Undone(51)

‘Virgin? Yup. The biggest, greenest, scaredest virgin on the planet, bless him.’

This news doesn’t just come as a surprise. It’s almost enough to knock me off the bench. Lucas Mahoney, the school stud. I was sure he was one of those boys who’d been having sex since he was about thirteen. And I don’t think I’m the only person in school who thought/thinks this way. He exudes sexual experience like some kind of pungent aftershave. Mind you, maybe he and Sasha had a lot of practice.

Sasha’s watching me and I don’t know where to look. ‘It’s OK to talk about stuff like this, you know. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.’ I can’t tell if she’s being kind or patronizing – or kind of patronizing.

‘I know . . . it’s just . . . I’m not sure Lucas would like it.’

‘Who cares whether Lucas would like it or not?! It’s girl talk and therefore strictly classified. What’s said on the bench stays on the bench . . . or something. So, how long are you going to make him wait?’

I would like nothing more than to teleport myself away from this bench. I wouldn’t mind where – pretty much anywhere would be preferable to this. ‘Um . . . we’re not even going out or anything. I don’t . . .’

The dismissive sound she makes is something like Pssscccchhh. ‘Since when have you needed to be going out with a guy to do the nasty. I don’t mean you as in YOU, I mean you as in ONE – like the Queen. Although she probably didn’t put out till she was married. Ewwww, now I’m grossing myself out. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, you have to promise you’ll tell me when you’ve had sex with Lucas.’

This has gone far enough. ‘No! And I’m not going to have sex with him! Not in the foreseeable future anyway.’ I grab the M&S bag and start clearing the remnants of lunch just to give me something to do to hide my extreme awkwardness.

‘We’ll see about that.’ Her knowing smile makes me want to ram a straw up her nose.

‘Can we talk about something else, please? Anything else?’

‘Whatever you say. As long as you know that if you need someone to talk to about that sort of thing, you can talk to me . . . Look, I know it must be hard for you. Anyone could see how close you and Kai were. I don’t know if you two ever talked about this kind of thing, but just in case you did . . . I’m here. I mean, I’m obviously no substitute for him, but I’ll try my best.’

I can’t believe she said his name. Usually people go out of their way not to say it. No one should be allowed to say his name without my permission. And the idea that she could ever be anything close to a substitute for him is laughable. ‘Thank you. I’m . . . I guess I’m sort of private about that kind of stuff.’ As if there’d been any of ‘that kind of stuff’ to be private about!

‘That’s cool. I’ll try to rein in my curiosity, I promise . . . I’ll say one last thing on the matter and then we can talk about a subject of your choosing: you should definitely have sex with Lucas. Trust me, you won’t regret it.’

This time I side-swiped her with the bag of rubbish. ‘Are you finished now? In that case we’re going to talk about something really, really boring. Like the weather. Yes, let’s talk about the weather. Hasn’t it been lovely this last week? I don’t like the look of those clouds though, do you?’

Sasha rolls her eyes, but at least she doesn’t say a word about Lucas for the rest of the afternoon. I can’t help wondering why she’s being so nice to me. If she carries on like this, there’s a real danger I might actually start to feel guilty about using her.





chapter thirty-one


Lucas texts me later: Gd shopping with S? Buy anything nice? Talk about me much? ;)

I reply: Gd, thanks. Got a top and didn’t talk about you AT ALL.

He texts back at warp speed: Liar! ;)

Lucas Mahoney is grand master of the winky face. I choose not to reply, since I don’t appreciate being accused of lying even when (especially when?) I actually am.

He texts again ten minutes later: Fancy seeing a film later? I knew he’d text again. It’s as if I’ve had some kind of How Lucas Works manual implanted into my brain.

I wait fifteen minutes before replying this time. I’m starting to enjoy myself: Bit busy but film sounds good.

Not sure he’ll necessarily believe the bit about me being busy, but how’s he to know I spend most waking minutes either in front of the TV or listening to music in my room?

We arrange to meet outside the cinema at eight. The film sounds terrible – something to do with fast cars. Yawn.

I stand in front of my wardrobe trying to decide what to wear. It’s a sea of black and grey and very dark purple, apart from a little splash of brightness on the right-hand side where my most recent clothes purchases reside. And then there’s the bag I chucked carelessly on the floor as soon as I got in. The bag with the green top in it. The green top that Lucas would ‘love’.

I heave a great big sigh even though there’s no one to hear me. I’m going to have to wear it, aren’t I?

Mum can barely disguise her glee when she sees me coming down the stairs. I’ve finally turned into the daughter she always wanted. A daughter she can be proud of. She can finally compete with those wine-swilling book-club harpies when they brag about their daughters. It’s always the daughters they brag about; none of the sons appears to have ever done anything particularly bragworthy. Or perhaps it’s just that Mum only tells me about the daughters. Either she doesn’t realize that I couldn’t care less about the achievements of these girls I’ve never met, or she knows full well and tells me anyway. Maybe hoping to inspire me to reach such dizzy heights as Getting a Boyfriend and Having a Hollywood-themed Birthday Party.