A Quiet Kind of Thunder(31)

‘OK, tell me everything,’ she commands, sitting cross-legged beside me on the bed. The bed I am still in, by the way. There are very few boundaries between me and Tem. ‘Everything.’

So I do. No detail is too small for her, no description too rambling. When I describe the expression on his face as I told him I liked him too, she almost combusts. I finally realize why she was so frustrated by my comparatively lacklustre response to her Karam-related excitement. This is what she wanted.

‘So are you together?’ she asks. ‘How did you leave things? This is very important.’

‘Define together,’ I say.

‘Together is not having to say “define together”,’ she says. ‘Together is “He asked me to be his girlfriend!” or “He declared undying love!” and so on.’

I laugh. ‘I’m quite glad he didn’t declare undying love, to be honest.’

‘You know what I mean. I say again – how did you leave things?’

‘He walked me home. Well, to the end of my road, so my dad couldn’t ambush him – my suggestion – and he kissed me goodbye. We said we’d see each other on Monday. And we had another goodnight kiss thing on jackbytes.’

She listens carefully and when I get to my final sentence she glows. ‘That’s like the equivalent of a goodnight phone call for the two of you, right?’

I smile. ‘Pretty much.’

‘Oh, Steffi!’ Tem actually claps her hands together, then drums her fists on my covers. ‘I’m so happy right now.’

‘Do you think he should have asked me to be his girlfriend?’

She shakes her head. ‘No, this is all fine. Better than fine. Perfect. You can take things all cute and slow.’

‘Like you and Karam?’ I say this because I think it’ll make her happy, but her face falls a little.

‘Maybe,’ she says.

I’m about to ask her to elaborate – where’s her bouncy, Karam-induced happiness? – but my phone dings beside me and I grab it. Rhys.

Rhys:

Good morning, beautiful ? xx



‘Oh my God,’ Tem sings, beaming. ‘He’s got it bad.’

I shove her away, grinning, drinking in the words on the screen. Beautiful. He thinks I’m beautiful?

‘I thought you guys used jackbytes,’ Tem says, peering over my shoulder.

‘We do,’ I say. ‘We text too. Jackbytes is like a phone call. The conversation isn’t recorded, but texts we can keep. Now, help. What should I reply?’

‘Whatever you want,’ Tem replies. ‘He likes you, Stef. Not me. Say whatever you want to say.’ I reach over impulsively to hug her and she yelps in surprise, then hugs me back. ‘My little Steffi,’ she says, pressing her head against mine. ‘Kissing a boy.’

I twirl my phone in my fingers, smiling against the familiar scrunch of her curls against my face. ‘Am I all grown up?’

‘Almost,’ she says. I feel rather than see her grin. ‘Almost.’

At school, Rhys and I are shy and tentative with each other. When we first see each other, he does a kind of awkward two-step where he starts to lean in to kiss me and then changes his mind. He takes my hand instead, but then realizes almost immediately that we can’t talk if we’re holding hands, so he drops it again.

Hi, he says, his smile embarrassed.

Hi, I say, grinning. I reach up on tiptoe and kiss his cheek.

But, for the most part, things are the same. We still talk and laugh in a language that feels like it belongs just to us. We sit together in Maths and chat to his interpreter after class. We go to the library during a free period we both share and carry on talking across the table, my BSL improving with every passing hour we spend together. We talk every night on jackbytes. On Thursday we go to Caffè Nero and kiss in the corner until his coffee goes cold.

I think we’re both too shy to bring up the possibility of using big words like ‘girlfriend’ and ‘boyfriend’, because we don’t, though I have dreamily practised the signs to myself so I can be ready for when we do. The thing is that it doesn’t feel like we need to; everything is so soft and sweet and perfect. I’m in no rush to risk losing it with The Conversation.

On Sunday, Tem and I take our little siblings to the park to feed the ducks. Bell is dressed as a fairy, complete with wings and a wand, and she sings to herself as we walk along, holding my hand tight. Davey, Tem’s five-year-old brother, takes one look at her and bursts into tears.

‘What’s wrong?’ Tem demands, horrified. ‘It’s Bell. You’ve seen Bell before.’

Bell, still clutching my hand, stares at him with distant interest. She gives her wand a swish and flick in his direction, and Davey wails even louder.

Tem rolls her eyes at me, hoists her brother into her arms and carries him a little way off the path.

‘What a baby,’ Bell says primly, heaving a loud sigh.

‘Come on, Belly,’ I say, grinning. ‘Let’s get a head start on the ducks, shall we?’

We sit on the bench nearest the side of the lake and I pull out the bag of stale bread I’d brought, already ripped into pieces perfect for small hands. I hold it open for Bell and she reaches in.

Tem approaches, still holding Davey in her arms. She walks round the back of the bench and leans over so she’s hissing directly into my ear. ‘Davey wants to be a fairy.’