by Cat Clarke
I stroke his thigh with my thumb. ‘Definitely. I want you to finish what you started earlier.’ I worry for a second that he might not be in the mood for this kind of talk, but then I remember that he’s a boy and always in the mood for this kind of talk.
I sit back and listen to the others talk about Stu. It feels pretty good, but I can’t wait for Stu to come back from the head’s office. He’s been gone ages and lunchtime’s nearly over. It’s OK though – I’ll get every little detail from Lucas later.
*
The girl I sit next to in Spanish (there’s really no excuse for such frizzy hair in this day and age – hasn’t she heard of John Frieda?) asks me if I think it’s true and if I have any idea who might have written it. I’m half tempted to tell her to fuck off and mind her own business, but then I remember that this is exactly what I wanted to happen. Sometimes I find it hard to keep it all straight in my head. I wonder if this is a little bit what it’s like to be schizophrenic. Probably not.
‘Of course it’s not true,’ I say in a perfectly uncertain tone of voice while avoiding eye contact. ‘And I’ve got no idea who wrote it … it could have been anyone.’ I like how this can be taken two ways. It could have been anyone. Or, it could have been any one of the multitude of girls he’s shagged after getting them drunk or giving them drugs or just wearing them down until they’re too exhausted to say no or fight him off.
Frizzy girl (Rachael?) nods and goes back to looking at her notebook. I might as well go for broke before she loses interest. ‘I … I’d better not talk about it though. You know, in case there are legal implications …’
Rachael/Frizzy’s ears prick up at that, and she looks at me with narrowed eyes. ‘Why would there be legal implications? Unless … unless it’s true?’
A quick shake of my head and a half-assed ‘Don’t be ridiculous’ and I can practically see the cogs whirring in her mind, thinking about who she’s going to tell, what little extra details of her own she’ll add when she tells her random friends that she talked to one of Stu Hicks’s friends and there might actually be some truth behind the rumours.
Today is a good day.
I am an idiot. I didn’t really think this through, did I? But then how was I supposed to know that Lucas would be all moody and weird just because one of his best mates got accused of being a rapist? You’d think I’d be happy that the graffiti’s affecting everyone, but I could do without it affecting him right now. Nothing to do with the fact that I’m horny as hell, of course.
He’s quiet on the walk to his house. I decide it’s better to tackle the subject head-on, try to get it out of the way before we get back. Otherwise I might as well just give up and go home now. I link my fingers with his and lean in close. ‘Hey, are you OK? You seem a little distant.’
He looks up and smiles, but it’s a poor effort. ‘Sorry. I’m just worried about Stu … You should have seen him this afternoon. He was in a right state – like, really scared. Apparently Heath gave him a right grilling.’
‘He doesn’t have anything to be scared about. He hasn’t done anything wrong.’
Lucas says nothing and walks on.
‘Lucas? What is it? He hasn’t done anything wrong …’ I look at him out of the corner of my eye and he’s staring down at the pavement. ‘… has he?’ This is an unexpected turn of events.
He shakes his head and says, ‘No,’ but it’s not particularly convincing.
I stop walking so Lucas has to stop too. ‘Lucas, is there something you’re not telling me? Because you know you can tell me anything, don’t you? You can trust me.’ Lie.
He looks deep into my eyes and I’ve never seen him look so troubled. Usually he looks like nothing in the world can touch him, but now he looks like an actual human being. ‘I know I can trust you,’ he says, but when he kisses me quickly on the lips it doesn’t feel right. ‘It’s probably nothing. I mean, I’m sure it’s nothing. It’s just that Stu’s slept with a lot of girls, you know? And most of them have been one-night stands and …’ He shrugs and looks around as if the shop window we’re standing next to will have the words he’s looking for instead of a garish sign advertising five cans of Stella for a fiver.
‘And what?’
He shrugs again. ‘I suppose some of the girls haven’t always been too happy about it afterwards. I’m not saying … it’s just you should see the texts they send him, calling him a user and saying he took advantage of them or whatever.’ Lucas is still searching the window for answers.
‘But that doesn’t mean he actually raped anyone. Those girls knew what they were getting into – it’s not like people don’t know what sort of reputation he’s got … Unless … He hasn’t said anything to you, has he?’
‘No, no, nothing like that. It’s just … I suppose what I’m trying to say is I can sort of imagine some girl maybe regretting what they’d done, or maybe he kind of … you know, talked her into it a little bit. Maybe gave her an extra shot or two in her drink. Which is a totally different thing, right?’
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. It’s clear as anything that Lucas thinks Stu might have actually raped someone. Because even though he might not think it would count as rape, that’s exactly what it is. I remember what Stu was like in that greenhouse at the party. But then I also remember what he was like when I lied to him and told him I’d been raped. Suddenly I don’t know what to believe any more.
I say nothing and you can tell Lucas is regretting his choice of words but isn’t quite sure what to say to make things better. ‘He’s a good guy though, deep down. I know he is.’ He nods as if he’s convinced by his own words.
I slip my arms around his waist. ‘I think we should talk about something else, don’t you? I’m sure everything will be fine with Stu. And if you say he’s a good guy, then I believe you. I trust you, Lucas.’
This was clearly the right thing to say because the worry disappears from his face and the smile is back. ‘Do you? That’s good to know.’ He brings his face close to mine. ‘Don’t think I haven’t noticed you checking out my legs all afternoon.’
I slap him on the shoulder. ‘Checking out your legs? AS IF!’
He whispers in my ear. ‘You probably spilled that Coke on purpose, just so you could see me in shorts. I mean, really, Jem, I thought you were classier than that.’
‘Yeah, you’re right. You’ve uncovered my evil plan. Next time I’ll make sure a vat of Coke gets spilled on you so that you have to walk around school in nothing but your pants.’ He laughs and kisses my ear lobe. It tickles.
He takes a step back and grabs my hand. ‘I think we should hurry up and get back to my place, don’t you?’ There’s no mistaking the look in his eyes. He’s gone from stress and worry and doubt about Stu to complete and utter lust in approximately sixty seconds.
chapter forty-four
We have sex on the sofa because it seems that neither of us can wait the extra thirty seconds it would have taken us to get upstairs to his room. It’s pretty intense. He’s a bit rougher than before, which is weird considering what we’d just been talking about. Don’t get me wrong, I like it. And he’s not rough rough or anything weird like that. It’s just that there’s a noticeable difference in the way he kisses me, the way he touches me.
Afterwards, Lucas makes me a sandwich and we’ve just finished eating when we hear the sound of a key in the door. Lucas’s face is priceless. He looks at his watch, grabs our plates and legs it into the kitchen. As if the fact that we’re having a snack in the living room is the worst thing about this situation rather than the fact that my top seems to have been spirited away by invisible elves or something.
When a harassed-looking woman with car keys between her teeth, five bulging bags of shopping in her hands and a newspaper tucked under one arm walks in, I’m leaning over the back of the sofa on the off-chance the elves might have deposited my top there. At least I’ve got my bra on. And my jeans. So it’s not as embarrassing as it could have been if she’d ar
rived half an hour earlier. Still, it’s pretty much the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me.
She lets the car keys drop from her mouth onto a little dish on the sideboard, takes one look at me and says, ‘Are you going to give me a hand or what?’
A nervous laugh bubbles up from nowhere and I do my best to turn it into a cough because the last thing I want is for Lucas’s mother to think I’m laughing at her. Because it’s obviously Lucas’s mum, unless a multitude of middle-aged women barge into his house on a regular basis. I hurry over to her. ‘Sorry, I …’ She hands me one of the bags, then holds out another, which means I have to abandon my lame attempt to cover my boobs with my right arm.
‘No need for modesty, honey. Really. Boobs are boobs … we’ve all got them.’
I’m tempted to drop the bags and run out of the house into oncoming traffic. Then I remember how bloody quiet this street is and decide to act like I’m totally cool with being half naked in front of this stranger.
Lucas comes back into the room and laughs. He fucking laughs, the bastard. He’s not wearing a top either, but it’s OK for boys, isn’t it? The bastards. He holds out his hands and says, ‘Let me take those. You … er …’ He makes a flapping gesture in the vague direction of my chest.
I hand over the bags and look around, and that’s when I see the corner of my top peeking out from behind a cushion. Thank Christ for that. I pull it over my head and smile at Lucas’s mum. ‘Hi, I’m …’
‘Jem, yes, of course you are. I’ve heard all about you.’ I’m not mad keen on the emphasis she puts on the word ‘all’ there. ‘I’m Martha. Nice to meet you and all that. Now, could you please take this bag before my bloody arm drops off … And Lucas? Put your shirt on.’
She makes me help her unpack the shopping, and it feels like a very odd thing to be doing with a complete stranger. Especially since I have no idea where anything’s supposed to go. She keeps on saying things like, ‘No, not that shelf … that one, there’s a good girl.’
Lucas washes up the knife and chopping board from the sarnie-making and directs me towards the right cupboard for the tinned tomatoes. It’s all too weird for words. His mum doesn’t seem in the slightest bit bothered about what we’ve been up to. There is no way on earth my mum would be so cool about it. Maybe this is what it’s like to be a teenage boy – your mother not batting at eyelid at you shagging some random girl on the sofa. But she knows I’m not some random girl, doesn’t she? She’s heard ALL about me.
Once the shopping’s put away, Mrs Mahoney (there’s no way I’m calling her Martha) leans back against the counter and sighs, ‘Put the kettle on, will you, love?’ I do as I’m told while Lucas gets three mugs out of the cupboard above the kettle. He doesn’t seem to think there’s anything awkward about this situation. He keeps catching my eye and smiling. I can’t help thinking that he’s pleased his mum came home early. I mean, he’d mentioned her a few times and said he thought the two of us would get on. Whenever he did I’d change the subject, since I had less than zero desire to meet the woman who’d spawned Lucas Mahoney. But here we are, sipping tea at the breakfast bar.
Lucas doesn’t look like his mum AT ALL. She’s small and sharp-looking. I guess Lucas must take after his dad (aka That Tosser). From the pictures I’ve seen, his sisters don’t really look like her either. They’re pretty much girl clones of Lucas.
I sit there sipping my tea, answering the occasional question, mostly listening to them banter back and forth. Mrs Mahoney’s pretty funny. I think she’d get on really well with my mum. Maybe they should meet …
And this is when it hits me. What the fuck am I doing thinking about my mum meeting his mum? It’s beyond insane. I have to get out of here – now.
I let my eyes wander over to the clock on the wall. ‘God, I’m so late! It’s my turn to cook tonight – Mum’ll kill me.’
Mrs Mahoney looks at me indulgently and then raises her eyebrows at Lucas. ‘She can cook too! You’d better make sure you hang on to this one, Luke! I like her.’
Lucas smiles into his mug of tea. ‘I intend to hang on to her for as long as she’ll put up with me.’ Mother and son laugh, and that’s when you can see the family resemblance. It’s also when I feel like I will have a panic attack if I stay in this house for one more minute.
There’s nothing I can do to avoid hugging Mrs Mahoney when we say goodbye. She holds out her arms to me like I’m some long-lost relative from Australia or something. Something about the hug makes me want to cry and I have to swallow hard and scrunch my eyes closed to try and stop that happening. Mrs Mahoney says something about me coming over for dinner soon and I don’t answer because I’m pretty sure my voice will come out all shaky and weird if I dare to speak.
Lucas walks me to the front door and kisses me. ‘Nice job winning over The Mother. She loves you.’
‘She’s really nice.’ It’s an effort, but somehow I manage a smile.
‘So are you.’ He hugs me close and whispers into my hair. ‘I meant what I said, you know. I don’t plan on letting you go anytime soon.’
‘Well, I’m afraid you’re going to have to, because my family might give me funny looks if I attempt to cook the dinner with you hanging off me.’
Lucas laughs heartily. ‘You know what I mean, Halliday. Now shut up and kiss me and maybe, just maybe, I’ll let you go … on a strictly temporary basis, you understand.’
I kiss him, softly at first, then with a hunger that surprises me. It surprises him too; he pulls away after a few seconds and gestures towards the kitchen. I don’t know what he’s so worried about – the door’s closed. I pull him towards me again, but he thwarts my efforts by wrapping me up in a bear hug.
I don’t want to hug him. Hugging is intimate. Hugging is Kai and me.
I have to leave now.
Lucas looks slightly puzzled at my hasty exit, but he shrugs it off. It would never occur to him that it was something to do with him. That he might be the problem.
It must be nice to never have to question anything. To be so perfectly comfortable in your own skin. I wonder if I could ever feel like that, or whether it’s something you’re just born with. Maybe I’ll ask him one day, after all this is over.
Or maybe not.
chapter forty-five
It’s not going away, the Stu thing. Every time the words get scrubbed off, it’s only a matter of hours before they’re back – the handwriting might be different, but the words are the same. I think it’s one person though. Someone on a mission to keep this thing going – to keep everyone talking about it. It makes me wonder why someone would do that. It makes me wonder a lot of things.
Stu keeps his head down, mostly. He doesn’t look well. There are dark circles under his eyes as well as a look on his face that I can only describe as hunted. He makes the occasional joke, but you can tell it’s an effort. Lucas, Bugs and Max do their best to act like everything’s normal, but the girls are all acting differently towards him. Especially Nina. They haven’t officially broken up – not yet – but I know she wants to. Anyone can see it’s only a matter of time. Instead of sitting with Stu at lunch or in the common room, Nina seeks out Amber and Sasha, or me (if the other two don’t happen to be around). And every time she chooses to sit next to someone else instead of taking the empty seat next to him, I make sure I watch him. I like seeing the look on his face. Hopeful at first, then he doesn’t even bother to try hiding the disappointment. It’s pitiful.
I was walking behind the two of them on the way home from school one day and Stu put his arm around her. She didn’t shrug it off, but you could tell her body was angled away from him. You could see daylight between them. Soon you’ll be able to drive a fucking truck through the space between them. Part of me wants her just to get it over with, but I’m kind of enjoying the fact that she’s stringing him along. Giving him tiny scraps of hope, making him wonder if maybe things will turn out OK when everyone’s forgotten about it. But the new mystery graffiti sc
rawler is making damn sure that isn’t happening. I’d like to find out who she is (at least, I presume it’s a girl) and shake her hand. Or at least ask what her deal is.
I’m running out of time. It’s time to finish this thing. There’s only one letter left – the letter that makes it one whole year. I can’t even fathom how I’ve managed to survive twelve months without him.
The perfect opportunity has presented itself. I couldn’t have planned it better: Max and his brother are having another party. But the timing of it makes my heart ache: two days before Kai’s final letter. Two days before the anniversary of his death. Two days before I die.
The venue leaves a lot to be desired. Apparently Max’s parents were majorly pissed off about the state the house was left in last year – especially the bloody great scorch marks in the pristine lawn. So this year the Miller brothers decided that Boreham Woods would be a more sensible option. Right next to the bridge.
Everyone’s so bored of hanging out in the same old places that the idea of partying in the woods is genuinely exciting to them. They probably reckon it’s going to be like some American movie – a post-Homecoming party with cheerleaders and football players and kegs of beer. When the reality is that it’ll be the same old people, doing the same old things – with the added bonus of freezing our asses off in the process.
Every time I allow myself to think about going there, I feel my stomach tighten. I’ve gone out of my way – literally – to avoid that place. Sometimes it’s impossible, like when were going somewhere in the car. But when that happens I just close my eyes and picture myself somewhere else. I can still tell exactly when we’re going over the bridge though. The tyres make a different noise. I used to like that sound; I’d listen out for it because it usually meant we were going somewhere exciting (like IKEA). It marked the beginning of an Adventure. Now it marks nothing of the sort. It marks a boy standing in the rain, looking down at his beloved river. Looking down at the rocks below and wondering if they would smash his skull or whether he’d drown first.