Beautiful Broken Things



It turned out that, for Rosie, ‘one last chance’ did not exactly mean forgiveness. For the next few days after the party she was even more prickly than usual, replying to my texts with one-word answers and skipping our after-school phone calls. I knew that things between her and Suzanne were even worse, a fact that wasn’t helped by them having similarly combative personalities and a proclivity for the dramatic. For the first time ever, I was glad I was in a different school.

Just to make things worse for Suzanne, she and Dylan were all anyone at their school would talk about, meaning it was probably the worst time for her to lose her closest ally. By Wednesday, the rumour mill had gone into overdrive. ‘God, now ppl are saying she went down on Dylan on Lev’s patio. FFS!’ Rosie texted me that lunchtime. ‘This is getting stupid. I almost feel bad for her.’

I jumped on this hint of sympathy and managed to persuade them both to meet me at the beach after school on Thursday. It rained, so we took shelter in one of the cafes, sharing a plate of chips. Suzanne, wearing more make-up than I was used to and looking as a result a little scary and distant, was unusually subdued.

‘I just wish they’d hurry up and find something else to talk about,’ she said when I asked, tentatively, about school. ‘I mean, it’s not like I care what any of those knob-ends think of me. But it is fucking annoying.’

‘What are they saying?’ I asked.

She pursed her lips into a dry smile. ‘The usual. “Did you hear about Suzanne, she’s such a fucking slag, oh my God.”’ She put a voice on, exaggerating the disdain. ‘“Some girls are so pathetic.”’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Like I don’t know that already. I don’t need anyone to tell me I’m pathetic.’

I thought instantly of Rosie doing exactly that. How drunk had Suzanne been at that point? Did she even remember? I glanced at Rosie to see her reaction, but she was already on it. ‘Except me,’ she said. ‘You need me to tell you.’

‘Do I?’ Suzanne said mildly. ‘You don’t think that’s something I can figure out myself?’

‘Clearly not,’ Rosie replied.

‘Rosie,’ Suzanne said, ‘are you seriously sitting there calling me pathetic to my face?’

‘OK!’ I interrupted, putting my hand flat on the table. ‘Shall we talk about something else?’

Suzanne’s head snapped towards me. ‘Aren’t you going to tell her she can’t call me pathetic?’

Rosie’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Yeah, Caddy,’ she said, sarcasm saturating her words. ‘Aren’t you?’ She looked at me expectantly.

I could have said, I think you’re both being pathetic. Or, I’m not responsible for her behaviour any more than I am yours. Or even a simple, I’d rather you kept me out of this, OK?

I said, ‘Um.’

‘Oh, forget it,’ Suzanne said, picking up the receipt with restless fingers and beginning to rip it into pieces. I wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or annoyed.

‘I don’t think you’re pathetic,’ Rosie said, but she’d already won and we all knew it.

This was the dynamic I was working with as the weekend drew in. It seemed like a long time since my friendships had felt simple and uncomplicated, if they ever really had. Suzanne hadn’t come to my window once since the party, which was perhaps the most worrying thing of all. I wasn’t sure if she blamed me for her falling out with Rosie or the trouble she’d got into with Sarah, or if she was just trying to be good for a while. Either way, I missed her.

So when she texted me that Saturday morning, it felt like an opportunity. Or a test. ‘Hey! I’m going to do something very stupid. But fun! Want to come? xx’

I dropped my spoon back into my cereal bowl and tapped out a reply. ‘Sure! Details, please. xx’

Her reply was almost instantaneous. ‘Yay hooray! Meet me at the train station in an hour. xx’

I arrived at the station just before eleven to find her waiting for me by the ticket barriers, all smiles. ‘Congratulations,’ she said by way of greeting. ‘You are officially more adventurous than Rosie.’

‘She said no?’ I was surprised. It wasn’t like Rosie to turn down that kind of invitation, even if they were still sniping at each other. ‘How come?’

Suzanne’s grin widened, mischievous and engaging. ‘She asked more questions than you did.’

My stomach gave a kick I tried to disguise by smiling. ‘Right . . . and what questions were those?’

‘Where and what both featured quite heavily,’ Suzanne said cheerfully. ‘Come on! Train leaves in five.’

She turned to go and I grabbed her elbow. ‘Wait a sec – don’t I need to get a ticket?’

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