Undone(50)

I’m really glad he was the one to tell her, because I would have had no idea what to say. I’ll admit, I was maybe slightly looking forward to seeing her reaction, just for the surrealness of it. I’d even gone so far as to picture it in my head – the drama, the tears, maybe a slap thrown in for good measure.

We head into the changing rooms to try stuff on, and miraculously we’re the only ones in there. I try on the top Sasha picked out and inspect myself in the mirror from every possible angle. I don’t know whether Lucas will like it, but I definitely do. It fits well but it’s not too tight. Green’s not a colour I would normally wear. There’s something fresh and cheerful about it. It’s a summery sort of top; I usually go out of my way to avoid anything remotely summery. Summer is my least favourite season by some distance. Give me autumn or winter any day. You’ll never find me complaining about a cold rainy day – it gives me the perfect excuse to stay in and watch TV. Kai always loved summer. He was a sunny sort of person. No one would ever accuse me of being sunny – even with the blonde hair.

I think Kai would approve of this top. I care more about that than I do about what Lucas thinks.

‘Are you ready for this?’ Sasha knocks on the door.

I step out of the cubicle and pretty much the only thing I can focus on is Sasha’s cleavage. Her breasts are just there, like they’ve been laid out on a silver platter. ‘Wow.’

‘Too much? What does this top say to you?’ She sashays towards the huge mirror at the end of the changing rooms.

‘Um . . . “Hello, boys! Come get me”?’ As soon as I’ve said it I wonder if I’ve gone too far – after all, I don’t exactly know Sasha that well, no matter how much she’s started to act like my BFF.

‘Ha! That’s precisely what I want it to say!’ She pushes up her breasts and I’m pretty sure they’re about to spill out. She turns and looks me up and down, head nodding approvingly. ‘Nice. It’s his favourite colour, you know.’

Suddenly I feel deeply uncomfortable. ‘I didn’t know that. Um . . . I’m not going to buy it. I’m skint.’

She grabs my upper arms in a vice-like grip. ‘You have to buy it! You have to you have to you have to! Go on, treat yourself.’

I wriggle out of her grip. ‘Sasha! I’m broke!’

Sasha sighs. ‘Let me buy it for you then.’

I hadn’t thought I could feel any more uncomfortable. I was wrong. ‘I can’t let you do that. It’s really nice of you and everything, but . . .’

‘Nonsense. I’m buying it. That’s what friends are for, right? You’d do the same for me if you had some extra cash.’ She couldn’t be more wrong. If I had extra cash it would be going straight into my savings account.

If the expression on her face is anything to go by, she’s clearly not going to give up. For some bizarre reason she really, really wants to buy me this top that she’s so convinced Lucas will like. I’m not sure if she’s doing this for me or for him. ‘OK, you can buy it. But on one condition: I’m paying you back as soon as I’ve got the cash.’

‘Yeah, yeah, whatever,’ she says with a glint in her eye. She thinks I’m going to forget, but I won’t. I always pay my debts. Always. It used to drive Kai crazy that I kept a mental tally of things like that – if he bought me a can of Coke one week I’d make damn sure to buy one for him the week after. I don’t know why it makes me so antsy, accepting gifts from people. I’ve never had a problem accepting things from Mum and Dad, but that’s different, isn’t it? They’re supposed to spend money on you – it’s practically their main purpose in life. I just don’t like being treated like a charity case, that’s all.

By lunchtime Sasha has accumulated five bags of clothes and shoes. Three pairs of shoes! That was the arduous bit – trying to maintain enthusiasm as she tried on pair after pair, mulling over the pros and cons as if this was something that actually mattered. Sasha doesn’t seem to notice my impatience, because all that’s required of me is to agree with her. There’s a lot of nodding involved.

We get sandwiches from M&S and sit on a bench. Something tells me this isn’t Sasha’s usual mid-shopping lunch. She strikes me more like the type to get sushi from that fancy Japanese place that opened last year. I appreciate what is almost certainly a concession to my poverty (even though I’m not actually skint). There’s more to this girl than meets the eye. Sometimes (like right now) I find myself wondering whether I actually do like her. But then I think about Kai and I know it’s not possible. She is not, and never will be, my friend.

I’m eating the last bite of my sarnie when she says, ‘He’s good at the kissing, isn’t he?’

I chew my mouthful way more times than is strictly necessary because I have no idea how to respond to this. She laughs and says. ‘Are you ever going to swallow that?’

I swallow with some difficulty. ‘It’s good for the digestion . . . um . . . lots of chewing.’

‘You’re hilarious, you know that? Anyway, feel free to thank me for his kissing skills. He learned everything he knows from me . . . and I mean everything.’ She nudges me with her elbow and I narrowly avoid spilling water all down myself.

‘You mean he was . . . before you two . . . ?’