Don't Ask

by Hilary Freeman

  She was right. By the time Alex and I went upstairs to get ourselves ready for the party, I’d eaten so many cupcakes that I wasn’t sure Laura would fit into any of Alex’s dresses, or mine.

  Alex’s bedroom was right at the top of the house, in a converted loft. It was incredibly neat and clean, which I should have expected, with Arsenal posters all over the walls. A scarf, just like the one her dad had bought me – and that I’d passed on to Jack – hung above her bed. It looked more like a boy’s bedroom than a girl’s.

  ‘Thanks for letting me stay,’ I said.

  ‘No worries, it’ll be good to spend some proper time together. And there’s no way you’d have been able to get home on your own tonight to . . . where is it that you live again?’

  ‘North London,’ I said, narrowing it down to about a twenty-mile area. I’d always been deliberately vague about the exact location of my house, because it was where Jack lived too, and I wasn’t sure if Alex knew his new address. Realising I might sound evasive, I added, ‘Um, a couple of miles from the Arsenal ground.’

  ‘Oh yeah, that’s right. You’re so lucky! I’d love to come and visit you some time soon.’

  ‘Definitely,’ I said, hoping she couldn’t hear the insincerity in my voice. ‘We’ll have to arrange it.’ Of course, if we were going to be proper friends, I’d have to find a way around this problem too, even if it meant setting up in a squat on my own, or paying for Jack to leave the country.

  ‘Let me give you your present,’ I said, changing the subject. I’d bought Alex a CD she’d mentioned she wanted, by some girl band I didn’t rate. It didn’t seem like much for an eighteenth, so I’d added a set of rose perfumed soaps and body lotion from Mum’s spare present collection, which was mainly made up of recycled gifts. Mum always said she worried that one day she’d end up giving an unwanted present back to the person who’d bought it for her.

  ‘Thanks!’ Alex exclaimed. ‘Ooh, exciting. Do you mind if I open it on my actual birthday?’

  I shook my head. I was relieved. It’s always embarrassing when someone has to pretend they like your gift, when they don’t.

  ‘We should get ready,’ said Alex. ‘I’ve cleared some space for you over there, if you want to sort your stuff out.’

  I unpacked my bags and laid out all my things. Alex came over to take a look.

  ‘Are those your glasses?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. I screwed my nose up. ‘Hideous, aren’t they?’

  ‘Hmm, I can see why you don’t like them. They’re pretty big. Whatever possessed you to get purple?’

  Because they matched my eyes? ‘They were in the sale,’ I said.

  ‘Here, let me try them . . .’

  Before I could stop her, Alex had put on my comedy glasses. Far too large for her, they slid straight down her nose, where they perched precariously. She looked about fifty in them. Fifty and completely batty.

  ‘They’re not very strong,’ she said. ‘I can see perfectly through them and I’ve got my lenses in. I thought you said you were really short sighted.’

  ‘Maybe you need a new prescription,’ I suggested. ‘They make a big difference to me.’

  She frowned. ‘Maybe.’

  Using Alex for a makeover proved to be a nonstarter. Clearly, I couldn’t ask her to do my hair like hers, not unless she’d suddenly acquired the skills of Nicky Clarke. And her idea of make-up, even for a party, was a dab of lip-gloss and some clear mascara. I wear more than that to school. As for her dresses: she didn’t have any. Not a single one. Her party outfit was a pair of jeans and a red long-sleeved T-shirt with sequins scattered across it.

  ‘Your new top is lovely,’ I said. It wasn’t something I’d have worn, but it suited her. ‘I don’t know what to wear at all. Can you help?’ I pulled four dresses – every single one that I possessed – out of my rucksack. ‘What do you think?’

  Alex rifled through them, holding each one up to the light and measuring it up against me. ‘They’re all really nice. But I’m not a dress or skirt person. I never get my legs out, so I’m probably not the person to ask.’

  ‘You’ve got great, shapely legs,’ I said. I was being genuine.

  ‘Nah, they’re too muscley. You’re lucky yours haven’t bulked up through exercise. My calves are bigger than my dad’s.’

  Yet another reason not to exercise, I thought. Who wants calves like a man?

  ‘Why don’t you go for the green one?’ Alex suggested. ‘It’s the nicest colour and I like the square neckline.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘Good choice.’ It’s funny that she’d picked out the green jersey dress; it was the one I’d never worn because I didn’t feel entirely comfortable in it. I’d liked it in the shop but every time I put it on at home I took it straight off again. It wasn’t quite me. Maybe that’s because it was more Laura.

  ‘You seem a lot happier than I thought you’d be,’ Alex said, as we finished getting dressed. ‘I thought you’d be all puffy eyed and quiet, but you’re totally being yourself. Are you really OK about Jared?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I said. I tried to make myself look sad. Until she’d mentioned Jared I’d forgotten that I was meant to be heartbroken. In fact, I was so relaxed I hadn’t been acting at all. ‘Honestly. It’s nice of you to ask, but I don’t really want to talk about it, or I’ll get upset.’

  ‘Sure. Sorry.’ She put her hand on my shoulder. ‘Anytime you want to, let me know.’

  ‘Course,’ I said. ‘Now, let’s party!’

  Chapter 17

  Alex’s parents thoughtfully took themselves out for the night at about seven, and the first party guests started arriving at eight. Alex said she was expecting about forty people (assuming nobody had posted an open invite up on Topfriendz), mostly college friends and a few selected friends from her sports and drama clubs. She said she couldn’t wait to introduce me to her best friend Jessica (‘I’ve told her so much about you’) and to Ben, the guy from her economics class whom she thought had potential, and about whom she wanted my honest opinion.

  While we’d been getting ready, Alex’s parents had transformed the house. The lights had been dimmed and there were multicoloured fairy lights strung up across the living room and hall, giving everything a hazy glow. There were balloons and ‘Happy Eighteenth’ banners stuck to every wall and in the corner of the living room stood two huge tables covered in food and drink, including a bowl of fruit punch so large that a child could have had a bath in it. As it was her eighteenth, Alex’s parents had given her a few bottles of champagne to celebrate with, the remainder of the drinks being soft.

  I hung around in the background while Alex greeted her guests, smiling and waving hello each time she pointed me out. When Ben arrived, Alex gave me a wink. I hadn’t expected him to resemble Jack, but he had the same stocky build and fairish hair, and it unnerved me. Either Alex had a ‘type’ or she was even less over Jack than I’d thought. I forced a grin and winked back, nodding my head in approval.

  I didn’t warm to Jessica. I felt that she eyed me suspiciously when we were introduced and that she’d made up her mind in advance to dislike me. Like Katie, she was clearly jealous when anybody new appeared on the scene and extremely protective of her best friend. I decided to keep my distance. The last thing I needed was somebody asking too many probing questions.

  Being Laura at the party was easy. I discovered that if you dance a lot, you don’t really have to talk to people at all, you can just smile at them. Even when people did try to make smalltalk, the music was so loud nobody could hear what anyone else was saying. This guy – his name sounded like Steve or Dave – kept dancing next to me and trying to make eye contact. Every time he came too close I twirled my body around, so that I was dancing with my back to him. That was very rude of Laura; of course, Lily would never do anything like that.

  I spent a great deal of time hovering by the food and drinks table, keeping busy by rearranging the cupcakes (hiding the best ones at the back in the hopes th
ey’d be left over at the end) and pouring myself punch. I was hungry but nobody else was eating much and I didn’t want to look like a greedy pig, so I stuck to crisps and nuts, which I could stuff into my mouth while nobody was looking. As there was lots of fruit in the punch I figured it would count towards my five a day.

  I wasn’t expecting it, but I really started to enjoy myself. The weird thing was, I lost all track of time. I’d be dancing and then I’d look at my watch and a whole hour would have gone by. And maybe I did need glasses after all, because I was sure the room was starting to go a bit blurry, and that when people talked to me their voices sounded echoey and that they were swaying backwards and forwards. Even stranger, my thoughts were all jumbled up and seemed to be popping into my head in a random order. When the room began to swim, I stumbled to the door and announced, ‘Feeling a bit dizzy,’ to no one in particular. Somehow, I managed to find my way out through the kitchen into the back garden. I sat smack down on the patio and almost rolled straight over. I giggled, righted myself, looked around me and then remembered how Jack and I had first met during a party, in a back garden not dissimilar to this one. I found myself smiling in a moronic way. Oh my God, I thought. I feel totally out of control. I must be pissed. I’ve never been pissed before. But I’ve only drunk fruit punch. How did that happen?

  I don’t know how long I’d been outside, when Alex came to find me. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked. ‘Someone said they’d seen you come outside. Here . . .’ She handed me a pint glass full of water. ‘Drink this.’

  ‘I juscht needed some fresch air,’ I slurred, taking the glass and spilling half of it. ‘I’ll be finesh.’

  ‘Oh dear. Sorry,’ she said. ‘I should have warned you. Someone poured a load of vodka and God knows what else in the punch. Don’t tell my parents – they’ll freak.’

  ‘Shokay.’

  ‘By the way, I promised I’d tell you this: my friend Dave really likes you. You know, the dark guy who was dancing with you for a while. He thinks you’re playing hard to get. I told him you just broke up with someone and it’s probably too soon. Am I right?’

  I nodded, although I didn’t have complete control of my head, so it might have been a shake. ‘I still love Jasch . . .’ I heard the name ‘Jack’ begin to tumble out of my mouth, as if in slow motion, but I couldn’t stop myself. ‘I . . . mean . . . Jaresch.’ I giggled, hysterically. ‘Whoops, I can’t even shay it.’

  ‘I know.’ She smiled. She hadn’t noticed my slip-up. ‘I’m going to get you some food and another drink. Stay there.’ It seemed only a second later that she was standing next to me with a plateful of bread and cheese and another pint of water. ‘Have this, you’ll feel better.’

  ‘Thanksch.’ I drank the glass of water down in one. I’d had no idea how thirsty I was.

  As I sat guzzling, I noticed a strange buzzing sensation in my hip. It took me a while to compute that the vibrations were coming from my mobile phone, which was inside my clutch bag. I fumbled for it, with hands that didn’t feel like they belonged to me. When I took it out, it was flashing, J calling. Jack! I felt a dull, slow panic rising in my chest. Why was Jack calling me now? What should I do?

  ‘Aren’t you going to answer that?’ asked Alex.

  ‘Yeshh, no, I dunno,’ I slurred.

  ‘Is it Jared?’

  ‘Umm, yesssh.’

  ‘You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to.’ She put her arm around me and squeezed my shoulder. ‘Call him back when you’re ready to talk – and when you’re sober is probably a good idea. Make him sweat.’

  I pressed reject. You have seven missed calls read the display on my phone (at least I think it did – it may have been one or eleven – I was seeing double). Funny, I hadn’t heard it ring once. I stared at the message for a minute, wondering what to do next. Then, because I wasn’t thinking clearly, I switched the phone off and put it back inside my bag.

  ‘Are you coming back in with me?’

  ‘In a few minish.’

  ‘OK, but I’m coming out to get you if you don’t come back in soon. You’ll freeze out here.’

  ‘Thanksch Lau-ra,’ I said.

  She laughed. ‘Silly. You’re Laura, I’m Alex, remember.’

  ‘Oh yesch. I’m Lau-ra. Lau-ra Tschompson.’

  ‘That’s right.’ She gave me a sympathetic glance, like she’d decided there was no hope for me, and went back inside.

  The cold and the food did help to sober me up, although when I realised how close I’d come to giving the game away I almost wished I were out of it again. Maybe, I thought, subconsciously, I want Alex to know the truth. But not like that; she couldn’t find out like that. I gathered myself together, smoothing down my dress and combing my hair with my fingers. I could see my faint reflection in the patio doors. I looked a fright: most of my make-up had melted off and my eye liner had smudged under my eyes.

  The party I went back into was the not same one I’d left. The food and drinks table had been desecrated and there were crisps and bits of cupcake spread across the carpet, which were gradually being kneaded into the fibres under people’s shoes. In every corner couples were snogging and a few people had slumped asleep against the wall. I felt like a spare part. If I hadn’t been staying at Alex’s, this would have been the time to leave. But I couldn’t leave. Where was she?

  I saw her across the room. She was sitting with a group of people, holding hands with Ben, her head on his shoulder. Good for her, I thought. Perhaps I should make my excuses and go to bed? Before I could, she spotted me.

  ‘Laura,’ she called out. ‘Come over here.’ She beckoned to me. ‘A few of us are going to play spin the bottle with one of the champagne bottles my parents gave me. Why don’t you join us?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. Spin the bottle usually spelled trouble.

  Jessica sidled up to me. ‘Oh, go on. It will be fun.’ She had a mischievous look in her eye.

  Alex looked at me, wide-eyed. ‘Please, Laura. Play with me. It is my birthday after all.’

  What could I say? ‘OK then.’

  I wouldn’t have agreed so readily had I known in advance that Dave was one of the players. He seemed very pleased indeed when I sat down in the circle opposite him.

  ‘I think we should play the Truth or Dare version,’ said Jessica. ‘Here goes . . .’ She spun the bottle hard, so that it revolved six or seven times before coming to rest with its thin end pointing in the direction of a plump girl named Sarah. ‘Truth or dare?’ she asked.

  ‘Truth,’ said Sarah, without hesitation. Evidently, she wasn’t the adventurous type.

  ‘OK. Do you fancy Robbie?’

  Sarah went bright red. Clearly she did. ‘Umm, er, yes,’ she admitted. She tried, bashfully, to catch Robbie’s gaze but he looked away and rolled his eyes at the girl sitting next to him. Poor Sarah.

  ‘Hah!’ said Jessica. ‘I knew it! Your go to spin.’

  Sarah’s spin sent the bottle careering out of the circle. On her second attempt, it ended its journey at Alex, who chose ‘dare’.

  ‘I dare you to snog Ben,’ said Sarah. Jessica groaned. It wasn’t much of a dare, given that Alex and Ben had clearly been joined at the lips for most of the party. Alex was only too happy to oblige.

  ‘Get a room, guys,’ said Jessica. ‘In normal circumstances, I’d make Sarah give you another dare, but as it’s your party, I’ll allow it. Just this once.’

  Eventually, Alex pulled herself away from Ben and took her turn at spinning. The bottle pointed at a boy called Carl, who was dared to run around the garden in his boxers. Having done so, he spun and the bottle came to a stop right in front of me.

  ‘Truth or dare?’ he said.

  I hesitated. Of course, you must be thinking that it’s obvious what I did next. Why, you’d even put money on the fact that I said, ‘Truth.’ It makes no odds what the question might have been: given that my whole persona was a lie, I should easily have been able to tell another, and tell it we
ll. But I couldn’t do it. Why not? Because some stupid superstition, some idiotic belief that there’s a higher morality at work when playing spin the bottle, made me unable to risk answering a question I couldn’t answer honestly. It was just like when I was a kid and someone asked me to swear on my mother’s life that what I claimed was true. I simply couldn’t do it, just in case I really did condemn her to a terrible end.

  So I said, ‘Dare.’

  ‘But I don’t know you,’ said Carl. ‘Someone else should come up with the dare.’

  ‘I know . . .’ volunteered Jessica. ‘This is a good one. Laura, I dare you to snog Dave.’

  I tried not to show my horror. Alex must have told Jessica that Dave liked me; she’d probably also told her that I’d just broken up with my boyfriend and was feeling very vulnerable. Now the cow was playing games with me. I wanted to say, ‘I’d rather run round the garden naked,’ but I didn’t want to hurt Dave’s feelings. I looked at Alex, my eyes pleading.

  ‘Can’t you make her do something else?’ asked Alex. ‘No offence to you Dave, but like I told you, Laura’s literally just broken up with someone.’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ said Jessica. ‘The boy from the band, wasn’t it? No, I’m sorry. Rules are rules. And if they’ve broken up, she’s free and single and she can snog anyone she likes.’

  Dave grinned at me, nervously. He looked like someone who knows they’ve won the lottery but can’t find their winning ticket. ‘Come on, just a quickie,’ he said. ‘I don’t bite. Well, not usually.’

  I could feel tears beginning to well up in my eyes. Despite all my lies, the one line I’d never crossed was cheating on Jack. Everything I’d done was for our relationship; well, it started off that way, at least. How could I kiss another guy, even if it was just for a dare? Jack was very clear on what he considered cheating, and kissing someone else was a no go. If he found out, he’d never forgive me. I didn’t even want to kiss anyone but Jack. But how could I get out of it? I couldn’t say, ‘Actually, I didn’t split up with my boyfriend at all,’ because then everyone would know I’d been dishonest. I couldn’t tell the truth without exposing all my lies.