Remix

by Non Pratt

  When I am wizened and old and have forgotten how to use a hairbrush, I’ll still remember the look on my best mate’s face as I sat on the sofa with her that same night, and the tears she couldn’t stop as she endlessly, endlessly asked me what was wrong with her. The answer is nothing. She is Kaz. She is perfect – and this boy, this normal, “nice” boy, who was meant to be as much friend as boyfriend, made her feel worthless.

  Tell me how I’m ever supposed to forgive that.

  KAZ

  Tom introduces me to the three girls from the camp next to theirs (the one with the Jolly Roger) and the girls make polite noises, whilst looking not entirely happy to have Ruby bowl up and sit down between Roly and Naj and take a handful of crisps from the bag Naj has just opened. Tom and his friends might be the year above us at Canterbury College, but Ruby’s as comfortable in their company as if she was sitting with girls she sees every day at Flickers.

  “So how’ve you been?” Tom passes me a coffee brewed on their gas stove. I like that it’s exactly the way I take it without me having to ask.

  “Fine.” I smile at the surface of my drink, thinking how peculiar it is to be seeing him for the first time in a field a hundred miles from the town where we both live. “How was France?” Every year Tom and his cousins stay with his grandparents in Brittany. This year I was supposed to go too.

  “Bof,” Tom says, before changing the subject. “Speaking of French, Dad said you got a set of insanely good results?”

  “I did better than I expected.”

  “Some of us always knew you were a genius,” he says. I elbow him in the side and he bumps me back. It feels nice. “What about Ruby?”

  I look over to where Ruby is sitting, trying (failing) to hide how much she wants to leave.

  It would feel wrong to talk about it to anyone else. But this is Tom. “Not brilliantly. Not well enough.”

  He knows what I mean, and I can feel him looking at me as I look at Ruby. She’s been my best friend since I started at Flickers in Year 7 – even if she’s there to resit, she won’t be in any of my classes, she won’t be sitting in the common room in the sixth-form block, wearing her own clothes, but back in the school, forced into a uniform that she couldn’t wait to get out of.

  Or there’s the other option that neither of us have talked about – that Ruby won’t be at Flickers at all.

  I can be Kaz without Tom if I have to. I don’t know whether I can be Kaz without Ruby.

  RUBY

  I message Lee.

  Oh my God, I’m so bored.

  His reply: Ungrateful much? I buy you a ticket, sort out your ride, buy your booze…

  I’m paying you back for all those things. Anyway, that was supposed to be a HINT FOR YOU TO RING ME. I need an excuse here.

  Turning the volume up, I put my phone down and wait.

  The girl next to Roly titters and twirls a strand of her hair round like a little helicopter – I’m sure she thinks she looks cute. She looks like an idiot. Not that Roly seems to mind.

  I’m still waiting…

  Naj shakes a fresh bag of crisps at me – an act that irritates one of the other girls next to him, who I think must fancy him, judging by the death glares she’s been giving me.

  Waiting…

  I don’t want to commit to more crisps and that girl is welcome to—

  Finally my phone blares out Lee’s signature Game of Thrones theme tune and I stand up to answer it.

  “THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE HOME,” Lee bellows into my ear. “Get your ass back here, Ruby Slipper.” And then he hangs up.

  “OK.” I smile, pretending he’s still there. “Will do.” Then I look up at my audience. “That was my brother. I’ve got to go.”

  Kaz hasn’t even noticed I’ve stood up, and when I call out her name, she looks dazed and confused, as if she’s surprised to find I’m here at all.

  “You coming?” I ask, watching the panic of indecision in her eyes: piss me off or deny herself some bonus Tom time?

  “Five minutes?” Kaz looks hopeful, but when she says minutes she means hours, and there’s no way I can manage that long with only Tom’s friends and the girls who want to pull them for company. I don’t want to leave Kaz here either, but if I make a fuss, I’ll be acting all ogre-ish, which is apparently something I do and I am not prepared to be the bad guy here.

  “Lee wants me for something” – which is the lamest of all the lies – “so I’ll head off now. See you when you’re done?”

  KAZ

  Ruby waves goodbye with one hand, but I see her curl the index finger of the other into a hook against her thigh. It’s a signal I’m more used to giving than receiving – you have half an hour before I try to find you. Back when we went to The Cellar, before Ruby declared it a no-fly zone after she broke up with Stu, I’d find him and Ruby half an hour before the last bus home to Mum’s and give the sign before I rejoined everyone else on the dancefloor. It feels strange for Ruby to be using it on me and Tom.

  Tom is sitting so close that his elbow brushes my side as he reaches to catch a bag of crisps. When he leans back to open them, I catch a faint hint of the Tom-smell I’ve been yearning for all summer. Suddenly half an hour doesn’t seem very long at all, but Ruby’s too far away now for me to call her back.

  5 • DOG

  RUBY

  There’s supposed to be some kind of rivalry between Clifton’s nearest private schools (Flickers and Dukes) and the massive comprehensive (Canterbury), only it’s not something you ever see off the hockey/football/rugby pitch. We’re all too busy trying to get off with each other. Clifton is a small town with a high percentage of horny teenagers and we can’t afford to limit ourselves – just as well, since Kaz went for Tom and both me and my brother went for what were upper-sixth Canterbury boys. Obviously Lee picked the most wisely. Not only is Owen the loveliest, he comes complete with a pretty cool set of friends.

  “Ruby!” Anna gives me an enthusiastic hug. We’ve only seen each other a couple of times at Hydro gigs when we’ve both been showing Owen some support in the form of overly loud cheering and wolf-whistling, but Anna is easy to warm to. She gives me a squeeze and points to a large blue tent squashed up against ours. “Sorry we’re camping on top of you, but Dongle refused to move his tent over.”

  The only two things I know about Dongle are that he once ate a Granny Smith apple by putting the whole thing in his mouth and he has a bit of a way with the ladies, so mostly I’m just relieved it’s not his tent that’s next to us. I can do without an audio sex show six inches from my head at two in the morning.

  “Where’s Lee?” I ask. Owen’s artistically laying a ring of stones around some logs in the middle of the camp, but there’s no sign of my brother.

  “He and Parvati went to the festival shop,” Anna says. “They went for extra firewood and emergency meat supplies, because some idiot can’t read a shopping list.”

  Dongle, who has just emerged from his tent, looks over and grins. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Anna.”

  “I was being hard on you.” Anna gives him a good-natured glare from under her fringe, but Dongle’s attention sharpens on me.

  “Hello. Do I know you?” The way his eyes twinkle – like he’s good for a laugh – makes it easy to believe what Lee’s told me about the girls. No idea about the apple thing. That kind of shit I’ve got to see to believe.

  “Not yet.” I grin. “Ruby. Nice to meet you.”

  “Dave. Call me Dongle.” We shake hands and Anna turns round to grab one of the camping chairs they’ve brought, displaying the waistband of a pair of pants that reads TUESDAY. There is a lot I like about Anna.

  The three of us sit in a line to catch the best of the sun, Owen at our feet, still perfecting his pyre. Anna reminds him it can’t be too big or it’ll get classified as a bonfire and get us thrown out.

  “Only if he gets round to actually lighting it,” Dongle says, receiving a back-handed slap to the shin from Owen.

  I
gnoring them, Anna asks where I’ve been.

  “We bumped into some other Clifton people.”

  Owen glances up a little too quickly, but the match he’s holding burns out to his fingers and he winces, distracted from our conversation again.

  “Anyone we know?” Anna says, opening the cool box and handing me a beer without even hesitating before she passes another to Dongle and cracks one open for herself.

  Owen’s looking up from the fire again and it’s clear he’s interested in the answer.

  “Tom Selkirk and his mates.” At the sound of Tom’s name, Owen seems to relax. “You might know them. They’re the year below you guys?”

  “Rugby Tom?” Dongle perks up and I nod. “He’s a good guy. I like him.” I stay quiet and sip my beer. “We should ask them over later.”

  Dongle doesn’t catch my reaction to this suggestion, but Anna’s faster.

  “What and share our beer with strangers? I don’t think so.” She leans over and bumps her can to mine and winks. “Let’s keep tonight simple, shall we?”

  As I said, there’s a lot I like about Anna.

  KAZ

  Is Tom flirting with me? I can feel him looking at me when I talk across the camp to Naj and Roly, and much as I’m trying to talk myself out of believing it, it certainly feels like there’s something going on beneath the surface.

  But even as I’m trying to work out how I can find an excuse to spend a little more time with him, my phone buzzes. Prepared to be annoyed with Ruby for hassling me ten minutes before she needs to, I discover it’s from Mum.

  Fuses gone. Help.

  I wish my mother would take the step from “not needing a man” to “actually learning how to do things” instead of relying on me all the time. It’s been five years since she left Dad and you’d have thought she might have discovered how to reset the fuse box by now.

  “Mum needs me,” I say to Tom. “She’s tripped a fuse.”

  It might not be rocket science, but this isn’t something I can do via text.

  Reluctant to leave, I permit myself a quick hug goodbye, Naomi’s people work harder for the things they can’t have mantra preventing me from drawing a map to our camp and inviting Tom to the barbecue Lee promised we’d have when Owen’s friends arrived.

  “I’ll see you later,” I say, letting go.

  “You will.” This promise strikes a note of hope in my heart that tingles out through the whole of my body, and when I wave goodbye to the others, I’m sure I’m not imagining the sly look that passes between Roly and Naj.

  I’ve reached the path by the time Mum answers my call.

  “What were you doing, anyway?” I ask once I’ve explained how to solve the problem. “I thought this weekend was all about expenses.”

  “Morag knocked my water all over the extension lead. I’m taking this as a sign to give up work and start getting ready. Where’s your red clutch bag?”

  “Second drawer down. Hot date?”

  “I certainly hope so. Want me to send a picture?”

  “Immediately!”

  “Hang up then.”

  When the picture comes through I text my approval. Very respectable. I hope his intentions are as honourable as his appearance.

  Seconds later: I hope they aren’t.

  Should have kept some of those condoms aside for yourself.

  It was buy one get one half price.

  This makes me laugh so much that I don’t look where I’m going and I walk smack into the back of a boy.

  RUBY

  The alarm on my phone goes. Kaz’s half-hour is up.

  KAZ

  No. This is not right. This is very definitely not the ex that’s supposed to be here.

  Every town, even one as small and boring as Clifton-on-Sea, has a Stuart Garside. Someone with a reputation and an ego to match, he’s a Google-Image definition of “bad boy”: a hint of muscle under his vest; tattoo emerging from over his shoulder, curling round his bicep. He’s not objectively beautiful – if you drew a picture of him (well, if Ruby did, since my attempt would be a stick man with eyebrows and a lip piercing) then you wouldn’t think much of him. But a picture is not the same as a person.

  Stu is hot … and the only way I’d touch him would be with a cattle prod. Or a Taser.

  “Hello, Kaz.” Stu’s mouth curls into a slow, lazy smile of recognition. It’s not the reaction I’d expect. Last time we spoke I was confronting him about the rumour he’d cheated on my best friend.

  I’m so discombobulated that I hadn’t even noticed my phone’s going.

  Stu nods at my left hand. “You going to answer that?”

  I most certainly am not. “Dancing Queen” means it’s Ruby (because she hates it – she set “Sweet Caroline” as mine in revenge). I hit reject without looking and a second later it buzzes her message.

  “Hello, Stu,” I finally manage.

  The girl he’s with (who I didn’t register until now) looks from me to Stu. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

  Stu raises his eyebrows. “Now why would I do that?”

  Before I can reassure her that it’s not necessary, because I’m leaving, he’s murmuring something to her, brushing her arm before she leaves.

  Too late I realize that I missed my chance to do the same.

  “It’s been a while,” he says, turning back to me.

  “Not long enough.”

  This elicits a huff of laughter. “Anyone ever tell you that grudges are unflattering?” There’s a pause before he adds, “Nice dress though.”

  My immediate inclination is to thank him for the compliment, but I’ll choke on the words before I say anything even remotely polite to him.

  “So where is she, then?” Stu glances round then back at me, the silver stud of his labret piercing glinting as he moves.

  “Where’s who?” Even I think I sound stupid.

  “You know I mean Ruby.”

  “Why are you asking?”

  “You really are determined to make me work for this, aren’t you?” I don’t want Stu to work for anything. I want him to give up and crawl back to whoever’s bed he just left. “I’m asking where Ruby is because she’s your best friend. If you’re here, then so is she. Somewhere.” He looks thoughtful. “It’d be nice to say hi.”

  “No, it wouldn’t.”

  “Ruby not over me, then?” The way his grin intensifies annoys me.

  “Stay away from her, Stu.”

  “Is this you looking out for her again?” There’s a flash of steel in his voice as he says it, echoing the phrase I used when I said he owed Ruby the truth about what he’d done.

  “Perhaps if you hadn’t cheated on my best friend in front of half of Clifton, I wouldn’t need to.”

  “You saying I should have cheated in private?”

  Stu makes me stupid. Even girls at The Cellar – prettier, more confident ones, more proficient in the art of attracting men – are reduced to giggling idiots when they try and talk to him. Not Ruby. Never Ruby. Flirt for flirt, she played him the same way he tried to play her – and she won.

  For five months, Stuart Garside only had eyes for my best friend and from first kiss to last, he made her shine. She did the same for him … until he ruined it the way everyone, even Ruby, knew he would.

  My phone buzzes yet another message and I glance down.

  You rejected my call! Consider me outraged.

  (That last message was a hint for you to call me back, btw.)

  (As was that one.)

  I feel you’re missing the point. Call me back, dude. Your half-hour is up and I’m checking you’re OK. xxx

  I look up at Stu. “I’m going now.”

  “That’s a shame. We were getting along so well.” He’s reverted to cocky once more. “We should do this again sometime.”

  “No, we shouldn’t.” I’m walking away, but Stu’s keeping pace, his gait as effortless as his smile. “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “Walking back to
camp, like a good boy.”

  I stop. “You’re not walking back to ours.”

  Stu stops too. We’re the same height, but Stu has the kind of ego that strips mine bare and I feel smaller with every passing second.

  “I’m walking back to mine,” he says, stepping even closer to point over my shoulder before adding, “Unless you’re inviting me to pay a visit?”

  Stu considers my silence and my crossed arms, before giving a rueful shrug and starting up the hill.

  “Don’t even think about looking for her, Stu,” I warn.

  He half-turns, still walking, and calls back, “Telling me what to do, telling me what to think. Do you honestly believe you have any right to tell me anything, Kaz?”

  6 • DIRTY LITTLE SECRET

  RUBY

  Lee and Parvati get back before Kaz does – although she did send me a suitably profuse apology with lots of kisses and emojis and a picture of a humble-looking bear.

  I receive a hug that’s more for show than for real from Parvati. From the super-mussed pixie crop to her Pantone-paint-chart nail varnish and the ironic way she’s styled her Celine Dion T-shirt, everything about Parvati is measured, the way everything about Anna isn’t.

  Lee ignores me and drops an extra bag of firewood into Owen’s lap.

  “Not helpful, Lee.” Owen hands the bag back, looking the closest to annoyed that I’ve ever seen him. Obviously the uncooperative fire is starting to get to him.

  “I see that buying an extra bag of festival-endorsed and extortionately expensive firewood was a little bit premature.” Lee nudges one of the unlit logs with his toe. “You planning on lighting this fire any time today, O?”

  “It’s harder than it looks.” Owen’s definitely getting tetchy.

  “Did you not think these might help?” Lee pulls a box out of their tent and moves his finger along the letters as he reads, “Firelighters. And, look, there’s a pretty picture of some flames.”