‘Did you get the losing-virginity story?’ I asked, trying to decide which category Suzanne would fit into.
‘No, we’re not that close, and she wasn’t that drunk. She did say she’s never had a proper boyfriend though.’
I squinted into the empty space in front of me, trying to revise my categorizations to make them fit.
‘I can hear you being judgemental,’ Rosie said suddenly, and I had to laugh.
‘I was just thinking about Chessy.’
‘You don’t have to be “I-love-you-forever” in love to have sex, you know,’ Rosie said, her voice annoyingly preachy, as if this was something I didn’t already know. ‘Sometimes liking a guy is enough. And sometimes you just want to get it over with.’
‘So Suzanne got it over with twice?’ I snarked, surprising myself. Maybe I really was judgemental. Or jealous. I’d had to set myself a goal to even try to have sex, and she’d already been there done that with two different guys.
‘Caddy! Don’t make me wish I hadn’t told you.’
‘As if you wouldn’t tell me,’ I laughed. ‘So, anyway.’ It seemed like a good time to change the subject. ‘Where did you leave things with Ollie?’
‘Nowhere, it was just a silly drunk thing. Hey, want to come over for dinner? Mum’s making enchiladas, and we can watch crappy TV.’
‘I can’t tonight. Seeing my gran, remember?’
‘Oh.’
‘Tomorrow?’
‘Mum wants to take me to a talk at the Dome. It’s on feminism. Want to come? There might be tickets left.’
‘Um. No, thanks.’ As far as I was concerned, I got enough of that at school. ‘I guess I’ll see you next weekend?’
‘OK.’
The disappointment in her voice was a relief. I hadn’t been entirely replaced yet.
Despite what Tarin had said, Suzanne’s novelty showed no signs of wearing off for Rosie over the next few weeks and, to make things worse, Rosie seemed to be trying her hardest to push the two of us into friendship. On one of my rare afternoons with no after-school clubs or activities to endure, Rosie suggested we played badminton, and then blindsided me by bringing Suzanne with her. And, just to make things worse, they were late.
As if bringing a third person along for what was most definitely a two-player game wasn’t bad enough, it turned out Suzanne couldn’t even play. Rosie seemed oblivious to my annoyance, but Suzanne caught on almost immediately.
‘I can just watch,’ she offered, looking nervous. ‘Is there somewhere I can sit and watch?’
‘On badminton courts?’ I asked, hearing the snide tone in my voice, unfamiliar and unkind.
‘Don’t be silly,’ Rosie said easily. ‘We’ll teach you to play. It’s really easy, right, Cads?’ She smiled at me. ‘It’ll be fun to do something a bit different. It’ll be way better than just the two of us.’
She had taken to saying things like this a lot, and I wished she’d stop.
One particularly low point came in early October. I stayed after school until almost 6 p.m. working on the set design for the school production – My Fair Lady – with Mishka and a few other girls from my art class. Just before I left, I tripped over the stepladder and spilled paint down myself. When I got home, Mum shouted at me for being clumsy and careless, and I eventually ended up sulking in my bedroom. All of this aside, my real mistake was logging on to Facebook, where Suzanne had just tagged Rosie in a series of pictures with her and other classmates at the Globe theatre. They were decked out in full Shakespearean gear and they looked ridiculous, but utterly happy.
I was clicking through the pictures, my throat getting tighter on each, until I landed on one of Suzanne and Rosie, arms around each other, beaming. A gigantic turquoise hat with an unnecessarily large feather was balanced across their two heads, which were bent towards each other. Suzanne had tagged the photo ‘Lady Rosanna Caronforth and Lady Susannah Wattsimus’. Rosie had commented, ‘17th century besties.’ Suzanne added, ‘Innit. Forsooth.’
I bawled until I was hoarse.
Here’s the really stupid thing: I didn’t actually dislike Suzanne. In fact, I probably would have liked her if I wasn’t so terrified about losing my best friend to her. She was sarcastic and hilarious and fun to be around, but she was also friendly – far friendlier to me than I’d been to her, and probably friendlier than I deserved. I could see why Rosie wanted the three of us to be friends, but I resented her trying so hard.