Undone(43)

What was wrong with me?

*

I couldn’t resist taking a peek at what I’d bought as soon as I got home, especially since I didn’t exactly take time to study them in the shop. It was more a case of grab whatever I could off the shelves as quickly as possible. There was no more giggling. Looking at them made me feel beyond uncomfortable, and of course Noah chose that exact moment to burst into my room without knocking. Lucky for me he’s so spectacularly unobservant I was able to cover up the evidence with a pillow. He narrowed his eyes, dived under my bed and stayed there for a second or two before scrambling out again. ‘Good. No zombies. You’re safe. As you were, soldier.’ Then he did what I can only assume was some kind of commando roll, saluted me and ran from the room, ignoring my shout to ‘CLOSE THE BLOODY DOOR!’ My brother might just be even weirder than I am.

They arrive thirteen minutes late. No one bothers to ring the doorbell. Instead the car horn toots some annoying unplaceable tune and I hurriedly shove things into my bag and run down the stairs, nearly spraining my ankle jumping the last four steps in one go. I shout goodbye to Mum and scarper before she can ask me where I’m going and who with and what time I’ll be back.

The car is as ridiculous as I expected. It’s white, for a start. What kind of an idiot chooses a white car? Especially when you’re as slobbish as Bugs. It has this weird sort of wing thing on the back, which is supposed to make it look more aerodynamic, I guess. The windows are tinted and the rims are super-shiny. But take all that away and you’re left with a car your mum would drive.

This is the first official outing for what Stu has christened ‘The * Magnet’, in typically revolting fashion. Bugs has been dreaming of this car for years. I assumed his parents had bought it for him, but he took great pride in telling me that he’d saved up every penny. Three years it had taken him. I’m more impressed than I’d like to admit.

The pavement is practically vibrating with the thumping bass. I can only hope my ears make it through this experience intact. The tinted windows make it impossible to see who’s in the car, so opening the door is a little like dipping your toe into water you’re pretty sure is infested with sharks.

Bugs is in the driving seat, his big moon face looming between the seats, meaty arm slung over the passenger seat. Sasha’s sitting next to him, and you can just tell by the look on his face that this is a dream come true for him. Well, it would be if it wasn’t for the boys in the back. I squeeze in next to Stu, which I definitely wouldn’t have done if the stupid windows hadn’t deprived me of the choice. Getting up close and personal with Lucas would have been a far more attractive option. There’s only room for five in the car, so that means no Amber, no Nina. I can’t help thinking this could be significant – am I higher up the pecking order already? Or am I reading too much into things, as per usual?

The back seat is cosy, to say the least. Stu’s leg presses up against mine and I can feel the strength there. There’s a hole in the knee of his jeans. I remember it from that night in the greenhouse. His knobbly knee sticks through, and if you weren’t careful you might find it kind of endearing. You might think he was a little boy who’d fallen off his bicycle. You would be very, very wrong.

We head out of town, and Bugs is driving way better than I would have expected. Boy racer he is not. Every time I glance at the speedometer it’s exactly on the speed limit. Stu keeps taking the piss, shouting things like, ‘My gran drives faster than this . . . and she’s been dead for two years,’ and, ‘What’s the point in that beast of an engine if you’re going to drive like a woman?’ The latter is swiftly followed by a ‘no offence, ladies’ and what he thinks is a disarming grin. Stu’s ability to be a complete tool never ceases to amaze me.

Bugs tells Stu to shut up on more than one occasion, and every furtive sideways glance at Sasha (of which there are many) makes it abundantly clear that she’s the reason he’s driving so carefully. Either he doesn’t want to crash the car and risk damaging her beautiful face or he wants her to think he’s mature and sensible and other things he most definitely is not.

The journey takes about an hour, which is a very long time to be trapped in a tiny car with anyone, let alone four people you can’t stand. I mostly stay quiet and look out the window. If I try really hard I can block them out and imagine I’m on my way to somewhere amazing. With someone amazing.

By the time we pull into the car park it’s starting to rain. The prospect of this little outing being ruined cheers me up a little. The others have this big debate about what we should do. Bugs and Sasha want to head to a cafe, Lucas and Stu want to go to the beach (‘It’s only a bit of rain, for f*ck’s sake. We’re waterproof, aren’t we?’). Sasha’s worried about her hair, and if I’m being completely honest I’m worried about mine too. I never used to be the kind of girl who worried about her hair.

Everyone clambers out of the car and that’s when I make my move. It doesn’t even take two seconds. Not enough time for anyone to wonder about later. It’s almost too easy.

My level of guilt is precisely zero.

This is going to be good.





chapter twenty-seven


Lucas shouts everyone hot chocolate and doughnuts in this cafe overlooking the front. Sasha takes ages deciding whether or not to have a doughnut, and it’s only when Stu makes a grab for the last one (having eaten his own in two monstrous bites) that she smacks his hand away and nibbles on it in the most dainty way possible. I eat mine like a normal person.