Am I Normal Yet? (19 page)

My skin prickled. Had Guy told Joel what almost happened between us? Was this what he was alluding to?

“Man though, Amber, you were wasted,” Joel continued. “I never knew it was so hard getting vom out of curly hair.”

Amber crumpled then brazened it out. “Whatever.”

Jane twisted around and looked at Guy, who was smoking his second roll-up. “You have a good time, Guy? I barely saw you.”

I looked at him too, my heart thud-thudding. He was annoyingly good-looking in the autumn sun. It lit up all the concaves in his cheeks; it made his dark hair look almost golden rather than black.

Good thought

Maybe he's going to turn around, look deep into my eyes, and say, “Actually it was one of the best nights of my life. If only we'd been given five more minutes, Evie.”

Guy blew a plume of smoke directly upwards into the crisp air.

“It was okay. Pretty boring.”

He didn't even look at me.

BAD THOUGHT

You imagined the whole thing. You're delusional.

I lay down on the grass, like I'd just been shot in war, not even caring about the chill seeping into me from the ground.

What had happened? Why was he behaving like this? Had I really imagined it? Was this my karma for Oli? And why was this making me like him more?

I didn't hear what Joel said at first.

“That's amazing, you'll so win,” Jane told him.

I sat up, dazed. “What?” I asked.

Joel's eyes were dewy with excitement. “I said they're doing a battle of the bands at college. In a few weeks' time. In the canteen. The winner gets a free day in a professional recording studio.”

Guy expressed his first display of emotion since I'd sat down. “Really, man? We're totally going to smash it.”

“I know, right?” They leaned over and high-fived.

“You girls coming?” Joel asked. “You can bring that fella if you want to, Lottie?”

Lottie didn't look up. “Oh, great,” she half whispered.

Jane's eyes were as excited as Joel's. “We could all get ready at my house,” she said to us girls. Amber rolled her eyes, ever so slightly so Jane didn't see.

“Oh, great,” she said. I shot her a look.

“That sounds fab, Jane,” I said. I looked at the others. “But…umm…I'm not sure if we're going…”

It didn't sound like our thing, especially after the church hall gig. How would this be any different? The college canteen was hardly a more exciting destination. And I really didn't fancy listening to “Die Bitch Die” again, or having to watch Guy onstage when he was being like this…

…as if on cue…

“Bullshit,” Guy interrupted me. I turned and he was finally looking at me – his eyes staring directly into mine, a half-smile on his face. “You are definitely coming, Evie. I wouldn't have it any other way.”

He winked, and I didn't feel like crying any more.

I told them.

Not about me, obviously. But about Guy, in our Spinster Club meeting at my house straight after college.

“Man your room is tidy, Evie,” Amber said as she walked in. “Do you guys have a cleaner or something terribly middle class like that?”

I'd actually run up to my room before them and scattered a few bits of laundry on the floor but it obviously hadn't made a difference.

Lottie was just as gobsmacked. “Are you Jesus? Only Jesus could have a room this clean.” She sniffed. “Everything smells of pine.”

That would be my antibacterial spray. I was down to only one spritz a day, but, yeah, I guess the tree smell lingered. To me, it smelled of safe.

“It's not usually like this,” I lied. “Mum made me tidy this weekend.”

Actually the opposite was true. Mum was in charge of me
not
tidying.

Luckily they were distracted by my wall of film. Amber stood with her head back, straining her neck to see up to the top of my gigantic film cabinet. It dominated the whole wall – floor to ceiling jampacked with movies. “Christ, Evie, how many movies does a girl need?”

“I do film studies,” I said, all breezy. “You have to watch a lot of films.”

“Yeah, but, wow… You have like every one ever made. How do you ever leave the house?”

Well I didn't, that was the point.

They started digging through my collection, pulling ones out and asking to borrow them. I nodded and went downstairs to make hot chocolate. Mum and Dad were in the kitchen. They both had glasses of red wine in front of them.

“Woah, hey, guys,” I said, bending down to give them a quick hug at the kitchen table. “What are you doing home so early? I've got some friends upstairs, is that okay? They're not staying for dinner or anything.” Mum was going to be cross, and I inwardly prepared for it. She got stressed if I invited people around without loads of pre-warning; she never said why. Only that it was “disrespectful”.

Dad gave me a weak smile from behind his glasses. Every facial expression he made was weak. A side-effect from working sixty hours a week. It also didn't make for a very patient person. I still remember the day I tied myself to the bed with a skipping rope so they wouldn't make me go to school. Mum had tried pleading, crying, begging, dragging in Rose to make me feel guilty.

Dad had just come in with a bucket of water, yelled, “If you wanna be so clean, I'll make you clean,” and chucked it all over me.

Afterwards, in our family therapy sessions, he'd said he'd thought it would shock me out of it. But I'd stayed on the bed, my teeth clanging together, until Mum caved and promised I didn't have to go in. It took a two-hour bath to get warm again.

Now, both of them sat at the head of the kitchen table, business looks on their faces.

“It's nice your friends are here,” Mum said. “Though I do wish you'd asked me first.”

I tried not to pull a face. “We're just chatting in my room.”

“Still though, it's my house. I like to know what's going on. You know that.”

“Well I'll ask them to leave then.”

My parents gave each other the look they'd honed to perfection, the one they use when I'm being difficult.

“Don't talk to your mother like that,” Dad said, sounding resigned.

I sighed. “Like what?”

“Like that, with the attitude.”

“Should I ask them to leave or not?”

“There's no need for that, just ask next time.”

“All right, I will.” I walked past them to the kettle and brought it to the sink to fill with water. As it boiled, I noticed them both staring at me.

“What is it?”

“We had our catch-up with Sarah today,” Dad said, not looking me in the eyes, the way he always did when he mentioned Sarah.

“Oh…”

I'd agreed confidentiality-wise for my parents to have regular meetings with Sarah, so they could be kept up to date on my goals and strategies.

“She told us about the sandwich,” Dad said.

“We're really proud of you, Evelyn.” Mum gave me her first smile of the day, like I'd just got an A in a test or something. I guess I had, an A in “Undercover Normal”. Although no one normal would eat that sandwich.

“Thanks.” I got out the cocoa powder and heaped it into three mugs. Whenever I glanced over, they were watching me…

“Now, she wanted us to discuss your medication some more…” Dad said loudly.

“Shh,” I interrupted, somewhat desperately, pointing to my bedroom directly above. Dad's voice had always been rather boomy. “My friends are upstairs, they might hear you.”

Dad looked nonplussed. He turned to Mum who shrugged. “So?” he asked.

“So…” I said, pouring the now-boiled water on top of the chocolate. “They don't know about stuff…”

“Why not? Why haven't you told them?”

“Just because…”

There was an awkward pause.

“I came home especially early to talk all this through with you,” Dad said. “I was really hoping we could put a plan together.” He put his wine glass down and it clanked.

“But you didn't tell me about it!” I protested.

“Well you didn't tell us you were having friends round.”

“Ergh!” I poured too much milk into a cup and spilled some onto the counter. I grabbed a kitchen towel to mop it up. Both of them looked shocked by my yelling. “When I was really sick, when I never left the house, didn't you guys
dream
of me bringing friends back from school? Didn't you worry that would never happen? That I'd never even go back to school, let alone make nice normal friends? Now I've done it, your wish has come true, and all you wanna talk about is me being sick!” I dumped the soggy towel in the bin and stared both of them down. We stayed like that for a moment, standing off, then Dad crumbled, screeched back his chair and stood to give me another hug.

“You're right, darling.” He squeezed so hard it hurt my ribs. “Go back upstairs, have a good time with your friends.”

I looked at Mum over his shoulder. “Mum?”

Mum softened too. Not quite as much though. It had been so long since I'd had anyone round, I'd forgotten what an issue it was.

“Have a good time, dear. Dinner's at eight though, so can you have them out by the time I start cooking? And you still should've asked.”

“I know, I know.”

I came back to my room brandishing hot drinks.

“You were aaaaaages, Evie,” Lottie said, the most bright and cheerful I'd seen her all day. “We've put
Thelma and Louise
on, rather fitting for our first meeting I thought.”

BAD THOUGHT

You've not put the film that was in the player back into its case. Now it's going to get scratched. What sort of person would do such a thing?

I smiled, “Great thinking.”

Amber was sprawled out on the floor as was her custom, her long legs taking up half the rug. “I've never seen this movie,” she admitted sheepishly.

Lottie chucked a cushion at her. “What? You haven't seen
Thelma and Louise
. It's like… the Bible.”

“The Bible's a book,” I pointed out. “And religious.”

“Whatever, it's like the film version of the Bible. The Bible for strong women.”

Amber ducked from the cushion. “My little brother always chooses our films,” she said. “You don't want to know how many times I've sat through
Star Wars
.”

I pulled a face. “Kids still watch
Star Wars
?”

“What can I say, my brother's a moron.”

“AMBER,” both Lottie and I yelled.

She shrugged. “I'm not even sorry.”

I carefully picked my way over my friends' bodies, dispersing their drinks, before tucking myself up on the bed and wedging myself in the corner. We half watched, half slurped as Thelma and Louise got drunk at a bar. When it got to the rape scene, Lottie chucked another cushion at the screen. “Aww, man, I forgot about this bit.”

“What bit? The entire motivation for the characters' actions?” I asked.

“Yes, oh, can we talk through it? I'm down on men enough at the moment.”

“Hey,” Amber said, “I've not seen it.”

“That bloke attempts to rape Thelma so Louise shoots him.” Lottie told her.

Just as she said it, Susan Sarandon arrived on the telly and shot the guy dead.

“Well, thanks for ruining it for me.”

“You'll live.” Lottie turned away from the screen. “I feel bad,” she announced. “It's our first meeting as spinsters and I want to be empowered and talk about the glass ceiling or whatever, but I can't stop thinking about Tim. It's like he's dancing on my brain.” She stopped and thought about it. “Dancing on my brain, and pissing on my heart.”

I gave her a sad smile. “With metaphors like that, Cambridge is going to let you right in.”

She returned my smile with a sadder one. “I know, right? Well, there's never been more potent a creative force than heartbreak.”

I budged nearer on the bed. “Is your heart really broken?”

“I dunno. Yes, maybe. Maybe it's just been maimed. Really horribly maimed.”

Amber twisted around and patted her leg. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yes, maybe…no. Ahhh, I'm not a very good spinster, am I?”

“Spinsters don't judge other spinsters,” I said, surprised by how wise my voice sounded. “You're allowed to talk about what you're going through – it's what friends are for.”

Even I could see my double standards then, without Sarah there to point them out.

Lottie's eyes welled up again. “What would I do without you guys?”

I put my arm around her. “Go batshit crazy, skin a rabbit, drape it over your head and go stand outside his window, singing ‘I Want You Back' by the Jackson 5?”

She giggled, her tears subsiding instantly. “That sounds like so much fun.”

“Revenge is always fun,” Amber said. “Just ask my adopted brother.”

“AMBER!”

“I'm not even sorry.”

And we all laughed like maniacs.

“You know what's the best revenge, of course?” Amber said, finishing off her hot chocolate and putting the mug down on my wooden floor…without using the coaster I'd given her. “Moving on with your life, and becoming absolutely fabulous so he can see what he's missing.”

I shook my head, biting my tongue about the coaster. “No, I don't agree. You should become fabulous for you, because you want to be fabulous, not because you want some idiot to kick himself for rejecting you in a year's time.”

“Ahh, but this is why it's the best revenge,” Amber said. “By the time they're kicking themselves, you're so fabulous you've forgotten all about them.”

“I like to think I already
am
fabulous,” Lottie wailed, and we giggled.