A Kiss in the Dark

by Cat Clarke

  I’d lied to Alex, saying Edward had a new girlfriend. I hadn’t wanted to lie but Alex kept on asking questions about him, clearly jealous. It was a harmless lie – a white lie, definitely. It made Alex feel better and it made me feel less guilty for fancying Edward last year just because I’d had an embarrassing dream about him. That was how much I cared about Alex. I didn’t want anything or anyone to make him (HER) feel bad. His happiness was my number one priority.

  Edward replied straightaway even though he must have only had a couple of hours sleep: That’s the best news I’ve heard all year. Call me if you’re feeling lonely. I had no idea what had happened to him. He never used to be sleazy like that. Going to university had turned him into some sort of wannabe lothario and it really didn’t suit him. If he really was expecting me to call, he’d be waiting a very long time. I’ve had enough of boys for the time being. That was what I thought when I read Edward’s text. It was almost laughable that I still couldn’t get it into my stupid head that I’d still had nothing whatsoever to do with any boys. My brain couldn’t come to terms with it yet. Every time I thought about Alex, the words HE and HIM and HIS were there instead of SHE and HER and HERS. Simple pronouns were confusing to me all of a sudden. But Alex had been my boyfriend, even though he had technically never existed.

  It would be better if Alex had died – maybe hit by a bus while skateboarding. Then I would get to be the grieving girlfriend and I’d be safe from the knowledge that it was all a lie. Astrid would feel sorry for me and the girls at school would look at me differently – they’d think I was brave and tragic and interesting. Mum would take care of me and probably let me off the hook about piano for a while. And maybe she would call Dad and he’d turn up on the doorstep one day and he would say sorry for being such a terrible father and he would move back to Edinburgh and I’d see him at least twice a week.

  This little fantasy imploded as soon as I really thought about it. I would only know about Alex dying if it was in the papers or on the internet, and of course they would know she was a girl. So I would be in the same position I am now, except I’d feel conflicted about hating her, because it was wrong – not to mention pointless – to hate a dead person. The girls at school would still look at me differently, but they’d be looking at me thinking I was a total freak. So all in all it was better that Alex was alive.

  There were no more texts from Alex overnight. Perhaps she’d finally given up. That would be a good thing … wouldn’t it?

  *

  Mum was acting weird at breakfast the next morning, flitting around the kitchen like a sparrow with ADHD. I managed to eat a few cornflakes even though I still wasn’t hungry. The last thing I needed was Mum jumping to the conclusion that I was developing some kind of eating disorder. She’d probably march me straight to the doctor and have me sent away to a clinic in the middle of nowhere (after she’d made sure there was a half-decent piano available for me to play).

  ‘So!’ Her voice was too loud, too bright. ‘So … what are you up to today?’

  I shrugged even though shrugging is one of her pet hates. She finally stopped flitting and sat down next to me at the table. ‘When’s Astrid getting back?’

  At that exact moment my phone buzzed with a text from Astrid and Mum looked down and saw her name on the screen. ‘Speak of the devil!’ I read the message, angling the phone away from Mum. Astrid was back and she wanted me to go round to her house to keep her company while she unpacked. She didn’t bother to ask how I was doing. ‘If you want to get out of the house for a few hours, that’s fine by me.’ Mum’s smile was almost convincing. She didn’t like Astrid – never had. I shrugged again just to see what she would do; she didn’t even flinch. She put her hand on my shoulder and said, ‘I think you could do with a friend right now. It’s all very well talking to me but I think you’d be more comfortable talking to Astrid, don’t you think?’

  ‘Mum! I’ve already told you! I don’t want anyone knowing about this … It’s … private.’

  She held up her hands in surrender. ‘I know, I know, but … Astrid knows that you and Alex have … um … broken things off, doesn’t she? The very least she can do is provide you with a bit of tea and sympathy. She doesn’t need to know the rest.’

  ‘I don’t need tea and sympathy! I need … God, I don’t even know!’ I pushed my chair back and stormed over to the sink, slammed down my cereal bowl, sloshing milk on to the clean dishes on the draining board. I grabbed my phone from the table and left the room before Mum could shout at me.

  Tea and sympathy? As if that would fix anything. What I really needed was the last few months of my life not to have happened. I needed my heart to be unbroken.

  I needed Alex – my Alex – to be real.

  chapter thirty

  I was sitting on Astrid’s bed, watching her rummage through her suitcase for the present she’d supposedly bought me. Astrid had never bought me a present back from her holidays even though I always made sure to get her something. But sure enough she turned around brandishing a Toblerone like a sword. ‘It’s been scientifically proven that chocolate is, like, the official antidote to break-ups. I’m pretty sure that if you eat that all in one go you’ll forget about that bastard.’

  ‘I’m pretty sure if I eat that all in one go I’ll vomit.’

  ‘Exactly! And you’re not going to be thinking about him with your head down the toilet, are you?’

  I couldn’t help laughing. My laughter didn’t sound quite right to me though – there was something hollow about it. It was an echo of real laughter. Still, it was enough to make Astrid smile. She’s beautiful when she smiles. Normally there’s something pinched about her features, something you could interpret as meanness. Astrid always says that people need time to warm up to her, and she’s right. If you saw her walking down the street, not smiling or laughing or anything, you’d probably come to the conclusion that she’s a bitch. And she is a bitch a lot of the time but she can be nice too. It’s just that she tends not to let people see that side of her.

  Astrid made me tell her the whole break-up story in minute detail – she even wanted to see the texts Alex had sent but I told her I’d deleted them. She approved of that.

  She flopped down on the bed next to me, leaving her clothes strewn across the carpet. ‘God, Kate, this is all so weird. He seemed so devoted to you, you know?’ I nodded dully. ‘He was like a puppy, watching your every move and trying to work out what you wanted him to do.’ This was not the first time Astrid had used the puppy analogy. I didn’t like it any more than I had the last time. ‘I mean, what kind of guy ditches his girlfriend before he gets laid?! This must be the first time it’s happened in the whole history of the world … Sorry, am I being insensitive?’

  Astrid often asked things like this, as if by doing so she negated anything insensitive or downright offensive she’d just said. I shook my head and she carried on. ‘I told you there was something off about him, didn’t I?’

  ‘Congratulations, you were right. I’m very happy for you,’ I deadpanned.

  ‘Sorry! It’s just that if there’s one thing I know, it’s people. I’m like a human weirdo detector or something. Although Justin thought there was something strange about Alex too, now that I think about it.’ This was news to me. It seemed like I was the only person who hadn’t had suspicions about Alex. With every excruciating minute that passed I felt more and more foolish. ‘Oh God, sorry, I’m sure you don’t want to hear about Justin right now. Don’t worry, you can still hang out with us.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She may have been a human weirdo detector but Astrid was oddly oblivious to sarcasm.

  ‘So let’s get down to business.’ Astrid propped herself up on her elbows and an evil grin spread across her face. ‘What are we going to do to him?’ She shook her head at my confused expression. ‘Well we can’t just let him get away with this, can we? No one hurts my best friend and gets away with it.’

  I sighed. ‘We’re not going to do anything
. You can’t force someone to stay in a relationship with you.’

  ‘Maybe not, but you can punish them when they dump you by text the night before you’re supposed to shag for the first time.’

  Astrid had probably already started plotting some hugely involved, intricate plan for revenge – complete with maps and diagrams. There was only one way to stop her in her tracks, and thankfully the tears came easily. ‘I just want to forget about him, Astrid – act like this whole thing never happened … like he doesn’t even exist.’

  Astrid thrives on drama but she doesn’t like crying unless she’s the one doing it. For some reason it makes her really uncomfortable. ‘Oh don’t cry! It’s going to be OK, I promise. Um … do you want a Diet Coke or something?’

  I mournfully shook my head and cried a little bit more. Astrid patted my shoulder. I sniffed. ‘Sorry. It’s just hard, you know? Can we maybe talk about something else for a bit?’ I scrambled around in my brain for another topic of conversation. ‘Have you done that assignment for English?’

  The look of horror on Astrid’s face was so funny that I had to smile. ‘Shit! I completely forgot about it! Shit. What am I going to do?’ She jumped up from the bed, hurried over to her desk and started rifling through a precarious pile of books and folders.

  I checked the time on my phone. 4.03 p.m. We were going back to school the next day and English was our first lesson. I’d finished the assignment the first day of the Christmas holidays. ‘It’s OK, you’ve got time. As long as you’ve read the book … you have read the book, haven’t you?’

  Of course she hadn’t read the book. Astrid was usually able to charm her way around being late with her homework, but our English teacher, Ms Churchill, didn’t take any crap from her – or from anyone for that matter. Ms Churchill was obsessed with preparing us for the ‘real world’. She said, ‘You’re not children anymore and I refuse to treat you as such.’ Apparently handing in your essays late was frowned upon in the real world.

  Astrid started freaking out, although it was hard to tell how much of the freaking out was genuine and how much was down to her love of the dramatic. She asked if she could read my assignment ‘just for an idea of what we should be doing’, but she wasn’t surprised when I said no.

  ‘Look, I’ve got the study guide if you want to borrow it. It won’t be perfect but I think you can probably get away with not reading the book.’ Astrid wasn’t looking convinced, so I forged on. ‘If you want, you can email me your first draft tonight and I’ll take a look at it.’

  That clinched it. She knew I’d fix all her mistakes, even if it took me all night. It actually felt good to be helping her out; I wouldn’t mind working on her essay if it took my mind off Alex for a few hours.

  I said I’d run home to get the study guide but Astrid insisted on coming with me to save time. ‘Every second counts!’ That’s when I knew she was really enjoying this. In her mind the situation had transformed into a life-or-death race against time.

  I’d already decided that Astrid would wait outside while I went in to get the book, just to make sure Mum wouldn’t have the opportunity to say something like ‘Isn’t it awful that Kate’s boyfriend turned out not to be a boy after all?’ or ‘So Astrid, do you think Kate might be a lesbian?’ I didn’t actually think there was any chance of Mum saying either of those things – she knew I wanted to keep this whole thing secret – but my paranoia had reached epic levels.

  We ran the whole way to my house because that’s what Astrid wanted to do. She was much faster than me; I was well behind her when she turned the corner on to my road. So I was surprised to find her running back towards me, looking genuinely worried. ‘Oh my God, Kate, I think something’s happened!’

  I had no idea what she was talking about but panic flooded my body all the same. She grabbed my arm and pulled me round the corner. I saw the police car first. It was very shiny and parked right outside my house. Then I saw a policeman with his hat wedged under his arm. He was standing at my front door, which was open. My first thought was something had happened to Mum while I’d been at Astrid’s, but then I thought there probably would have been an ambulance instead of a police car. My second thought was Dad. In the few seconds it took us to get to the house I’d convinced myself that Dad was dead. A car crash or a house fire or a burglary gone wrong. But then I saw Mum standing in the doorway and she didn’t look like she’d been crying. No matter how she felt about Dad now, I was sure she would cry if she found out he was dead. Mum’s eyes flitted from me to Astrid and back again as we stood on the path desperately trying to get our breath back. Mum may not have been crying, but she definitely looked worried. Mags emerged from inside and put a hand on Mum’s shoulder. What the hell was she doing here?

  ‘Mum? What’s happened?’ I asked in a shaky voice. The policeman turned towards us. He was young and very good-looking; his jaw was very square, like it would sit nicely on a mantelpiece.

  The policeman turned back to Mum. ‘I take it this is your daughter?’ Not exactly a brilliant deduction seeing as I’d just called Mum Mum.

  Mum nodded and looked nervously up and down the street. ‘Why don’t we go back inside? Um … Astrid, I think you’d better be getting home. Mags, could you maybe–’

  ‘Mum? What’s going on?’

  The policeman straightened his shoulders and coughed. ‘My name is PC Mason. I was just talking to your mother about the allegations against …’ He winced because he had to look down at the little black notebook he was holding. ‘Miss Alex Banks?’

  I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to see Astrid’s face. ‘Miss?!’

  chapter thirty-one

  I barged into the house past Mum and Mags. I slammed the door to my room so hard my panda calendar fell on the floor.

  There was no end to this nightmare. Astrid knew. By tomorrow lunchtime everyone at school would know and I would be a laughing stock. I wanted to die. I bet Astrid was already planning who to tell: Justin first, then Stella. She’d probably want to tell everyone else in person so she could see the looks on their faces. As I lay on my bed I kept expecting a knock at the door and for Astrid to come in and start grilling me, or at least ask for the study notes. But then I realized all thoughts of doing the assignment would have disappeared from her head immediately. Knowing Astrid she’d probably tell Ms Churchill she’d been unable to complete the essay because she’d been so traumatized by my situation.

  Astrid was all I could think about, even when I heard voices coming from the hallway. Mum and Mags. I had to keep thinking about Astrid because if I stopped thinking about Astrid I would be thinking about why my mother had called the police and what on earth I was going to say to them.

  The voices outside my door were muffled so I crept over to the door.

  ‘I practically had to barricade the door to keep that Astrid girl out. Anyway, I sent her off home and she swore she wouldn’t tell a soul.’ Mags had never met Astrid before so she had no idea how unlikely that was. ‘You did the right thing, Belinda. You didn’t have a choice.’

  ‘But did you see the look she gave me? She hates me!’ Mum sounded like she was crying.

  ‘She’s a teenager! Hating parents is part of the job description. But seriously, she’ll thank you for this one day. Sometimes we have to be the ones to make the tough decisions.’

  I couldn’t hear what Mum said next no matter how hard I pressed my ear to the door. Then I heard Mags saying she’d better be heading off or she’d miss her train. Mum thanked her, saying she wouldn’t have been able to handle this alone. Then I heard the front door open and close and she was gone. Presumably the policeman was still lurking around somewhere but I couldn’t hear him.

  I lay back down on the bed, pulling the duvet on top of me as if it could shield me from this mess. I hadn’t meant for this to happen. I hadn’t meant to lie – Mum had just got the wrong end of the stick. I should have put her right, but I was so desperate for her to stop questioning my sexuality. And I was angry wi
th Alex – of course I was. But if I’d thought that Mum would do something insane like calling the police I’d never have let her go on thinking Alex had forced me into anything. I genuinely thought she’d want to forget all about it – how could I have been so unbelievably naïve? I should have known she’d talk to Mags – those two told each other everything. Mum was always going to her for advice. She treated Mags like some kind of Yoda figure for some bizarre reason. Of course she’d tell her. And of course Mags would say she should call the police. I should have seen this coming.

  There was a knock at the door and Mum didn’t wait for an answer before coming into the room. She said nothing for a minute or two, so I was forced to come out from under the duvet to see what she was up to. Mum didn’t look like she’d been crying, but it was always difficult to tell with her. ‘Look, before you say anything … I know you’re not happy about this but it’s the right thing to do. It is. We can’t let that … girl … get away with this.’ I started to speak but Mum held up her hand to silence me. ‘No. You have to listen to me. What if she targets someone else, just because you did nothing? How would you feel then?’ She sounded so sure about it all – forceful almost. The uncertainty that had been in her voice when she’d talked to Mags was nowhere to be found.

  There was so much I wanted to say but what was the point? I had no one to blame but myself. I’d set this in motion and there was nothing I could do about it now. Mum sat down next to me on the bed and brushed my hair from my face. Her face was softer all of a sudden. ‘You don’t want this hanging over you for the rest of your life. It’ll haunt you, Kate … trust me.’