn’t. It was me I was angry at, always feeling sorry for myself, drowning myself in misery.

Next morning, I came to a decision. I would make one last-ditch attempt to explain things to Erin. What did I have to lose? I was going to write her a letter. She couldn’t erase a letter. Surely, she would be intrigued enough to read what I had to say?

It was Sunday. Mum went off to Mass without her usual Sunday morning moan because I didn’t go with her. ‘I think you’re coming down with something, Hannah,’ she said, feeling my brow. ‘You haven’t been yourself for days.’

I sat at my window and watched the people on the quiet streets heading for church. Or going off to do some Sunday shopping.

Sunday had always been the Lip Gloss Girls’ day out. Going to the café on the quay, then walking back and forth along the waterfront, arm in arm, making people step off the pavement to pass us. And here I was, alone, trying to compose a letter that would make them want to walk arm in arm with me again.

I thought about it for a long time. It had to be just the right kind of letter. Then it came to me. I’d be funny, the way they always liked me to be. Funny Hannah. I’d write a letter that would make them laugh, make them giggle. I would write such a funny letter it would make them all laugh out loud. ‘Trust Hannah,’ I could almost hear Erin say it. ‘I’d forgotten how funny she could be.’ And they would realise how much they missed me.

That was it. I would make them laugh.





Chapter Twenty-One


I sat up all night composing that letter – ripping out pages, crumpling them and chucking them into the wastepaper basket. I had to find exactly the right words. Funny, cheeky and yet … apologetic. (Though I knew I had done nothing wrong, by this time I would apologise for anything they wanted.) I wanted us to start again, go back to square one.

The letter would be addressed to Erin. She was the one who had been hurt … though not by me. In my head I kept thinking that if I did this right, by next week all that had happened would be a horrible memory, nothing more.

Mum came into my room at midnight, demanding I put the light out. ‘Just finishing my homework,’ I told her.

It was hours later before I was done, before I was satisfied. I slipped the letter in an envelope. Should I post it? If I posted it she wouldn’t get it until the next day – so I decided against that. Speed was of the essence. I wanted Erin to get that letter today, Monday. I wanted her to read it. I wanted to put all this behind me.

On a Monday, we had PE, period one, straight after assembly. Erin always hung her blazer on the same hook. I decided that I would slip the letter into her pocket when no one was looking. Surely curiosity alone would make her read it. And once she’d read it, she had to feel something of our old friendship?

I hardly slept and went to school looking like something out of a zombie movie. The letter shook in my hand as I pushed it into the pocket of Erin’s blazer. I was terrified someone might catch me, assume I was taking something out instead. That was all I needed now, to be accused of stealing.

I could hardly bear to glance over to Erin as we changed after the lesson, expecting every time her hand went into her pocket that she would find the letter and pluck it out. But she didn’t. Not then. She giggled and whispered with Heather and Rose as they hovered around her like a cloaking device, protecting her from me. Then they were gone. The door banged shut and I was left alone in the changing rooms.