Undone(35)

If I could talk to you right this second, I’d ask if I was doing the right thing. And I know you’d say no.

Of course you’d say no. But if you were in my shoes I honestly think you’d understand. It’s too hard. It’s all too hard. It’s not just the video. Jem, I don’t think I could ever be happy in this world - a world where people are ashamed to admit who they really are.

I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not ashamed of who I am. I happen to think I’m a fairly decent human being, all things considered - one with exemplary manners and style, for that matter. But that’s not enough to keep me going. And you’re not enough.

Let’s be brutally honest here, because what’s the point in kidding ourselves now? The London plan was never going to work out, was it? It was always my dream, not yours. You hate big cities - they make you nervous. But I know you’d have done it for me. You’d have applied to any university I chose, just to keep your promise. But you’d have been miserable, and I would have been miserable knowing you were miserable. And what would have happened if either of us had got a boyfriend? I know I’d have been insanely jealous and watching like a hawk to make sure he treated you like you deserve to be treated - and you’d probably have been the same way.

What it comes down to is the fact that I’m not strong enough to be here anymore. But you are. You don’t know how strong you are, but maybe Future Jem (five months older, five months wiser) is starting to have some idea. I hope more than anything in the world that you’re beginning to realize how truly amazing you are.

Fuck. Wow. Sorry about that, my dear. I was trying to keep these letters light and fluffy, dagnammit. Must. Try. Harder. Until next month,

Love,

Kai

xxx



I wanted to forget I’d ever read this letter. I hated this letter.

Still, there was a certain grim satisfaction, knowing that I’d already achieved this month’s annoying mission. With bonus points. Even in Kai’s craziest dreams he would never have imagined that I would be hanging out in a coffee shop with Sasha Evans. It felt like I’d beaten him at his own game.

Two weeks later, coffee with Sasha paled into insignificance when I somehow found myself sitting next to Lucas Mahoney in the common room. If he’d wanted to he could have reached out and pushed my hair behind my ear. If I’d wanted to I could have reached out and touched the stray eyelash that was perched on his cheek. Of course there was no hair-pushing or eyelash-touching or any touching at all for that matter.

Bugs and Sasha were dominating the conversation – for very different reasons. Bugs because he was Bugs – talking was his default state. Sasha because she was clearly trying to make an effort to make this seem normal for everyone, despite the fact that there was an interloper in their midst.

I wanted to disappear into the graffiti-strewn bench we were sitting on. I willed myself to melt and trickle through the cracks, but it didn’t seem to be working. Sasha was trying her best to include me in the conversation, but I wasn’t exactly helping, with my one-word answers and blatant awkwardness. Things weren’t quite going to plan.

I was full of grand ideas about how I was going to take these people down, like some kind of (slightly tame) movie vigilante . . . yet here I was, nodding along and smiling shyly. Yes, I despised these people and everything they represented. And I knew full well that one or more of them was ultimately responsible for my best friend’s death. I was full of righteous indignation and anger and a whole lot of scheming. But I couldn’t escape the uncomfortable truth: these people intimidated the hell out of me.

I hadn’t meant to do anything so soon, but the opportunity seemed too good to miss. I’d been sitting in the common room, pretending to read a book for English. Team Popular were occupying their usual spot by the pool table, being obnoxiously loud. Normally Sasha was right in the thick of it, messing around with Bugs or giggling with the girls, but today she was sitting a few feet away, reading the same book as me. I gathered my stuff before I had a chance to chicken out, then I walked over to where she was sitting. The direct approach seemed like the best option.

I coughed to announce my arrival, and Sasha looked up and smiled. I held up my book. ‘Snap!’

She grimaced. ‘You too, huh? Talk about the most boring book in the entire history of the universe.’

I sighed. ‘Tell me about it. I’m not even halfway through yet and I already want to slit . . .’ Slit my wrists. That’s what I’d been about to say – on purpose, of course. It did the job, because Sasha winced and jumped in with, ‘Hey, why don’t you sit with us? I can’t take any more misery on the moors right now.’

I paused before nodding shyly, as if this hadn’t been what I wanted all along. Sasha shoved the book in her bag and jumped up, steering me towards the others with a hand on my arm.

They were all looking at me and I was wondering if my hair looked OK. I couldn’t check though – I wouldn’t even allow myself to run my fingers through just to make sure. Because then they’d know how uneasy I was.

Lucas was smiling up at me. ‘What have we here?’ No surprise there. I was a what rather than a who.

Sasha answered before I had a chance to embarrass myself. ‘Everyone, this is Jem. Jem, this is everyone.’ She might as well have said, Jem, this is anyone who’s anyone.