Girl Heart Boy: No Such Thing as Forever (Book 1) Read online

  Next morning found us all in our tutor room waiting for Paul – head of maths and the person lucky enough to be in charge of our pastoral care – to turn up, count us in, then rush off to kick some more number-crunching butt. Paul was OK, if you ignored the fact that he acted more like a hotshot businessman than a teacher and used phrases like ‘think outside the box’. And he was never in the room for more than five minutes of our twenty-minute tutor periods, which left a full fifteen minutes (maths!) for us to gently ease ourselves into the day.

  But I didn’t want any gaps in today. I wanted today to be busy, with no time for thinking. Or talking. So while Ashley and Donna discussed the film they’d seen that weekend, and Rich and Jack had a strange boy conversation about Saturday’s Doctor Who, I studied Heat magazine as if the size of some soap star’s thighs was the most fascinating thing I’d ever read, and hoped I’d be left alone. And I was, until Ollie appeared at my shoulder.

  ‘“2012: The Year of the Sugar Daddy”,’ he read aloud, making me jump. ‘Oh riiight. So that’s why you’ve gone for an older dude.’ He started poking me with his elbow, nudge-nudge-wink-wink style. ‘What have they got that us young’uns haven’t?’

  ‘Fuck off, Ollie,’ I snapped, pushing his arm away.

  That wiped the grin off his face. ‘Sorry, flower. I take it the weekend didn’t go to plan then?’

  I turned back to Heat. ‘Just leave it, OK?’

  Silence. Now they’d be worried. I sighed and pushed the magazine away. ‘Look, I’m just in a bit of a bad place at the moment. I’ll get over it.’ Donna had been silent beside me, but as soon as she opened her mouth to speak I interrupted. ‘Can we just say you live and learn, and leave it at that?’

  ‘Yeah, of course,’ she said. ‘But, Sar, no one thinks badly of you.’

  I fiddled with a pen to try to distract myself from crying again. ‘Yes you do,’ I said, my voice wavering. ‘You think I’m an idiot. And you’re right.’ Everyone started chorusing, No we don’t, Joe’s the idiot, blah blah. Suddenly I felt exhausted. I looked around at my friends. Cass with her big watery eyes, Ashley and Donna exchanging worried looks. Even the boys looked concerned. Jack was practically wringing his hands, bless him. I attempted a smile.

  ‘Honestly, I’ll be fine. No one’s died, I got the wrong idea about Joe, that’s all.’ I scraped my chair back. ‘I just need to get a grip. Tell Paul I’ve gone to the loo, will you?’ And I walked out of the room, out of school, and home, where I kicked off my shoes and crawled into bed.

  In my dream Joe was sitting at my desk in the English room. He turned and smiled at me as I walked towards him. ‘Appearance and reality in Jane Eyre,’ he said, winking, then leant towards me conspiratorially and whispered, ‘The reality is us.’ Then he disappeared.

  When I woke up I opened my bedroom window wide. I wasn’t big into making life decisions based on my dreams, but I’d have been an idiot to ignore that one. Joe hadn’t realized how good we were together, that was all. It was totally understandable that he was scared. He was a student in London, I lived – with my parents – fifty miles away. I was seventeen, he was twenty. It still hurt like hell that he’d blown me off – every time I remembered him walking away from me it was like being stabbed in the chest. But some things are worth fighting for.

  Feeling miserable but resolved, I went into the bathroom, peeled off my clothes and turned the shower as hot as it would go. I stood naked and shivering while I waited for it to heat up, then got in and let the water pelt me for half an hour, eco-misery no match for my own. I washed my hair, conditioned it, then flipped open a tube of posh exfoliating stuff I’d got for Christmas but never used, poured a huge blob into my hand and slapped it all over, rubbing it in till my skin hurt. Then I got out of the shower, stood in the fragrant fug and covered myself with moisturizer. Next came my favourite skinny jeans, a huge loose-knit jumper that I loved even though it had a hole in the shoulder, and big socks. Finally I sat on the floor in front of my mirror and blow-dried my hair, parting it into sections like they do at the hairdresser’s. A slick of Frizz-Ease, and I was ready.

  I got my phone and, sitting on my bed, composed a text. Cool and breezy was the way forward. Anything heavy would just scare him off even more.

  Hi Joe. Thanx for fab

  wkend of rudeness ;)

  Have good week. Sx

  I stood up, smoothed my duvet, and went downstairs to raid the fridge. I was starving.

  At school the next day I was back to my old self, at least on the outside. Good old low-maintenance Sarah. I saw Ollie walking ahead of me and ran to catch him, linking my arm through his.

  ‘Oh, all right, Sarah,’ said Ollie, surprised. ‘You OK?’

  ‘Yeah.’ I rested my head on his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry about yesterday. I was a bitch.’

  Ollie shrugged, bouncing my head up like a football. ‘Don’t worry about it. I was prob’ly an insensitive wanker. Joe call, did he?’

  I shook my head. ‘Nope, not yet.’

  ‘Oh. Right.’ Ollie paused while his boy brain tried to digest this latest non-development.

  ‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘you coming to Jack’s big match tonight?’

  We squeezed past a bunch of Year Sevens sitting in the stairwell sighing over a newspaper story about Justin Bieber. I almost envied them.

  ‘Yeah, all right,’ I said, in answer to Ollie’s question. ‘Is everyone going?’

  He held open our tutor-room door. ‘After you.’ We sat down. A few others were dotted around, but Ollie and I were the first of our group.

  ‘Ashley’s got to work and Cass is seeing Adam,’ he continued. ‘But Donna and Rich are coming.’ He drummed his knees under the table. ‘Anyway. Glad you’re feeling better, flower.’

  ‘Yep, much better, thanks,’ I said, trying to ignore the little hammer in my brain that was like a metronome, every beat an image of Joe: Joe at Victoria when he met me on Saturday morning, Joe’s naked body, Joe’s face as he came, Joe when he left me at the station. Especially Joe when he left me at the station.

  ‘Uh, Sarah?’ said Ollie.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Jack’s talking to you?’

  I looked up to find everyone else had arrived. I really needed to get on top of the zoning-out thing. It was embarrassing. ‘Sorry, Jack. What did you say?’

  ‘Just that it’s good you’re coming tonight.’

  I smiled brightly. ‘Oh yeah. Wouldn’t miss it.’

  ‘Cool.’ He peered at me, as if he was worried I’d blow at any second.

  ‘What?’ I laughed. ‘I’m fine!’ Judging by the sceptical looks around me, no one was convinced. ‘Honestly! Look, I just zoned out for a minute. I’m not going mental or anything.’

  Donna raised an eyebrow. ‘And are we allowed to talk about the Joe thing?’

  I shrugged. ‘If you want.’

  Cass still looked worried, bless her. ‘Are you sure you’re OK, hon? I mean, this is us.’ She gestured around the table. ‘You don’t have to pretend.’

  ‘What? I’m not pretending!’ This was beginning to piss me off. ‘Look, it’s true I was gutted after I left Joe on Sunday, but it was my own fault. I just read too much into it. End of. It was still an amazing weekend …’ I lowered my voice. ‘We still had amazing sex.’ I looked pointedly at Ashley and Donna.

  Ash spread her hands. ‘Fair play, Sar. I can respect that.’

  ‘Me too.’ Donna came round the table and gave me a hug. ‘I’m glad you’re OK.’

  ‘Yeah, we didn’t like sad Sarah,’ said Cass, smiling at me.

  ‘So does this mean we can get pissed tonight to celebrate?’ asked Rich, rubbing his hands together.

  ‘It’s always when I have to work,’ moaned Ashley. ‘Can’t we do it this weekend instead?’

  ‘Aw, babes, we’ll do it then too,’ said Rich. ‘Why don’t you tell your mum that you can’t work tonight?’

  ‘Right. Like that’s an option,’ said Ashley bitterly. Her
mum owns a designer wedding dress boutique in The Lanes and they do fittings in the evenings. Ash has to wipe off her eyeliner, put on a suit and make nice with brides-to-be and their rich mummies. It’s ironic, cos the shop doesn’t make Ash’s mum rich. Pretty much the opposite, in fact. Bad time for the economy, and all that.

  ‘Me and Adam are having a night in,’ said Cass, looking disappointed. ‘But if I finish my Spanish translation in time I’ll definitely come out at the weekend.’

  Rich put his arms round me and Donna. ‘Looks like it’s just me and ma bitches then.’

  ‘And Jack and Ollie,’ I reminded him.

  ‘Yes, they are my bitches too,’ he agreed, and then ducked as various missiles came at him from Ollie and Jack’s direction.

  I had such lovely friends. Why couldn’t they be enough for me? I sighed and turned to the front as Paul finally arrived to count us in and read out the day’s notices. Tonight will be good, I told myself. Just focus on that.

  And, actually, it was good. To start with anyway.

  From the moment the teams ran on to the pitch, we knew it was Jack’s night. He was on fire. Even I could tell he was all over the other team, ducking and diving and basically being a total hero. Me, Donna, Ollie and Rich leapt about on the sidelines, cheering like loons.

  ‘Drink, anyone?’ Rich held out a hip flask.

  ‘Don’t mind if I do,’ said Donna, unscrewing the lid and reeling back before she’d even taken a mouthful. ‘Ugh, what the hell is that?’

  Rich shrugged. ‘Calvados. It was either that or wine. And only winos put wine in a hip flask.’

  ‘You know you don’t always have to siphon off your parents’ alcohol. You could just buy stuff like a normal person,’ said Donna, taking a swig and wincing, then contemplating the flask appreciatively. ‘Huh. Nice burn.’

  ‘I know, right?’ Rich nodded enthusiastically, as if he’d fermented the stuff himself.

  Donna passed the flask to Ollie, who took a couple of sips then passed it to me. I didn’t even think. I just drank. ‘Oh God, that’s disgusting.’ It tasted like medicine-flavoured fire, and not in a good way. I stuck my tongue out and flapped at it to take away the burn.

  ‘Whoa, Sarah, drinking on a school night?’ Donna grinned and gave me an atta-girl arm punch. ‘Nice one, babes. Do you good.’

  I hoped so. I was about to pass the flask back to Rich when something stopped me. Sod it. I took another swig. And another.

  By the end of half-time, I was hammered. But it was fine. Great, even. I was having the best time. Everything was Jack, and the boys, and Donna, and resolutely, definitely, positively not Joe.

  The whistle blew for the start of the second half and we turned our attention back to the match. I jogged about on the spot as Jack weaved through the other players towards the goal. ‘C’MON, JACK!’ I bellowed. I turned and started conducting an imaginary choir. ‘Two, four, six, eight, who do we appreciate?’ I chanted, then paused and grinned expectantly at the others.

  Rich laughed and shook his head. No cheerleading, he mouthed. Not cool.

  ‘What?’ I was flabbergasted. ‘Cheerleading rocks!’ I started high-kicking and waving imaginary pompoms. ‘C’mon, people, get with the cheerleading programme!’ I tugged at Donna’s coat. ‘Donna. Donna. DONNA. Cheerlead with me. DONNA!’

  She gently prised my fingers from her sleeve. ‘All right, Sar, maybe calm down, yeah? It’s getting a bit annoying, babes.’

  I shrugged and turned back to the match. They were always on at me to lighten up, and here I was, light as a freakin’ feather. I danced about on the sidelines, shouting encouragement to Jack, then turned to Rich but he shook his head and held the flask out of reach. ‘Sweet-pea, you’re hammered.’

  I gave him a duh face. ‘No! Really?’ I jumped up to grab the flask, but Rich pushed me away with a gentle shove to the forehead.

  ‘Look, much as I’m loving new crazy drunkard Sarah, I think you’ve had enough,’ he said. ‘This is a bad idea, believe me.’ I slumped and nodded, then lunged as soon as Rich started to put the flask back in his pocket.

  ‘HA! Gotcha,’ I crowed, holding the flask up for a second before throwing my head back and downing the lot. ‘Aw. All gone,’ I said, holding the flask upside down.

  ‘Thank God for that,’ said Donna. ‘Sit down, will you, before you fall over.’

  But I was one step ahead of her. My legs suddenly buckled and I fell heavily to the floor.

  ‘Ow, that hurts,’ I said, tears of pain stinging my eyes. And you know how one tear can spark a flood? A second later, it was as if all the grief in the world was on my shoulders.

  ‘Oh, babes,’ sighed Donna, squatting down and putting her arms round me. I rested my head on her shoulder and howled.

  7

  ‘All done?’

  I nodded and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. We were in the bathroom at Donna’s house, and I had spent the last forty-five minutes puking up a potent cocktail of Calvados and the chicken burger and chips I’d had earlier. I turned and sat on the bath mat, my back against the bath. Donna joined me, wisely taking the side furthest from the toilet.

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ I said, putting my head in my hands.

  ‘I know, babes, you’ve told me, like, a million times.’

  I peered at her through my fingers. She was staring straight ahead, her expression neutral. She didn’t look angry, but you could never tell with Donna and you didn’t want to get on the wrong side of her. Ours is not a friendship based on similar personalities. She’s a laid-back, fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants, what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of girl. I’m pretty much the opposite. But despite or, I dunno, maybe because of this, we get on. She’s fun, and nice, and I like her honesty. And tonight she’d somehow got me to her house, persuaded her dad to let me stay, and held my hair back while I’d surrendered my stomach contents to the porcelain god.

  I was having a severe attack of the guilts. ‘I don’t deserve you,’ I said, shaking my head.

  ‘Piss off,’ said Donna, good-naturedly. She examined her nails. ‘And stop worrying about it. Happens to the best of us.’

  I sighed. ‘Not to me it doesn’t.’

  She laughed. ‘Yeah, well, about time it did.’

  We sat in silence for a minute. I looked around for my phone. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Probably close to midnight. And your bag’s downstairs.’

  I tried to stand up, but the room started spinning crazily so I sat down again. ‘Are you sure it’s OK to stay tonight?’ I rested my cheek against the cool side of the bath. I was feeling sick again.

  ‘Yeah, Dad’s fine with it,’ Donna replied, eyeing me warily. ‘You OK?’

  I nodded, although I wasn’t convinced.

  ‘I need to call my parents.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I already texted your mum from your phone. You told her Jack’s team won so we’d come here to celebrate and as it was late you were going to stay the night.’

  ‘Oh, thanks, Don,’ I said, relieved I had one less thing to worry about. ‘Did she reply?’

  Donna smiled at me. ‘Dunno. You started vomming.’ I smiled what I believe books call ruefully and had another go at standing up. Donna took my hand. ‘Careful. Take it slowly.’ She kept hold of me as I gingerly followed her into the bedroom she used to share with her sister until last year, when Jess left home. Donna pushed all the books, DVD cases, clothes and magazines that were piled on Jess’s bed on to the floor. ‘Hop in.’ I gratefully crawled on to the delicious, cool sheet, and Donna covered me with the duvet. I’d worry in the morning about what clothes to wear to school.

  I smiled dopily, my eyes already closing. ‘Fanks, Don.’ I felt the mattress dip as Donna sat next to me on the bed. She stroked my hair away from my eyes.

  ‘No probs, babes. Any time.’

  But I was already asleep.

  I woke the next day to broad daylight. Donna’s curtains were open and her duvet hastily flung over her sheets,
which is what passes for making the bed in Donna-land. I listened. The house was empty. I sat up and clutched my head. Ow. My first proper hangover. My mouth felt like sandpaper that someone had used to wipe their bum. I gingerly lay back down, and something crackled under my head. I felt behind me, grunting with the effort, and grabbed a piece of paper between my fingers.

  S. Left you to sleep it off. Dad’s at work. Help

  yourself to shower, clothes, food!!

  Later, dude. D xxx

  I groaned. Not only did I never get drunk, especially on a school night, but I also never bunked off, and this was my second sicky in a week. Joe’s doing this to you, said a little voice in my head. You’re better off without him. I ignored it. I was better off WITH him. That was the whole point. Duh.

  I stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom, which still stank of sick. I groaned again. I doubted I’d ever be able to look Donna’s dad in the eye again, although he was the most liberal of all our parents – he’d bought Donna an eighth of weed for her birthday – so maybe he wouldn’t care. I really hoped not. Parents liked me. I had a kind of head-screwed-on vibe that they went for.

  I carefully locked the bathroom door and fiddled with the shower dial. A jet of freezing cold water hit my arm. Shit shit shit. Whatever I did, the water wouldn’t heat up. In the end I took the shower head out of its holder and blasted the neediest parts of my anatomy as quickly as I could. At least it cleared my head a bit.

  Back in Donna’s room I kept my towel wrapped round myself with one hand and opened her knicker drawer with the other. I grabbed a pair of plain black socks and the first boring-looking pair of high-legs I found (Donna had a strict pants hierarchy: plain high-legs at the bottom, thongs in the middle, shorts with matching bra at the top) and put on my own bra. Next I opened her wardrobe. She was a good size smaller than me, but I found a baggy sweatshirt and a pair of jeans that I could just about do up. They would look completely wrong with the ballet pumps I was wearing yesterday, but I told myself firmly that it was the price I paid for being such a dirty stop-out. Thus attired, I gathered up my own smelly clothes and went downstairs.