A Quiet Kind of Thunder(34)

I can’t help grinning back, because her mischievous enthusiasm is infectious. ‘What kind of panda wears heels, anyway?’

‘A teenage one trying to impress a boy,’ Tem says promptly. Her head is bent and she’s rooting through her make-up bag, lining up lipsticks on her dressing table.

‘Does it matter that I’m wearing Converse?’ I ask, my brain seizing on something new to panic about.

‘Of course not.’ Tem leans into the mirror, carefully running the lipstick over her bottom lip. ‘You can be a grunge panda.’ She presses her lips together and pouts at her reflection. ‘Do you know what Rhys will be wearing?’

‘No, he wants it to be surprise. How about Karam?’

She shrugs. ‘Zombie doctor. OK!’ She claps her hands and steps away from the mirror, turning in a circle so I can admire the full package. ‘What do you think?’

‘Pandarific,’ I say, smiling. She looks fantastic. ‘Karam will love it. Everyone will.’

When we were kids, Tem and I went through a phase where we were both obsessed with pandas. Tem decided they were like us in animal form – black and white; cheeky and shy; lovers of food, sleep and play – and that was all it took. I got a panda dressing gown for Christmas; she got the pyjamas. For three Halloweens in a row, we dressed in matching panda onesies.

Unfortunately, we’ve both outgrown those particular onesies – both in size and maturity level – so we’ve had to make our own costumes this year. Tem has pulled out all the stops. She’s wearing black skinny jeans, a tight white vest under a black leather jacket and a panda-ear headband. I, on the other hand, am wearing leggings, white hightop Converse and an oversized panda hoodie that I bought on eBay. It has a hood with ears on it.

‘I like it,’ Tem insists when I make worried-face at her. ‘You look adorable.’

Staring at the two of us in the mirror – her beaming, me with a slightly more wobbly smile – it occurs to me that we don’t look like a matching set at all any more. Once we were the same height, but now in her heels she towers over me. She has managed to make her panda outfit sexy; I still look like a child playing dress-up.

And yet we’re both going to this party to meet our maybe-one-day-could-be boyfriends, I remind myself. In this, we’re still the same.

At five o’clock the two of us take Davey trick-or-treating. He’s wearing a full fairy outfit, complete with a curly blue wig and silver glitter on his cheeks, and he looks so brilliant I pick him up to cuddle him close.

‘Panda!’ he shouts happily, pulling on my hood.

‘Fairy!’ I shout back, jiggling him so his wings flap.

We’re only outside with him for about half an hour, but that’s enough for all three of us. Davey gets tired, I get stressed and Tem is just impatient to get to the party. Still, we have to wait until 8 p.m. before we can actually go, so we end up being stressed and impatient in her kitchen instead. We eat fajitas straight out of the pan, take selfies with the pumpkins we carved earlier that day and try to tell ghost stories that tail off midway. Tem redoes her make-up three times. I eat an apple.

‘So this is what a social life feels like,’ I say.

She throws a Celebration at me and it bounces off my face.

We get the bus to Karam’s house at quarter to eight. Tem plays with the zip of her jacket and drums her fingernails against the window. She keeps pulling out her phone to check it, then sighing.

‘Does Karam know I’m coming?’ I ask.

‘Oh yeah,’ she says. ‘He’s looking forward to meeting you.’ She smiles at me, a flash of normal Tem on her face, before she returns a furrowed forehead to her phone.

When my phone beeps, her head jerks instinctively and I roll my eyes, waving it at her to show that it’s mine. It’s Rhys.

Rhys:

I think I’m here. Are you inside yet?



‘Rhys is there already,’ I say, anxious. I look out of the window, as if that will somehow let me know how close we are to a complete stranger’s house. ‘Are we almost there?’

‘Five minutes,’ Tem says. ‘Tell him to go in and wait for us.’

‘He literally knows no one,’ I say, swallowing a shot of irritation. ‘Not everyone can just make friends like you can.’

‘He made friends with you,’ Tem points out. ‘But fine. Whatever. Tell him to wait outside for us.’

When we get to Karam’s house, Rhys is leaning against the front wall, doing the whole fake-reading-a-text-message thing that I’m pretty sure has fooled no one since 2003.

‘Oh my God,’ Tem says, thrilled. Her voice is light with joy. ‘That is the best costume I’ve ever seen in my life. That’s him, right? Oh, please tell me that’s him. It’ll make my life if it’s him.’

Rhys is dressed like a mime. An actual French mime, complete with a painted white face, white gloves and a bowler hat.

‘That’s him,’ I say, grinning. What I want to say is, He’s mine.

When I reach his side, I poke his arm to get his attention and his head jerks up. A huge grin breaks across his face when he sees me, his eyes flicking up from my face to my feet, taking in my costume. He takes hold of one of my panda ears and tugs it playfully.

Hello.

Hi!