Undone(40)

I especially didn’t want Sasha to know it’s my birthday, so it’s definitely more than a little weird that I’m a bit disappointed not to receive a birthday text from her. She does text though, to ask me if I want to hang out at her place tomorrow. She reckons I need a break from GCSE studying, which is a joke because I’ve barely started. Anyway, tomorrow happens to be Sunday. So I guess I’ve completed Kai’s little challenge after all, even if he didn’t actually set it. It’s almost enough to make me smile.

My new top is a little tight; I’m only wearing it because Kai didn’t ask me to. Sasha said it’s just going to be the two of us, watching a few DVDs and eating pizza. So it’s a bit of a surprise when Lucas Mahoney answers the door. I manage to hide my feelings and plaster an easy smile on my face when I say hi. He’s not wearing any shoes. There’s something about him not wearing shoes that makes him look more normal, less Lucas. And I’m not sure how I feel about that.

‘Hey, come on in.’ I wrestle my way out of my jacket in a most unladylike fashion and he says, ‘I like your top. It’s . . . nice.’

I mumble thanks and follow him into the living room. They’re all there, sprawled on sofas or on the floor. None of them look surprised to see me, which is irritating. I perch next to Nina on the edge of the sofa nearest the door and listen as the banter ramps up. After the obligatory moaning about revision, today’s topic of choice is Lucas and how he hasn’t had any action since his break-up with Sasha. Lucas and Sasha don’t seem bothered by this discussion in the slightest. Sasha just rolls her eyes and goes to sort out the pizzas in the kitchen. Stu and Bugs are shouting out the names of girls at school and listing their various attributes. Amber and Nina add their (nearly always unfavourable) verdict on the girls in question. And Lucas mostly laughs and shakes his head, with the odd grimace thrown in if he particularly disapproves.

It’s surprisingly easy – and very enlightening – to sit here and just listen. The thing that does my head in is that so much of what’s said are things I’ve thought to myself or things I said to Kai a hundred times. I can’t bear the idea that I’ve ever had the same thoughts as these people. Like the fact that Bella Colgan has an unusually large head. Or that Caroline Forrest’s eyes are so close together it makes her look like a giant spider. Or that Marnie Dent’s breasts are so big they don’t look like they belong on her body. Amber nods away as if this isn’t the biggest pot/kettle/black situation the world has ever seen.

And then Stu throws a new name into the mix. Jasmine James. Shit. I feel guilty every time I see Jasmine – throwing away that sympathy card she gave me was a crappy thing to do, pure and simple.

Everyone’s quiet for a minute, weighing up Jasmine’s attributes or lack thereof. They’re all taking this very seriously – really getting into it.

Amber’s just about to open her mouth when I speak without even thinking. ‘Hermaphrodite Girl?’ They all turn to face me and I can feel my cheeks start to burn. Stu barks out a laugh and Bugs reaches over to high-five me. Nina gives an ugly snort and immediately puts her hand to her face as if she can stuff the snort back up there if she’s quick enough. Amber smiles and takes a sip of her drink. They approve, clearly. Lucas is the only one who doesn’t show any visible reaction.

I don’t even know why I said it. I’ve no idea which ugly dark place in my brain the words came from. Obviously it’s not true. Sure, Jasmine maybe looks a little masculine if you ignore the long shiny hair – broad shoulders, no boobs to speak of. And her voice is maybe a bit deeper than most. But not so much that anyone would ever notice . . . until someone drew their attention to it, that is.

I feel sick, but everyone’s laughing and joking and taking the hermaphrodite idea way too far, so no one notices that I retreat into myself. Lucas is the only one who doesn’t join in. He picks up the Sky magazine on the coffee table and starts flicking through the pages.

I have to get out of here. I can’t listen to Stu speculating about what genitalia Jasmine might or might not possess. Please forgive me, Jasmine. It’s part of the Plan. They have to believe that I belong.

I mumble something about helping Sasha and escape into the kitchen. She’s standing in front of the open fridge, staring into it like she’s trying to memorize the contents.

‘Hey, need a hand with anything?’

Sasha doesn’t seem to hear so I repeat the question. She turns and blinks exaggeratedly. ‘Oh, hi. No, I think I’ve got everything covered, thanks.’ She peers into the oven, then turns to face me. ‘By the way . . . sorry about the ambush.’

I wasn’t going to mention it; I didn’t want to sound ungrateful or pathetic. And I should be glad that I’ve been thrown into this situation unawares so I didn’t have time to get all worked up about it. Playing dumb seems like the best tactic. The person Sasha thinks I am wouldn’t bat an eyelid at the change of plans. The more, the merrier – that’s what Sasha’s version of me would think. ‘Ambush?’

Sasha does that extreme blinking thing again. It reminds me of a robot, even though as far as I know, robots don’t need to blink. She waves an arm in the direction of the living room. ‘I should have told you the others were coming too.’

I shrug and run my fingers along the worktop. No crumbs or tea stains or stray milk-bottle tops here, just shiny perfection. ‘No worries.’