by Bali Rai
13
Kane looked at the menu and shook his head.
‘Too much choice,’ he said. ‘Do I go Cuban, Peruvian or Brazilian?’
We were in Las Iguanas, a restaurant in town, with Danny and Tilly. Since Amy’s death we had all had our heads down, working hard. It was nearly March, and our GCSEs were coming up fast. I wanted to do well, but I wasn’t great at exams. Constant revision would be the only way to get the grades I wanted.
So, the meal was a treat, and I was glad of the break. My life had been a roller coaster of school, coursework and revision. In between, I’d managed to keep up with my social life, but mostly online. Actually seeing my friends apart from Tilly was getting harder to do. And Amy was always there too – her death still too difficult to comprehend.
Danny told Kane his choice was obvious. ‘If there’s Brazilian on the menu, then take it,’ he told him. ‘Nothing else will do . . . I wonder if they’ll let us order proper cocktails.’
Tilly shook her head. ‘Not in here,’ she told him. ‘They’ll want ID.’
‘Silly people,’ Danny replied. ‘I fancy a drink.’
‘What you should be fancying is a makeover,’ said Tilly with a smirk.
He was wearing bright green chinos, a strawberry red shirt and white plimsolls, and looked great. Not many lads could handle that look, but Danny could wear anything – the lucky git.
‘I was going to bite back,’ Danny told her. ‘But I’m scared you might taste foul.’
Tilly grinned. ‘If you’re lucky, I might let you kiss my arse,’ she replied.
‘EWWW – Tilly!!!!’ I complained.
Kane stayed out of it, content to study the menu. When he caught me staring at him, he smiled. His hair was unbraided, so it sat tall and wide in an Afro that I loved. It was awesome.
‘This place is cool,’ he said. ‘Who chose it?’
Danny held his right index finger in the air. ‘That would be me,’ he said. ‘I’m a person of immense good taste.’
The restaurant was almost empty, but the food was nice and we had discount vouchers. As I scanned the dishes on offer, I noticed Tilly kept glancing at her phone. I wondered what she was waiting for.
‘Expecting a text?’ I asked.
‘No, nosy bum, I’m not,’ she replied, before grinning. ‘Why?’ Her hair was piled up, her face free of makeup, gorgeous as always. She had Cupid’s bow lips that were naturally deep pink, and her ears stuck out just a tiny bit too much.
‘You keep looking at your phone,’ I said. ‘You got a new man?’
I was only joking; if Tilly had met someone, I’d be the first to know. But Danny reacted like a shark at the taste of blood.
‘Someone say new man?’ he asked.
Tilly shook her head. ‘Nothing to report but Lily’s overactive imagination,’ she said.
‘What about you?’ Danny added, turning to me. ‘You still having your online romance with model boy?’
I felt myself blush and glanced at Kane. He didn’t seem to notice, as he watched people walk past the window. Part of me wished that he would. Kane was the opposite of my online crush. He was an actual crush. I mean, I really liked Benedict, but I was beginning to realize that we might never meet. He had talked about modelling for Next but nothing had been decided.
‘Earth calling Lily Basra?’ said Danny.
‘Huh?’ I asked.
‘American Boy?’
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Yeah, we still message. Why?’
Danny shrugged. ‘Just taking an interest,’ he replied.
‘You mean you’ve run out of hot gossip to spread,’ said Tilly.
Danny grinned. ‘Well,’ he replied, ‘all this exam stuff is boring. No one is doing anything with anyone else. It’s all so stale . . .’
‘Like your aftershave,’ said Tilly.
Danny flipped her a finger, as I decided what to eat.
‘He sends me a lot of messages,’ I said after a while.
‘How many is a lot?’ asked Danny.
‘Like, I dunno, twenty a day sometimes,’ I replied. ‘And he’s always online too.’
‘That’ll be boredom,’ said Danny. ‘I watched a show on Sky about models and they lead really weird lives. Lots of spare time on their hands . . .’
Kane finally looked at me. ‘Do you like him, though?’ he asked.
How should I reply? The last time I’d mentioned Benedict, Kane hadn’t looked too impressed. See, I still had a thing about Kane. But that wasn’t going anywhere.
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘But he’s not like a boyfriend or anything. He’s just someone I’m close to.’
‘Close?’ asked Kane.
‘Yeah,’ I replied honestly. ‘Like, we chat and he asks me stuff about my life.’
‘Twenty times a day, though?’ Danny chipped in. ‘Is that a bit odd?’
‘No,’ I protested. ‘He’s not odd – just a bit . . . insistent.’
Tilly grinned. ‘Insistent to the point of being annoying,’ she said.
I looked away, annoyed and embarrassed.
Tilly realized and put her hand on my arm. ‘Sorry,’ she said.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ I replied.
Only it did matter. Tilly knew that I was having doubts about Benedict because we’d spoken about it. Benedict’s constant messages were strange, but not in a horrible way. If I’m honest, I was enjoying the attention. No boy had ever done that with me before. It felt good. But, at the same time, it bothered me too. I had been spending so much time chatting to him I hadn’t done enough revision. I was feeling confused and I didn’t want the whole world to know my business.
After we ordered, Tilly asked if I was mad at her. ‘I’m sorry – big-mouth syndrome,’ she added.
‘It’s OK,’ I replied. I really didn’t want to fight with Tilly about this.
She leaned in close and whispered in my ear, ‘Kane seems a bit jealous.’
‘Ssh!’ I whispered, praying that Kane hadn’t heard her.
She nodded towards the toilets. ‘Girl time,’ she announced out loud.
Kane shook his head when both Tilly and I stood. ‘Always the same,’ he said. ‘Can’t you go separately? Like, do you help each other or summat?’
‘Eww!’ said Tilly. ‘That’s gross, Kane!’
‘You can’t blame him for asking,’ said Danny. ‘It’s such a weird thing.’
‘It’s not weird,’ said Tilly. ‘It’s just beyond your level of comprehension. It’s a girl thing.’
‘Have fun, then!’ Danny replied. ‘In the toilet, you skanks!’
Once we were alone, Tilly repeated herself about Kane.
‘He’s not jealous,’ I told her.
‘Seemed that way to me,’ she replied. ‘Ooh – imagine having two boys after you, Lily!’
‘Not going to happen,’ I replied. ‘Besides, why would either of them want someone as mixed-up as me?’
‘You’re not mixed up,’ said Tilly.
‘Really?’ I asked. ‘I have this great thing with Benedict, and I love that he cares about me. But at the same time, I don’t like that he cares so much, and I still want Kane. How is that normal?’
‘Who cares about normal?’ she replied. ‘Hedge your bets and pick the best one. There’s nothing wrong with that.’
‘Yes there is,’ I said. ‘It’s not fair on Benedict, is it?’
‘He’s not here,’ she pointed out needlessly. ‘And what if you never meet? Are you going to carry a torch for some boy you only know via Facebook?’
‘I’m so confused!’ I complained. ‘And all I should be thinking about is my exams.’
Tilly shook her head before examining herself in a wide mirror that sat above the washbasins. Then she looked at my reflection, her expression serious.
‘You know what you said – out there?’ she asked.
‘About what?’
‘Me having a new man – well, you were right,’ she revealed.
‘Really?’ I asked, gett
ing excited, even though truthfully I was a little hurt that she’d only just mentioned it. Thing is, Tilly hadn’t had a boyfriend in ages and I was happy for her. And I’d told her all about Benedict – over and over again. It was nice to hear about her feelings for a change.
‘Yeah.’
‘What’s he like?’ I asked. ‘Is he at our school?’
When she didn’t reply I nudged her.
‘Tilly?’
She shook her head. ‘He’s older than me,’ she revealed. ‘Like – not lots older but a bit . . .’
‘Huh?’
‘I’ll tell you everything later,’ she replied. ‘Our food will be ready and I need a pee.’
‘How much older?’ I asked.
She squeezed my hand. ‘Later,’ she said. ‘I need to pee.’
Afterwards, the lads went off and left Tilly and me by Town Hall Square. It was sunny but cool, and the area around the fountain was busy.
‘So, come on, tell me about this older man,’ I said.
Tilly shrugged. ‘He’s a bit older,’ she said, ‘but we aren’t doing stuff. He said I have to be sixteen before anything like that.’
Stuff meant sex, I guessed, and I blushed. It wasn’t something I properly knew much about, beyond what I’d learned in school, and by reading. Occasionally I’d see something on screen too – either a TV show or on a DVD – but it felt like a distant thing – something that other people did. Tilly had more experience than me. She’d slept with one boy, a Year Twelve, at a party that I’d missed in the summer, but that was it. I wondered how old this new man actually was.
‘Age?’ I asked.
Tilly shrugged again, and I knew then that she was holding something back. She had clear reactions to things – black and white – and I knew them all. Or at least I thought I did.
‘What is it?’ I asked.
‘Nothing,’ she said, before reconsidering. ‘I mean nothing major. He’s just more experienced than me.’
‘How much more experienced?’ I said. A pang of worry caused me to frown.
‘Well, he’s not a boy,’ she replied, which didn’t tell me much.
‘Tilly!’
‘He’s older,’ she repeated, ‘but it’s not like he’s some sixty-year-old pervert. Don’t worry about it. I’m not—’
‘You mean he’s a proper adult man?’ I asked.
Tilly nodded. ‘But he’s not a weirdo . . . honestly.’
‘Sounds a bit dodge to me,’ I said without thinking.
It was a big mistake. Tilly’s expression instantly hardened and I felt a surge of anxiety. I didn’t want to upset my best friend, but I was worried by what she was telling me. She’s the only person I would have questioned like this too. Normally I would have avoided an argument but Tilly was too important. I thought she was doing wrong and I wanted her to know.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ she asked, unimpressed.
‘Well – what kind of older man dates a schoolgirl?’
‘I’m no girl!’ she snapped, and I saw her fingers begin to clench and unclench. This was one of her tell-tale signs. She was angry.
‘Tilly – how old is he?’ I was getting properly worried. If he had been eighteen or something, she’d have just told me. Only she was deflecting my questions, which mean that he was really older.
She shook her head, her face flushed with colour. ‘You know what?’ she said. ‘I thought you’d understand – not judge.’
‘I’m not judging—’ I began.
‘Yeah, you are!’ she replied. ‘Well, you can stick your opinion!’ She stormed off, heading back towards town.
‘Tilly!’
She didn’t look back and she didn’t respond.
The Spider cannot believe his eyes. Girl #3 is typing a message to the OTHER. He slams his palm against the desk. Rules . . .
I really enjoyed last night, she writes. Just a shame it had to end.
Don’t worry, the OTHER tells her. One day we’ll have all the time we need.
Soon?
Yes. Are you being careful?
Of course. I’m not stupid.
I know that, but we have to tread carefully. I can’t get caught.
Don’t worry. I know how to keep a secret. When can I see you again?
Tonight?
I can get out between 7 and 9 p.m. – is that OK?
That’s great! Usual place?
I can’t wait!
Make sure you don’t tell anyone.
I won’t – stop worrying.
OK – I’ll see you later.
The Spider waits until they have signed off. He grabs one of several mobile phones and calls the OTHER.
‘Yes?’
‘You have broken the rules,’ the Spider tells him.
‘Rules?’
‘You’ve made contact with her.’
The OTHER coughs. ‘Are you watching me now?’ he asks.
‘Not you – her!’ the Spider yells. ‘Have you lost your mind?’
‘It’s nothing – there is no connection to you.’
‘Everything is connected to me.’
‘I thought you understood my interest.’
‘I do – but there are rules. They protect us. This is a big problem.’
‘Why?’
The Spider pauses to think. When he is ready, he speaks. ‘We need to meet,’ he says.
‘When?’
‘As soon as possible.’
‘Where?’
‘I’ll message you.’
‘I’m sorry if I’ve done something wrong.’
‘We’ll talk again.’
The Spider sits and reconsiders his options. A weakened web is a dangerous one. Just one loose thread could bring the entire structure crashing. And the Spider cannot allow that to happen. No matter what the cost.
14
I was at the front door, keys in hand, when our next-door neighbour, Mr Samuels, waved to me from his front garden. I dumped my bag on the step and went over to him. His hair was white, and he had really kind, light brown eyes. He wore his usual brown chinos and a short-sleeved beige shirt that showed off the army tattoo on his left arm. He was one of those happy, smiley people who always found the positive in everything.
‘Lily,’ he said, as I approached, ‘I’ve got something for you.’
‘Really?’
He nodded. ‘It’s a parcel,’ he told me. ‘I would have dropped it off yesterday but I had to go out.’
‘Oh,’ I replied, wondering what it could be. I hadn’t ordered anything and it wasn’t my birthday.
He went into his house, returning with a small brown cardboard box. ‘It’s very light, whatever’s in here,’ he told me.
‘I don’t know what it is,’ I replied.
Mr Samuels grinned. ‘A present, maybe,’ he suggested. ‘From a secret admirer?’
I smiled, took the package and said I’d see him later.
Only the package wasn’t the most important thing on my mind. That was Tilly, who wasn’t answering my messages. I wondered how angry she was. I wanted to talk to her, but I’d seen her like this before. Until she calmed down, there was no point. I never thought I’d be the one she was so mad with, though. When she was ready, she’d either reply to a text or pick up when I rang. I just had to give her time.
Before getting down to some schoolwork, I checked Facebook to see if Benedict had left any messages – he hadn’t. The parcel was sitting on my bed, and I grabbed it excitedly.
‘Wonder what you are?’ I said.
Whatever was inside had been sealed in bubble wrap and surrounded by polystyrene chips. Little bits of the annoying stuff fell out. Static charge made them stick to my jeans and the duvet cover. I tried to brush them away, without success. When I finally unsealed the wrap, a Microsoft webcam fell out.
‘What the hell?’ I said, glancing at my ancient PC.
I checked the package but couldn’t find any sender details, but I guessed who’d sent it. It had to be Benedic
t. At first, I smiled but then something dawned on me. I’d never actually given him my address, so how had he sent me a webcam without it? Had he Googled my address somehow? I sat down at my PC and sent him a message.
You around?
His reply took a while, and I scanned my home page as I waited. Molly had posted a link to some model agency, claiming that they were about to offer her a contract. As usual, a load of lads had liked the status, and one of them had requested a personal photograph. I wondered if things like that made Molly feel more self-confident.
Always around for you, Lily. How you doing today?
I’m good. You?
OK – just bored. Waiting for my next job to start. You’ve been a bit quiet lately – you OK?
Yeah – just busy with revision. Besides we chatted the other night.
Two days is too long, babe. I want to chat to you every day.
Is there something you want to tell me?
About?
A webcam?
Oh it arrived at last! Great!
So you did send it?
Yeah – you asked me to?
I sat staring at the screen. What did he mean I’d asked him? I thought back to our previous conversations but I could only remember turning his offer of the webcam down.
I don’t remember that. When did I ask you?
The other week, when I told you about my Next modelling thing? Are you losing your memory, Lily? Are you OK?
I didn’t ask for it.
Yeah you did – why would I send it otherwise, babe?
But how did you get my address?
You gave it to me. Are you sure you’re OK, Lily? – you don’t seem right today.
I’m fine – but I didn’t send you my address and I didn’t ask for this.
Scroll back through our conversation. It’s all there, babe.
So I checked and saw that Benedict was right. There it was in black and white – my address. How weird that I’d blocked it out. I had been mixed-up for a couple of weeks after Amy had died; my mind had been all over the place, and I’d had trouble sleeping. I’d forgotten about homework that had been set a couple of times, which wasn’t like me, so I supposed it made sense I’d forgotten about this too. I was embarrassed about being so short with Benedict. When it was just me being stupid.