‘Oh my God,’ she said again, this time sounding a little nervous. ‘Everyone’s right. I am a bad influence on you.’
‘Oh, don’t you start,’ I said, annoyed. ‘I thought you’d be pleased.’
‘I am!’ She laughed a little, but her eyes were still anxious. ‘I really don’t want to get you in more trouble though. Maybe you should go home, before they realize you’re gone.’
I shook my head. ‘It’s fine – my Mum already checked on me. Let’s go somewhere. Let’s actually do something, instead of just sitting on the beach. What about the pier?’
She shook her head. ‘You can’t access it at this kind of time. It’s completely locked up.’
‘You’ve tried?’
‘Once.’ She smiled coyly. ‘With Dylan.’
It had never occurred to me that she and Dylan had ever actually gone anywhere at night. I’d kind of thought that was our thing. Why did I assume so much about people and their lives? Why did I think that if it didn’t happen in front of me it didn’t happen at all?
‘I have an idea,’ she said.
Suzanne had the intelligence to bring an umbrella with her, and we huddled together underneath it as we walked away from our two houses.
‘So go on, tell me,’ she said, tucking the umbrella closer to us as we walked under a particularly low hanging tree, ‘what made you come to get me?’
‘What made you come and see me all the other times?’ I asked, thinking I was being clever.
‘Loneliness,’ Suzanne said simply.
‘Oh,’ I said, thrown.
She looked at me expectantly.
‘I tried to talk to my mum,’ I said. ‘To try and explain. But she basically made it clear that nothing was going to change. And I kind of thought . . . fuck it.’
For some reason she smiled. ‘Really? Is that what you thought?’
‘Yes!’ I said, defensive. ‘Fuck. It.’
‘But seriously, have you thought about what you’ll do if you get caught?’ she pressed.
‘Stop it, you’re spoiling my buzz,’ I said.
At this she outright laughed. ‘I love you so much.’
‘Then stop patronizing me,’ I said, wiggling the umbrella so the water dripped on to her face. ‘Don’t forget I’m older than you.’
‘By about three months,’ she said, grinning. ‘That hardly counts.’
I decided to ignore this. ‘I kind of want to get caught,’ I said instead, realizing as I spoke that it was true. The feeling of recklessness that had propelled me out of my window and over the garage roof welled up inside me again.
‘Hmm,’ she said, noncommittal.
‘Then they’ll see that trying to stop us being friends is never going to work,’ I explained. ‘They’ll have to accept that part and move on to helping you.’
I felt her bristle beside me. ‘Helping me?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I don’t need help,’ she said. ‘What you mean is, they’ll accept that we’re going to be friends no matter what and just deal with it. Right?’
I paused, trying to think of a way to respond. It didn’t seem like a good idea to say what was in my head, which was that she clearly did need help, and she was the one with the problem, not me.
‘You’re the troubled one,’ I said, making my voice as light as possible so she’d know it wasn’t a judgement.
Suzanne took a step backwards, out from under the umbrella. I stopped walking and turned back to look at her. ‘You’re as bad as they are,’ she said, her voice fierce. ‘That stupid word. I hate that word. Troubled. What the fuck does that even mean?’
Shit. ‘That you’ve had a hard time. It’s not a bad thing.’
‘Of course it’s a bad thing! Look at us!’ She gestured between us; me standing helplessly under the umbrella, her already half drenched just outside it, then upward, presumably towards the 2 a.m. sky. ‘You want to fix me, just like everyone else. You want me to be better, so you can be all proud of yourself.’
I was about to object, then reconsidered. ‘Well, yeah, of course I want you to be better. But I’m not trying to “fix” you, and I’m not trying to be proud of myself.’
Her expression was dubious.
‘Come back under the umbrella, you headcase,’ I said, determinedly upbeat. ‘You can yell at me and be dry at the same time.’
She smiled reluctantly. ‘I wasn’t yelling at you.’
‘Little bit,’ I said. When she still didn’t move, I let out an exaggerated groan and moved towards her instead, holding the umbrella up over us both.
We started walking again, this time in silence. After a while she said, in the voice of someone not yet completely placated, ‘Did you have to try out your rebellious streak while it was raining?’
‘It wasn’t raining when I left,’ I said. ‘And I didn’t check the forecast before I climbed out the window. Sorry.’
‘Rookie error,’ she replied.
‘Well, I’m not proud of myself,’ I said.
She laughed. ‘OK, OK. I’m sorry I said that. I just get it a lot.’