Beautiful Broken Things

I swallowed, close to tears myself now.

‘You don’t know her,’ Rosie said, her voice hard. ‘I can tell you think you do. But you don’t. You only see her when she’s putting on a face.’

My heart dropped. ‘What? What do you mean?’

I saw Rosie bite down on her tongue, then look away from me. ‘If you could see her at school. The way she is sometimes. Like she doesn’t care. I don’t mean, like, “Oh school’s so fucking boring I don’t care.” I mean, she really doesn’t care. About anything or anyone.’

I didn’t see what that had to do with how she was with me.

‘She’s just putting it on with you. Because she can. Because you believe it.’

I felt tears starting in the corners of my eyes. I opened my mouth. Closed it again. Another long silence. Finally, when I was sure I’d be able to speak without my voice breaking, I said, ‘Are you done?’

She nodded wordlessly, still breathing hard.

‘You have no idea what she’s like with me when you’re not around,’ I said, my voice shaky. ‘No fucking idea, Rosie.’ Her eyes widened. I’d shocked her for once. ‘And the reason we’re better friends than you thought is because sometimes she comes to my house at night and we talk. We probably talk more than you do. The one who’s wrong about her is you.’

I had never – ever – talked to Rosie like this. But it didn’t feel as liberating as I thought it might. It felt lonely.

‘I said I was sorry that I left you there,’ I said slowly, willing myself on. I had to say this. I had to. ‘That was a crappy thing to do. But I like Suze. I like us being friends. And she’s a really good one. I know she makes stupid decisions, but I just want to help. I would if it was you too. You know that, right?’ I had let my voice soften, trying to ease the knife-edge tension between us.

She stared at me, her eyes searching my face.

‘Can we hug it out?’ I asked, not really expecting her to say yes.

Rosie shook her head slightly, but she no longer looked like she was about to burst into flames. Progress. Then, ‘She comes to your house at night?’

Shit. That was something that should have stayed in my head.

‘Um. Only a couple of times.’

‘It didn’t sound like a couple of times.’

‘Just when she needed to get away for a bit. She just wanted someone to talk to.’

‘That’s not normal, Caddy.’ Rosie’s eyes were trained on mine. ‘There’s no “just” about sneaking out and going to wake up your friend in the middle of the night. Don’t you get that?’

‘What am I supposed to do? Turn her away?’

‘Yes!’ Rosie’s face scrunched, incredulous. ‘Yes, that’s what you do. You say, “Hey, let’s talk about this in the daytime. Go back home. Go and talk to the aunt who’s trying to help you instead.”’

The last time Suzanne had turned up at my window at night, almost a week ago, she’d brought me a magazine article about golf caddies that featured a picture of a girl who looked like me. ‘Isn’t it great?’ She had been thrilled, her eyes bright in the darkness. ‘I wanted to show you all day.’

How could I explain to Rosie what those visits meant to me? That they weren’t just for Suzanne’s benefit, but mine too? And that somehow Suzanne knew that, because she knew me? I couldn’t. It would only make things worse.

‘You’re right,’ I said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. She was right. I just didn’t agree. ‘Are you still mad at me?’

Rosie twisted her lip, clearly torn.

‘Do you forgive me?’ I asked.

She made a non-committal noise, but I was sure I saw her mouth twitch.

‘If it helps, my parents are both mad at me too,’ I said. ‘And they’ve banned Suze from coming over.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ Rosie said. ‘God, she’s such a fucking trouble-magnet. I wish she’d never moved here.’

‘No, you don’t,’ I said, attempting a smile. ‘You love her, remember? Even with all her dramas.’

Rosie raised her eyebrows. Don’t be so sure.

‘Plus, remember I’m the one who made us leave,’ I added. ‘Not her.’

She let out a frustrated sigh. ‘Caddy, you need to stop making excuses for her. She’s the one getting wasted and throwing herself at Dylan fucking Evers, dickest of all dickheads, who just got her suspended. And then she tells me to grow the fuck up!’

‘What do you want me to say?’ I asked. ‘Do you want me to say that I’ll stop being friends with her? Because I won’t, Roz. Yes, she’s a complete mess, but she needs us. We’re like her best friends. Both of us.’

I watched Rosie nibble on her bottom lip, and her eyes slid away in the direction of my photo montage. I reached out my foot and nudged her ankle. ‘Right?’

‘I guess,’ Rosie said. She paused for a long moment, then looked back at me, a resigned smile growing on her face. ‘All right. One last chance.’

I grinned at her, flooded with relief. ‘You’re the best. Can I hug you?’

This time she let me.



Sara Barnard's books