I swallowed my words back down.
Zoe turned to me. Her hair shone and her eyes glinted behind their perfectly-flicked eyeliner. She looked more beautiful than I’d ever seen her. ‘Hey,’ she said. ‘That present was the best ever.’ She dabbed some of the scented oil on to her wrists and held the phial out to me. ‘Want some?’
I shook my head. I’d already borrowed a splash of my mum’s designer stuff. She hardly ever used it, so I reckoned it was only going to go off if I didn’t help out.
By the time we got to the restaurant we were about half an hour late. Kerry was standing outside, her face all red and blotchy. She was wearing this floaty white top that looked completely wrong on her because she was so big and bulky. And she looked freezing. ‘You’re here,’ she said.
Zoe glanced over her shoulder. ‘Looks like it.’
‘I thought you weren’t coming. I thought you’d just gone off somewhere else without me.’
‘We wouldn’t do that,’ I lied. ‘Sorry. The bus was late.’
We went inside. I really liked the decor because it was a bit goth-y and the smell of garlic made my stomach feel suddenly empty. The tables and chairs were a dark wood, the walls were deep red and there were elaborate candlesticks with drooping, worn candles in them.
Zoe gave a sigh. ‘Mock-goth,’ she said.
‘This looks great,’ I said, hoping to cheer Kerry up. She sat down and handed Zoe a flat parcel wrapped in shiny paper. Zoe gave her a fake smile and pulled at the paper. She raised her eyebrows when she saw what it was. ‘Hey,’ she said. ‘That’s actually quite nice.’
‘I thought you could paint the view from the photo,’ Kerry said.
Zoe shook her head. ‘No, I couldn’t, Kerry. It would be copying someone else’s art. Photos are art too, you know. It’s not the done thing.’
I turned away from Kerry’s disappointed face because I could see Luke coming towards us. I felt that odd little jolt inside. I lifted the menu to hide my face and stared as if I was about to be tested on the choices. It was more expensive than I’d expected.
‘Umm, Kerry,’ I said. ‘It’s not exactly cheap and cheerful, is it?’
Kerry grinned at us. ‘I’m treating us all, remember? I’m getting Luke’s staff discount too, so it’s not as bad as it looks.’
I winced. Zoe gave a small smile. ‘If you insist. I’d like this black pasta stuff, please.’
It was the most expensive thing on the menu. I noticed Kerry flinch, just a little, but she didn’t say anything. I sought out the plainest, cheapest pasta on the list.
Luke was hovering, notebook in hand.
‘And a bottle of your finest red wine,’ Zoe said to him and he laughed.
‘No can do, ladies. Try again.’ He looked at me. ‘Hi again. Anna, right?’
I felt like my tongue was glued down. ‘Yeah, hi. Plain tomato pasta, please. Actually – I’m not all that hungry. Do you do half-portions?’
Zoe pursed her lips. ‘Anna, Kerry’s treating us. Don’t be so rude. A few minutes ago you told me you were starving.’
Kerry smiled at me. ‘It’s fine, you have whatever you want.’
Luke looked at his sister. ‘You’re paying for all of this?’
Kerry shifted in her seat. ‘It’s Zoe’s birthday.’
‘I can pay for myself,’ I chipped in.
‘No,’ said Kerry and she gave her brother a glare. ‘I promised.’
Zoe pressed her lips together as if she wanted to laugh.
Luke took our orders and went off to the kitchen to bring us some iced water.
I wasn’t lying. The combination of the menu prices and seeing Luke again had kind of killed my appetite. And I could feel Zoe watching me.
The food was really good, though, and Luke brought us a free plate of warm bread and green olives to go with it. When he smiled at me, very directly, I went a bit hot in the face. As soon as he’d gone, though, Zoe dropped her fork into her bowl of pasta, with a loud clatter. Black-ish sauce like ink spots splattered onto the table cloth. Kerry jumped and checked her white top.
‘Say it ain’t so, Anna. Tell me there’s nothing going on between you and the bread boy.’
‘That’s my brother,’ said Kerry. ‘He’s called Luke.’
Zoe closed her eyes. ‘I know that. So what?’
Kerry shrugged and looked down at her plate. I knew how she felt. Sometimes Zoe could be a bit scary. She was so much worse to Kerry than to anyone else, though.
‘’Course there’s nothing going on,’ I said. ‘I met him once before, that’s all. Kerry, this food is amazing. I love this place.’
‘Well, I don’t,’ Zoe said, pushing her bowl away. ‘It’s pretentious. It’s just Presto Pasta with tacky faux-goth decor. And it’s over-priced.’
‘That shouldn’t matter, seeing as how you’re not paying,’ said a voice beside us and we looked round to see Luke next to the table. He’d even brought a little cake, lit with a sparkler. ‘Kerry organised this for you,’ he said.
Zoe looked at it as if it was a dog turd with a candle in it, pushed back her chair and stood up. ‘And it’s staffed by morons.’ She turned to me. ‘I think we have a gig to go on to.’
I cringed. ‘Give me a minute,’ I said.
‘See you outside then.’ Zoe strode to the door.
I didn’t know where to look or what to say. ‘Kerry, I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s the matter with her. I thought it was all lovely, honest, I did.’
Luke started picking up the plates and piling them up into one hand. Kerry was still sitting staring into her half-eaten food. ‘I thought she’d really like it,’ she said, almost in a whisper.
I reached across the table and squeezed her hand. ‘I know. It was nice of you. She’s just... it’s not you. It’s her.’
She looked up. ‘Where are you going to now?’
I ran my hands through my hair. It was so hot in this place. ‘Just a gig. A couple of college goth bands, that’s all. We – we didn’t think you’d like that sort of thing.’
‘You never asked, though.’
I could tell from the thickness of her voice that Kerry was close to crying, and I desperately wanted to stop her. ‘We should’ve done. We will next time.’
Kerry must’ve known I was lying about that. She glanced at her watch. ‘It’s nearly ten o’clock. What time does it start?’
I shrugged. ‘It goes on till late.’
‘Did Zoe’s mother say she could go, then?’ Kerry asked, sniffing.
‘No, of course not. We’re supposed to be somewhere else for the night. Don’t tell anyone, for god’s sake.’ I dug into my bag. ‘Here.’ I pulled out some money. ‘I don’t want you to have to pay for this.’
Kerry shook her head. I dropped the notes on the table and stood up. As I was scurrying out, I passed Luke on his way to another table. I stopped and looked up at him. ‘I’m really sorry,’ I said. ‘We never meant to upset Kerry. I feel awful.’
‘It wasn’t you, it was your spooky mate,’ Luke said. ‘But you could’ve asked Kerry along to the gig with you. She’s quite –’ He glanced over to make sure she wasn’t watching. ‘She gets lonely, that’s all. I want her to have a friend. Friends.’
‘I know,’ I said. My insides felt heavy, as if something was pulling me down.
Outside, it was darker than it should have been, because it had barely got light all day. There was a smell of rain in the air and a deep grey sky without stars. Zoe was shivering. ‘I thought you were never coming. I thought you must’ve stayed for dessert. Cake and jelly with Kerry and her sad sibling.’
‘Sorry.’
We started walking, fast, towards the university bar where the gig was being held. I took a big, inward breath. ‘Zoe, did you have to be like that with Kerry? She was trying so hard to do something for you.
To please you.’
‘Well, I wish she wouldn’t,’ Zoe said. ‘I don’t want her hanging around with us, you know that. And the more we put up with her, the more she’ll keep plaguing us. I’m being cruel to be kind, that’s all. I keep hoping that one day she’ll get the message.’
We kept marching, because it was so chilly, and I tried to push the memory of Kerry’s face out of my mind. And Luke’s face, too.
There was a small crowd at the entrance to the university bar, all looking like the kind of people who hung around Dead Bouquet, their usual heavy, sweet smell fighting the dampness in the air. A student wearing a T-shirt, with Gothic Winter, the name of one of the bands, on the front, came up and offered us tickets for a fiver each.
‘You’re joking,’ said Zoe. ‘I paid twenty quid last week.’
The girl shrugged. ‘I know, but there aren’t many people here. We’re just trying to get more bodies in through the door.’
We pushed our way in and Zoe spotted someone she knew from the shop. She had a word with them and came back to me with a grin. ‘They’re going to get us some drinks,’ she said. ‘We’d never get served otherwise.’
‘What’re they getting?’ All I wanted was a long drink of cold water.
‘Wait and see.’
Zoe’s friend came back after quite a while with two tall glasses full of black liquid. ‘Two Gravedigger cocktails,’ she said, laughing, and gave Zoe some change.
I sniffed at mine and wrinkled my nose. ‘What the heck’s in here?’
‘Best not to ask,’ Zoe said. She took a sip, swallowed and screwed up her eyes. ‘It’s nice. Just don’t drink it too fast.’
I took a tiny taste and winced as the sourness burned the back of my throat. ‘That’s unlikely.’
There was a loud, grinding squeal as the next band tested their mikes and, as the music started, people started moving forward towards the stage. Zoe grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards the front, where the sound was ear-splitting, but she didn’t seem to care. Then Zoe started to dance.
I’d never seen her dance before – just sometimes nodding her head along to a track. It was like watching a different person. Zoe, who was always so cool and so careful, was like a mad, beautiful sprite, her long hair around her face, the black lace of her dress fluttering around her like moth wings. I was bobbing around next to her, feeling about as graceful as a lump of wood. In the middle of the song, the singer reached his hand down from the stage and beckoned her to come up. She leapt up without a second’s pause and danced on the stage. People were whistling and clapping. I stopped even trying to dance and just sort of shuffled my feet, my gaze never leaving Zoe.
At the end of the set, the lead singer slipped his arm around Zoe’s waist and leaned over to kiss her, so that she fell backwards in an old-film-style swoon, and he held her up. Then she took her own bow. I was clapping and shrieking louder than anyone. I had half an urge to turn around and yell out to everyone that she was my friend. I was so proud to know her. When she stepped down from the stage she ran straight towards me and we hugged.
‘That was amazing. You were fantastic,’ I told her. We went to get some water and I used the edge of my sleeve to wipe the little black smears where her eyeliner and mascara had run. Zoe’s eyes widened and I turned to see the singer from the band heading towards us. He was wearing a black dinner suit, a top hat and pale face make-up, streaked with sweat.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘That was pretty good. Can I get you a drink?’
Zoe nodded. ‘Two Gravediggers,’ she said, ignoring the way I was wrinkling my nose. When he turned towards the bar, she opened her mouth in a silent, excited scream. I made a face back at her. I liked all the gothy clothes and music and everything, but I found the guys a bit creepy. I didn’t think I could seriously fancy anyone who went to all that trouble to dress like a Victorian undertaker. But Zoe obviously did.
The singer came back with two more tall glasses of the dreaded black stuff. He asked our names and what we were studying. He thought we were university students. Zoe told him, without batting her heavily crayoned eyelids, that she was doing an art degree.
‘I thought you might be a professional dancer,’ the guy said. I stuck my tongue out at Zoe, but she was too busy gazing at him to notice. He said his name was Tom and for some reason this made me want to laugh, because it was such a normal name for a weird-looking guy. ‘Do you fancy coming along to some more of our gigs and dancing on the stage? It just went down really well. We’ll give you a few quid – can’t be more, because we don’t get that much ourselves. But it goes with the whole act.’
Zoe looked like she’d won the Lottery. I watched as she scribbled Tom’s number on her hand. It was definitely not the time to remind her that her mother would never let her out to be the dancer in a student band. Or that it was only a matter of time before Band-Boy realised she was only just sixteen.
There were other people standing around with us, including the band’s two guitarists and some girls who were closer to them in age. I listened in to some of their chat, but it was pretty hard to hear anything properly, because there were so many people there by now and another band had started their set. I turned to see if Zoe wanted to move back towards the stage again. She was in a clinch with Tom. It took me a second to realise what was happening, but she was enveloped by his long black body and spidery arms. It looked almost like he was eating her alive.
‘Eeeeuw,’ I said out loud, not that anyone heard me or took any notice. I didn’t quite know where to put myself, so without really needing to, I made for the toilets. It took ages to squeeze myself through the crowd and then there was a queue. It was when I’d finally got myself into a cubicle that I heard my mobile ringtone. I pulled it out of my bag and the display read: Mum. It also said there’d been six missed calls – all from Mum. My heart started thumping. I started to dial her back, my fingers shaky, when I realised I’d better talk to Zoe first. If someone had checked up on us, then we’d better get our stories straight.
I clicked the mobile off and pushed my painfully slow way back towards the bar, craning my neck to see if I could spot Zoe and grab her attention as fast as possible. I couldn’t see her anywhere – or the singer. After a few minutes of searching, I started to panic. I tried skirting round the dark corners of the hall to see if she and Tom were tucked away somewhere together, but I couldn’t find them anywhere. The noise of the band, the flashing lights and smells of beer and sweat and hairspray were making me feel shaky and sick. Eventually I recognised the Gothic Winter guitarist, next to a girl with an Elvira-style hairdo. I tapped his arm and tried to ask where his lead singer was, although I had to yell at him and wave my hands about and he didn’t seem very bothered or interested. He smiled and blinked blearily, as if I’d just woken him up.
Elvira shook her towering hairdo at me. ‘He’s probably taken her back to the van. Your friend should know she’s just one of a long list of notches on his bed post, darling.’
‘Where’s the van?’ I shouted.
Elvira took my arm and steered me towards a fire exit. I followed someone with a guitar case out of the double doors and into a small car park. Outside, the cool air felt like water. I took a huge breath and wiped my sweaty, grimy face. I could only see a couple of vans. The guy with the case went towards one of them and threw open the back, which was full of boxes and stuff. I ran over to the other van, but it was dark and empty. I rapped on the window, but I could see there was no one inside. The rest of the cark park was deserted – no other vehicles, apart from a battered motorbike. My stomach felt as if a brick was sinking deep down into it. I fished out my phone and texted her. Wr r u??? I waited a few moments, muttering at the phone as if that would make it ping, but there was no reply.
I turned back to the stuffy concert bar, the music pounding in my head and the smells of booze feeling overpowering. The guy behind the bar said he hadn’t seen h
er, nor had the girl on the entrance door and she wasn’t in the toilets. Elvira scribbled Tom’s number down for me on a flyer and I tried calling that, but I just got some spaced-out voicemail message. My own phone said there’d now been eight missed calls and they were all from Mum. I was going to have to call her back.
Outside, I could hardly tap in the numbers because my fingers were trembling so much. She was going to go absolutely wild with me. And I couldn’t think of a way to speak to Mum without getting Zoe into a shed-load of trouble too. I tried texting her again. Crisis, nd 2 spk 2 u asap.
The phone at home rang and rang. There was no answer. I tried again, but the ringtone just kept going. I could see the battery on my mobile getting low.
I started trudging away from the concert hall, without any real idea what I was going to do. Rain spat down on me. I was going in the direction of the bus stop, but I wasn’t even sure there were any buses running, because it was well after midnight. There were plenty of people around, but all in big groups, staggering between bars and clubs, their shouts coming in waves of sound. I was cold through to the bone and shuddering. I felt like the slightest thing would make me throw up.
As I stood at the bus stop, shivering, blinking back tears, ignoring the drunken lads lumbering past, I heard a car horn beeping and looked up. It was Dad’s car and I could see that Mum was in the passenger seat. They pulled the car up into the bus bay and Mum gestured for me to get in.
As soon as I threw myself onto the back seat, with its fuggy warmth and familiar Dad-smell, I burst into tears. I don’t really know what made that happen. Dad started the car again and we drove off towards our house. Dad said nothing at first. It was Mum who fired off all the questions.
‘What on earth did you think you were doing? Why didn’t you tell me where you were really going? And where’s Zoe? Her mother is going out of her mind with worry too, just like us.’
I sniffed and swallowed, trying to summon up the sense and the energy to answer. ‘I’m sorry, Mum. Sorry, Dad.’
The Misper Page 4