“Dan Freedman can’t supervise this year, the year nine history trip is on the same day.” I felt her eyes on me. “I was wondering if you’d be able to stand in.”
“At the ball? I’m not sure… I’m quite…”
“It’s only for a few hours,” she interrupted. “I’ll be there, and Janet Kingsley. It won’t just be a load of crazy teenagers.” She laughed. “Don’t look so worried, I’ll look after you.”
“I’m not sure I can make it.” I turned onto her estate, and as I did so I caught sight of her expression. More disappointment. I couldn’t stand the extra guilt. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you, I appreciate it.” She pointed to her house and I pulled into her driveway. “This is me. Thanks for the lift. Let me at least make you a coffee, for the trouble.”
“It was no trouble.” I gestured to the back of the car, hoping she didn’t follow my gesture to the pile of sketchbooks that weren’t actually there. “Marking isn’t going to do itself, unfortunately.”
She smiled sadly. “Another time, then.”
She picked up her shopping from the footwell and I thought I’d escaped without committing to ball duties, but no such luck.
“We’re meeting Friday, to finalise the venue details, in the staffroom, it won’t take long. Can you make it?”
“What time?”
“Straight after school. Head up when you can.” She opened the car door and stepped outside before I could argue. “I’ll see you there.”
And my fate was sealed. Chaperoning a bunch of rowdy sixth formers as they partied the evening away. They’d be blind drunk, at least some of them. It happened every year, I’d heard enough of the stories to know. It really wasn’t my scene, I normally steered well clear of school social events.
I wondered if Helen would be there. In my head she seemed as ill-suited to the occasion as I did, but maybe she’d surprise me.
The prospect shouldn’t feel nearly as nice as it did, and the guilt attacked me all over again.
I’d started on the new cigarettes before I’d even made it home.
***
Helen
Lizzie had news of her own. She told me so the next morning, and again at break and lunch, insisting it was for after school only, where eavesdropping ears stood no chance of hearing us. She was practically exploding by the time we shut ourselves in my bedroom after teatime.
“Well?” I said.
She pulled a bottle from her bag and unscrewed the lid. “You ready?”
“For the drink or for the news?”
“The news, silly!” She pulled me down onto the bed with her, and she was grinning. “We did it, Scottie and me.”
I pulled a face. “But you did it ages ago…”
She rolled her eyes. “Not that, Hels. We did more than that.” She took a swig of cheap wine, and I heard it fizz. “Anal. We actually did it. And it was good, Hels, really fucking good. Oh my God, I can’t stop thinking about it. It was hot… like really hot. I mean, it hurt… it hurt like a bastard at first… but then, oh God, Hels, then it felt amazing… so dirty, and hot and… just…you have to try it, one day, I mean. It was intense.”
I smiled, tried to share her excitement. “That’s great… really great…”
And then she knew. “What happened? You cammed him again, didn’t you? What did he say this time?” Her eyes searched mine. “Or did you see him again? Is that why you couldn’t walk home? Oh shit, you did, didn’t you? Did he take you to the river again?”
My cheeks were roasting. “It’s nothing.”
She handed me the bottle, stared at me while I swigged some back. “Helen Palmer, don’t even think about holding out on me… We’re besties. Besties don’t keep secrets.”
And I didn’t want to. I really didn’t want to. But this felt different, bigger, the biggest secret I’d ever had.
“Helen! Seriously? I can read you like a book, and you’re majorly holding out. Tell little Lizzie everything.”
I sighed. “You couldn’t tell anyone… I’m serious about this… it’s important.” My tummy turned over itself at the thought. “It would be really bad if you did. I’m not joking.”
“Hey!” she said. “This is me you’re talking to. Of course I wouldn’t tell anyone.” She held up her fingers in some weird gesture. “Bestie’s honour.”
I laughed. “That’s not even a thing, you just made it up.”
“So? It is now.”
“Promise,” I said.
She tutted at me. “I, Elizabeth Thomas, do solemnly declare that I shall keep this secret, on pain of death, or a lifetime without ever having anal with Scottie Davis again, so help me Lord, amen.”
I covered my face with my hands. “He kissed me.”
I heard her take a breath, and peered out through a gap in my fingers. Her mouth was open, eyebrows high. “Roberts?! What? Like for real? Tongues and shit?”
And I smiled. Even though I still felt like a scared bag of nerves, I smiled. “Tongues and shit.”
She took the bottle from my fingers and chugged some back. “You’re going to have to take this from the top. I want to know everything. Everything, Helen Palmer!”
I took it from the top.