But then Mum got stuck into decluttering after reading an article about the minimalist lifestyle. She made me help her carry piles of clothes, shoes and books out to her car one night to take to the charity shop. As I headed for the garage for what felt like the hundredth time, I brushed a little too close to the wall and knocked the perfectly stacked pile of books I was carrying onto the floor. As I knelt to pick them up, I noticed a photo lying on the floor. It must have slipped out of one of the books Mum had cleared from her study.
It was a shot of Mum — much younger — sitting on a picnic blanket and wrapped up in the arms of a guy I’ve never seen before. She’s leaning back to kiss him, but he’s looking straight at the camera, smiling. His nose and eyes are exactly the same as mine. It could be a coincidence, but I’m sure it’s him. I know that Olivier was Mum’s first boyfriend, and I’ve never seen her with anyone else.
I heard Mum shouting from upstairs about more boxes, so I quickly slipped the photo into my pocket and continued to help. Later that night, once I knew she’d gone to bed, I took the picture out and studied it. I did that every night for a week, thinking about what to do.
And then tonight, I bite the bullet and go through every single Facebook result for Olivier Martin. After a few pages, I start getting discouraged. Not all users have a public profile pic, and who’s to say he’s even on Facebook?
But finally I find him — or what I’m ninety-five per cent sure is an older version of the man in the photograph. I can’t see any other information as his profile is set to private.
This message is probably the most important thing I have ever written, or will ever write, but I don’t let myself type for more than a few minutes. If I do, it will turn into an essay and that might scare him off. I keep to the basics: my name, that I’m wondering if he’s the same Olivier Martin I’m looking for, and if so would he be interested in having a conversation over the phone? I don’t give my number, for safety reasons.
I hit send, trying not to freak out. Maybe I’m insane. This could be the wrong guy. I don’t know whether his privacy settings allow him to see messages from people who he’s not friends with. But I can’t keep looking at that photo for years on end, deliberating Should I try and find him?
I don’t tell Mum of course. She’ll talk me out of it. She’s told me before that he said early on that he wasn’t interested in keeping in contact with her or me. But that was more than a decade ago. Maybe now he’ll feel differently. Or maybe he won’t — but it’s my risk to take.
I don’t tell a soul — not even Ade — because I feel like if I do, I might jinx the whole thing.
17
EMILY
I think it’s some kind of mix-up when people start asking about a pool party at Ade’s. ‘There’s no party,’ I say, but they give me this look like I’m lying. Guys that I’ve never spoken to are asking me if they’re invited.
‘I get that it’s super-exclusive,’ Joe Hitchley says, ‘but couldn’t you make an exception?’
When I see Ade at lunch and she confirms the party is real, I stare at her like she’s got two heads.
‘The Tens just demanded you host a party?’
‘No, it’s not like that. Chanel and Lana take my bus, and we were hanging out at the mall.’
I picture Ade being held hostage by the Tens in a change room.
‘And you’re too scared to tell them no?’
Ade’s eyes go darker.
‘I mean, you’re a nice person — they’re taking advantage,’ I stumble, feeling awful about making Ade sound as limp as a dishrag. ‘I’ll tell them it’s not happening.’
‘It’s fine.’ She looks annoyed. ‘It’s just a few people swimming in the pool.’
‘Ade, it’s your house. You don’t have to have anyone over if you don’t want to.’
‘It’s fine.’
She’s looking over at the table where the Tens are sitting. Chanel gives her a wave and Adriana lifts her hand in response.
Looking over at them too, I feel mad. They think they can bully their way into anything, and they’re such users. I’m sure Ade knows that. She just didn’t want to start a scene by telling them they couldn’t come.
Don’t get mad. They’ll probably just have a quick swim and then head off to some party they desperately need to be seen at.
‘I’m going to hand back the masks,’ Mr Morrison announces at the start of our Friday class. ‘There’s a few without names so can you shout out if the mask is yours?’
Oops. I don’t remember writing my name on the back. As Mr Morrison holds up one mask after another, I realise I have no idea which is mine.
‘Emily’s!’ Chris Hay sings out as Mr Morrison lifts up another half-mask.
Andy snorts. ‘That honker is unmistakable! Naso!’ The word turns into a wolf howl.
‘Quiet!’ Mr Morrison gives me an apologetic look as he hands back my mask.
I look down at it. The nose juts out from the face of the mask, like a zanni character. I know what my nose looks like in profile but the reality is still a shock. It’s like someone’s written ‘ugly’ on my forehead and I can’t scrub it off.
I’ve never cared that much about what I look like. Sure, I put on makeup every day and I love pretty clothes, but I’ve always defined myself by other things — I’m funny, I’m a good artist, I can talk to anyone.
I think of how Ade used to say to me, You don’t know what it’s like to have everyone laugh at you.
I used to look over at her when someone said something mean, and when she dropped her head or stared at the blackboard, I’d think, Say something! Make fun of them! I know now that comebacks are way easier when you’re outside of the line of fire.
I force myself to focus on painting my mask with a wash of cornflower blue, stretching the shade out into violet and purple.
‘That colour — it’s like your eyes,’ Theo says. He points at the mask and the cornflower blue. ‘Sometimes they’re blue, and then other times they’re violet. I’m starting to wonder if the colour changes depending on your mood.’ He gives me a wink.
‘What are they now?’ I ask.
I want him to stop looking at the mask, at its huge nose, even though, hello, he’s looking at my face and that’s the same thing.
‘They’re blue,’ he says, so softly that I know I’m the only one who can hear him. ‘But near your pupils they’re actual purple. They’re making me think of Cleopatra’s boat from that Shakespeare verse — my dad loves the Bard. Something about a boat of gold, but I only remember the bit that goes purple the sails, and so perfumed the winds were lovesick with them.’
Anyone else would sound like a poser quoting Shakespeare while talking about someone’s eyes, but when Theo says it, it doesn’t seem stupid. Instead I see purple sails floating in a breeze, and hear the sound of oars dipping into water — instead of the word naso which has been echoing through my head all lesson.
‘Okay, I know you’ve heard about the pool thing and you’re hoping for an invite,’ I joke. ‘All the boys have been trying to butter me up all week — well, except for the ones in this class it seems.’ I try to laugh lightly so he thinks I’m not bothered.
‘Pool thing?’
‘At Adriana’s. She’s having people over this Saturday.’
‘Would I be welcome?’ he asks. ‘I haven’t chatted to her much, so I don’t want to presume. It’s funny, I know you guys are best friends, but you’re really different.’
You mean she’s a goddess and I’m not.
I must be giving him a funny look because he shakes his head.
‘Sorry, I mean in terms of personalities. She’s very quiet.’
‘She’s shy with people she doesn’t know that well.’
I saw Ade chatting to Theo in Monday’s dance class, her eyes darting to him and away, like a bird unsure of an outstretched hand.
‘She’s deep though — you can tell from the little things she does say,’ he adds. ‘Even though she’s
so beautiful.’
‘Well, you’re a decent person and you’re … you know …’
‘I’m what?’
Oh god, I don’t want to say it. Godly. Ridiculously attractive.
‘You’re … you know,’ I make a face, ‘the male equivalent of Adriana.’
Theo goes a bit red. ‘You think?’
He obviously likes her and he’s embarrassed that I’ve figured it out. This is so awkward, but if it’s helping Ade out I’ll go for it.
‘Incredibly attractive,’ I say, and look down at my mask. Unlike me. ‘Anyway, what I mean is, Adriana is a really special person. You should talk to her more — she’ll come out of her shell.’
‘She’s your friend so I’d like to get to know her.’
I can tell he’s shyly indicating he’s interested — and as her best friend, he’s hoping I approve.
‘So come to the party,’ I say, and he agrees.
‘Theo’s in,’ I say to Ade the second she meets me at the bus stop. ‘He’s coming to the party, and not only that — he said the words “I want to get to know her”.’
I expect her to look thrilled, but her eyes are wide like I’ve told her there’s a spider on her backpack.
‘You could look a little less terror-stricken at the idea,’ I say.
‘That makes me one thousand times more nervous. He’s so difficult to talk to.’
I don’t know why this surprises me — Ade tenses up around most people — but Theo’s so easy-going that I would have thought it’d be different with him.
‘I know he looks like a god, but he’s still just a guy.’
‘It’s not him, it’s me,’ Ade says. ‘Even when words do make it out of my mouth, they just make me look quiet and timid and small. I’m sick of being quiet and timid and small.’
A bus pulls in and I look to check it’s mine. Ade’s coming over for dinner tonight, as Daniel always works late on a Thursday.
‘You know when you feel like someone is only ever going to see you one way?’ she finishes.
When I look back at Ade, I see she’s not looking at me. She’s looking over at Dylan, who’s pulling his bike out of the bike rack down the way. He gets on to it and gives the pedal a huge kick. I know he’s upset. He asked me about the party earlier and I told him it’s a complete no-go zone.
‘He’s not coming to the party, so don’t worry,’ I say to Ade.
I think this will make her happy, but as we get on the bus she looks even sadder.
Even though I’ve had all week to think about it, I’m still stressing about what to wear on Saturday. I end up settling on the bikini set and rainbow-coloured, Grecian-style caftan that Mum bought me last Christmas. It shows underwear lines, so once I change out of my bikini I’ll have to wear a nude G-string with it, even though I hate how uncomfortable G-strings are.
I’m so nervous I spill foundation all over the bathroom floor, and by the time I’ve cleaned it up and Mum and I get in the car, I’m half an hour late. Ade is going to kill me for leaving her alone.
When we get to Daniel’s place, it’s like half our year has shown up. Throngs of people are out by the pool, and someone’s bought a sound system so it’s almost like a DJ playing out there. Daniel looks like he’s in shock, and so does Mum.
‘Are you the only one supervising?’ Mum asks, and when Daniel nods, she says, ‘I’d better stay and help you out.’
I can tell Daniel is trying to look cool, but his face is delighted.
‘Should I be setting a limit to how many people we let in?’ he asks Mum, pouring her a glass of wine. ‘This is the sole bottle of alcohol in the house — I’ve hidden the rest in my car.’
Mum laughs. ‘I don’t know. None of the parties I helped out with when the girls were young needed crowd control.’
‘It seems pretty harmless. I’ll let her have her fun.’ Daniel clinks his glass against Mum’s. ‘To my unexpectedly popular daughter.’
I leave them, feeling excited that they’re hanging out again. When I head out to the pool, I see that the Tens are sitting in a line along its edge, their long legs dangling in the water. Like Adriana, who’s right in the middle, they’re all in cut-off shorts and cropped shirts, as though it’s the party uniform. I look down at my caftan and feel like a grandma.
‘Get in the water, Lana!’ Luke shouts from where he’s floating on a crocodile.
‘Take a photo of us first!’ Lana shouts back.
All of the Tens start taking off their shirts and slipping out of their shorts, except Adriana, who looks awkward. Chanel pulls at her shirt and laughs. Everyone in the backyard is staring at them. When Adriana slips out of the shorts and stands there in an orange bikini I’ve never seen before, she looks just like the other Tens with their teeny thighs and flat stomachs, only more stunning.
She’s not a Ten; she’s an actual Eleven.
‘Adriana! Get in the middle!’ Lana orders. ‘Backs to the camera — it’s all about the bikini bottom shot.’
Lana pushes Ade’s hips back so she’s like the rest of the Tens — leaning forward ever so slightly, bums jutting out like a Victoria’s Secret group photo. There are whistles across the yard.
After Luke takes the shot, Adriana walks over to me, shaking her head. ‘That was so embarrassing.’
‘You do realise there’s now a shot of your bum on Instagram?’ I joke, though I’m feeling weird about what happened. Just because she’s taking photos with them doesn’t mean she’s not your friend, you idiot, I tell myself. They’re sucking up because they know she’s the centre of attention today.
Adriana groans and grabs her phone, which is on the table near us. ‘They’ve already tagged me in it.’
‘You have Instagram now?’
‘They made me get it. Anyway, we haven’t taken a best friend pic yet!’
‘Here, let me take it.’ Theo is standing behind us, wearing a white shirt and a huge smile.
It makes me think of that moment in the schoolyard, when he was walking over to Ade and me, and I assumed the smile he was wearing was for me. Now I know better.
‘That’s gorgeous, girls.’ He looks at the image on the screen. ‘Perfect.’
I feel Adriana’s smile grow, like she’s my Siamese twin and our bodies are connected. I grin, because her happiness is my happiness, and that’s all that matters.
Suddenly we’re surrounded by giggling Tens.
‘So, Theo, we think it’s way too hot,’ Chanel emphasises the last word, ‘and you should come swim with us.’
Theo looks amused. ‘I’m definitely planning on getting in the water.’
‘Good.’
Maddy and Ally give each other a look, and as they turn their heads I notice how cute their noses are. They’re like little dolls. They all are, I realise, as I look from Lana to Chanel, to Maddy and Ally, and then at Ade.
Theo starts unbuttoning his shirt. ‘So, Ade, Em, are you in?’
I can’t look, because if I see him shirtless at close range there’s no way I won’t blush, even if he’s Ade’s crush.
Ade’s eyes are pleading with me to say yes.
‘Sure,’ I say, though the last thing I want to do is take off my clothes in front of the fifty or so people hanging round the pool and feel their eyes critically flick over my non-Ten body. I hover at the edge, standing in the water up to my ankles. I’m still wearing my caftan, because I haven’t got the guts yet to do the inevitable strip.
Theo steps into the shallow end. ‘Thanks for inviting me, Em. It’s awesome to be hanging with you outside of class.’
Even though I know he’s being friendly, I want him to look away so I can slip off my dress without him seeing. My hips and thighs feel even bigger when I’m standing next to the Tens and all I want is to be under the water so they’re hidden.
I hate myself for caring this much. I don’t want to be this person.
Theo says something to me, which I miss because the Tens are shouting over it.
�
��Theo! Take a photo with us!’
‘Come on!’ Chanel shouts.
Theo laughs. ‘Sorry, Em, one sec.’
He heads over to the girls and that’s when I let myself look at him. He looks just like that fantasy I had about him swimming in Daniel’s pool — his skin is tanned, and his shoulders are as broad as Henry Cavill’s in Superman.
I quickly rip off my caftan while his back is to me and dash into the water.
Theo and the Tens take photos. I watch them snapping shots of each other, selecting filters and posting pictures that are crazy perfect. I stay on the edge of it all, feeling every type of awkward. When nobody’s looking, I jump out and grab my caftan and dash into the house.
Daniel and Mum are sitting on bar stools and talking, presumably on to new glasses of wine, and they don’t see me pass by.
After showering, I hang my bikini over the screen and put on a bra and the nude G-string. I look at my bum in the bathroom mirror, thinking of the photo the Tens took. My butt is nothing like theirs — it’s flat, not perky, and dimply where theirs were perfectly smooth.
I slip my caftan over my head and twist and tug each way to make sure you can’t see the G-string, before I head back outside. I lay my towel at the far side of the deck and sit back against the wall in the late afternoon sun, pretending to check my phone so I don’t look like a loser.
Theo is out of the water now, wrapping a towel round his waist. Seeing him from a distance like this, I realise how tall and muscular he is. He’s a man, not a boy, I realise, as he lifts one arm to push his wet hair away from his forehead. It’s not just his body — it’s in his expressions, the look that comes into his eyes at times. It’s the intensity, the knowingness. The thought makes me shiver even though it’s nowhere near cold.
I look over at Ade, who’s floating on a blow-up swan someone has brought over, the afternoon light shimmering off her shoulders. She’s surrounded by the Tens and male admirers and is laughing like crazy at something.
‘Hey.’ Theo’s standing above me, holding two drinks. The outsides of the glasses are wet from condensation. ‘I can’t believe you got out so quickly when it’s this hot.’ He shakes his head. ‘I thought you’d be desperate for a cold Coke.’
My Best Friend Is a Goddess Page 19