Lies Like Love

by Louisa Reid

  ‘Oh.’ Why was he still talking to me? It made me feel complicated, like I ought to be someone I wasn’t.

  ‘What about you?’ he said, so I had to answer.

  ‘Year Eleven. But I’ve missed loads of school. I have to catch up.’

  ‘Well, good luck with that.’ He had a kind, serious face, very fine, and a straight nose, amber-brown eyes, ever so clear. And he filled the space up, his body strong, his shoulders broad. His mouth moved and he smiled, waiting, as if he expected a response, but I hadn’t been listening, too busy looking, which I hadn’t meant to do. I was only trying to suss him out.

  ‘What?’ I gazed at him. Gormless, Mum would say, and I shut my mouth on the word.

  ‘I said, I hope it goes OK. I’d be happy to show you around a bit.’ Leo shifted in his chair. ‘If you want.’

  ‘Oh.’ I tucked myself smaller, legs almost in a knot. He was having a laugh, just being polite. I looked away but he kept watching and when I glanced up I suppose our eyes locked, just for a second, not that I’m a good judge of that sort of thing. Well, whatever happened, it made me get hot and red in the face and I looked away again. Because a boy like Leo would never be interested in a girl like me. I’m the sort of girl who disappears in a crowd, who you can forget you ever knew five minutes after meeting. I reckon I’d make a good thief: flitting like a cloud into a room, then drifting away with something precious – quiet as air. Leo would forget me fast, forget this conversation. Well. Never mind. I remembered my manners.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, to the floor. ‘That’d be great, if you don’t mind.’ And then that was it, nothing left to say. Except: ‘But you don’t have to. I mean, you don’t have to pretend to want to. It’s OK. We’re all right. Aren’t we, Pete? We like being on our own.’

  Peter nodded and came and picked up the notebook from my lap. He settled himself on the carpet at my feet and grabbed the brown felt-tip and started scratching away at the picture, colouring it in with short stabbing strokes.

  Leo flushed. I’d never seen a boy blush like that before. And I hadn’t meant to be rude. I chewed at my lip but there would be no clever stories. Flirty chat. Intellectual banter. Leo would soon find that out.

  ‘Well, the offer’s still there,’ Leo said to the wall before picking up his coat, and now suddenly I wished I’d said something different and tried a bit harder, but I wasn’t good at making friends. I got hot again. Embarrassed. It was one of those moments that you want to last forever and you want to end straight away. Agony either way.

  Mum appeared in the doorway with his aunt and Leo jumped to his feet. He couldn’t wait to get out. That was my fault, but I hadn’t meant it.

  ‘See you,’ I called, wanting to make it better, but he’d gone so fast I’m not sure I heard him answer.

  Leo

  ‘That wasn’t so bad, was it?’

  Leo thought about a discreet eye-roll but you couldn’t get much past Sue. He might, if pressed, describe the encounter as excruciating.

  ‘The kids are sweet. Nice family,’ his aunt continued, and he felt what was coming next and didn’t want it. For a woman who’d lived on her own for years, she was the opposite of hermit. Which was a shame.

  ‘Just tell me we don’t have to go over there again. It was pretty obvious they didn’t want us intruding, Sue. Plus the place gives me the creeps.’

  ‘Don’t be so daft. And you know I like to be friendly. So, no harm done. And you offered to show them around a bit, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, so now will you get off my back?’

  ‘I will.’ Leo knew his aunt meant well, that she wanted him to have a social life, but this business about friends was a pain. Well, he’d reached out, as Graham would put it, and made himself look like an idiot. He groaned and rubbed his face with his hands. Sue looked at him, grinning.

  ‘What was her name again?’ Leo asked Sue, thinking of the girl and her long pale hair straggling down her back, the heavy fringe disguising eyes that blinked behind her glasses, like she had some sort of tic. Not that it bothered him. He’d met plenty of people like that in the past couple of years. She had long fingers, he remembered now, delicate hands, graceful. And she was tall. He’d noticed that first, her long neck, legs, arms. Her arms. He wiped the memory, crossing the image out.

  ‘Audrey. Funny name, old-fashioned these days,’ Sue said, breaking his line of thought.

  ‘Mmm.’ If he was honest with himself, he liked the look of her. Leo laughed, remembering how almost rude she’d been and then how shocked, as if she wasn’t used to saying what she thought. It had been his fault; he hadn’t exactly sounded enthusiastic and she must have sensed it. Maybe he gave off vibes. Piss off, I’m not interested vibes.

  Sue drove towards the farm and Leo smudged his finger into the mist on the window, leant his head back and thought. There was something tough about that girl; something that said, Don’t touch, don’t you dare. Don’t hurt me or my brother or you’ll pay. He hadn’t meant to make her feel like that. He had to be kind. Lose the negativity; that was what Graham would recommend. Graham was right about a lot of stuff, but then that was his job. Making fucked-up teenagers better.

  ‘Shall I invite them over for supper?’ Sue looked straight ahead but he could see the smirk at the corners of her lips. Playing Pandarus, or something.

  ‘You just can’t stop yourself, can you?’ he teased, and his aunt laughed; she never took offence.

  ‘Nope. And you be sensible, all right?’

  ‘I’m always sensible.’ And it would be good to be nice to Audrey, to show her around, make her smile. He could do with a challenge.

  ‘Good boy.’ They pulled up in the drive; he jumped out to shut the gate, swung on it as it closed. It was good here, all this space, all this air. No one getting inside his head and fussing. Leo grabbed his aunt and gave her a kiss. She’d sort of saved his life when she’d agreed he could come and live here, and if that meant he owed her, then he’d pay up.

  Audrey

  Mum walked fast through the corridors, all busy and businesslike in her work uniform, and I slipped back into the crowds of kids so I could pretend I didn’t know her. Monday meant starting school and I’d told her not to come, but she’d said that would give the wrong impression. People might think she didn’t care. And didn’t I need her? She didn’t see me shaking my head, just marched up the drive anyway. Some of the other kids were staring at her, but she had her lipstick on and her smile and didn’t care.

  ‘Audrey.’ She stopped, turning back to hunt for me, shouting my name again, actually bellowing it. ‘Come on, love – get a move on.’ I saw the girls I’d been following gawp, then giggle, look at me, put two and two together, and my plan to pretend I wasn’t different was over before it had even begun. She shunted me into the form room and the group of kids clustered round the tables in the far corner turned and stared.

  ‘Mum. Just go. I’m fine.’ I sounded like I’d been sucking helium.

  ‘No. I’ll wait until your form tutor gets here. Make sure everything’s OK.’ She put out her hand, smoothed my hair, fussed with my jacket. The uniform she’d picked up looked bad; it hung off me as if I were made of sticks or straw. As if you might blow me down or set me alight with a match.

  ‘It will be, I promise. Just go,’ I hissed back, staring at the floor.

  ‘Audrey –’ she looked hurt and I hated that – ‘don’t you want me here?’

  ‘No.’ I shut my eyes tight, then opened them and looked at her hard. ‘Please, Mum, just go. You’re making me look like a total dick.’

  ‘Aud,’ she warned, frowning, looking round to check no one had heard.

  ‘Mum. Please.’

  The bell rang and the room filled with girls who looked like bunches of flowers. Bright and glossy, newly picked, still wearing their arrogant bloom. As if they were untouchable, as if they never even thought about what time, what the future, what words like that really meant, and believed that it was all going to last.
That no one would or even could take their sunshine away.

  Mum marched up to the form tutor, stuck out her hand, not bothered that the teacher’s arms were full of books and papers.

  ‘I’m Audrey Morgan’s mother. She’s new?’

  ‘Oh, yes, it’s nice to meet you. And Audrey, of course.’ She looked over at me and I smiled back, shifted my bag, then looked out of the window.

  ‘Well, here she is. I’m going to be late for work if I don’t get a move on, but I thought I’d better come and say hello.’

  The teacher kept smiling and staring like she had no idea what to say and was just pretending this was normal. I cringed again.

  Mum cleared her throat. ‘I’d appreciate it if you’d update me at the end of the day. I need to know how things go for her and I won’t get a word out of her at home.’

  ‘Of course. I’ll call you, I expect we have your number on file.’

  ‘Yes. If I don’t hear from you, then I’ll telephone in. Audrey’s been a very poorly girl for a long time, Miss –’

  ‘Miss Jones.’

  ‘Right, that’s it, Miss Jones. She’s missed a lot of work. Of course she’ll do her best to catch up, but she’s not the brightest button – no offence, love.’ She looked at me quickly and reached out, wiping some imaginary stain from my chin. I tossed my head, trying to get her off me. The room was watching, agog, and I knew I was the colour of ketchup. ‘It runs in the family – I was useless at school myself. Came into my own later. So, we’d both appreciate it if you’d take that into account. And I hope that the moment she’s not feeling well, you’ll let her go to the nurse, or call me.’

  Miss Jones looked at me, hesitating, her smile strained.

  ‘It’s lovely to have you in our form, Audrey. Everyone’s welcome in our school community and we’ll do our best to help you any way we can.’

  ‘That’s wonderful. There’s a warmth to this place; you can feel it.’ Mum smiled, turned round and looked at the class as if she actually expected them all to think she was totally normal. They stared back, their faces stupid with smirks no one was bothering to hide

  ‘I’ll let you get on. Have a good day, Audrey, love.’ And then Mum hugged me, as if she hadn’t made me look enough of a fool, and I sloped off to an empty desk; trying hard to disappear.

  First we had French. I’m rubbish at French, but the girl next to me nudged my arm.

  ‘Don’t make eye contact,’ she said. I stared at her, confused.

  ‘With Madame Partridge, she’s a bit of a bitch,’ she whispered, ‘and if you look up, then she’ll keep on asking you all the hard questions about the past perfect. So, eyes down. Right?’

  My neighbour had dark hair, dark eyes, rosy cheeks and wore bright yellow boots, Dr Martens. She saw me looking and stretched out her legs.

  ‘Cool, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yeah, really.’

  ‘I’m not supposed to wear them, but I get away with it. If you smile, you can get away with a lot.’ She grinned, showed train-tracked teeth. I smiled back.

  ‘I’m Jen. You’re Audrey. I heard your mum say.’

  ‘Oh. Yeah, well, she was a bit full on. Embarrassing.’

  ‘My mum’s the same. They all are.’

  ‘Really?’

  Jen nodded. When Madame Partridge asked me my name and I replied, ‘Je m’appelle Audrey,’ Madame cringed and let loose a torrent of words.

  ‘She says your accent’s a nightmare,’ Jen muttered. ‘But if you ask me, so’s hers.’ And then she laughed and I laughed too. It didn’t last. I couldn’t follow a thing, even with Jen’s help, and fifteen minutes in I stuck up my hand.

  ‘Can I go to the loo?’ I said.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘I need the toilet,’ I repeated and someone behind me laughed.

  Madame said something in French and I stared at her until she threw her hands up and waved me out and I pretty much ran from the class and down the corridor, no idea where I was heading until I found the toilets. The smell of disinfectant scored my throat, but I locked the door of a cubicle, sat on the closed lid of a seat and clenched my fingers tight, balled them into fists so I wouldn’t scratch or scrape at my skin, and waited for the bell.

  At lunchtime I retraced my steps to the front office. No one was watching and I slid out of the doors and down the drive, shrugging into my coat.

  The primary school was across the road; Mum and I had dropped Peter there earlier and I needed to find him now.

  Staring through the netting into the playground, I searched for my brother among the screaming, racing throng. The longer I couldn’t see him, the more my heart thumped, sick and sinking in my chest.

  ‘Where are you?’ I muttered, scanning the edges until I saw him, on his own, leaning against a wall. Behind him towered a huge painted sunflower; his head only just touched the first leaf.

  ‘Pete,’ I yelled, cupping my hands round my mouth, pushing my face against the wire. ‘Pete!’ I waved and called, walking my way round the perimeter, trying to get a little closer. The third time I called he heard and his head jerked up, eyes scanning and then fixing in my direction.

  ‘Audrey!’ I saw him say and he ran, little legs scissoring towards me. Peter grabbed my hand through the chain-link fence. I crouched down and kissed his fist.

  ‘You all right?’

  ‘I’m OK,’ he said. ‘Are you OK, Aud?’

  ‘Course I am, mate. What are you doing?’

  ‘Just playing,’ he said, and shrugged. I smiled.

  ‘There might be some nice children, Pete. You should join in, maybe play tag or with the boys playing ball.’

  ‘They said you can’t play if you’re new.’ He shrugged again and I bit my lip.

  ‘Tomorrow, then,’ I told him. ‘You won’t be new tomorrow, will you?’

  ‘I don’t know, Aud. I might be.’ His eyes widened and I saw him counting the days in his head, trying to work out how long different lasted.

  Leo

  Leo was late for Biology again. Tuesday’s double lesson was something he was finding it difficult to get excited about. He strode down one of the many corridors, thinking how the school was like a long-tentacled creature and how maybe he’d go diving in the summer, see how things looked underwater, when he came face to face with Audrey.

  ‘Hey,’ he said, and she stared at him and blinked as if he were the last person she’d ever expected to see again. He couldn’t help smiling – she looked as if she needed smiles. Sue was right; friendly was good.

  ‘Are you lost?’ Leo watched her, wondering.

  ‘No. I was just looking for the nurse’s office,’ she said, and then blushed like before.

  ‘Oh, well, it’s down there.’ He pointed back the way he’d come.

  ‘Thanks.’ Audrey began to move again. Leo found himself following.

  ‘Are you ill? Do you need anything?’ It was only polite to ask. He couldn’t have her wandering off and then passing out somewhere.

  ‘No. I’m all right.’ She pulled her sleeves down over her hands as she spoke, chewed a fistful of cardigan and then stopped, looked at him, and walked on in the direction he’d indicated. Leo fell into step, forgetting Biology, and Audrey glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and her mouth twitched, just a tiny bit, the hint of a smile. Gotcha, he wanted to say, but that would be annoying and he was sure he could think of something else instead, but all he knew was that her hair was the colour of moonlight and that she didn’t so much walk as glide. Obviously those observations were not appropriate, conversationally speaking. Obviously she did not want to talk or be escorted or anything.

  ‘So, yes, well, it’s just up there,’ Leo said eventually, as they reached another corridor and it snaked before them, long and white and empty.

  ‘I got it. Thanks.’

  ‘No worries,’ he said, and stood and watched her float away.

  Audrey

  The next day at break I asked Jen about Leo. He’d appeared the day
before, in the afternoon when I’d been dodging Science, and now he was walking past the lockers where we were standing. He raised his hand, a brief wave, mouthed hello, then strode on. I just wanted to know if she knew him, that was all, but another girl butted in.

  ‘Leo? In Year Thirteen? That Leo?’ She gestured with her thumb down the corridor where he’d gone. I tried to smile at her and nodded.

  ‘Yeah. I think so.’

  ‘He’s taken,’ this other girl said. Jen grabbed her books and slammed her locker shut. She didn’t look at the girl.

  ‘What do you mean?’ I couldn’t help asking.

  ‘I mean taken, like, you know. Taken.’ She leant back against the wall and folded her arms, so I smiled quickly, not meaning it, and looked away.

  ‘Thanks for your help, Lizzy,’ Jen said, rolling her eyes and pulling me with her.

  ‘So, what do you want to know for, anyway?’ The girl, Lizzy, followed us, moving herself into my line of sight. Her eyes picked at me, searching for something to hate.

  ‘No reason. Forget it.’ I shrugged and smiled at her again. Leo was nothing to me; I didn’t even know him.

  ‘You should stay away,’ Lizzy called after me, but I ignored her and followed Jen into the classroom, taking our seats and arranging our books.

  ‘What did I do to her?’ I said. ‘I don’t get it.’

  ‘She just gets off on being a bitch. Strange species of human being, I admit. Plus she has a major crush on you know who,’ Jen whispered as the teacher called the register. ‘I think maybe they had a thing.’

  ‘I’m not bothered.’

  ‘Well, just ignore her anyway, OK? I’m afraid it’s a case of the green-eyed monster.’ She looked over at Lizzy. Lizzy looked back and stuck up her middle finger. Jen just raised an eyebrow and looked away.

  I wondered if I could follow Jen everywhere, make her my friend just by virtue of my presence as her shadow. It wasn’t necessary.

  ‘Come on,’ she said at lunch. ‘I’ll show you the cafeteria. It’s pretty grim, mind you. I hope you brought lunch from home. Lesson one: don’t trust the natives. Lesson two: don’t eat their food.’

  Jen pulled out a magazine, stuck it between us and munched her way through a plastic tub of pasta and pesto. She didn’t talk much and I picked at my own food, glancing at the pictures of bands I’d never heard of and looking up now and then to scan the big echoing hall. Lizzy and her mates, whose names I didn’t know, spotted me and strode over.