‘OK! I’ve told you lots of really awful stuff it kills me to talk about. I’m done now.’ She leaped up off the wall. ‘What breed of dog do you think makes the cutest puppies? I think it’s Newfoundlands. The puppies are like bear cubs. So cute! And they call them Newfies.’
‘You can’t beat a Labrador puppy,’ I said, sliding off the wall and linking my arm through hers. We began walking away from the seafront, towards home. ‘They’re, like, classic puppy.’
‘True,’ Suzanne said lightly. She squeezed my elbow as we walked. ‘German shepherds though. Oh my God.’
She kept this up all the way home and until she waved goodbye – ‘Buonanotte!’ – and sauntered off down my street. It wasn’t until the following morning – when I woke up dog-tired and achy – that I checked my phone to see that she’d sent me a text at 4.38 a.m., saying simply, ‘Please don’t tell Roz anything I told you’. The starkness of the words, so unlike her, jolted me properly awake. A second text had come through half an hour later: ‘Thanks for listening. Sorry to offload on you. Next time will be more fun :) xx’
For the first time I felt a pang of unease. Had she even slept at all? I hesitated, then tapped out a reply. ‘Offload any time. You did get some sleep, right? xx’
I was washed, dressed and halfway to school before she replied. ‘Yep, just woke up. Too late for school OH WELL. Want to skip school with me? Sarah’s at work. Netflix all day and ME! Say yes xx’
I was smiling, safe in my mother’s car, the collar of my school blazer rigid against my neck. ‘Private-school girls don’t skip. Be good! x’
‘What are you grinning at?’ Mum asked. The Esther’s school gates loomed in the distance.
‘Nothing,’ I said, reaching for my school bag and pushing my phone into my pocket. I leaned over and kissed her cheek. ‘See you later!’
Later that week I met Rosie and Suzanne after school in Starbucks. The two of them were deep in an animated conversation when I arrived and I hesitated at the top of the stairs, looking at them. Both in school uniform and sipping from identical Frappuccino cups, they looked like a matched set.
‘Hey,’ I said when I approached, cutting into their chattering. ‘No chair for me?’
Rosie gave me an odd look. ‘There’s literally one right there.’
‘I always forget how green your uniform is,’ Suzanne said. She scooped up some cream with her straw. ‘Don’t you hate them for making you wear that?’
‘Hello to you too,’ I said, pulling up an extra chair from the next table.
Suzanne grinned at Rosie. ‘Caddy has third-wheel face.’
‘Caddy is right here,’ I said, irritated. ‘But she doesn’t have to be.’
‘Oh, chill out, I’m just teasing,’ Suzanne said lightly. ‘How are you?’
I shrugged. ‘Fine. You?’
‘Average, three stars.’ She was half perched, half sat on the sofa chair, one leg curled underneath her, her hair haphazardly plaited on one side of her head. She flicked one of the braids out of her face. ‘I’ve decided to end it with Dylan.’
‘Really?’ I took a sip of hot chocolate, which was still too hot. ‘Why?’
‘I think I’m done with him. His dickishness doesn’t balance out his hotness any more. So I think we’ll break up.’
‘How can you break up if you’re not together?’ I asked.
Rosie smirked. ‘That’s exactly what I said.’
‘You know what I mean,’ Suzanne said.
‘So, basically –’ Rosie pointed her straw at me – ‘she’s going to stop having sex with him.’
‘That and other things,’ Suzanne said, unruffled. She wedged her straw back into her Frappuccino. ‘Maybe I’ll find someone at Levina’s party.’
‘Oh yeah,’ Rosie said, brightening. ‘Me too! Do you think Liam will be there? That’s who I want.’
‘Probably. From what Lev says it sounds like the whole school will be there. But you actually have to try and get Liam this time. Like, actually talk to him. That’d be a good start.’
Rosie rolled her eyes. ‘We’re not all beautiful and confident, you know.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Suzanne said earnestly, her eyes wide. ‘I didn’t know the ability to speak was restricted to those society deems aesthetically pleasing to the eye.’
Rosie laughed. ‘Shut up.’
I gave up waiting for one of them to let me into the conversation. ‘Society deems aesthetically pleasing?’
‘We had a talk at school about body image and society,’ Suzanne said. ‘The woman was a raging feminist. She said the aesthetically pleasing thing about five times.’
‘I liked her,’ Rosie said. ‘I thought she was great.’
‘She said that our self-worth shouldn’t be dependent on whether we’re considered pretty by men,’ Suzanne said. ‘And I’m like, come on, that’s all I have in the world; don’t take it away from me.’
‘You are extremely fucked up,’ Rosie said grandly, leaning back in her chair to stretch. ‘But, yeah – I do intend to make myself as aesthetically pleasing to the eye as possible for the party.’
Suzanne grinned. ‘Me too. Shall we do it together?’
‘Obviously.’ Rosie glanced at me, saw the look on my face and laughed. ‘Oh my God, Cads, you have epic third-wheel face right now.’