What a long strange trip it was going to be.
Friday (still!)
I must have fallen asleep at some stage because when I woke up, I realised I was all over Dylan like a bad case of nits. Even worse, my mouth had dropped open and I’d left a damp patch on the shoulder of his jacket. I didn’t even want to think about the possibility of him seeing me dribble. I looked at my watch. It was seven-thirty. We’d been travelling for twelve hours!
I stole a glance at Dylan, but he seemed to be asleep. His eyelashes (oh, why do I always end up transfixed by his eyelashes?) were fluttering gently against his cheeks and his pout of a mouth was relaxed. Even though the coach had slowed down as it wended its way through the narrow Paris streets, Dylan carried on sleeping. Cautiously, so as not to wake him up, I reached towards the floor where my bag was and rummaged inside it until my hand closed around the camera I’d stashed in there. I don’t know why, I just wanted a picture of Dylan looking vulnerable. It would make me feel better when I was feeling all down about us not being together. Like, he was just a bog-standard boy or something. I prayed that Dylan wouldn’t wake up as I held down the flash and aimed the camera at him.
CLICK! as I pressed the shutter, the flash went off and Dylan came to with a start. I hid the camera down by my side and tried to look dead casual, though I had the feeling that I failed quite spectacularly.
‘What was that?’ he enquired sleepily.
I feigned wide-eyed innocence. ‘What was what?’
Dylan rubbed his face sleepily. ‘That flash of light. Was it lightning?’ He leaned against me to peer out of the window, which was just enough touch to keep me going for well into the next century. ‘Uh, it’s not even raining.’
‘You must have been dreaming,’ I shrugged, as if the conversation wasn’t interesting me in the slightest.
‘Nah, there was definitely a light.’
I was saved from having to answer as the coach finally came to a halt.
‘Oooh, we’ve reached the hotel,’ I cried like it was the most exciting thing that had ever happened. ‘Great!’
Dylan collapsed back in his seat. ‘I’m shattered,’ he grumbled. ‘We’ve been on this bloody coach for, like, ever. And I’m starving. I hope we get to eat soon.’
That’s so typical of boys. Dylan and I had shared such an intense time today what with all the face touching on the ferry and that downright horrible conversation about kissing, but now all he seemed to care about was shovelling food into his stomach. I couldn’t help looking up to the heavens and sighing.
‘What’s up with you?’ Dylan demanded as he tried to stand up. There were too many people blocking the aisle so he gave up and sat back down next to me.
‘Nothing.’ What was the use of trying to explain anything to Dylan? He was determined to be denial boy. He was the king of denial. All he wanted to do was pretend that stuff between us was all right when actually it was pretty much screwed up.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Dylan pulling a face at me for being moody but instead of saying anything, he stood up again and managed, this time, to get in the aisle and pull our bags down from the overhead locker. I stood up and surreptitiously shoved the camera back into my vintage Christian Dior shoulder bag, which I got for a steal on eBay and loved, possibly even more than Dylan.
It took ages to get everyone’s suitcases out of the coach’s boot and sign in at the hotel reception desk. Hôtel Du Lac (literally translated as Hotel Of The Lake, as if there would be a lake in the middle of Paris) was cool in a really old and crumbling kind of way. With its faded cabbage rose wallpaper and over-stuffed red velvet chairs, it looked like it had last been re-decorated sometime in the 1920s. I sat in one of the chairs while Shona went to get our key from Madame La Réceptionniste who looked like she’d been left over from the 1920s too.
‘You coming, Eeds?’ Shona was standing over me, brandishing the key. I picked up my bags and suitcase and followed her over to the stairs.
Then I stopped.
‘What floor are we on again?’ I asked.
‘Do you want the bad news or the really bad news?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We’re on the fifth floor and… there’s no lift,’ she told me with a roll of her eyes.
‘Great. What a perfect end to a hideous day.’
‘I hear you,’ Shona said with feeling.
We started climbing up the very steep, very twisty spiral staircase. ‘I’m starving. I’ve had almost nothing to eat today,’ I said before I ran out of breath somewhere between the first and second floor.
By the time we reached the fifth floor I was mentally cursing whatever imp of stupidity had forced me to bring a suitcase, a large holdall and a shoulder bag. I never could travel light.
We staggered down a dimly-lit corridor until we came to room 507. Shona was just putting her key in the lock and I was muttering something about how today couldn’t get any worse, when the door suddenly swung open to reveal Paul and Mia locked in a clinch on the bed.
‘Seems like you spoke too soon,’ hissed Shona between gritted teeth. She kicked the door so it crashed against the wall loudly. Mia and Paul looked up. Mia had this horrible sly smile on her face as if she’d known that Shona and I had been standing in the doorway watching. Paul, at least, had the grace to look ashamed.
‘Hi, Shona,’ he mumbled, scrambling to his feet.
Shona looked at him as if he was a slug that had just crawled out of her salad.
Paul carried on looking at her, almost as if there were things he wanted to say but didn’t know how to say them. But Shona stood there, staring at the ceiling. I knew why. I knew that if she spoke to him, she’d burst into tears. I’ve been there.
I so wasn’t in the mood for all this drama. I dropped my bags on the floor and looked pointedly at Paul and then the door.
‘You’re not sharing with us are you, Paul?’ I asked him. I tried to smile to show that I didn’t hate him. I mean, Paul had always been really sweet to me before he started going out with Mia. He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Nah, I’m in with Dylan and Simon across the corridor. I was just, um, giving Mia a hand with her stuff.’
Mia stretched luxuriously on the bed. ‘Thanks sweetie. I guess you’d better go. I’ll see you in the lobby in five, OK?’
Now that he’d been officially dismissed, Paul couldn’t get out of the door fast enough.
I looked around the room. It was ginormous. I could have fitted my bedroom into it four times over. There was a huge double bed and a single bed plus all this odd, mismatched furniture as well as a telly that should have been in a museum. Mia and Shona were trying to out-stare each other but not saying a word, so I wandered into the en-suite bathroom.
‘Oh my God, there’s a bidet in there,’ I wittered as I came out of the bathroom but Shona and Mia weren’t listening. They were too busy arguing.
‘… No way. There’s two of us, you can’t expect Edie and I to share a single bed,’ Shona was shouting.
Mia smiled that cat-like smile of hers and raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, if you wanted to bag the double bed you should have been a little quicker, shouldn’t you? But that’s always been your problem hasn’t it, Shona? You don’t know what you want until someone else has it.’
Shona was trying desperately to hang on to her temper. ‘I suppose you mean Paul?’ she bit out.
‘Now why would I talk about my boyfriend with you?’ enquired Mia nastily.
I was so fed up. It had been such a long day and I didn’t have the energy to deal with Mia.
‘God, Mia, why do you always have to be such a bitch?’ I asked wearily. It was a mistake. Mia turned on me, her pale blue eyes flashing.
‘You can shut up, Edie,’ she snapped. ‘You don’t know about anything. You think because Dylan snogs you a couple of times, you’re having the romance of the century.’
‘No I don’t,’ I protested, but I didn’t sound very convincing.
‘Yeah, y
ou do,’ said Mia spitefully. ‘If you think he’d ever go out with a stupid, flat-chested geek like you…’
‘Oh, do shut up, Mia.’ Shona rolled her eyes.
But Mia wouldn’t shut up. ‘I mean, Dylan isn’t like your dweeby boyfriend Josh. He wants a girl who’s into more than just holding hands, if you catch my drift.’
I pounced at Mia, who gave a little scream and ran towards the bathroom. Before I could reach her and strangle her – anything to shut her up – she’d slammed the bathroom door.
‘Just calm down, Eeds,’ warned Shona, putting a hand on my arm.
I shrugged it off. ‘I won’t calm down,’ I shrieked, bursting into tears. ‘If you don’t come out, Mia, your stuff’s going out the window,’ I yelled, kicking the bathroom door.
‘You don’t have the guts, geek girl,’ she taunted.
At that moment I was mad enough to do anything. So I grabbed her bag, opened the window and flung it out.
‘You little bitch!’ screamed Mia, who’d come out of the bathroom just in time to see her possessions sailing through the air.
The next minute she’d launched herself at me.
It was on. Mia was hitting and scratching me. I was whacking her back and Shona was somewhere in the middle of us, trying to break up the fight but just getting Mia’s fists in her face.
‘What the hell is going on in here?’ shouted a voice from the doorway. It was Tania.
Mia and I stopped clawing at each other.
‘It was her!’ we both said.
‘Shona, what’s going on?’ bellowed Tania, her face all blotchy and shiny.
Shona wound a finger through her hair. ‘Mia was being a Grade One bitch,’ she explained helpfully.
Mia chose that moment to burst into loud sobs. It was obvious that she was a great fat faker, but it was also obvious that she had a huge red mark on her cheek where I’d belted her.
‘They ganged up on me, Tania,’ Mia wept. ‘They don’t want to share a room with me because I’m going out with Shona’s ex-boyfriend.’
‘Huh! Not even,’ I burst out. ‘She, I mean, Mia, said…’ I tailed off. When you’re trying to explain to like, a grown-up why you’ve been fighting you just end up sounding like a petty five-year-old. Anyway, I’d already had one run-in with Tania today.
Then Mia played her joker. ‘Edie threw all my stuff out the window,’ she announced in a tiny, teary voice.
If there’s one thing worse than being bored and depressed, it’s being bored and depressed and on your own in a foreign hotel. After Mia had grassed on me, Tania gave me this huge lecture about how it had been a really bad idea to let sixteen-year-old A-level students go on a trip with a bunch of nineteen-year-old Foundation Art bods (completely ignoring the fact that Mia was doing A-levels too) and grounded me! Oh, and she’d made me run all the way down the stairs to retrieve Mia’s bag before it got run over.
I whinged about how hungry I was and then refused the plate of cheese sandwiches that Tania said I could order from the housekeeper. I hate cheese. I hoped the guilt of leaving me hungry and on my own would make Tania choke on her stupid tofu-burger.
I lay on the bed, half watching this French game show which involved the contestants taking their clothes off. They’re very open-minded about that kind of thing on the Continent, but mostly I sulked. OK, I shouldn’t have let Mia get to me, but how did she always manage to hit my weak spots? Dylan, Josh and even my breast-size (or complete lack thereof). All the stuff that I’m self-conscious about, Mia went for. She must take lessons on being a bitch, no-one could be born like that.
After Tania had finished reading me the riot act and Mia had sauntered out of the room to meet Paul, Shona had sat on the bed with her arms round me while I cried.
‘It’s all right, sweetie,’ Shona had said comfortingly. And because she’d dropped her usual too cool for school act and didn’t come out with any smart remarks, I’d just cried harder.
‘It’s not fair,’ I spluttered.
‘What’s up?’ Oh God, it would have to be Dylan. Our door was still wide open and Dylan was standing in the doorway. ‘It sounded like World War Three was going on in here.’
‘Just leave it, Dylan,’ said Shona. ‘I’ll be down in a minute.’
But he didn’t budge. ‘You coming to dinner too, Edie?’ he asked.
‘Oh, just piss off,’ I snarled at him, much to his and Shona’s shock.
Dylan gave me a really dirty look and walked away.
‘That was way harsh,’ commented Shona.
I bit my lip. ‘I never swear,’ I sobbed. ‘Brilliant. Now Dylan hates me.’
‘He doesn’t hate you,’ said Shona with a sigh. ‘Look, everyone’s out of sorts. It’s been a really long day. Do you want me to stay with you?’
I shook my head and insisted that she go with the others, so I could wallow in self-pity like it would be out of fashion by tomorrow.
So, now I was on my own and after I’d spent a bit of time re-living that terrible moment when I’d sworn at Dylan and he’d flung me the filthiest look ever, I concentrated on Mia and how to get my revenge. I couldn’t think of any really spectacular act of retribution to avenge me and Shona, but I did spit in her moisturiser and it made me feel a teensy bit better.
A couple of hours had passed and I couldn’t sleep. Even though I didn’t want to face Mia, I was half hoping that everyone would come back soon. I was so bored. I was mindlessly channel hopping when my phone rang. It was Shona.
‘Edie, c’est moi!’ said Shona. ‘We’re on our way home. Do you want anything from Maccy D’s?’
I nearly started crying again. Shona could be so sweet. ‘Yeah. I want Chicken McNuggets without sauce, and fries and a chocolate milkshake. I’m so hungry.’
‘Well, you’d have hated dinner anyway.’ Shona sounded as if she was smiling. ‘Tania made us go to a wholefood vegetarian restaurant. Hang on. Oh, Dylan wants to know if you want a McFlurry as well?’
I held the receiver away from my ear for a second.
‘Is Dylan there with you?’ I couldn’t help asking.
‘Yup, but he’s just about to go on a mercy dash to McDonald’s for you,’ Shona said, before lowering her voice. ‘He had a go at Tania in front of everyone for sending you to bed without any dinner.’
‘So he’s forgiven me for swearing at him?’ I was almost giddy with hope.
‘Oh you’ve got me to thank for that,’ said Shona breezily. ‘I explained to him about young girls and their hormones.’
‘Gee, Shona, you’re a real pal,’ I said sarcastically.
‘Less of the lip, young lady. Anyway, gotta go, see you in about ten minutes.’
Isn’t that always the way? Just when you think that life sucks with added bits of sucking, the boy of your dreams is fighting your battles for you and buying you McFlurries. And I couldn’t help but hope that maybe there was a very, very slim chance that Dylan and I could…
Saturday
I’d slept like the dead. Even though Shona took up most of the bed and tried to steal the blankets, I’d fallen asleep the minute my head had touched the rather lumpy pillow. I was just glad that Mia hadn’t won the battle of the beds, because if we’d been in that single one, Shona would have had me on the floor. She sure takes up a lot of room when she’s asleep. I was woken up from a strange dream about kissing Tom Hardy while we were both trapped in a mineshaft by the bleeping of my travel clock.
‘Turn it off,’ whimpered Shona, burrowing deeper under the bedclothes.
I nudged her with my foot. Repeatedly. In a very annoying way. ‘It’s eight o’clock, I don’t want to miss breakfast.’
Shona made an unimpressed grunting noise and snatched the covers away from me so I had no choice but to actually get up. Mia was still asleep. She hadn’t come back with Shona but must have crept into the room after we’d crashed out.
By the time I emerged from the bathroom, Shona was up and rummaging through my suitcase.
‘D
id you pack the dress with the cherries on it?’ she asked. I loved seeing Shona first thing in the morning. Her usually poker straight black hair was sticking up and she was wearing pink pyjamas with rabbits on them. If anyone saw her, her icy cool image would be shot to smithereens.
‘I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘I think I stuck to a muted colour palette.’
I started drying my hair and hoped that the noise would wake up Mia but she was still out for the count. Shona disappeared into the bathroom and I dithered about what to wear.
I’m not one of those sad girls who always dresses to attract boys, but knowing that I was going to spend the whole day in close proximity to Dylan made it hard to decide on the right outfit. In the end, I chose my new Nordic-style sweater dress which I loved with a fiery passion, black woolly tights and a skinny, striped scarf. It was a pretty stylin’ ensemble, even if I do say it myself.
Diary of a Crush: French Kiss Page 8