Unbecoming

by Jenny Downham

  ‘What? No!’

  ‘So, you really need to stop following me about and texting me all the time. I’m not the same as you. I have a boyfriend.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘He’s nineteen,’ Esme said, like she was announcing he was from another planet. ‘We drove here tonight in his car.’

  Katie tried to smile, but couldn’t quite pull it off. Her whole body felt heavy, as if she needed to lie down.

  ‘I didn’t tell you about him before because you’ve kind of been out of the loop.’

  Katie picked at the dress. The fabric looked cheap suddenly, not sexy or retro or cool, just an old dress that smelled musty and had no transforming powers at all.

  ‘He’s in a band,’ Esme said, studying her nails one by one as if they were entirely fascinating. ‘He’s the guitarist. He sings as well.’

  ‘Multi-talented,’ Katie said.

  Esme frowned. ‘Don’t be a bitch.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘I knew you’d be like this. It’s why I didn’t want to tell you.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t tell me because I was out of the loop?’ Katie put ‘out of the loop’ into air commas to piss Esme off. It was one of her pet hates.

  Esme looked at the ground and shook her head, ‘You need to stop relying on me for everything, OK?’

  ‘Relying on you?’ Katie felt her throat tighten. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘You don’t have any other friends.’ Esme sounded very certain. ‘For months you’ve followed me around, and when I talk to other people you just sit there watching, like you’re waiting for me to get bored and come back to you. Why do you do that?’

  ‘I don’t think I do. I think that’s you making stuff up.’

  ‘Are you calling me a liar?’

  ‘You wanted to be my friend when I first arrived at school. You sought me out.’

  ‘Sought you out? Is that what you think? Wow, that’s just embarrassing. Look, I don’t want you to be weirdly in love with me. I don’t want you to be upset that I have a boyfriend.’

  ‘I’m not in love with you! Are you nuts? I’m happy for you, Esme. I love it that you have a boyfriend. Where is he? What’s his name?’

  Esme shrugged. ‘He’s called Lukas and he’s in the kitchen. There, see – by the door, with the black T-shirt?’

  Like he knew Esme was talking about him, he turned to look. Esme waved him over and, like a boy in a trance, he came.

  ‘Hey, gorgeous,’ he said.

  ‘Hey,’ Esme said.

  He looked down at her, right down at her pretty face as she turned it up to him. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to lean right down and kiss her and take her in his arms and feel her swoon against him. Just looking at him you knew that about him. It was probably making him hard – the knowledge of how soft Esme might be. He knew you could sink into girl’s bodies. Boys were all angles.

  ‘Did you miss me?’ Esme asked him, her voice soft and low.

  ‘Course I did.’

  ‘Fancy proving it?’

  He smirked. ‘Try and stop me.’

  Maybe Esme was paying him. Maybe she’d actually hired a boy from an agency and he had certain lines that he was supposed to deliver at certain times?

  When a girl with red hair sits next to me, come over and flirt, because I want to scare her away for ever.

  Was kissing part of that plan?

  Because this boy, this Lukas person who drove a car and was in a band, was leaning down, both hands resting on the back of the bench like he was going to do push-ups and he kissed Esme full on the mouth. And Esme let him. They kissed for a long time. Katie was right there next to them and she saw the flicker of their tongues and she heard the low moan caught in a throat that passed from one to the other, like something they shared.

  Piña Coladas are white and sticky and look like medicine. They taste of coconut and pineapple and reminded Katie so much of summer that she had two. She didn’t like Pimm’s so much and could certainly have done without the fruit salad floating about in it. She scooped out the pieces of orange, apple, lime and cucumber from her glass and lined them up on the counter.

  Someone had put crisps and slices of pizza out on plates since she was last in the kitchen. Whoever owned this house was probably a sweet parent, was maybe upstairs watching TV in their bedroom, hoping their home wouldn’t be trashed. They’d probably rung around all the neighbours to warn them or maybe put notes through the doors. There was probably a time this party would formally end and the parents would come downstairs and start to make themselves obvious. Everyone was high or drunk or out of it in some way. The lovely parents would probably be very disappointed.

  Sex on the Beach was so sweet and so red with cranberry juice it made Katie feel crazy just looking at it. She dumped it in the sink and poured herself a glass of some bright blue concoction from a jug. She had no idea if it had a name. Maybe someone had just invented it.

  ‘What’s this one?’ she asked, waggling the drink at a boy who’d come up behind her.

  ‘Blue Shark.’

  She laughed. ‘Did you just make that up?’

  ‘No, it’s made with Curaçao.’

  She recognized him from earlier. It was microwave boy – the kid from a parallel universe. She smiled at him for a bit because she had no idea what else to do. ‘You’re very clever,’ she told him, ‘but I have to go now.’

  She had an impulse to go up and find the parents. They might let her snuggle down between them. She took a bowl of crisps from the counter to share with them. She knew this was weird and she knew she was drunk, but she didn’t care.

  She wandered up the stairs with the crisps and discovered an empty room. It was a kid’s room with a bunk bed and aeroplanes flying across the wallpaper. In the corner a fish tank bubbled away. She went over to look. There was a bridge and a ‘no fishing’ sign and a castle and an Easter Island head and a single black fish swimming about looking lonely. She tapped on the glass and it came up to look at her, its fins billowing.

  ‘Hello,’ she said.

  It opened and shut its mouth.

  Microwave boy appeared next to her. The fish looked back at them curiously.

  ‘Do you speak fish?’ Katie asked.

  ‘Let me out?’ he suggested. ‘Help, I’m drowning?’

  Whatever it was trying to tell them, it gave up and disappeared under the bridge in a flurry of gravel.

  ‘I saw you come in here,’ the boy said.

  Katie sat on the bed to see what would happen next and he sat down next to her. ‘You’re Katie, aren’t you?’

  She wondered about denying it, but he seemed like a nice boy and she was sick of lies. ‘That’s me.’

  ‘Jamie,’ he said and he held out his hand.

  Katie looked at it and laughed. ‘You want to shake hands?’

  ‘Why not?’

  She had a sudden desire to hug him. This boy had followed her. Esme had a boyfriend. And here was one for her.

  ‘I’m not actually a gate-crasher,’ she said, sliding closer. ‘I was invited by some boys in my maths class, although they don’t seem to be here. I only know one person and I’ve lost her.’ She looked around vaguely. ‘She’s probably gone to one of the other bedrooms to have sex.’

  ‘I hope not,’ he said. ‘My dad’ll kill me.’

  ‘This is your house?’

  He nodded.

  ‘It’s your party?’

  She couldn’t believe he was the host! Here she was with the most important person at the party, just hanging out in a room. There were shelves and books and ornaments. There was a statue of three people holding hands in a circle. One of the people was a child. Was it supposed to be him?

  ‘Does your mum live here too?’

  ‘My dad and Mel. She’s my stepmum.’

  Well, that shattered the perfect parent myth.

  She felt oddly dreamy suddenly. Maybe it was the booze. Or perhaps she was tired. She’d got up r
idiculously early when she heard Mary crying on the landing. Christ! Home felt a million years away.

  She hadn’t checked her phone for hours and it crossed her mind to do it now. Jamie was craning his neck to look at books on the shelf. Had she even remembered to send Mum the address? Yes, look, here was the text. And what was the time? Only ten o’clock. Time passed slowly in the land of parties. She could be very drunk indeed by midnight.

  ‘These books all used to be mine,’ he said. ‘I’ve read all of them and now they’re my stepbrother’s.’

  She nodded politely. What was the right thing to say? ‘You’re prolific,’ she told him.

  ‘I see you sometimes,’ he said, ‘wandering about with a book in your hand. You’re in the fiction section of the library a lot.’

  She was so surprised she turned and looked at him properly. He had soft fuzz on his face, not quite stubble. He had broad shoulders. He looked suddenly handsome and mysterious in his jeans and T-shirt, knowing things about her.

  ‘I do English lit as well as the science stuff,’ she said. ‘But if I drop one next year, it’s going to have to be that.’

  He shuffled nearer. He had a rip in his jeans at the knee and she could see dark hair through it. His knee was bony and so much more angular than hers. ‘It’s a good idea to drop one,’ he said. ‘They discourage you from taking four A levels into upper sixth.’

  ‘I want to drop maths.’ She sounded sulky, but didn’t care. ‘My mum says maths is the poetry of logical ideas, but she’s quoting Einstein and actually doesn’t know what she’s talking about.’ Why was she telling him this? Was it even true? When had she decided to drop maths? ‘Grasping pi takes a certain leap of imagination, but apart from that, I’d rather have words than numbers any day.’

  ‘Do you mind if I kiss you?’ he said.

  Was he asking permission? Is that what boys did?

  ‘Maybe we should get a room,’ she said. Because it felt like something to say and it was funny and also she was stalling.

  But it seemed to mean something more to him, because he laughed in an embarrassed way and he leaned forward to kiss her and she let him. His lips were soft and tasted of coconut, although maybe that was her lips mixing with his. He may not have been drinking at all. She barely knew anything about him apart from his name. She’d never noticed him before tonight.

  She shivered as he pulled away. He smiled and looked a bit pleased and a bit self-conscious. He had a cute smile – friendly and shy. In fact, he was so much more friendly than Esme out in the garden with her hair and her chattering teeth and her cold eyes and her tongue in some boy’s mouth – so much more friendly that Katie let him kiss her again. It didn’t amount to anything much the second time either, but it seemed to make him happy because he held her hand and looked at her wonderingly.

  ‘I was thinking …’ he said.

  But she couldn’t let him do that. She hauled him up. ‘There’s someone I want you to meet, come on.’

  He looked reluctant, but she dragged him out anyway, back onto the landing and down the stairs to the hallway and past the lounge. The football match on TV had finished and people were sitting about smoking. One kid was using the carpet as an ashtray. Katie wondered if Jamie was going to say anything to stop it, but he didn’t.

  Back in the garden, she could feel him behind her as she looked about for Esme. It was like having a loyal pet, one who would always be on your team. It was very inspiring. Right at the end of the path, under a tree that was hovering there, Esme was still wrapped up with Lukas. They were sharing a cigarette and looking about. Katie took Jamie’s hand and pulled him closer, then turned around and kissed him. He was a bit surprised, but didn’t object. She tried to make it long and slow and mesmerising. She tried to make the ground move for him.

  Esme pretended not to notice. She yawned instead and stretched her pretty little arms above her head. Maybe the boyfriend kept her up all night.

  ‘What’s happening now?’ Jamie asked as Katie pulled away. He didn’t want to be let go of, that was clear.

  She said the first thing that came into her head, which turned out to be that she wanted him to make her a cup of tea. He nodded and went off to do that.

  ‘So,’ she called over to Esme, ‘that’s Jamie.’

  Esme frowned, like she was thinking, why are you telling me this? and Katie gave the thumbs up just to make it clear. ‘This is his party and he’s my boyfriend. I didn’t tell you because you’ve been out of the loop.’

  Esme had the grace to smile. The boy, Lukas, smiled too.

  ‘He’s funny,’ Katie told them. ‘I really like him.’

  They both looked at her expectantly, but she didn’t know what else to say. He’s empathetic? He likes reading? He’s interested in fish?

  A girl yelled from somewhere down the dark garden. ‘I am not drunk!’ she yelled. She came running across the lawn, looked about wildly and sank herself into Esme’s arms, where she promptly burst into tears.

  Esme looked at Lukas with amused eyes. ‘I better talk to her,’ she said and stroked this new girl’s hair and let her sob in her arms as she led her away.

  How come that was OK? How come no one even blinked? If Katie had done that, the whole world would have collapsed.

  ‘So, you like boys now?’ Lukas said, and he pulled another cigarette from the packet and looked at Katie as if they were really going to have this conversation.

  It was late. She should go. She could call the taxi to come early, keep in Mum’s good books.

  Katie could feel Lukas staring at her keenly from the bench. ‘So what you did to Es then, what was that?’

  ‘It was nothing,’ Katie said. ‘It was completely and utterly not important. Tell her goodbye for me, would you? I have to go now.’

  She made it through the kitchen, down the hallway and out the front door before Jamie caught up with her. ‘Why are you going?’ He sounded disappointed.

  ‘Something came up.’

  ‘Don’t you want this tea?’

  She’d forgotten about that. He held it out to her like a gift. What a sweet boy. What a kind and lovely human being.

  She imagined kissing him again. Save me from this, Jamie. Save me from myself. She could tell him to get rid of the tea, then leap into his arms and circle her legs round his waist and kiss him until everything stopped hurting.

  His eyes were on her and she allowed hers to drift to his. They were brown. He had nice eyes.

  ‘I was wondering,’ he said, and even in the dark she felt him blush, ‘if you wanted to go out sometime?’

  It cost him to say that. It was a risk.

  ‘We could get a coffee or something.’ He had a soft voice – lilting.

  ‘I’ll see you at school,’ Katie said. ‘In the library.’

  He smiled. ‘Because you’ve got to get your poetry fix when your mum makes you drop English for ever?’

  That was nice of him – to remember that. It was also funny. She’d been right about him.

  ‘My parents met in a library,’ she said.

  ‘Did they?’ That seemed to give him hope because he took a step nearer.

  Her mum had very deliberately chosen her dad. He’d been studying for his accountancy exams and she’d seen him in the library several times with his books spread out on the desk. She’d sat opposite him with a magazine called Accountancy News. A studious and quiet accountant would give her studious and quiet children, financial stability and a life of harmonious monogamy. How wrong she’d been.

  Katie stroked the material of the dress. It was smooth under her fingers and had a living warmth to it.

  ‘A coffee sounds good,’ she said. ‘You want my number?’

  ‘Great,’ he said, grinning. ‘I thought you were going to say no.’

  They swapped numbers. Jamie, she wrote in her contacts.

  How easy to make someone happy. He even wanted to walk her home. She told him she had a lift, that her dad was waiting round the corner. A fath
er felt more certain than a taxi. This nice boy would want to walk her to a cab and check she was safe, whisper goodnight, keep the meter ticking.

  ‘My dad’s a bit possessive. It’d be easier if he didn’t see you.’

  She didn’t know why she said this. She appeared to be turning into a compulsive liar.

  She waved at him at the corner and he waved back. He looked very keen. It made her heart ache to look at him.

  Seventeen

  Something vitally important had happened and it was evading Mary’s memory like a slippery fish. No, not a fish, more like a piece of fruit in syrup at the bottom of a bowl that you would chase around with a spoon.

  She was standing in sunshine and she had no idea why. That was a church over there, wasn’t it? Look – an arched doorway, a stained-glass window above. Was she at a wedding? There’d been singing earlier. A thin reedy sound. Blackbirds and gardens and broken mornings. She’d understand why soon, but all she had at the moment was the blank of it.

  She looked around for the girl. She often knew the answer to things. There she was, standing with her brother and mother and several rather dour-looking gentlemen, all wearing black coats and shoes. One of the men wore a cape and seemed to be in charge. He held out a dish and said, ‘Anyone who wishes to now come forward, please do so.’

  And then a memory came. It dazzled briefly, like sunlight flickering through leaves and went away just as quick. I had it then, she thought, but then she got distracted by an angel standing guard on a plinth beside her.

  ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Aren’t you beautiful?’

  He had his wings wrapped around himself like a shroud and a calm smile on his lips. His expression was curious, as if he’d never seen anyone like Mary before.

  ‘Look at you,’ she told him. ‘All muscle and feather.’

  She thought how wonderful if he unfurled his wings and shifted upwards in a cone of light. Wouldn’t that be something to behold? What a clever, complicated thing he was.

  The girl came up and took her arm. ‘Who are you talking to, Mary?’