Beautiful Broken Things(Beautiful Broken Things #1)(68)

The sad smile quirked; amusement flickered in her eyes. ‘Confident? Me?’

‘Don’t say you’re not,’ I snapped, a sudden anger welling in me. ‘Girls like you – you don’t get it; how it feels to not be confident.’

Her brow furrowed. ‘You mean confident, like, with boys?’

I nodded.

‘Oh, Cads, that’s all crap,’ she said. ‘They’re the easiest. Honestly. They just want you to smile at them, act like you want them. That’s all.’

That’s all.

‘You’re confident,’ Suzanne continued. Her head tilted slightly, nudging mine again. ‘I get that you think you’re not. But you are. In your life. In yourself, you know?’

Like that means anything when you walk into a party full of people you don’t know and all you want to do is hide in a corner until it’s over.

‘I’m a massive wuss,’ I said, then hiccuped again.

She laughed, but it was friendly. ‘You’re not.’

‘I am.’ I felt tears start to rise up again.

‘You came here, didn’t you?’

‘Because you tricked me.’ I felt my face scrunch up, as the vodka and the weed and the weight of my own inadequacy spilled down my face, salty and hot. ‘Oh God, I’m such a loser. I’m such a loser even my best friend has to trick me into doing fun stuff.’

I could tell Suzanne was trying not to laugh again. ‘Caddy. Caddy! Calm down. You’re not a loser. You’re so not.’ Her breathy chuckling stopped abruptly. ‘Did you just call me your best friend?’

‘Oh God!’ My voice came out as a wail. ‘I didn’t mean to say that. Don’t tell Roz I said that. I didn’t mean it.’

‘Oh, great, thanks.’ Suzanne’s fingers pinched into my side. ‘Now I feel super-special.’

‘You’re like . . . sort of best.’ I scrabbled for sense. ‘You know? Like second best.’

‘Do you think a shovel would help with this digging?’

‘No, Suze,’ I said earnestly. ‘No, I mean really. Like, if it wasn’t for Roz, you’d totally be my best friend. ’Cause you are, like, the best. But just not my best. ’Cause Roz is my best. My very best.’

‘I am so very, very flattered,’ Suzanne said drily. ‘Nothing’s better than a drunk friend telling you how much they love you. As second best.’

‘I do think you’re brilliant though,’ I insisted.

‘OK, Cads. Time for bed.’

‘I thought you wanted to stay up and talk.’

‘I think we should save that for a time when you might actually remember the conversation afterwards.’

The rest of the night passed in a foggy haze. I’d forgotten most of the details by morning, but I retained a clear memory of throwing up into the toilet, the bathroom tiles pressing into my knees, Suzanne’s hands holding back my hair. Slumping on to her bed, looking up at her spinning ceiling.

When I woke up on top of the covers on her bed, feeling an awful lot like death, the sun was bright through the open curtains, hurting my eyes. I lay there for a while, trying to sift through the jumble of blurry memories in my head, before giving up and going to find Suzanne.

I found her in the living room, curled up asleep on the sofa. When I touched her shoulder – as gently as I could – she jolted up, pushing my hand away. ‘What?’

‘It’s me,’ I said quickly. ‘It’s just me.’

She relaxed back against the cushions, letting out a breath. After a moment she smiled. ‘Oh yes. Super-Cads.’

‘Oh God,’ I managed. The first memories were starting to unblur. Me, standing in her hallway, announcing that I wanted a hug. Oh God.

‘It’s OK,’ she said, laughing. ‘Trust me, it could have been a lot worse.’

Joe, sitting next to me on the sofa, telling me I had a pretty face. Me, telling him I went to a girls’ school. Complaining that I’d only kissed three boys. Him: Want to make it four?

‘Aargh,’ I collapsed next to her, tucking my head against her shoulder. ‘Is this what the morning after feels like?’

She laughed again. ‘Yes. Enjoy it. Remind yourself it means you must have had a good night.’ She glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘Do you mind if we head off soon? I know it’s early, but I just want to get out of here. We could head into town? Get some food?’

‘OK,’ I said.

‘You can use the bathroom upstairs if you want. I’ll meet you back down here in half an hour.’

After I’d washed my face and dosed up on paracetamol, I felt vaguely human again. I brushed my hair with a hairbrush I found in Suzanne’s room and headed downstairs to meet her. In the kitchen, she was folding up a piece of paper and setting it in place with the key she’d taken from the back garden. She smiled at me. ‘Just going to grab my hat.’ When she was gone, I gave into curiosity and unfolded the paper to read what she’d written.

Mum and Dad –

It’s me! Just to let you know I came by with a friend, so if you see anything out of place, that’s why. Hope you had a good anniversary weekend.

Lots of love, Suzie xx



I’d expected something sullen, maybe even overtly sarcastic, but the ordinariness of the note hit me right in the chest. I closed the paper back up and stepped into the hall, biting on my tongue to contain the sudden impulse to cry.