Outside the toilets, Scottie Davis was hanging out with Rachel Panter. His hand was on her ass and his lips were on her neck and I felt so sick at the sight that I stumbled backwards into the wall.
I dashed around the place, trying to find Lizzie, and eventually located her under the patio heater. She was smoking. Not the calm, chilled, give-me-a-cigarette type smoking. This was angry smoking. Stressed smoking. I-can’t-find-my-boyfriend type smoking.
I could hardly bring myself to tell her.
“It’s Scottie… I don’t know what to say… he’s, um… he’s…”
“Fucking Rachel Panter, I know. It’s been going on ages.”
My jaw fell open. “You knew?”
“Yeah. We’re just… unconventional… I’m cool with it…”
She nearly convinced me. Nearly. But there was a tremble in her lip as she handed me her cigarette, and it gave the game away. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I thought you were solid.”
“Yeah, well.” That was the only explanation she gave me.
I sucked in smoke and pressed myself against the wall, into the shadows where nobody could see me, and as Mr Roberts and Miss Monkton stepped outside, Lizzie joined me in the darkness. We stood silently as they made their way from the main patio, over towards the gardens and away from the straggling revellers. My eyes followed them, and I hitched a breath at the realisation they were stopping just a few metres away.
“Kids,” Miss Monkton tutted. “This makes me feel so old.”
“Quite,” Mr Roberts said, and lit her a cigarette.
The simple act of sharing set off fireworks of jealousy in my guts.
“Oh to be young again,” she laughed. “Can you even imagine?”
“I’m a bit past that,” he said.
“Oh, Mark, you’re really not that old…”
“I’m old enough.”
“You’re in your prime.” She brushed his sleeve. “You look great.”
“As do you.”
“Thank you.” And she giggled. She giggled at him. “I’ll expect Helen Palmer’s eyes will be popping out of her head this evening.”
I swear my heart stopped when I heard that.
“I’d rather not talk about Helen,” he said.
“Oh no, I mean, it was only a joke. I know it’s only teenage silliness. She’s just a girl.”
And he didn’t argue. He didn’t argue with her. Didn’t say I wasn’t a silly girl, and didn’t say it was none of her business and didn’t stand up for me.
I knew the vodka had gone to my head but I didn’t care. I stepped from the shadows and into the light from the patio heater, and Miss Monkton’s face was a picture as she saw me there.
“Helen! I didn’t see you there…”
But I didn’t smile, and I didn’t laugh and I didn’t make conversation. I didn’t even look at Mr Roberts, hating the whole world that they were laughing at me, taking the piss out of me, making me out for a stupid joke, that my emotions were nothing but a stupid joke.
I wished I could have told the stupid cow. Told her how he’d touched me and looked at me, and made me feel special. Told her how I wasn’t just a stupid kid.
But I was a stupid kid. A stupid virgin. And if I wasn’t things could be different.
If I wasn’t.
I turned and hurried back inside.
Lizzie caught me up. “Hey! Steady up. What’s going on?”
“They were laughing at me,” I said, swaying around the place. “Laughing at me for being a stupid virgin!”
Lizzie looked confused, even I could see that. “They were?”
I nodded. “They think it’s hilarious.”
“I didn’t hear that bit…”
“Everyone thinks I’m hilarious. I’m just a stupid joke. A laughing stock. A stupid kid. An outsider. A weirdo.”
“You’re not!”
“I AM!”
But I didn’t want to be. I wanted to be the same as everyone else.
I saw Harry in the doorway, laughing with Tina Foxton, and I forced myself to be brave. I made a move for him, lunged into his arms and planted my lips on his, and he grunted in surprise and so did Tina, but then he found his footing, and opened his mouth and poked his tongue at mine, and it was slobbery and disgusting and tasted of cider but I didn’t care.
I kissed him for ages, until I was sure that the whole sixth form would have seen let alone Mr Roberts, and then I took his hand and put my drunken lips to his ear.
“Fuck me,” I whispered. “Fuck me, Harry. I want it.”
“You do?” He looked unsure, taken aback.
“Now,” I said. “I want it now.”
I dragged him by his wrist, and he followed meekly behind, and when Lizzie saw me she fist pumped the air and wolf whistled and did a ‘GO, HELS!’ chant while we made our way into the gardens.
I hitched up my skirt, and propped myself on a picnic bench, and I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything other than not being a stupid baby virgin anymore.
“You’re sure about this?” Harry asked, and I pulled him closer by his belt. And my fingers were fumbling, drunk and needy and I just wanted him in me, wanted it done.
“Fuck me,” I said again. “I’m on the pill.”