Undone(59)

I open my mouth to tell her that no, Lucas and I have most definitely not had sex. But she holds up her hand to silence me. ‘It’s OK, you don’t need to say anything. You haven’t done it yet, I can tell. I swear I have a sixth sense about this kind of stuff. You’re going to do it soon though, right? Once you’re not so … mucustastic of course. I mean, Lucas is patient, but he’s not going to hang around forever …’

She witters on and on and on. I want her to leave; she’s more than I can cope with in my weakened state. I congratulate Sasha on her amazing intuition and admit that I have not ‘done it’. Then I fake a coughing fit that somehow turns into a real coughing fit and ends up with me nearly choking to death. That does the trick. Sasha leaves with promises to come back with more cupcakes soon. I even get a hug, despite my protests that I’m probably highly infectious. I can’t help noticing the overwhelming coconutty aroma of her super-shiny hair. It makes me crave a Bounty bar.

All I can think after she leaves is, Sasha Evans was in my bedroom.





chapter thirty-five


The timing of the family holiday to Spain couldn’t be better. I’ve just about recovered enough to have a decent time. I try not to dwell on the fact that it’s my last family holiday (or ‘halliday’ as Dad insists on calling them). Noah will have a room to himself next year.

Once we get back I become the master of excuses, avoiding everyone as much as possible. Mum and Dad seem to have forgotten about having Lucas over for dinner, which is a massive relief. I need to buy some time; I can’t make my next move until we go back to school.

The last few weeks of the summer holiday go pretty quickly. Before I know it, texts are flying around comparing GCSE results and celebrating or commiserating accordingly. Lucas did better than expected, Sasha did worse and the rest of them performed very much as predicted. Stu’s annoyingly smug about his A in biology, making some crap joke about being very familiar with the female anatomy (yawn). Nina’s been texting me from New York, pretending she’s not checking up on Stu. I’ve been replying, doing my best to keep her paranoid while trying to make it look like I’m being a supportive, understanding friend. It helps that she’s not exactly over-endowed in the brain department. It’s good that I’m still able to do something to keep the Plan moving forward – even something small.

I manage to avoid a party at Lucas’s house the day we get our results. I tell him Mum and Dad had planned this big family dinner, when in actual fact I had to beg them to take me and Noah out. Mum wanted to know why I didn’t want to celebrate with my ‘friends’. There was no point in telling her that I don’t have any friends any more. My friend (singular) is dead. I eventually convince her that I’m not missing out on anything, that everyone else is celebrating with their families too. Dad arrives late at the restaurant, then insists on embarrassing me by making a toast to his ‘little brainbox’. Since when has mostly Bs been enough to get you labelled a brainbox? Still, I’ll take it. I suppose I get a little bit of dispensation for Kai being dead. Mum as good as said so the night before my results.

On 23rd August I wake up early and go downstairs to make a cup of tea. My favourite mug’s in the dishwasher so I use Noah’s instead. I take the tea upstairs and get back into bed to read Kai’s letter. Only two more after this.

Jem,

So did you nail those pesky GCSEs? Are you pondering your future and wondering if maybe a career as an astrophysicist awaits after all?

Honey, I’m afraid I’m going to have to keep this brief. I am running out of time. I may have slightly underestimated how long this little endeavour would take. It’s 4.23a.m. already. The world is sleeping and everything is far too quiet for my liking. I want to shout and scream and throw something at the wall just to break the silence. But if I do that, they’ll know. They’ll know I’m not OK and I can’t have them knowing that until tomorrow today. It’s today.

I wish I could talk to you, pickle, but this is the next best thing. And I am talking to Future Jem. Do you have rocket booster boots and hoverboards yet? I wish I could hug you one last time. The last hug we shared was excellent though. Except it was cheating, because you didn‘t know it was the last one, did you? You had no idea. If you had, maybe you wouldn’t have let me go - ever. And maybe I wouldn’t have wanted you to.

Back to school soon, my dear. Better sharpen all your pencils and whatnot. I know how much you hate this time of year, Jem. I know how much you hate going back to that place and I’m pretty sure I haven’t made things any easier by not being there for you. I’m sorry. But hey, look on the bright side: at least you don’t have to wear that maroon monstrosity of a uniform any more. Small victories, remember?

Hugs,

Kai

xxx





chapter thirty-six


The first day back at school I stand at the gates, steeling myself to step through them and face the mayhem. I’ve been up since half five, going through all my clothes, trying to work out what to wear. I bet Sasha laid her clothes out last night. She’s probably got the whole week’s outfits planned, down to the last accessory. I never thought I’d miss the uniform, but I really do. The uniform reminded me of who I was. The girl who used her compass to pick the white threads out of her tie in maths lessons. The girl with holes in the sleeves of her jumper. It didn’t matter that the hair was different, the make-up was different, and the people I talked to were very, very different, there was still something left of her. The girl who loved the boy who stared at the sky.