Undone (20 page)

He shrugs. ‘I wasn’t sure if you wanted to . . .’ He seems embarrassed – he’s not used to having to explain himself.

I smile with a confidence I definitely do not possess. ‘Don’t worry about it. If I hadn’t been OK with it, you would have known about it. Trust me.’ Who is this person who looks like me and thinks like me and speaks with my voice but says ridiculous things like this?

The easy smile is back on his face and it’s dangerously close to a smirk. He likes this false me. She’s feisty. ‘You’re different, you know that?’ He steps in close again.

‘Different? Is that supposed to be a compliment? You’re going to have to try harder than that, especially if you want to . . .’ I lean up and kiss him swiftly. I can’t get over how easy this is, this game of make-believe.

‘It
is
a compliment. You’re more . . . I dunno . . . than I thought you’d be.’

‘Wow. Eloquent.’ We’re standing so very close, our faces inches apart.

‘Hey! Are you making fun of me?’ He looks like he’s very much OK with me making fun of him – as long as there’s going to be more kissing.

‘Yes, I think I am.’

I steel myself and kiss him again to soften the blow.

Later I’m lying on my bed, thinking about the kissing. I can’t stop grinning; it was so easy. So basic and simple and uncomplicated. It’s amazing to me that I can say something and know exactly how he’s going to react, despite the fact that my previous experience with boys is practically non-existent.

Has this version of me been lurking there all along, somewhere deep below the surface, biding its time, waiting for its chance to make an appearance? Or do I just have some random talent for acting that I never knew existed? Should I have been auditioning for school plays all these years instead of taking the piss out of those ultra-confident drama kids?

There’s some part of me – a stupid, hippy-dippy spiritual part – that wonders if somehow Kai has something to do with this. Like he might be guiding me from beyond the grave. Crazy, I know, but the idea is sort of comforting.

Lucas and I kissed for a long time, only stopping when a tiny yappy dog came over and got its long lead tangled around our legs. Lucas laughed and bent down to disentangle the dog, which then proceeded to try and mount his leg.

‘Someone’s popular today!’

‘What can I say? I’m irresistible to women, dogs, pretty much any species you can think of. I believe it’s called “animal magnetism”.’ This is exactly the kind of thing I’d expect a boy like Lucas to say, but there’s a mocking glint in his eye and I can’t quite tell if he’s mocking me or himself.

‘You’re an idiot.’

He treated me to another devastating smile. ‘A cute idiot though, right?’

I shrugged and walked away. Sure enough, he followed like a little puppy.

We got ice creams (Lucas paid) from the cafe in the middle of the park. Lucas held out his cone and said, ‘Fancy a lick?’ while wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

‘Maybe later,’ I said, just as suggestively. Normal shy and retiring Jem was screaming, YOU DO REALIZE YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT GIVING HIM A BLOW JOB, DON’T YOU? And this new version of Jem was shrugging, not even a little bit bothered (because that is never ever going to happen). I have to draw the line somewhere, and right now I choose to draw it at exactly the level of Lucas’s belt.

‘Lucas told me.’ Sasha’s tone is casual in a very non-casual sort of way.

My hand stops flicking through the hangers. ‘Lucas told you what?’

Sasha grabs the hanger out of my hand. ‘Perfect! You found my size.’ She holds it up against herself and tilts her head. ‘What do you think? The ultimate pulling top?’

I nod. It’s definitely the perfect pulling top – slinky and sexy and black. ‘Sasha, what did Lucas tell you?’

‘Nice try, Jem, but there’s no point playing dumb with me. It’s OK, you know. I
told
you it’s OK. He really likes you – there’s no way he’d have told me unless he really liked you. I guess he was looking for my blessing or something, or at least making sure I wouldn’t kill him . . . or you.’

‘I . . . I don’t know what to say.’ There are some
things in life that are beyond imagination. Going shopping for pulling outfits with Sasha Evans and talking to her about kissing her ex-boyfriend is pretty high up on my list of whatthefuckery.

Sasha smiles and flounces past me to flick through a rail of even slinkier clothes. ‘You don’t have to say anything. I get that it must be a bit awkward for you, but if I’m not being weird about it then I refuse to let you be weird about it. So let’s make a deal. No weirdness, OK?’

‘No weirdness. But–’

She holds her index finger up to her perfectly pouty lips. ‘Hush! I said NO WEIRDNESS.’

So I can’t ask her why she’s being so ridiculously reasonable about this and why it doesn’t seem to bother her one little bit that I had my tongue in her ex-boyfriend’s mouth. I thought it was like the first rule of friendship or something – you stay away from friends’ boyfriends and ex-boyfriends and even boys they used to have a vague crush on. Clearly I have a lot to learn about friendship. Or perhaps Sasha’s the exception that proves the rule.

She throws a hanger at me and I fail to catch it. I must have used up my quota of catches playing frisbee with Lucas. ‘You should try that on. He’ll like it.’

Now this is crossing the line into major oddness.
She wants me to try on a top because
Lucas
will like it. Not because she likes it, or because I would like it. Don’t get me wrong – I’m
glad
she hasn’t flipped her lid about the Lucas situation. If she did have a problem with it, Lucas might want to cool things, and how the fuck would I be able to hurt him then?

I’m really glad
he
was the one to tell her, because I would have had no idea what to say. I’ll admit, I was maybe slightly looking forward to seeing her reaction, just for the surrealness of it. I’d even gone so far as to picture it in my head – the drama, the tears, maybe a slap thrown in for good measure.

We head into the changing rooms to try stuff on, and miraculously we’re the only ones in there. I try on the top Sasha picked out and inspect myself in the mirror from every possible angle. I don’t know whether Lucas will like it, but I definitely do. It fits well but it’s not too tight. Green’s not a colour I would normally wear. There’s something fresh and cheerful about it. It’s a summery sort of top; I usually go out of my way to avoid anything remotely summery. Summer is my least favourite season by some distance. Give me autumn or winter any day. You’ll never find me complaining about a cold rainy day – it gives me the perfect excuse to stay in and watch TV. Kai always loved summer. He was a sunny sort of person. No one
would ever accuse me of being sunny – even
with
the blonde hair.

I think Kai would approve of this top. I care more about that than I do about what Lucas thinks.

‘Are you ready for this?’ Sasha knocks on the door.

I step out of the cubicle and pretty much the only thing I can focus on is Sasha’s cleavage. Her breasts are just
there
, like they’ve been laid out on a silver platter. ‘Wow.’

‘Too much? What does this top say to
you
?’ She sashays towards the huge mirror at the end of the changing rooms.

‘Um . . . “Hello, boys! Come get me”?’ As soon as I’ve said it I wonder if I’ve gone too far – after all, I don’t exactly know Sasha that well, no matter how much she’s started to act like my BFF.

‘Ha! That’s precisely what I want it to say!’ She pushes up her breasts and I’m pretty sure they’re about to spill out. She turns and looks me up and down, head nodding approvingly. ‘Nice. It’s his favourite colour, you know.’

Suddenly I feel deeply uncomfortable. ‘I didn’t know that. Um . . . I’m not going to buy it. I’m skint.’

She grabs my upper arms in a vice-like grip. ‘You
have
to buy it! You have to you have to you have to! Go on, treat yourself.’

I wriggle out of her grip. ‘Sasha! I’m broke!’

Sasha sighs. ‘Let me buy it for you then.’

I hadn’t thought I could feel any more uncomfortable. I was wrong. ‘I can’t let you do that. It’s really nice of you and everything, but . . .’

‘Nonsense. I’m buying it. That’s what friends are for, right? You’d do the same for me if you had some extra cash.’ She couldn’t be more wrong. If I had extra cash it would be going straight into my savings account.

If the expression on her face is anything to go by, she’s clearly not going to give up. For some bizarre reason she really, really wants to buy me this top that she’s so convinced Lucas will like. I’m not sure if she’s doing this for me or for him. ‘OK, you can buy it. But on one condition: I’m paying you back as soon as I’ve got the cash.’

‘Yeah, yeah, whatever,’ she says with a glint in her eye. She thinks I’m going to forget, but I won’t. I always pay my debts. Always. It used to drive Kai crazy that I kept a mental tally of things like that – if he bought me a can of Coke one week I’d make damn sure to buy one for him the week after. I don’t know why it makes me so antsy, accepting gifts from people. I’ve never had a problem accepting things from Mum and Dad, but that’s different, isn’t it? They’re supposed to spend
money on you – it’s practically their main purpose in life. I just don’t like being treated like a charity case, that’s all.

By lunchtime Sasha has accumulated five bags of clothes and shoes. Three pairs of shoes! That was the arduous bit – trying to maintain enthusiasm as she tried on pair after pair, mulling over the pros and cons as if this was something that actually mattered. Sasha doesn’t seem to notice my impatience, because all that’s required of me is to agree with her. There’s a
lot
of nodding involved.

We get sandwiches from M&S and sit on a bench. Something tells me this isn’t Sasha’s usual mid-shopping lunch. She strikes me more like the type to get sushi from that fancy Japanese place that opened last year. I appreciate what is almost certainly a concession to my poverty (even though I’m not
actually
skint). There’s more to this girl than meets the eye. Sometimes (like right now) I find myself wondering whether I actually
do
like her. But then I think about Kai and I know it’s not possible. She is not, and never will be, my friend.

I’m eating the last bite of my sarnie when she says, ‘He’s good at the kissing, isn’t he?’

I chew my mouthful way more times than is strictly necessary because I have no idea how to respond
to this. She laughs and says. ‘Are you ever going to swallow that?’

I swallow with some difficulty. ‘It’s good for the digestion . . . um . . . lots of chewing.’

‘You’re hilarious, you know that? Anyway, feel free to thank me for his kissing skills. He learned everything he knows from me . . . and I mean
everything
.’ She nudges me with her elbow and I narrowly avoid spilling water all down myself.

‘You mean he was . . . before you two . . . ?’

‘Virgin? Yup. The biggest, greenest, scaredest virgin on the planet, bless him.’

This news doesn’t just come as a surprise. It’s almost enough to knock me off the bench. Lucas Mahoney, the school stud. I was sure he was one of those boys who’d been having sex since he was about thirteen. And I don’t think I’m the only person in school who thought/thinks this way. He exudes sexual experience like some kind of pungent aftershave. Mind you, maybe he and Sasha had a
lot
of practice.

Sasha’s watching me and I don’t know where to look. ‘It’s OK to talk about stuff like this, you know. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.’ I can’t tell if she’s being kind or patronizing – or kind of patronizing.

‘I know . . . it’s just . . . I’m not sure Lucas would like it.’

‘Who cares whether Lucas would like it or not?! It’s girl talk and therefore strictly classified. What’s said on the bench stays on the bench . . . or something. So, how long are you going to make him wait?’

I would like nothing more than to teleport myself away from this bench. I wouldn’t mind where – pretty much anywhere would be preferable to this. ‘Um . . . we’re not even going out or anything. I don’t . . .’

The dismissive sound she makes is something like
Pssscccchhh
. ‘Since when have you needed to be going out with a guy to do the nasty. I don’t mean you as in YOU, I mean you as in ONE – like the Queen. Although she probably didn’t put out till she was married. Ewwww, now I’m grossing myself out. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, you have to promise you’ll tell me when you’ve had sex with Lucas.’

This has gone far enough. ‘No! And I’m not going to have sex with him! Not in the foreseeable future anyway.’ I grab the M&S bag and start clearing the remnants of lunch just to give me something to do to hide my extreme awkwardness.

‘We’ll see about that.’ Her knowing smile makes me want to ram a straw up her nose.

‘Can we talk about something else, please?
Anything
else?’

‘Whatever you say. As long as you know that if you need someone to talk to about that sort of thing, you can talk to me . . . Look, I know it must be hard for you. Anyone could see how close you and Kai were. I don’t know if you two ever talked about this kind of thing, but just in case you did . . . I’m here. I mean, I’m obviously no substitute for him, but I’ll try my best.’

I can’t believe she said his name. Usually people go out of their way not to say it. No one should be allowed to say his name without my permission. And the idea that she could ever be anything close to a substitute for him is laughable. ‘Thank you. I’m . . . I guess I’m sort of private about that kind of stuff.’ As if there’d been any of ‘that kind of stuff’ to be private about!

‘That’s cool. I’ll try to rein in my curiosity, I promise . . . I’ll say one last thing on the matter and then we can talk about a subject of your choosing: you should definitely have sex with Lucas. Trust me, you won’t regret it.’

This time I side-swiped her with the bag of rubbish. ‘Are you finished now? In that case we’re going to talk about something really, really boring. Like the weather. Yes, let’s talk about the weather. Hasn’t it been lovely this last week? I don’t like the look of those clouds though, do you?’