In our next lesson too it was obvious she hadn’t read it – either that or she was a very good actress. But no, she hadn’t read it. I would have known if she had. Didn’t I know her better than anyone? Wasn’t she my best friend?
But by the time I walked into the school canteen at lunchtime I knew she’d found it and read it. I knew by the way they all turned and stared at me as I carried my tray up the canteen, looking for a table. I think I stopped breathing as I felt their eyes on me. As I came close, Erin, sitting on the edge of the table, plucked the letter from her pocket and held it out to me.
I nodded, attempting a smile. A ‘yes, it was me,’ kind of smile.
And Erin smiled back.
I almost dropped my tray. It had worked. When Erin beckoned me over to her, I almost ran.
‘You sent me this?’
I was nodding like one of those dogs you see in the back of cars. ‘Uhh, it was the only way I could let you know how I …’
She stopped me gabbling, holding up her hand in front of my face in that bossy way Erin had. ‘You have to hear this, girls.’
I realised then that they had all gathered round me. Did that mean I was back in the fold again? Or were they hemming me in so I couldn’t move? I wasn’t sure.
‘This is so sweet,’ Erin said, and she flicked the pages of the letter and began to read it aloud.
‘My dear friend, Erin. And you are my friend. Always will be.’
I tried to interrupt her. I didn’t want her to read it like this, here in the school canteen. But I couldn’t stop her now.
‘How long has it been now? A week, two? Too long anyway. What are you like, Erin?
Monday: Out with my best friend, Hannah.
Tuesday: Blame Hannah for something she didn’t do.
Wednesday: Wash my hair.
Thursday: Joke over. Bored without her. She’s such a great laugh. How could I ever have blamed Hannah for anything?’
Erin looked round at everyone. ‘See what she’s doing? She’s writing it like a diary. Bridget blinkin’ Jones diary! Isn’t that clever?’
There was a murmured giggle. I looked round them. I was smiling too. ‘You know me,’ I said.
‘There’s more,’ Erin said, and she began to read on. Only this time her voice changed, from giggling as if she was enjoying it, to sad and pathetic. Not the way I had meant it to be read at all. Turning the meaning upside down.
‘Monday: Found Hannah’s letter in my pocket. Couldn’t stop laughing as I read it. She is so funny. I miss her so much.’ Erin looked up at everyone again and pretended to sob. ‘Boo – hoo!’ Then she went on, ‘Only Hannah could think of a way like this to apologise. (Though she didn’t do anything. Not guilty, ma’am.)
Monday night: Talk all this over with the girls. Rose, who’s going to be great in the school show, by the way – talk about boot licking!’ Erin giggled.
I tried to snatch the letter from her hand but she turned away. I couldn’t even run, trapped by the crowd.
‘Oh, listen to this. This is classic: Heather’s so understanding. “We just don’t have the same laughs without Hannah,” Heather says. We all decide to call Hannah at once. She’s waiting for that call. Skips over to my place on a high. Hugs and kisses and my mum’s ice cream all round and she’s dying to see the wedding photos! The Lip Gloss Girls together again. For ever!’ Erin burst out laughing. ‘Doesn’t that make you cry?’ But the laugh died on her lips when she turned to me. ‘Do you really think that’s how it will happen?’
I knew it wouldn’t. Not now. I’d been an idiot to think this would work. I felt as if there was a lead weight in my stomach. I watched, everyone did, as Erin very slowly tore my letter in half. ‘You’re pathetic.’
‘Sad little girl,’ Heather said.
‘Loser,’ said Rose.
I was suddenly shoved so hard my tray slipped from my hands. My dinner – cottage pie, rhubarb and custard – went everywhere. They all jumped back. ‘And clumsy too,’ Erin said.
I was ready to cry. Why couldn’t I stop myself from crying? I hated myself for it. ‘What is it you want from me? What do I have to do?’
Erin slid down from the table. ‘What do you have to do? Let me see … Keep well back from all of us from now on … that’s all. We’ll know when you’re too close.’ She pinched her nose. ‘Smells awful.’
In another life, when I was another Hannah, I would have answered that. ‘Then you must have peed your knickers again, Erin!’ But I couldn’t hurt her like that. Why couldn’t I hurt her when she was hurting me so much?