Paper Aeroplanes (15 page)

‘Don’t worry about me. We’re here for your dad tonight. I’m fine,’ Renée says in a really grown-up voice.

‘You don’t have to tell me you’re fine. I’m not fine. You’re not fine either. We can be honest with each other about that, can’t we?’ I say. The sides of her face tense as she tries to stop herself from crying, but she can’t.

There is something about her grief that makes mine less exclusive. Less like my world isn’t the only one falling apart. Sally doesn’t know about grief so she has no sympathy for it, and girls like Carla and Gem have no idea what it feels like for families to be broken, but Renée and I do. We both know how it feels to have the worst thing imaginable happen. I know it now – scattering Dad’s ashes with Renée and Abi is absolutely the right thing to do.

We go and sit on the wall. The tide is in so the fall isn’t high but still Renée keeps Abi on her lap and holds onto her as tightly as she can. I have the box, along with some last-minute nerves.

‘Just imagine him standing here like we did, and how much he would love to have jumped in,’ says Renée, as she puts her hand on my back.

Warm tears slide down my cold face. I hold the box in both hands and bring it to my lips, I kiss it.

‘You might not really understand this now, Abi. And you might not remember this all when you grow up, but remember that Dad loved you more than anything. And even after I do this, he still always will,’ I tell her.

She seems to know what the box represents, even if she doesn’t know exactly why.

I look at Renée. Her tears are coming more heavily than mine. ‘Go on,’ she says. ‘Please just do it.’

I hold the box up to my face.

‘Thank you for being my dad,’ I whisper. ‘You were the best.’

I turn the box to face the sea. As I open it a gust of wind comes from behind us and takes its contents with it. The grey dust is lit up by the night sky as it falls onto the sea below us, and I throw the box in after it. It floats in the moonlight like risen treasure from a sunken ship. We watch it as the tide carries it out to sea. The impulse to scream takes over me.

‘I LOVE YOU, DAD. I LOVE YOU.’

Abi reaches her arms out and carefully moves onto my lap. I wrap my arms around her to keep her warm. Renée drops her head onto my left shoulder. We stay like this until the box is swept away, and out of sight.

Dad is gone.

Hey babe, want to come over to Gem’s tonight for a bit of Christmas love? Just us. What’s on your list this year? We have asked for loads of clothes. Fingers crossed!!!

Come tonight?

Carla and Gem x

I don’t know why they bother with the ‘fingers crossed’ bit. There hasn’t been a Christmas in history that they haven’t got everything they asked for. I’m like a homeless kid in a movie at Christmas, walking the streets and watching families through windows being all happy and celebrating with tables and tables of gorgeous food. Our Christmas Day is quite different. We get one present and it’s really just a Sunday lunch with party hats and turkey instead of chicken, which is literally the most boring meat ever and always so dry that I need a swig of water with every mouthful to get it down my neck. I’d much rather have a tin of Chicken in White Wine Sauce instead. No one wants to do anything other than watch the TV in our house, so that is pretty much all we do all day long. Unlike Carla and Gem’s families, who play games and take hours over opening all their amazing presents. I have to block their voices out when they tell me about it because it makes me really sad.

I get to Gem’s house at about 8 p.m. The driveway is glowing with fairy lights and Christmas decorations. It’s a winter wonderland. I try to imagine what it might be like to come home to a house like this every day after school in the run-up to Christmas, and then to walk in the door and for the house to smell like pine cones and the fridge to be full of food, everyone smiling and Christmas music playing. Carla’s house is just the same. They both think this is normal.

‘Helloooooo,’ I shout as I walk in the door.

‘Renée! So good to see you. Happy Christmas and welcome.’ Gem’s dad leads me into the kitchen, where everyone else is.

‘Renée, YAAAAAY!’ say Carla and Gem at the same time.

There’s Carla and Gem, their boyfriends Adam and Mark, and Gem’s mum. I hadn’t expected their boyfriends to be here so I instantly feel like a gooseberry and my mood crashes. Almost as soon as I walk in I want to get out.

‘Renée has been AWOL. We think she’s got a new boyfriend,’ says Gem suggestively.

A chorus of ‘Oooooooo’ fills the room.

‘No, honestly, I’ve just been concentrating on schoolwork,’ I tell them, hoping to end that conversation.

‘PAHAHHA, good one,’ says Carla. ‘You never concentrate on schoolwork. It’s a boooooyyyy.’

‘No. Honestly, I haven’t get a new boyfriend.’ I turn to Gem’s mum. ‘The house looks lovely, Mrs Gardner.’

‘Well, you have to make an effort at Christmas, don’t you? I am sure your grandparents have the place looking super too,’ says Gem’s mum. There’s an awkward silence. ‘Right then. We’d better be off,’ she continues. ‘Have fun, all of you. ONE glass of wine each, OK? Oh, and Renée, I keep meaning to call your grandmother to ask her, but can you bring Gem’s white jeans with you next time? You’ve had them for a while.’ She says it nicely, but she gives me a weird look.

‘OK, Mum,’ says Gem. ‘GO. God, why are parents SO embarrassing? Go. GO!’ Gem ushers them out of the door.

Mr and Mrs Gardner think this is hilarious. They leave.

‘So is it just us then?’ I ask.

‘Yup, just us and loads of wine,’ says Gem as she pours herself a huge glass and then gives Adam the kind of Frenchie I thought only happened in films. Carla is sitting with her legs wrapped around Mark, and I feel like the world’s biggest lemon sitting on my own on a kitchen chair. I used to feel like this all the time and it didn’t bother me, but it’s different now.

‘So seriously, where have you been? We haven’t seen you in months. You disappear after school every day and we never see you at the weekends. Who is your secret?’ Gem takes a huge swig of wine then hands it to Adam for some totally unnecessary glass sharing.

‘No one. Things have just been really tough at home. Things are hard, that’s all.’

I know this is a slight fabrication but I have promised Flo I’d keep quiet about us, and besides, I want to test them. I have been the third wheel in this friendship for around ten years. They have no idea who I really am. It’s the exact opposite to my friendship with Flo. All these years I’ve passed off their lack of interest in me as an innocent vacancy, but it’s now feeling more like selfishness. I don’t belong here.

‘Yeah,’ I continue. ‘Nell is really sick. She’s anorexic. Pop is getting angrier and angrier. Nana is showing signs of madness, I’m sure of it. I share a room with a person who hates my guts, I’m not allowed to watch the TV shows I want to watch and the food I get given is generally burnt or out of date. All in all being at home is really shit and I hate my life.’

Silence.

More silence. Except for an occasional awkward laugh from one of the boys.

‘Right . . .’ says Carla. ‘Um, well, at least it’s Christmas, right? You can all have a really nice time and then 1995 will be a whole new year and you guys can make everything better.’

‘Yes, I am sure your grandpa is just upset because it’s so cold,’ Gem says dimly.

‘No, Gem, he isn’t upset because it is cold. He is upset because my mum died of cancer and lumbered him with me and Nell, who is starving herself because she hates herself so much. I wake up every day in the room that my mum died in after spending the night dreaming about her in various states of her illness. Considering all that, I really don’t think anything is going to improve when the sun comes out, do you?’ I say with an intense stare.

They look at each other for support. Neither of them even thinking to support me. There is more silence.

‘Well, this has all got a bit depressing, hasn’t it?’ says Adam finally, in his big, dumb, posh voice. ‘Shall we all get pissed and move on?’

A round of wine is poured and some crisps are emptied into a bowl. I am acting out of character and I’m not quite sure where it’s come from. I didn’t plan this.

‘So what are you asking for for Christmas then?’ asks Gem nervously, clearly unsure of how I will respond and equally as unsure of how she will cope if I carry on with more depressing stories about life outside of My Little Pony Land.

‘I don’t do a Christmas list. It feels a bit mean when Nana and Pop have so little money. Not everyone can have what they want,’ I say, being deliberately snide.

They all flinch at my snarky remark and just for a moment I feel bad. They have asked me over for a fun Christmas party and I am throwing this stuff at them out of nowhere. Spending time with people who only want a version of me is exhausting though, and it’s making me angry.

‘Renée, babe, not being funny, but it’s Christmas and this is all a bit of a downer,’ offers Carla. ‘We should all just have some fun. I’m sure everything with your family will work out in the end.’

My friendship with them makes no sense. I get up.

‘I’m going to go. You guys don’t have the brain space for anyone else and I am a bit tired of trying to get you to notice me.’

‘Bloody hell, someone’s ego thinks it should be the centre of attention,’ guffaws Adam.

‘Yeah, Renée. Carla and I are best friends. We don’t mean to leave you out, but we are
best
friends,’ says Gem.

‘I know,’ I say, ‘and you’re lucky to have each other, but I don’t want to be your tag along any more. It makes me feel like shit. I don’t want to ruin your Christmas, I just felt I had to be honest with you.’

As I get to the door I hear Carla say, ‘She’s just in a bad mood. She’ll get over it.’ Then they carry on talking about something else.

I walk to Flo’s house. All the lights are on so I brave her crazy mum and knock on the door, hoping she’s home.

The door opens.

It’s him.

Every time I see him words become a challenge and my heart pounds with fear, or panic, or something.

‘Ahh, Little Miss Chocolate Fingers. Hello.’

I want to push my finger into his mouth. Have him suck it while I gaze into his eyes.
Be cool, Renée. Be cool.

‘Hello.’

Trying to act cool isn’t easy when you feel like your heart is going to burst through your chest. ‘Is, um, Florence home?’ I have no idea why I just called her Florence.

He pauses. There is no need for it. He obviously knows the answer.

‘No. She went to the cinema with that Sally girl. Want to come in and wait for her? I’m up in my bedroom.’

Did I hear him right? Is he joking?

‘I . . . in, your . . .’

‘I’m kidding, but she won’t be much longer. Come and wait with me. I’ll give you some Nutella. You like that, don’t you?’

I follow him through into the kitchen like a dog on a lead, past the Christmas tree in the hall, which is surprisingly impressive, and into the kitchen. At the table I take a seat. He puts a pot of Nutella in front of me with a teaspoon in it.

‘More licking, less sucking this time, don’t you think?’

I can barely coordinate my hand to pick up the spoon. He sits next to me watching me, smiling, his eyes squinting. I feel like a mouse again, so small and squeaky, and he is big, like a bear. He could pick me up and ravish me with his mouth if he wanted to. I want him to. Why am I being so pathetic? He looks at my face like he wants to eat it.

‘You not hungry?’

I realise I’m sitting still with a spoon full of Nutella in my hand, trying to take my eyes off his face.

‘I can’t swallow.’

He takes the spoon out of my hand and puts it to my lips. My mouth pops open and the spoon goes in.

‘Lick it,’ he says.

My tongue rigidly works the chocolate spread off the spoon and I gulp to get it down.

‘That’s it,’ he says. He moves forward until his face is so close to mine that I could touch it with my tongue. His breath smells like chocolate and beer and the heat from his face makes my top lip wet. I worry he might hear my heart, it’s beating so fast.

‘You’re very pretty,’ he says, his lips now so close to mine that I can feel them move.

‘Thanks,’ I reply, breathy and shy.

‘Can I kiss you?’ he asks, but starts before I have the chance to answer. It’s the softest, wettest kiss I’ve ever had. He pushes his tongue in past my lips and moves it perfectly around my mouth. I try to reciprocate but my tongue won’t do what I want it to do so I stop trying and just let him kiss me. I barely notice his hand moving up my leg and into my knickers. Even if I wanted him to get off me I wouldn’t be able to make him. I feel like my muscles have stopped working and there is no way I can speak. He is kissing my mouth and all around my mouth, but I’m unable to kiss him back. I just take it, my jaw dropped open, my tongue hanging uselessly. Then I feel my body clench, my feet leave the ground and I fall forward like I’m wrapping myself around a ball. I know my cheeks are blushing, and my whole body is tingling. No one but me has ever made that happen before. I don’t know what I am supposed to say or do. I don’t want him to look at my face so I keep looking down.

He takes his hand away and pulls my skirt back over my legs.

‘My turn,’ he says, as he stands up and unzips himself.

My mouth is so dry it’s hard to move my lips. Here? Now?

His hands are on the back of my head as he gently moves backwards and forwards. I don’t have the confidence I’ve had when I’ve been drunk with other boys at parties. I’m sure that I’m doing it all wrong.

His groans get louder and quicker. His hands hold my head firmer with every thrust and then he comes. I haven’t let anyone do that before and I don’t like it. A small dollop trickles down my throat and makes me cough, another dollop smears across my cheek, the rest goes splat on the floor because I start gagging. I feel so embarrassed. I don’t want him to look at my face.