My brain must have become used to playing catch-up from all the time I’ve spent with Sophia. I put two and two together and the answer I come up with makes me cold. ‘Elsie, I’m really sorry if I’ve done something to upset you too –’
‘What do you have to be sorry about? You’re not my friend,’ she says matter-of-factly.
The misery chorus that’s been following me cranks up a couple of bars, like it’s added in a few depressed backup singers and a moaning sax solo from one of those eighties hair ballads Camilla likes so much.
Elsie stares at me, radiating fire and something else, something raw and hurt. My hands are drumming frantically inside my jacket pockets. I take a breath and force my eyes to centre on Elsie. I clench my fists to stop my fingers moving.
‘I know we’re not friends,’ I say slowly, hearing the catch in my voice, which is flying of its own accord now. ‘You have no reason to trust me. But I think I’ve upset her, Elsie. I don’t know what’s happened between you guys, but you’re her best friend and I just thought –’
‘You just thought I’d be up for playing matchmaker? Sorry. Out of the three of us, I’m now apparently the least qualified to offer romantic advice.’
I take a step back and consider Elsie. Sophia’s guardedness is more cautious than cynical; despite all her reservations, there’s always been something kind of candid about her, and open. But Elsie wears her caution like a shield, thick with wariness and suspicion, an invisible coat of barbed wire wrapped around her. And right now, Elsie Nayer is looking at me like she’d love nothing more than to string my nuts on a necklace.
‘You’re mad with Sophia?’ I say.
She crosses her arms. ‘Good observation, Criss Angel.’
I sigh. ‘God I hate that guy,’ I mumble. ‘I mean, eye make-up doesn’t make you a bad-arse. And put a shirt on, man. No-one’s coming to your show for the nipples.’
Elsie blinks. She looks like she can’t decide whether to snicker or deck me. Her eyes are still damp, but her clenchyness seems to have unlocked a bit. Despite the elephantine weight on my shoulders, I feel myself relaxing just a little bit too.
A skinny dude sticks his head around the door. ‘Heya – everything okay out here?’ he asks warily. He tries to give me a hard-arse stare, but it’s kinda diminished by the mint-green Adventure Time Beemo T-shirt he’s wearing, and the fact that he is sucking strawberry Big M through a straw.
I think back over a conversation Sophia and I had once about Elsie’s family. ‘Hey – it’s Raj, right?’
Both the skinny kid and Elsie look at me incredulously.
He steps out onto the porch. ‘Ah, yeah. And you would be?’
Elsie waves a hand. ‘So apparently Joshua here and Sophia are – what phrase did she use? Oh, right, having a thing that might be a something.’
Raj looks back and forth between us. ‘No way! Our Pinky and this guy?’ he says, gesturing at me with his thumb. ‘Ohhh,’ he adds, his face lighting up. ‘So is that what’s going on with you and Sophia? You jealous?’ Raj looks me up and down, an uncanny echo of his sister. I’m starting to feel irrelevant, like a sideshow exhibit under review. ‘Elsie, seriously? This wally? Wouldn’t have pegged your thing as the reject-from-Slytherin type. No offence, dude.’
Elsie groans. ‘God, can you piss off, Rajesh!’ she says, but there’s no real animosity behind it.
Her brother rolls his eyes at me. ‘Yeah, good luck with that,’ he says, before scampering back inside as a shoe flies in his direction.
Elsie sits with a thud on the wet concrete steps. I hesitate, till she gestures at the spot beside her. I sit, cautiously. She hugs her legs to her chest and tugs her hoodie over her knees.
I stare out at the expanse of heavy grey sky. It’s started drizzling again – not enough to need an umbrella, but a light mist coats my skin. It couldn’t be any more appropriate for my mood; not unless it started raining tiny bleeding hearts, or a shower of dead doves.
I sigh, then give Elsie a weak grin. ‘So. You’re not, are you?’ I say, picking up a random black Converse from her doorstep. ‘I mean, “Jealous, or whatever”? Cos really, I’m not that awesome.’
Elsie rests her chin on her knees. She gives me a vicious side-eye. ‘Yeah. I doubt you’re my type. I prefer my guys to be a little less lamppost-shaped.’
‘Oh, I get it. Because I’m tall. And really, not hot. Definitely neither awesome, nor hot, and yes, way too tall. You dodged a bullet there, Elsie Nayer.’
Elsie snorts. ‘Settle down, funny guy.’ She rocks lightly, chewing fitfully at a hoodie string. ‘So. Sophia. You like her?’ she says eventually.
I let out a sad laugh. ‘Yeah. I like her, Elsie. I like her a lot.’
She looks at me for what feels like an age. ‘Huh. How did I not notice that?’ she says, almost to herself. She nudges my shoulder, an unexpectedly genial gesture that almost sends me flying off the step. ‘You got that look in your eye that I should’ve seen a mile away.’
‘What look?’ I ask, even though I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know.
‘That look that says you’re halfway to picking out cat names and matching dinnerware. It’s obvious.’ Her eyes flicker across my face. ‘I mean, now that I know what to look for.’
The disordered pile of shoes behind me is screaming my name. I half turn and grab a few from the pile, setting them side-by-side in their proper ordered pairs. ‘Doesn’t matter. She doesn’t want me.’
Elsie is watching me, her chin resting on her knee. I should probably leave this pile of grubby shoes alone, but I don’t think I can sit here for much longer unless I do something with my hands, put right at least one thing that’s out of whack. She doesn’t look bothered. She just watches me, shrewd dark eyes containing a dash of sympathy.
‘Listen, Joshua? Lemme tell you something. Sophia doesn’t need us. She doesn’t need anybody.’ She waves a hand in the air, a defensive swat against imaginary flies. Her face crumples, then rights itself, then crumples again. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone work so hard to fight off tears. My instinct is to throw a comforting arm around her, but everything I’ve observed about Elsie Nayer suggests it wouldn’t end well for me. ‘Sophia Reyhart just humours regular people. She’s sure as shit just been tolerating me.’
‘Elsie, you don’t really believe that. Do you?’
She shrugs. ‘Why not? Most of our lives, I’ve just been flailing around behind her while she does her thing. She’s never needed friends. I always thought I was different, you know? But I’m not. Rey doesn’t want anybody.’
‘And, but … d’you think she prefers it that way?’