Geek Girl (Geek Girl, #1)(62)

Toby clearly has the same problem I do. Nat lifts an unimpressed eyebrow.

“I don’t want to apologise again,” I say in a rush.

“Then what are you doing here? Are you going to give me more pointless gifts that I can enjoy breaking?”

“No. I just want you to come with me somewhere.”

Nat’s shocked into silence for a few seconds. “And why the hell would I do that?”

“Because neither of us is happy like this.”

Nat makes a hmph sound. “Actually, being without you is extremely liberating, Harriet. I never knew how much time there would be in life when it’s not being filled with documentaries about humpback whales migrating.”

That’s a low blow. She liked the humpback whale documentary. She said they were very “splashy”.

“Please, Nat? Twenty minutes and if you still hate me then you can spend the rest of the night cutting my face out of all our photos.”

“How do you know I haven’t already done that?”

We glare at each other obstinately for a few seconds, neither of us willing to budge.

Toby clears his throat. “If you need somewhere to put all the cut-out Harriet heads,” he interjects, “I’d be happy to take them off your hands.”

We both turn slowly to stare at him, but luckily my response is interrupted by the sound of the invisible Nat’s mum tapping the top of the microphone. “Ahem,” she says, like the disembodied voice of some kind of ancient goddess. “Go with them, Natalie.”

“What?” Nat says to thin air.

“I’m not having you marching around the house with a face like a smacked bottom for the rest of the week. Go with them.”

“No.”

“All right.” The voice of the goddess clears her throat. “It’s on six, Natalie.” A screech starts filling the house.

“Mum.”

“Seven.” The screech gets louder. Nat starts chewing on her bottom lip.

“At eight, Natalie, your ears are going to start hurting.”

Nat puts her hand over her face. “Please, Mum—”

“Nine. Ringing in your ears for the rest of the day. Don’t make me go to ten. I will.”

“Fine!” Nat shouts, glaring behind her and grabbing her handbag. She violently forces her feet into a pair of shoes next to the door. “Fine, all of you. Happy now? I’m coming.” She stalks out of the door and slams it behind her.

But not before we hear the faint sound of disembodied laughter.



I lead the rest of the way.

I have to: nobody else knows where we’re going. And even if they did know where we were going, they wouldn’t know how to get there. I’m the only one with that magical knowledge, thanks to a party eight years ago that Nat missed because she was having her tonsils out. The first and last party I ever went to without her. Although I haven’t exactly been wading through solo invitations.

“Right,” I say nervously as we get to a large front gate and I click the latch. “Just let me do all the talking.”

“Harriet,” Nat says crossly as we walk up the garden path. “Where the hell are we? And when do you ever not do all the talking?”

I know I’m supposed to be making peace with her, but with comments like that she is making it very difficult.

“You think I don’t know what friendship is, Nat,” I say, lifting up the knocker and letting it fall noisily. “But you’re wrong. And I know how to be honest too.” I lift it again and let it fall. “I just forgot for a little while, that’s all. And now I’m going to prove it to you.”

Slowly, with an ominous creak and a struggle – and some mild swearing – the front door opens.

And there, with a very surprised look on her face, is Alexa.





f you guessed this is where I was coming then your mind clearly works just like mine does. In a linear and sensible and yet simultaneously creative and poetic fashion.

Nat and Toby’s minds, however, obviously don’t. Their mouths have fallen open in perfect coordination with Alexa’s.

“This,” Nat says clearly behind me, “tops the list of most stupid things you’ve ever done, Harriet. That’s a pretty huge achievement.”

“Harriet,” Toby stage-whispers, “did you know Alexa Roberts lives here? What were the chances?”

I clear my throat. Alexa’s face is going through emotions the way Annabel flicks through channels on advert breaks: shock, followed by incredulity, and then a long moment spent on anger and a brief glimpse of embarrassment. And for a few fragments of time I almost see… respect. Respect for my audacity. On second thoughts, no. It’s not respect.

It’s a reaction to the smell of Toby’s powerful aftershave: the wind’s blowing it straight into the house.

“Alexa,” I say and I take a deep breath. I’m not absolutely certain what I’m going to say, even though I’ve been thinking about it all the way here. I just know that – whatever it is – it has to be perfect and it has to fix everything.

No pressure then.

“Harriet,” Alexa says, beaming at us. “Natalie. Toby. What a pleasant surprise. Would you like to come in for a cup of Darjeeling tea? My mum’s just bought a new box of Bakewell tarts and there’s plenty to go round.”