Toxic

by Nicci Cloke

  Nope. Stop that right now.

  I flush and then go to the sink to wash my face, scrubbing hard to get the dried mascara traces from under my eyes. I look at myself in the mirror. Ponytail half falling out and skew-whiff on my head; sunburnt streaks on my cheeks and collarbone. The rest of me stubbornly pale. I’ll have to do a better job of putting on sun cream today. My stomach gurgles, which is a good sign – maybe I’ll be able to kick this hangover with a fry-up and a pint of orange juice.

  I jump in the shower while I’m still feeling all right, and by the time I come out Nate’s pottering around in the living room and Zack’s got the little plastic kettle boiling.

  ‘Moooorning, Hope-Dogg,’ Zack says. ‘Sugar and a half, right? Just show it the milk?’

  I grin at him. ‘Spot on, Zack. Thanks.’

  ‘Yeah, well, there’s only three mugs,’ Nate says, ‘so you better drink it fast before that lot show their faces.’ He reaches up and stretches, all the muscles in his chest flexing. ‘God, I am hanging.’

  I’m actually feeling pretty good now, especially after my first slurp of tea from the chipped plastic mug. I keep that to myself though. Nobody likes a smug face first thing in the morning, and besides, my hangovers have a tendency to creep back as the day goes on.

  ‘Morning.’ Logan leans against the bedroom doorframe, wearing just shorts and a sleepy smile. I have to look away.

  ‘Mornin’ Lo-Dogg,’ Zack says. ‘You are the lucky winner of the last mug. You mug. Milky, two sugars, right?’

  I go into the bedroom to dress, my cup of tea warm in my hand.

  We eat breakfast out on the patio by the pool. As suspected, my headache’s back with a vengeance, but it retreats again briefly when my fry-up is put in front of me. It’s properly greasy, bacon pale and fatty, the sausage beige with a single burnt stripe on each side. And I get stuck straight in. I shovel the entire fried egg onto a triangle of cold toast and shove half of that into my mouth in a single mouthful.

  ‘Bloody hell, Hope,’ Dev says. ‘That is impressive. It used to take Mollie about an hour to eat a bowl of cereal.’

  I concentrate on forking beans onto the chunk of sausage I’ve sawn off and choose not to mention that Mollie has been worried about her weight since she overheard Freddie, Zack’s older brother, saying she was ‘pretty for a chubby girl’ at Zack’s birthday party two years ago.

  ‘Urghhhhhhhhh,’ JB says. He’s sitting with his forehead resting on the table and he’s been making that noise roughly every five minutes. His breakfast is a pint of Coke which is sitting in a slowly growing puddle of condensation as the ice melts.

  ‘I feel you, man,’ Nate says, pushing his breakfast away and slurping up the dregs of his pint of orange juice. ‘My head is banging.’

  ‘Pull it together, boys,’ Zack says, reaching over to grab the sausage from Nate’s plate and eating the majority of it in one bite. Zack never seems to get hangovers. I’ve known him to go and play rugby while everyone else has still got their head stuck down the nearest toilet. ‘You’ve got about an hour before Operation Get Back On It begins.’ He tosses the last bit of sausage into his mouth. ‘In fact, I fancy a beer now.’ He signals to a waitress. ‘Hope, you in?’

  There’s something about the way he looks at me, like he knows I’m going to say no. There’s something about the way Logan looks at me, with a small smile like he’s pretty sure I’ll say yes. And I’m just the right amount of hungover for it to seem like a good idea.

  ‘Yeah, all right,’ I say, enjoying the surprise on Zack’s face although it doesn’t last long. He waves to the waitress and then turns to the rest of the table. ‘Well, come on then, lads,’ he says. ‘Who else is man enough?’

  I don’t really understand what having a penis has to do with being able to drink a beer with breakfast, but I’m distracted by the fact that Logan is scowling at his phone. After typing out a text, he slams it face down on the table then leans back in his seat. ‘Count me in,’ he says.

  ‘You OK?’ I ask, while the others are distracted by JB legging it to the disabled toilet on the other side of the restaurant. Zack and Dev stand up and jeer at him, while the waitress waits patiently for the order.

  ‘Yeah,’ Logan says, sounding anything but. ‘Some things aren’t meant to be, right?’

  I hate that my first reaction is just a tiniest glimmer of hope. I remind myself that Daisy is my friend. I remind myself that Logan is, and that he’s upset. I reach out and rub his arm. But what am I meant to say? I don’t really know anything about their relationship.

  Luckily the others are sitting back down now, and the waitress is pretty quick at delivering beers to Zack, Logan and me, and another orange juice to Nate. Now that it’s in front of me, beer at this time of the morning – although, when I check my watch, it’s actually just gone midday – doesn’t seem like such a great idea. There’s a whole afternoon and most of the night to get through … But I figure I’ll just eat lots throughout the day and pace myself. Besides, we’re on holiday. This is the whole point of being on holiday, right? Having fun. Treating myself.

  The next time the waitress passes, I order a piece of cheesecake.

  I like holidays.

  THE SHOWER FEELS good on my hot skin, sand sticking to the tray as the water trickles down the drain. I glance down to check out the sunburn situation and it looks like I’ve done OK today with the sun cream – just a weird red-lined finger-streak under my left boob where I’ve obviously missed a bit. My face feels hot and tight but I think that’s from the salt and the wind – JB and I walked right down the beach, just chatting about school and things, to get to an ice-cream stall someone told Zack about. It was nice actually, looking out at the sea and just talking about stuff – about funny things that happened last night but also about Year 13 and exams and what happens after all that. JB is really good to talk to. I kind of wish I remembered more of what we said last night.

  I switch off the shower and squeeze the water out of my hair, which feels like knots on knots. It’s going to be really fun trying to comb this out. But then I see that someone has thoughtfully poured a vodka and Coke into a plastic cup and left it outside the bathroom door. I pick it up and take a swig. Hmm. A bit too much vodka and it doesn’t taste quite like real Coke, but it’s still quite sweet and refreshing, given I was starting to flag a bit.

  Nate and Dev are ready to go out and sitting in the living room, playing Shithead with a battered deck of cards on the little coffee table. It’s a game I’ve always been good at – hoarding up my power cards and picking the exact right moment to drop them on someone else – but I know from past experience that Nate is even more ruthless than me.

  Someone’s playing music on travel speakers in Zack and Logan’s bedroom, and there’s the smell of deodorant and hairspray and aftershave drifting out. As I pad into my room, JB strolls out, wearing a neon Hawaiian shirt and drinking from the novelty plastic glass he stole from the Flamingo Cafe where we had a cheeky drink on the way back from the beach. He’s also carrying his phone, which is playing Drake at a pitiful but valiant decibel level.

  ‘Just farted in there,’ he tells me, raising his voice to be heard over the two competing tracks and the yells as Nate decides to ‘shit’ on Dev. ‘Soz, babe.’

  Nate and Dev laugh at this, and Nate deals out a hand for JB to join them. I carry on into the bedroom, feeling a bit annoyed at JB – that was so put on for the others, he’d never have said it if it was just me and him. I close the door behind me and then crouch in front of my suitcase, fumbling through my clothes. I settle on a grey T-shirt dress and flip-flops because I’ll be comfy in that, and right now I feel lazy and relaxed. Yeah, last night there were loads of girls dressed up, and maybe if I’d been with the others like we’d originally planned I would’ve felt like I had to as well. But I’m with the boys – they don’t care what I’m wearing.

  Apart from Logan maybe, that evil bit of me whispers, and that’s all the more reason to wear the pl
ainest thing I have. I’m going to kiss someone tonight, I tell myself. Someone who gives me that little sparky looping feeling in my stomach, someone I don’t know. That’s what I need – I need reminding that there’s a whole world outside of Kings Lyme and even Malia and that I can be whatever I want to be if I meet someone new. I comb out my wet hair and finish my drink as I put on some make-up. When I go back into the living room, Zack and Logan are out and ready too.

  ‘Guys,’ Zack says, standing up and looking at his phone, ‘someone’s just posted on the Malia Unlocked page about a booze cruise tomorrow – we’re game, right?’

  JB pulls a face. ‘I get seasick.’

  Zack reaches out to ruffle his hair, messing up what probably took a not inconsiderable amount of time and product. ‘It’s not exactly sailing the high seas, Popeye. It’s a huge fancy yacht that moves at about half a mile an hour. They take you to some tiny little island, throw a party on the beach and then bring you back. Fifty euros each. It’ll be bants.’

  ‘Yesssss, boi,’ Dev says, pouring himself an extra inch of vodka. He’s wearing neon blue Wayfarers even though we’re indoors, and an equally neon orange vest. He’s a big fan of brights. ‘Sounds sick.’

  ‘Yeah, sounds good,’ Nate says, but he’s also looking at his phone and seems distracted. He frowns at the screen and then flips it round to show Logan. I can’t see what’s on there, but Logan’s smile drops. He studies whatever it is for a second, then pushes the phone back to Nate and downs the rest of his drink.

  ‘I’m in,’ I say, going the rest of the way into the room and sitting down next to Dev.

  ‘Yes, Hope-Dogg!’ he says, high-fiving me. I pour myself a new drink.

  ‘Cool,’ Zack says. ‘Booking tickets now. Hand your cash over.’

  I hand over the contents of my purse to him – I’ll have to go back into the bedroom and get some more out of the balled-up pair of socks in my suitcase. Fifty euros is a quite a big chunk of my holiday money – the money I spent hours waitressing at Starburger in town for. I think my hair will always smell just faintly of chip fat, but it was worth it, because here I am, on holiday with my friends for the first time ever.

  And this boat trip sounds like the perfect way to celebrate.

  AT OUR THIRD bar of the night, I realise two things.

  One, I get drunk really fast when I don’t eat dinner.

  Two, Logan is flirting with me.

  It starts with jokey hugs and arm-punching, because Logan isn’t very good at flirting. And it seems like he’s on a mission tonight, ordering shots and buying rounds before the rest of us have even got halfway through the first one. It’s not long before he starts getting his goofy drunk smile, and it’s round about then that he ends up next to me at the table. Dev and Nate are off getting cash out and Zack is scouting around trying to find a girl JB ‘likes the look of’, so it’s kind of nice when Logan sits down next to me and drunkenly bumps his drink against mine in a cheers for like the third time tonight.

  ‘It’s great, isn’t it?’ he says, leaning closer to be heard over the music, his breath hot against my skin.

  ‘Yeah, it is.’ I can feel his eyes on me and I try – I really try – not to look up. But I can’t help it. I’ve always loved his eyes. They’re brown, but if you look close they have these flecks of green in them – just a couple. And right now they’re fixed on my face, looking at me properly, the way you don’t really look at someone who’s just your friend.

  ‘I don’t want to go home,’ he says, still looking at me, and I want and I don’t want to say, What about Daisy?

  ‘Loges!’ Zack says, leaning forward on the table. He’s grinning but I can see something else in his face, as if he doesn’t really like us talking, as if he’s picked up on the fact that we’re getting closer again. ‘Shall we get moving after these? Get the fishbowls in somewhere?’

  Logan nods, although I don’t really feel like he needs a fishbowl right now. ‘Sounds good – right, Hope?’

  My heart does something weird when he links us together that way – like we’re making decisions as a pair, how we used to. So I nod too.

  As we leave the bar, Zack puts his arm round me and leads me ahead of the others. ‘Come on, Novak, use your skills to get us the best deal somewhere.’

  But I can’t help glancing back at Logan. And I can’t help noticing that Logan is looking at me too.

  Nate and Dev catch up with us on the strip, and by the time we decide on Rodeo, this massive bar we were in last night, Logan has somehow ended up next to me again. Rodeo is absolutely heaving, people pushing towards the bar and the buckin’ bronco in the centre of the room, and as we climb the steps to its open front, a group of lads comes barrelling out, whooping. Logan pulls me out of the way – and into his chest – just in time to stop them knocking me back down the stairs.

  It all happens quickly, and it’s no big deal really. Except everything seems to go slow for a second, so that I’m incredibly conscious of Logan’s chest against mine, of his familiar Logan smell and of his hand sliding down my back.

  ‘Easy, Novak!’

  I step away from Logan, and Zack is standing there, grinning. ‘No fishbowls for you if you can’t even stand up already!’

  I roll my eyes at him and carry on into the bar, but my pulse is racing. It sounds so stupid to be going crazy because a guy has run his hand down my back, but all these memories are flooding in. Logan and me lying on the sofa watching telly; standing outside college with our crap coffees from the canteen; pressed against the wall at someone’s party that we couldn’t wait to leave.

  I shake my head like I can actually physically force the thoughts out and go over to JB, who’s leaning on the bar watching the guy make us two fishbowls.

  ‘You OK?’ I ask, because he’s been quiet tonight, not quite himself.

  ‘Hmm?’ He glances up in surprise – I didn’t realise he was so deep in thought. ‘Yeah, yeah, good, hun. Just flagging a bit. This’ll help, right?’ He nods towards the fishbowls, which are a gross lurid yellow.

  I pull a face. ‘Um, yeah?’

  He laughs. ‘Yep, thought so!’ Taking his chance, he reaches out to lift one of the bowls. ‘Can you grab the other one?’

  I follow him over to the spot the others have found for us to stand in, with a narrow ledge to balance the fishbowls on. Zack has his arm round Logan and is yelling something in his ear. Dev’s still wearing his Wayfarers even though it’s so dark in here he can’t be able to see more than about two inches in front of his face, only a couple of moody red light bulbs hanging above us.

  When we’ve put the drinks down, I nudge JB. ‘Want me to be your wing-woman tonight?’

  He laughs. ‘You’re all right, babe. I’ve got it covered.’

  He still doesn’t really seem himself, but I don’t push it. I take a straw and offer him another, and we have a good long glug on one of the fishbowls before the others notice. And then Logan bumbles over and takes the straw out of my mouth.

  ‘Hey!’ I say, and he grins and slips it into his instead. When he lifts his head again, he puts an arm round me. ‘Sharing’s caring, babe.’

  I elbow him in the ribs and grab another straw. JB’s drifted off to talk to Dev, so for a while Logan and me just drink and bob to the music, completely comfortable in each other’s company.

  It hasn’t always been like this. In the weeks before we broke up, things got kind of stiff and awkward between us. I still can’t figure out what happened there. Logan can be really open and calm, but sometimes he gets quiet. He’s not big on confrontation, and whenever we argued about anything – stupid stuff like what film to watch or who was supposed to call who – he’d prefer to just forget about it rather than talk it over. I dunno, I’m not big on confrontation either, but it kind of started to get on my nerves a bit.

  ‘It’s nice that we can do this again,’ Logan says, reading my mind like he tends to do. ‘I missed having you around.’

  I smile at him, and I�
��m just drunk enough to say: ‘Yeah, I missed you too.’

  ‘Hey, how’s your brother doing?’ he asks, fumbling his straw towards him and taking a sip. I can tell by the way he’s taking real care over each of his words that he’s pretty hammered. I should probably be going easy on the fishbowls too.

  ‘He’s good,’ I say. ‘He’s having a great time.’

  ‘It was Queenstown, right?’

  I’m weirdly pleased he remembered. ‘Yeah. He’s working in a hotel and getting free runs on the slopes whenever he wants, basically.’

  ‘Cool. God, I’d love to go skiing again. That was so much fun, right?’

  I smile and look away. He’s talking about the Year 10 trip to Chamonix, and it was fun. It’s also where me and Logan first got together. I can’t help feeling like maybe he’s thinking about that moment too.

  ‘What was fun?’ JB asks, appearing next to me again. I glance round and see Dev talking to a group of girls, his arm round one of them. As I watch, Nate heads over there too.

  ‘Chamonix,’ I say, turning back to the boys. ‘We were just talking about Olly getting all his free skiing and thinking about how fun Chamonix was.’

  JB screws up his face. ‘Yeah, that whole trip was kind of tarnished for me by the chairlift incident.’

  Logan and I both crease up laughing. I remember ‘the chairlift incident’ well – me and Logan were in the chairs behind JB and Charlotte as he hung over the edge and threw up. It was after a bit of a heavy night on the Jägers, hidden in the boys’ dorm, and Mr Penney was not impressed.

  ‘Looks like our boy still needs a bit of practice,’ Zack says, coming up behind us with a tray of shots. I look in the direction he’s pointing in time to see Dev wandering back over, the girls disappearing into the crowd.

  ‘They had to go,’ he says, shrugging, when he reaches us. ‘I’ll catch up with them later.’

  ‘Yeah, OK, Romeo,’ Nate says, patting him on the back. ‘Come on, get a shot down ya.’