‘What the fuck,’ I said.
‘I know.’
‘Aren’t you going to say something?’ I asked. We were both whispering, even though it was unlikely they could hear us.
Rosie’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Is that a serious question?’
‘Don’t you think we should?’
‘No. Not even slightly.’
‘Isn’t it our job as friends to stop her doing stupid things?’ I asked.
‘I’m sure she’d take that really well,’ Rosie said, sarcastic. She took a sip of the WKD, her face set, a little too calm.
‘Wouldn’t you want me to stop you doing something that stupid?’
‘I would never do anything that stupid,’ Rosie responded. ‘I have an ounce of sense. And self-respect.’
‘Oh, Roz, come on.’
Rosie put her two hands palm up in front of her chest, as if physically distancing herself. ‘Oh, you go ahead. Don’t let me stop you.’ She clearly didn’t expect me to take even a step in their direction.
I hesitated. As much as I wanted to help Suzanne and prove Rosie wrong in the process, I was still very much myself. I definitely hadn’t had enough alcohol to cancel out my life-learned aversion to conflict.
I was about to admit defeat and go back inside, leaving Suzanne to her own mistakes, when I saw Dylan move his hand away from her waist. He lifted his hand into the air above her head, making the OK sign with his finger and thumb. I heard a shout of laughter from the other end of the garden.
‘What a dick,’ Rosie muttered in disgust.
I stepped through the patio doors and walked over to them, my steps more decisive than I felt. I reached out and took a hold of Suzanne’s arm.
‘Suze,’ I said.
She broke away from Dylan, looking towards me with a dazed expression on her face. I tried to gauge how drunk she was, how culpable.
‘What?’ she asked. The confusion had vanished, leaving annoyance in its place.
‘What are you doing?’ I demanded, trying to keep my voice steady.
‘Who the fuck are you?’ Dylan interjected.
‘This is Caddy,’ Suzanne said. She was looking at me with a less-than-friendly expression on her face, but still she said, ‘Don’t talk to her like that.’
I was still holding her arm and I squeezed it for emphasis. ‘Come on, Suze. Come and get a drink with us.’ I gestured to Rosie, who had come to stand behind me.
‘She’s got a drink,’ Dylan said. ‘And who are you?’
‘Caddy’s my friend,’ Rosie said, before I could speak. ‘She goes to Esther’s.’
Dylan’s eyebrows raised as he finally registered my name. He looked amused. ‘You’re Caddy?’ He took the entire length of me in at a glance, then laughed. It was the kind of laugh that made me feel like my skin had been peeled back, leaving every nerve on show.
If I could be anyone but Caddy Oliver, I would have been able to voice the words that had jammed in my mouth. Something confident and brazen, or even just ‘What are you laughing at?’ But I was me. Self-conscious and tentative. Cowed by the casual cruelty of teenage boys.
‘Don’t be such a knob,’ Suzanne said, rolling her eyes.
She gave his shoulder a shove and he caught her wrist, grinning, and turned to me, his eyes mocking. ‘Hey, hey, I’m just teasing.’
‘I don’t care,’ I said, even though I definitely did. ‘Come on, Suze,’ I said again.
Dylan moved his hand up from Suzanne’s wrist and entwined his fingers with hers, pulling her closer to him in one smooth movement. He looked at her, that smile on his face, and said, voice soft, ‘You’re all right with me, right, Suze?’ He moved his free hand to her shoulder, curling around her neck, pulling her towards him.
Suzanne closed her eyes and leaned her head against his chest. I heard Rosie let out a groan. ‘Let’s go, Cads,’ she said.
I didn’t move. ‘She got suspended because of you,’ I said to Dylan. Something like rage was building inside me and it had nowhere to go but him.
‘I didn’t throw any chairs,’ Dylan replied, smirking.
‘You called her damaged goods,’ I said. Suzanne’s eyes, already closed, clenched further shut. ‘You said she was cheap.’
The smirk had disappeared. He was watching me warily. ‘She knows I didn’t mean it. Now would you just fuck off?’
I waited a beat for Suzanne to open her eyes and say, again, ‘Don’t talk to her like that.’ But she didn’t move.
‘You’re such a dickhead, Dylan,’ Rosie said after a silence. She took my elbow and began steering me back towards the house. Then she paused, turned her head slightly and added, ‘And you’re pathetic, Suzanne.’
We walked back into the warmth of the house together, Rosie’s arm through mine. There was something comforting about the noise of the party and the anonymity of the drunken crowd, but I still felt as if I was about to start crying.