by Non Pratt
“We don’t have to throw it away. I’m sorry, Ruby. I fucking love you.” He stopped. Swallowed. His fingers rested on either side of my face, our foreheads touching as he looked me in the eyes. “I. Love. You.” I blinked away the tears that blurred my vision. “I have never loved anyone before you.”
But I believed him even less than when he’d first said it.
“Your five minutes is up,” I said.
17 • PRETEND BEST FRIEND
KAZ
There’s clusters of people spread out across the grass around the Heavy Tent and it takes a while to find a space. Once we do, Lauren embarks upon making a daisy chain whilst I hold up my flower crown, framing the central peak of the tent against the sky, and take a photo to send to Mum.
All good here. How was your date last night?
It doesn’t take long for her to reply: Good. He enjoyed the cassoulet you cooked.
I almost choke in horror as I hammer away at my phone. YOU LET HIM COME TO YOUR HOUSE ON A FIRST DATE? THAT’S REALLY DANGEROUS!!!
It’s like she’s never watched Silent Witness or Luther or CSI. All of which she’s got entered on her dating profile as her favourite TV shows.
Who said it was a first date?
I’m confused. Who did you send me a photo of?
That was tonight’s one, the one I need the red clutch for. That *is* a first date. Last night was Tony. You’d already vetted him.
Mum has a curious definition of “vet” – I’ve never met any of these men.
Don’t invite tonight’s one round to the house.
Her reply’s as fast as if she’s actually sitting next to me:
Sex at his, then?
“I give up.” I murmur the words as I type.
“On what?” Lauren holds up a chain of four daisies and pulls a face at it.
“My mum. She invited a man from the Internet over to her house. For dinner,” I add, since I don’t want Lauren getting the wrong impression about my mum. (Even though it would be an accurate one.)
“Your mum dates men off the Internet?”
“Doesn’t everyone’s?” I feel a bit defensive, having inadvertently opened up my mum’s love life for review, but Lauren just laughs.
“I hope not! Mine’s married to my dad.”
Sometimes I forget that other people have normal parents. Parents who don’t give their daughters boxes of condoms and rape alarms as presents. Parents who think a boyfriend in the hand is better than ten at a festival. Parents who know when the cat needs flea treatment and how to reset tripped fuses.
Even with my help, the daisy chain is only two links longer when there’s an especially discordant crash of guitars that fades to feedback and people start to emerge from the Heavy Tent, surrounded in a miasma of dust and gently steaming skin.
“Hottie alert.” Lauren whistles through her teeth exactly the way Ruby would, before glancing nervously at me. “Don’t tell Tom I said that.”
As if Tom has any grounds for objection.
“My lips are sealed.” I link the ends of our rather woeful chain together and look up. “Where?”
“Twelve o’clock. Looks kind of familiar…” She’s frowning.
When I look up, my heart sinks. It’s Stu. He’s walking in this direction, talking to someone obscured from view by a clot of burly metal-heads wearing an ill-judged amount of black leather. The vest Stu’s wearing is ripped along the seam and as he twists to say something to his companion, the material flaps open to reveal the dark fingers of his tattoo curled around his side like a giant clawed hand. Watching him approach is like seeing a magnet dragged through iron filings with every girl’s attention aligning as he passes.
Next to me, Lauren murmurs, “Be still, my beating ovaries.” Which I find disappointing – I always imagine a Venn diagram of people who fancy Stu and people who fancy Tom to be two entirely exclusive circles.
“You know Stuart Garside, then?” I ask, surprised. Lauren told me she lives in the next town inland and goes to a completely different school from anyone I know in Clifton.
Lauren waggles her hand. “I know the name. And the face.”
I guess Stu’s reputation carries further than I thought.
“Who’s that he’s with?” she asks, and with dismay I realize who it is.
“That’s Owen,” I say. “One of the boys we’re camping with.”
Owen and Stu are about to walk right past us when Lauren asks, “Shouldn’t you say something?”
Reluctantly, I stand and call for Owen.
Owen scans the surrounding area as he approaches, clearly relieved at the lack of Ruby. Stu’s expression is less easy to interpret.
“Owen, this is Lauren. Lauren, this is Owen. We like Owen.” Owen reaches out to shake Lauren’s hand, sees the dirt that’s gathered in the creases of his palm and retracts it into a wave, before wiping his hands on his shorts. Stu watches me, eyebrows cocked as I mutter, “This is Stu. We’re not so keen on him.”
This time it’s Lauren leaning in for a handshake as she says, “Hi. I’m Lauren.”
Stu meets her eye. “Oh, I know who you are.” Lauren blinks at him in flattered surprise so that she doesn’t see his attention flicker to me. “I know your boyfriend, Tom.”
I think back to the undercurrent of unspoken things that passed between him and Tom last night and I feel like strangling him. And Tom. And possibly myself for being so stupid. I’m very throttle-happy today.
Lauren is so flummoxed by this recognition that when Stu asks where Tom is, I’m the one forced to reply – although my one-word answer of “Hospital” is enough to prompt Lauren into a lengthier explanation.
“… Kaz has been awesome, letting me tag along with her so I might actually get to see some bands. Plus it’s about time we got to know each other.” She beams brightly in my direction as if I’m someone worthy of knowing.
I feel anything but and when Stu’s eyes flash with amusement, the thought of him seeing the way I was around Tom last night crawls under my skin until I actually have to scratch.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I’m anxious in case Ruby arrives. It’ll be hard enough explaining the Lauren situation to her without Stu here to disrupt things. “Friends of your own to irritate?”
“You’re going to have to stop disapproving of me at some point, Kaz.” Stu smirks.
“Unlikely.”
Owen, who has been preoccupied wiping his face on the front of his T-shirt, now clamps a hand on Stu’s shoulder.
“Go away, Garside. You know who we’re waiting for.” Owen’s warning isn’t without warmth and Stu feigns injury.
“That’s me told. Nice to meet you, Lauren. Later, Kaz, O…”
But as the boys clamp forearms in farewell, Owen’s fingers tighten briefly around Stu’s as he looks him in the eye. “I meant what I said. Steer clear.”
The humour vanishes from Stu’s face so that I almost see something real in his eyes – something that has more in common with hurt than with anger. “I thought we were friends?”
“We are.” Owen relaxes his grip and steps away. “But family comes first.”
“You and Lee get married on the sly, did you?” Stu waves away whatever reply Owen was about to make. “I get it: stay away from Ruby. First Kaz, now you – you want a go, Lauren?”
But Lauren holds her hands up in surrender. “I’m just a bystander. I literally have no idea what any of this is about.”
“Guess Kaz has some explaining to do.” Stu’s eyes bore into me for a moment, before he turns away, his gait more predatory than ever.
“What were you doing fraternizing with the enemy?” I say to Owen, aware that Lauren’s attention is still focused on Stu’s diminishing figure.
“Stu’s not the enemy, Kaz.” Owen looks at me carefully. “Just because someone makes a bad boyfriend, doesn’t make them a bad person.”
“Whatever he is, Stu’s bad news,” I mutter.
RUBY
I ho
ld on to the thick wire supporting the Heavy Tent and watch as he talks to them. In a moment, I will worry about what Lauren’s doing there, but for now, the only person I have eyes for is Stu.
Whatever I’m feeling, it can’t be healthy, or I wouldn’t feel so faint.
Alternatively, perhaps I need to eat.
My throat closes at the thought of food, my body reverting to the weird kind of lockdown it went into after I dumped Stu.
I’m not sure whether my hands are clamped so tight around the guy rope because I’d crumple to the ground without the support, or because it’s an anchor stopping me from getting swept over to Stu on a wave of weak willpower.
He’s leaving now, sent away before I get there, by Owen or Kaz, not by Lauren, judging by the way her gaze follows him. It’d be hypocritical of me to criticize her for it as I watch him prowl through the crowd.
For a moment, just before he turns around the corner of the stalls towards the main stage, Stu’s eyes slide in my direction.
We stare at each other for a fraction of a second.
Then he’s gone, walking away with the crowd, and whatever spell he had on me vanishes with the sight of him.
Seriously. What the fuck is Lauren doing here?
18 • SITUATION
RUBY
She got my name wrong.
Rachel? Fuck. Right. Off.
“It’s Ruby. As in ‘Ruby, Ruby, Ruby’…?” I Kaiser Chiefs it.
Blank look.
“As in ‘Ruby Soho’.” Best track on …And Out Come the Wolves, a stone-cold classic.
Lauren screws her face up.
“As in the gemstone.”
“Well, obviously.” The look I get very clearly indicates that she thinks I’m a nut job before her expression opens up in astonishment. “Oh my God, are you the Ruby that Stuart Garside was just talking about?”
I glower at Kaz for an explanation, but it’s Owen who steps in. “Garside is Ruby’s ex, if that’s what you mean.”
Love Owen for putting it that way and my heart trembles at the small sympathetic smile he gives me.
“I can’t believe you dated him!” I am really not liking her tone. I might not be a fox, but I’m not a complete moose either. Also “dated” is a revolting word.
“We went out for a bit. It’s over now.”
“That’s not what it looks like to me,” Lauren singsongs and I want to punch her.
“Not wishing to be rude” – so wishing to be much ruder – “but why are you here?”
KAZ
Ruby doesn’t take the news well.
RUBY
We walk back to our spot on the hill. When we get there, Dongle moves over to make space for Lauren and Kaz and it is very tempting to shout across and ask if Lauren is “that fit girl from the tearooms” who he was talking about yesterday, because she’s the one who is going out with Rugby Tom. A fact that no one seems to be acknowledging, because IT WOULD BE TOO FUCKING WEIRD.
That’s not the only thing that’s weird, because Kaz and Lauren don’t just have matching taste in Toms, they also have matching fake-flower crowns. Sitting together, Kaz in a sun dress and Lauren wearing a pretty cotton vest, they look like a pair of fairies made real. All they need are the wings. I look down at the limp-looking daisy chain Kaz pushed on to my wrist, my big black boots and faded Army & Navy vest.
I do not look like a fairy.
It’s a shame Lee’s still up his lute-loving arse in the Mellow Tent with Anna and Parvati – kind of need someone to bitch with. I try Owen instead, although I’m not over-hopeful.
“Does she ever shut up?” I whisper, as Lauren finishes telling the tedious tale of Naj and the crowd-surfer before embarking upon some other entirely boring drama that seems to have Dongle and Kaz rapt.
“She’s just nervous.” He clocks my best Come Off It Face. “This is hard for her, hanging out with people she barely knows, one of whom used to…” I can’t help but laugh at the sound effect he uses instead of the words and Lauren glances over.
“Sorry.” I wave at her to carry on with her story. “I was laughing at Owen, not you.”
KAZ
Ruby does this sometimes. Ninety-nine per cent of the time she can gel with anyone – she could instafriend Voldemort. But every now and again, as if she’s proving something to herself, Ruby will take against someone. In this case it’s Lauren, something about which I can’t help but feel bad, since Ruby’s only doing it to be partisan. (I think.) She doesn’t need to be though. I like Lauren. She’s funny and chatty – someone I could imagine being friends with. If it weren’t for the fact that I had sex with her boyfriend last night.
Oh God…
I can do without added guilt over Ruby’s bad attitude.
When I see her get her phone out, I fire off a message: Could you please change out of your grumpy pants and put on your happy ones? I add in a picture of a chihuahua suspended from a doorknob by a pair of Y-fronts. Animal pictures are excellent emotional currency wherever Ruby’s concerned.
It doesn’t take long for it to reach her. When she checks the message, she glances over at me, eyebrows raised as she mimes slitting her (my) throat.
What’s with the bloodlust? Don’t you like small dogs? EVERYONE likes small dogs. Or is this more your thing?
This time I attach a hideous picture of an aye-aye and watch her try not to smile as she opens it and turns to give me a bug-eyed stare. I give her my best back.
“Are you two having some kind of stare-off?” Lauren says. I turn to answer, but Ruby beats me to it, pretending to give Lauren laser eyes, using her fingers as beams, finally mustering a smile. Or something approaching a smile. A grimace that’s shaped like a smile, perhaps.
At least it brings her into the conversation …
“So what subjects have you chosen for next year?” Dongle asks me.
… at exactly the wrong time.
RUBY
Someone really needs to update Dongle on the list of “Subjects Best Avoided Around Ruby”. Fiddling with the daisy chain around my wrist, I can feel Kaz’s nervous glances as she tells him she’s signed up for French, Latin, Geography and Chemistry. When he comments on what a weird combination it is, she steers the conversation towards wanting to be an archaeologist and I have high hopes for us veering off-topic entirely and discussing Indiana Jones films, until Lauren snatches that hope Belloq-style.
“What about you, Ruby?”
It’s not fair to resent her for asking, when Owen would say that she’s making an effort, but I do. “Not sure I’ll be taking any at all at this rate.”
I’ve plucked all the petals from one of my daisies and I look up from the bald yellow seed head to catch a glimmer of confusion on Lauren’s face before Kaz jumps in with an explanation.
“Ruby’s just being melodramatic.” She smiles at me to take the sting out of it. Not that it works. “Your results weren’t that bad!”
I know she’s trying to big me up, but all it does is make me feel that much smaller.
“They were bad enough that Flickers won’t let me stay on for sixth form. They have standards and I don’t meet them.” I never have. Standards aren’t something I’ve ever taken seriously. “The only way I get to go is if I stay back a year and resit.” I concentrate on my daisy-bracelet, ripping out petals in chunks as I carry on speaking. “Either that, or I’ll be heading over to Canterbury to do something less academic and more useful.”
“Oh.” Lauren actually sounds like she might be disappointed for me. “That’s a shame.”
She earns a smile for that and I shrug, saying, “It’s cool. I think I’d like it there.”
Now she’s looking uncomfortable. “I meant it’s a shame that you won’t be at Flickers. I just got a scholarship – I’m starting sixth form in September. It’d be nice to have some friendly faces there.” My face is far from friendly as she does this irritating little shrug-laugh. “Guess it’ll just be Kaz.”
My final tug on the dais
y-bracelet pulls the whole thing off my wrist.
KAZ
Ruby must have left shortly after that. I didn’t actually notice her go, but when I look up from laughing at something Lauren’s said, Owen tells me that she’s gone to the toilets.
“The good ones, down by the main stage,” he adds with a smile before his attention sharpens and I turn to see Lee, Parvati and Anna attempting to skip three-abreast from the top of the hill. Owen’s features are carefully positioned in a smile that’s only surface-deep. He gets up to make way for them and in the confusion of introducing Lauren to the others I lose sight of him. When I find him again, he’s listening to Anna and Parvati talk about the band and he’s smiling for real. Then his eyes slide up to Lee and his expression shifts key from major to minor.
This morning Ruby said that Lee and Owen had made up, but sometimes I think Ruby only notices the things she wants to be true. Even if they made up, Lee and Owen aren’t the happy couple that we came here with.
I can’t decide whether it’s better for her not to know, or worse.
I look over at Lauren. Sometimes it’s both.
RUBY
I buy some chicken nuggets on my way back, but after one bite my body reminds my brain that it doesn’t want to eat; would really like it if those two started getting along a little better this weekend…
I catch sight of Kaz and Lauren.
Would really like it if those two didn’t.
Handing the nuggets to Lee, I slide into the space between him and Anna, joining in as they bitch about a series of dumb and dumber selfies on the Festblog feed. The screen does that flashing thing again and I’m prepped for getting my rant on.
Until I see the picture.
It’s a promo shot of Gold’ntone – the one where the whole band’s dressed in suits except Wexler, who is standing front and centre in nothing but a pair of jeans. I say this with a fair amount of confidence, since his thumbs are hooked into the waistband, pulling it low enough that you’d expect to see the elastic of his boxers … if he were wearing any.