Undone (19 page)

Bugs was just glad to have a girl’s legs wrapped around him, I think. He made a point of running round the entire building, making sure as many people as possible saw us. Hoping to lay those gay rumours to rest once and for all. We nearly floored Louise when we slammed through a set of doors. She told him to
watch where he was fucking going and gave me the kind of look that would shrivel flowers in a Disney film. I read a lot into that look of hers – more than the simple hatred that was probably intended. To me it seemed like she was saying,
Enjoy it while it lasts. It’s only a matter of time before they realize you’re not one of them.

After school we headed to the park and lounged around talking about our summer plans. Nina’s the only one who’s doing anything remotely interesting – two months in New York with her dad. I wish
my
dad lived in New York . . . but I suppose that would mean my parents would have to be divorced and that would mostly be a bad thing. Still, I wouldn’t say no to an apartment overlooking Central Park. It beats a couple of weeks in Spain, which is the sum total of our summer-holiday plans.

There was also the obligatory reminiscing about the day. You could tell the boys enjoyed talking about the things they’d got up to almost as much as they’d enjoyed doing them. Exaggerations were already starting to creep into the story – especially from Stu: ‘Did you hear about me pelting Mr Watt with eggs? Man, you should have seen his face!’ (I was pretty sure no eggs had been involved.)

Lucas sat close to me, and when I said I wanted a
go on the swings he volunteered to push me. I ignored the meaningful look from Sasha as we left the others. It was fine hanging out with Lucas without the others. We didn’t talk about anything much – I was too busy giggling like an idiot and he was too busy pushing me as high as he could, trying to show off how strong he was.

I came home to raised eyebrows from Mum and Dad when they saw the state of my shirt (and my tie, which I was wearing like a headband for some reason). They didn’t say anything though – just asked if I’d had a nice time and seemed pleased when I said yes. I fell into bed after a late dinner, completely exhausted. My mind was buzzing from the day’s activities but somehow I fell asleep quicker than I’d done in months.

I realized as soon as I woke up. I’d forgotten.
How
could I have forgotten?

I sit staring at the envelope for a few minutes. The date is wrong. I mean, the date is right. But it’s yesterday’s date. I feel like I’ve betrayed Kai. I know it doesn’t matter when I open the letter – as long as I read it. And I know that Kai’s not going to
know
. But
I
know, and that’s enough to make me want to crawl back under the covers and cry.

p.s. I was going to suggest you get a bikini and do a bit of sunbathing in the park but I think I’ll quit while I’m ahead. Count yourself lucky.

p.p.s. Remember that summer we put the paddling pool in your garden and pretended to be marine biologists? That was brilliant.

A week into the summer holidays and I haven’t done a bloody thing. Mum’s been on my back to ‘get out and do something’. As soon as she gets home from work she seems to have the uncanny ability to deduce that I’ve been on the sofa all day. Maybe it’s the imprint my bum makes on the faux leather.

I miss him so much. It doesn’t get any easier. No matter what they say, time doesn’t heal the wound. Time just unravels and shows you new and more painful ways to miss someone. The longer they’ve been gone, the worse it is. You start to forget their smile or the way they tilted their head when they were confused or the way they looked at you and knew exactly what you were thinking. You can look at them in photos, but it’s not even close to the real thing, and pretty soon you feel like your real memories are being replaced by the photo memories – like the only way you can picture
them any more is in one of those photographs. They become two-dimensional and it rips your heart out whenever you think about it so you really try not to.

At least I’ve got the letters. That’s more than most people get. But it won’t be long before they’re all gone. The stack is dwindling way too fast. Four more, then I’ll be left with nothing – apart from the satisfaction of knowing I at least did
something
to get back at the people responsible for his death. It’s not enough though. It’s not nearly enough.

I’ve decided to focus my attentions on Lucas for the moment. If all goes to plan, I’ll be having the sort of summer romance that would put Sandra Dee to shame.

He’s making things easy for me. It’s getting more and more obvious that he maybe kind of sort of
does
like me a little bit. He’s been texting me (not that I’d ever admit that to Sasha). Nothing serious – just stuff like
Are you coming to Sasha’s tonight?
and
Would it be wrong to kill my sister? ;)
It’s not exactly flirting, but Stu and Bugs have never texted me, so it’s got to mean something.

After yet another exchange of innocuous messages, I decide it’s time. I compose a message and amend it several times before the wording is just right:
Want to hang out today? Just us two? ;)

The reply is almost instant:
Finally. ;)

I smile to myself, not because I’m happy or excited, but because I’m finally doing something. The thought of spending time with Lucas without the others around makes me nauseous, but it has to be done. It will be worth it in the end.

I meet Lucas in the park. He’s slouching on a bench with his legs far apart, casually twirling a frisbee on his finger like one of those plate-spinning idiots you see on TV. He’s wearing jeans and a black and red checked shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his biceps. Ray-bans and a pair of flip-flops (Havaianas, of course) complete the look.

He sits up straighter when he sees me coming. He smiles that ultra-confident smile that has every girl hooked and he calls, ‘Catch!’ as he launches the frisbee. I have a moment of panic when I’m certain it’s headed straight for my face, but somehow I manage to catch it cleanly – which I’ve done maybe one other time in my whole life. I try to disguise how surprised I am at making the catch while Lucas claps and whoops like I’m a particularly skilled performing seal.

I sit down next to him and hand over the frisbee. ‘Impressive! I didn’t have you down as a world-champion frisbee player.’

I shrug. ‘There’s lots of things you don’t know about me . . .’

‘Clearly! I hesitate to ask if you fancy a game . . . I fear my fragile ego might be in for a battering . . .’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.’ I nudge his arm with my elbow and he looks delighted. Meanwhile I’m thinking, I bet Sasha was some kind of frisbee fiend.
You, on the other hand, are about to make a complete fool of yourself, Jemima.

But I don’t. Somehow I don’t. I have to concentrate really, really hard, but somehow I manage. I think God must have temporarily granted me an ability to catch and throw that has been lacking my whole life – much to the disappointment of Noah, who’s always trying to get me to throw a rugby ball with him in the back garden. If Noah could see me now he’d be the proudest brother in the world.

Lucas throws and catches the frisbee the same way he seems to do everything else in life – with ease. As if he was born knowing how to do everything. It makes me want to hit him, so I do the next best thing, which is aim for his perfect face. But he ducks out of the way and manages to catch the disc with an easy swoop of his left hand (even though he’s right-handed). ‘Whoa there! Are you trying to kill me?’

I grimace. ‘Sorry!’

‘Maybe we’d better quit while we’re ahead – or before I get maimed for life!’ He jogs towards me.

‘Good idea. I wouldn’t want to break your sunglasses . . . they look pretty expensive.’

He pulls them up, rests them on top of his head and then looks over his shoulder. ‘Don’t tell anyone, but these are fakes. My sister got them for me on her gap year.’

I like it better now that I can see his eyes. Talking to someone with sunglasses makes me nervous – you can never tell where they’re looking. ‘Nothing wrong with that. I’d be more worried if you’d spent a hundred quid on a pair, to be honest.’

Lucas laughs loudly. ‘Somehow that doesn’t surprise me! You’re like the opposite of Sasha or something.’

I look away and then back at him, fixing him in my gaze. ‘Is that a good thing?’ My voice is lower and quieter.

‘That’s
definitely
a good thing.’ He bites his lip and I don’t know what’s going to happen next. I’d find the lip-biting thing pretty damn adorable if I actually liked him. But there’s a calculated cuteness about it that I can see right through. It’s a move he’s used before to great effect, probably to get a girl focusing on his mouth, wondering what it would be like to
kiss him. I’m wondering too, because I know it’s going to happen. It’s only a matter of time before it happens.

Lucas takes a step closer to me and he’s definitely invading my personal space now. I have to fight the instinct to take a step back. I stand my ground and look up at him. It’s getting awkward – neither of us has said a word for a few seconds. I do not know Lucas well enough to be sharing comfortable silences with him. It’s a deeply, deeply uncomfortable silence – for me at least. He seems to be enjoying himself.

He leans down and I’m sure this is it. I am going to kiss Lucas Mahoney right here in this park in broad daylight. There are heaps of people around and they’re going to see us kissing. Some of them might think it’s sweet, some of them might think we should get a room, most of them probably couldn’t care less. But whether they realize it or not, they’re all about to witness something impossible happening.

I tilt my head back a little, so that he knows I’m OK with the idea of him kissing me. He leans even closer and I’m just about to close my eyes in anticipation when something entirely unexpected happens. I feel something on my head – a flat and plastic something.

Lucas has not kissed me. He’s balanced the bloody frisbee on my head!

I don’t move, so the frisbee stays in place. ‘Er . . . what are you doing?’

He smiles. ‘Frisbees are the height of fashion this summer, don’t you know? And this one really suits you. Wait, let me take a picture on my phone.’ As he fumbles in his pocket I whip the frisbee off my head and whack him on the chest with it.

‘You’re an idiot.’ He laughs and cowers under the onslaught of frisbee blows. I can’t help laughing too, mostly to cover my embarrassment for thinking he was going to kiss me.

And then he grabs me. And kisses me.

I drop the frisbee on the ground and I am kissing Lucas Mahoney. My lips are touching his and his hand is pressed flat against my back and I don’t know whether to gag or push him away or just go with it. It repulses me, the thought of doing this. But the
actual
doing this, the actual kissing, is sort of OK. Conflicted doesn’t even begin to describe the way I’m feeling.

The kiss lasts maybe five seconds before he steps back and looks at me like he’s just done a very bad thing. ‘I’m sorry.’

I wonder if this is part of his usual routine, pretending to feel bad about kissing you. It would be very endearing if you liked that sort of thing. ‘Why sorry?’