‘The party was a dud then?’ Sophia persisted. She reached over and changed the song playing to an upbeat one by Abba. Theo wasn’t the only one in his family who loved old things.
‘Yeah,’ Theo said. ‘Total dud.’
‘I thought it was fun,’ Guy said.
‘You think everything’s fun,’ Theo muttered, and Sophia snorted.
Thankfully the rest of the ride was consumed with Sophia belting out ‘Super Trouper’, and she didn’t really ask us any more questions. I gotta tell you, that’s the first time in my life I’ve ever used the word ‘thankful’ in connection with Sophia’s singing.
We were nearly home when my phone buzzed. It was a message from Theo in the front seat.
Theo
You better come inside and wash your face before you go home, or your mum’s head will explode.
I couldn’t help but smile. It was a small smile, but still. Maybe he wasn’t so angry after all, I thought.
Reader, you will not be surprised to know that I thought wrong.
‘So are you going to tell me what’s going on?’ Guy asked, stroking my back. I was bent over Theo’s sink, washing my face with his mango face scrub. My makeup had been beyond fixing. I was worried Mum might question me about coming home with no makeup on, but at least it was better than having it streaked all over my cheeks. I splashed cold water around my eyes to try to reduce the puffiness.
I heard Theo’s door open and bang shut. When I walked out of the bathroom he was gone. I suspected he’d headed into the house to give Guy and me some privacy. I wished there was another reason we needed it right now.
What was I going to tell Guy? I’d ruined everything.
‘Kate?’ Guy was looking at me, his expression soft, a gentle smile on his lips. He was so lovely. Golden. Would this take some of his shine away? What would he think of me? I didn’t even know what to think of myself.
Guy reached out and gave my hand a squeeze.
I couldn’t do this.
Suddenly there were words coming out of my mouth that I didn’t even really think about. ‘It’s the fight I had with Libby. It’s really upsetting me, I suppose.’
Well, that wasn’t a total lie.
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. ‘Listen, I’m tired . . . I’m just – I’m gonna . . . go.’ I pulled my hand out of his, feeling like the worst person in the world. I just couldn’t handle any more tonight. ‘Goodnight.’
Guy raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh. Okay. Goodnight. I’ll see you tomorrow?’
‘Yeah. Sure. Of course.’
He reached out, I think to grab my hand again – probably to kiss it – but I was already walking to the door.
‘Bye!’ I called as I closed it behind me.
I stopped short when I saw Theo sitting on his back verandah, his head down. He looked up when he heard me.
‘That was quick,’ he said. He stood up. ‘Is Guy okay? Are – are you okay?’
Gulp. ‘I didn’t tell him,’ I whispered.
‘What?!’
‘Shhh!’ I glanced back towards Theo’s room and pulled him further into the yard. ‘I couldn’t, okay? I just . . . I need to think.’
Theo huffed. ‘Yeah, you really do.’ His voice had an edge to it again.
My voice, on the other hand, came out tiny. ‘Are you . . . mad at me?’ I asked, even though I knew the answer already.
He ran a hand through his hair and looked up at the sky, groaning. When he looked back down – back at me – I couldn’t see his face clearly, but I could feel the anger there. ‘I don’t even know what to say to you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean – god, Katie, of course I’m fucking angry with you!’
I flinched. He’d never spoken to me like that before.
And he was only just getting started. ‘I mean, what were you thinking?’
I wasn’t.
‘You’re the one who went on and on about wanting the perfect guy – and – and he’s there, Katie! He’s right there! He’s perfect! And you know what else? He’s good. He’d do absolutely anything in the world for you. And you – you go and kiss someone else!’ He took a deep breath. ‘It’s like, you have these ridiculously high standards that no one and nothing can ever meet. But look at yourself!’
I opened my mouth to speak, but he kept going.
‘And I’m not slut-shaming you or anything like that, okay, so don’t try to tell me I am. It’s just – it’s really not like you to kiss some random guy at a party, let alone when you already have a boyfriend. I don’t get it. I don’t get you. I . . .’ He paused, breathing deeply. ‘I feel like I don’t even know who you are right now.’
That hurt more than anything else he’d said. I’d thought earlier that I couldn’t possibly feel any worse, but this, this was worse times infinity.
I’d never felt so far away from Theo . . . from Libby . . . from the people who knew me best. Who loved me best.
I was untethered. I didn’t even recognise myself – and I definitely didn’t like whoever it was that I was becoming.
Just when I thought things couldn’t get any messier, a twig snapped. Theo and I both looked up.
Guy.
He was walking slowly towards us. Theo swore under his breath.
‘Kate?’ Guy said. His voice sounded shaky. ‘Is this true? Did you – did you kiss someone at the party?’
He was in front of me now, and in the moonlight I could see his face. The emotion there. The fear.
What had I done?
‘Fuck,’ Theo muttered under his breath again. ‘I’ll, uh, I’ll let you guys talk . . .’ He turned to walk away but I grabbed his wrist.
‘Stay. Please.’
Theo looked from me to Guy, his eyes wide with worry. But he didn’t move away.
‘Kate?!’ Guy prompted me.
‘I . . .’ I swallowed. Dropped Theo’s arm. Looked down. ‘Yes. It’s true.’
‘It’s . . . true?’
I didn’t answer.
‘But . . . what? How? Who? Why? Why would you do that? Why would you . . . I don’t understand.’
His voice broke on the last word. And that broke me.
‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Are you . . . are you not happy with me? Am I not good enough for you? Is that it?’
My head snapped up. ‘No! Of course you are. You’re – you’re too good for me.’
Guy was shaking his head. I could see tears shining in his eyes.
‘It’s the truth,’ I said. ‘You’re . . . well, you’re just perfect, aren’t you? And then there’s me.’
‘What?’
‘Well, I’m not exactly perfect, am I?’
Guy let out a small sob. ‘You’re perfect to me.’
‘That’s the thing, though. It’s not right, is it? You think that – you thought that – but . . . it’s not real. Your love isn’t real. You’re not real.’
And there it was. The thing that had been niggling at me ever since Guy popped up in my bed. The little buzz at the back of my mind I had been trying to ignore. The reason why I couldn’t fully enjoy – or fully fall for – Guy and everything he was saying and doing.
Yes, he liked me. Loved me, even. But not because of who I was. It was because he had to. He had no other option – he’d been built that way. And I wanted someone to love me for me.
The knowledge had been slowly suffocating me. He had been slowly suffocating me.
I think that’s why I did what I did. Well, one of the reasons, anyway.
I’d just needed something to change.
It doesn’t excuse it. I can’t excuse it, and I don’t want to. But I do want to explain it.
Of course, I wasn’t conscious of any of this when I kissed Declan Bell Jones in the gutter at Mikayla Fitzsimmons’s house. And I had only barely worked it out standing there in Theo’s yard.
I’ve had a lot of time to think about it since then. To think,
and to regret.
That night, though, I was acting on pure instinct.
I could feel Theo’s eyes on me, but I didn’t take mine off Guy. His face – his beautiful, lovely face – had crumpled.
‘If I’m not real,’ he began, speaking slowly, ‘then what are these feelings?’ He brought a hand to his chest. ‘What is this heart?’ His voice was getting louder and louder. ‘If this isn’t real, then why does it hurt so much?’
I didn’t know what to say to that. What could I say?
Libby and I might have created a guy . . . but I was the one who had turned into a monster.
Twenty-One
Well. That was dramatic.
Hey! It’s how I felt!
I’m not complaining. You were pretty monstrous for a while there.
I know. I was :(
It’s okay. The important thing is that you learned and grew from it.
Wait, I’m getting to that.
The rest of that weekend was, in a word, absolutely freaking miserable.
That’s three words.
Yes, thank you, Libby.
Here’s what I did that night after arriving home: crawled into my mum’s arms and cried my heart out. Again. I hadn’t needed to worry about the makeup or lack thereof after all.
I told her about the break-up with Guy (I mean, those exact words hadn’t been said, but things felt pretty broken). I didn’t give her the details. She was sympathetic (especially after she’d established that I hadn’t been drinking – yes, she sniffed my breath). She rubbed my back the way she used to when I was little and I needed help falling asleep.
Here’s what I did the next day: stayed in bed and wallowed. Tried to ignore my phone, which was pinging with messages from numbers I didn’t know, calling me all sorts of names I won’t bother to repeat.
Mikayla Fitzsimmons had found out what had happened, it seemed.
I didn’t hear anything from Declan Bell Jones. Or Theo. Or Guy. Or Libby.
Max stayed by my side all day, except when he got up to pee or eat. It’s as though he sensed something was wrong. Mum came in to check on me a few times, bringing me Milo and ice-cream. Even Luke stuck his head in to see if I was alright, and Dad tried to cheer me up by piling my art supplies and notebooks on my bed and telling me to use my pain to create.
‘Don’t you know that’s how some of the greatest art is made? This is a gift, Katie!’
I promise, it was much less cold-hearted than it sounds. He was joking. Mostly. I think.
He did inspire me to pick up my sketchpad and try to draw some of those FEELINGS out. The only problem with that was the first thing I saw when I opened it were my studies of Guy. I promptly snapped the book shut. Seeing his smiling face, captured so poorly by my clumsy pencil, just reminded me of how terrible I was. At everything.
I wasn’t looking forward to confronting the nearly finished mural at school tomorrow, which had his face literally all over it. I needed to complete it, but I didn’t know how I was going to do it.
I needn’t have worried, though. Mikayla Fitzsimmons took care of it for me.
That Monday was already bad enough. Mum refused to let me have the day off – her sympathy only extended so far – but I moved so slowly in the morning I was late and missed roll call. In first period I sat with Amina, so that was okay – she was her usual cheery self, although she conspicuously didn’t ask how my weekend was. Frankly I was grateful, and her calm presence began to put me at ease.
That feeling lasted a whole half a period, because in Health I sat next to Libby, who had decided that I didn’t exist anymore. She didn’t look at me, let alone speak to me. When I asked her if we could talk, she just stared straight ahead before turning to ask Peter Tran on the other side of her about something in the textbook.
Libby wasn’t the only one ignoring me. Mikayla Fitzsimmons was, too. She walked right past me in Maths without even flicking a glance my way. I knew better than to feel relieved. There was no way she wasn’t cooking up something awful.
The rest of the day followed the same pattern. If I’d thought people were whispering about me before, it was so much worse now. I felt hideous. I hid in the library at recess and lunch, too afraid to face – well, anyone.
I had Art after lunch. That was when I saw it.
I made sure the quad was clear of any post-lunch stragglers before I removed the material that had been covering my mural over the weekend.
I braced myself, but I was wholly unprepared for the pain I felt.
It wasn’t the sight of Guy’s smiling face that caused it, though.
It was the complete lack of it.
His face was gone. Every version of it had been covered over with black blobs.
That wasn’t even the worst part. All over the mural, words were smeared. The kind I had been getting through anonymous messages for the last thirty-six hours.
Slut.
Skank.
Fugly-ass ho-bag.
There were more, but I think you get the picture.
I let out a horrified shriek and stood there staring at the mess. I was shaking.
My stomach twisted when I heard a familiar high-pitched laugh behind me. I turned to see Mikayla Fitzsimmons, a wooden toilet pass in one hand and her phone raised in the other, snapping photos of me next to the ruins of my mural.
‘You,’ I said. ‘You did this.’
She smirked. ‘Prove it.’ She pocketed her phone. ‘I warned you to stay away from my boyfriend. He told me how you came on to him.’
What? How I came on to him?
‘We had a good laugh about it,’ she continued, walking closer as she spoke. ‘What, did you actually think he’d go for someone like you? I can’t believe you were so desperate as to actually try to kiss him. He might have been nice to you in the past because he felt sorry for you, but even he knows the truth: you’re nothing but a sad, pathetic, ugly piece of gutter trash.’ By the time she said the last words, she was so close I could feel her breath on my face.
I tried to think of a clever comeback, but my mind was too busy reeling.
‘Heard your golden boy dumped your arse too. Guess he finally woke up to what a loser you are.’ She glanced up at the wall which had once held my art and was now covered in her insults. ‘You should be thankful. It’s a massive improvement on your finger painting.’
I clenched my fists, but with a flick of her hair, Mikayla was walking away. My fingernails dug into the flesh of my palms. I turned back to the wreckage of my mural and sank down to the ground.
I don’t know how long I sat there like that, but I hadn’t moved when Miss Lui came out to check on me. I looked up when I heard her gasp, and the horror on her face mirrored exactly what I’d been feeling.
‘What happened?’ she said. ‘Who did this?’
I briefly considered telling her it was Mikayla Fitzsimmons, but what she’d said was true. I couldn’t prove it was her. And when I thought about all the potential conversations and explanations about why she might have done it . . .
‘I don’t know,’ I said.
I got up and stood next to Miss Lui, who had her hands on her hips. After a moment she nodded, like she’d just come to a decision. ‘It’s okay. We can fix this.’
‘What’s the point?’
‘What do you mean, what’s the point?’
I shrugged. ‘It sucked anyway.’
‘It did not. It was coming along beautifully. And you know I don’t just say that to everyone.’
I kicked at the ground. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
Miss Lui turned to face me. ‘Listen to me, Katie. Setbacks happen. This is horrible, I know, and I’m absolutely furious at whoever did this to you. But you can’t let it get in your way, okay?’
I deserved it, I wanted to say. But all I said was, ‘I don’t really want to do it anymore, Miss. I’m sorry.’
‘Well, I’m sorry, too, Katie, because you have to.’
I was shaking my head. ‘I can’t, Mi
ss. I can’t. I mean, maybe this is a sign. I’ve kind of . . . lost my inspiration.’
‘Oh, fuck inspiration.’
‘What?!’ I stared at her with wide eyes. Had she really just said –
‘Yeah, I said it.’ She looked around and leaned in closer. ‘Just don’t tell anyone, okay? It’s true, though. You think being an artist is about inspiration? I’ve got news for you. It’s about work. Hard work. Even when you’re tired. Even when you don’t feel like it. Even when you’re uninspired. I mean, sure, inspiration is wonderful and all, but do you know how rare it is? If every artist waited around for the muse to show up, there’d be much less art in the world. And wouldn’t that be a sad state of affairs?’
I frowned. ‘I guess so.’
‘Right. So here’s what we’re going to do. We’ll cover this up, okay? And then this afternoon, you and I will give it a nice new base coat and then you can start again. I’ll talk to Ms Walker about letting you out of some extra classes this week to work on it. And we’ll try to get to the bottom of who did this, okay?’
‘O . . . kay,’ I said, still not feeling entirely convinced, but also relieved to have been given a plan of action that I didn’t have to think through myself.
Of course, covering it up did absolutely nothing because by that afternoon the photo Mikayla took had spread on social media. She hadn’t uploaded it herself – Emily had, and she’d tagged me in it. I reported it and within an hour it was taken down, but by that stage it had popped up in other people’s stories anyway.
After messaging Luke to let him know I’d be home late, I turned off my phone.
Miss Lui and I had just started painting over Mikayla’s handiwork when I heard someone say, ‘Need any help?’
My heart leaped. When I turned around and confirmed who was there, I could have danced on the spot with joy. Instead, I just smiled and nodded and held out my hand.
‘That’d be nice,’ I said.
Libby stepped forward, the uncertainty on her face dissolving as she joined our hands and gave mine a squeeze.
I’m so happy we got to this part.
Whew. Me too.
You did such a good job recounting all that.
You Were Made For Me Page 19