Undone(77)

I fake my most winning smile, which really isn’t all that winning, and say, ‘Sounds cool, I’d be up for that … Now, we’d better get ready if we don’t want to be late.’ Then I grab Sasha by the shoulders and manoeuvre her out of the room like a shop dummy. There’s zero chance of us being late. We’ve planned to get to the party no earlier than eight thirty and it’s not even six o’clock yet. But Sasha insisted on coming round crazy early; she is seriously high maintenance.

I shoo Sasha up the stairs, and as soon as I close the door she says, ‘What the f*ck have you done to your hair?!’ Her facial expression is confused more than anything else.

I tug at the ends of my hair, all self-conscious and lame. ‘I just fancied a bit of a change, that’s all.’

She throws her bag and coat on my bed and turns to face me. ‘A bit of a change? Moving your parting is a bit of a change, wearing your hair in a ponytail is a bit of a change … this is an epic change!’ Now she’s the one manoeuvring me so that we’re both standing in front of the mirror that’s on the back of the door. She narrows her eyes and looks at me like I’m a painting and she’s an art critic and she’s not at all sure she likes what she sees. ‘Hmm …’ She starts running her hands through my hair, fluffing it this way and that, and I really, really want her to stop. But I smile and do my best to act like I’m completely comfortable with this situation.

‘It’s going to take some getting used to, that’s for sure. You know … you look kind of dangerous. Like you should ride a motorbike and have loads of piercings and drink tequila.’

‘It’s the exact same colour my hair used to be.’ Suddenly I want her to remember that I was a person before. That I didn’t just spring to life the moment she noticed me.

‘Is it? Mmmm …’ Like she’s not really listening. ‘I think it’s going to be fine, you know. We can work with this. Maybe red lipstick? I happen to have the perfect colour, if you don’t have any. Has Lucas seen it yet?’

I must remember that it really wouldn’t be OK to punch her in the face. ‘Not yet.’

‘Ooooh, I wonder what he’ll make of it. He’ll probably think it’s hot. It’ll be like having a whole new girlfriend or something.’ Maybe a small punch would be OK … a quick jab to the jaw perhaps.

I shrug off Sasha’s hands, because the touching is going on way too long for my liking. ‘I’m not all that fussed about what Lucas thinks, to be honest. What I do with my hair really isn’t anyone else’s business.’

I open my wardrobe and stare at the contents so I don’t have to witness whatever irritating look Sasha’s giving me right now.

‘You’re so right, you know. I wish I could be more like you.’

I can’t help it. I snort with laughter and slam the wardrobe doors closed again. ‘Sasha, that may well be the funniest thing you have ever said.’ And for some reason I’m laughing hysterically and I couldn’t even stop if I wanted to. Luckily it feels so bloody good to laugh – to properly laugh like I haven’t done in so very long – that I have no desire to stop. I don’t even care that she’s looking at me like I’ve completely lost the plot.

I’m laughing so hard I can’t even stand up straight. I collapse face first onto the bed. My stomach feels like I’ve done a thousand crunches. Just as I start to get a grip, I hear Sasha start to giggle, and then the giggles turn into full-on proper laughter. She flops down onto the bed next to me and we’re both just lying there laughing our stupid heads off. And I don’t want to admit it to myself, but it feels incredible. It feels like before.

‘Oh my God, Jem! Has anyone ever told you that you’re f*cking crazy?’

‘It may have been mentioned once or twice. Why do you ask?’ I prop myself up on one elbow and look at her. Sasha looks more normal, more human, than I’ve ever seen her. Even when she was crying that day in the toilets. She’s hardly wearing any make-up and she looks something close to beautiful.

‘Can I tell you something? You have to promise not to laugh, OK?’ She looks almost shy.

‘I think it’s safe to say I’m pretty much laughed out for the time being.’

‘OK, this is really lame and everything … and I know it’s the kind of thing you say when you’re, like, twelve … but what the f*ck, I’m going to say it anyway. You’re … sort of my best friend. And I just wanted you to know that. I mean, Amber and Louise are fine. I like them, I really do. But you’re different to them. I feel like we connect on another level or something.’ She cringes and laughs. ‘Told you it was lame!’

I’m focusing on the little flash of her toned stomach that’s peeking out above her jeans. And all I can think about is all those times lying here with Kai. My actual best friend. No one could ever replace him. Certainly not this girl with her perfect hair and perfect body and perfect everything. I only have to pretend for a little longer. You can do anything, say anything, when you know the end is in sight.

‘It’s not lame. OK, it’s really quite lame … but I feel the same way so it’s cool.’ You can say anything.

I do my best to match the grin that’s spreading across her face. ‘Yay! We’re, like, totes besties!’ I think (hope) she’s being ironic, but it’s really hard to tell. ‘Shall we hug it out? I think we probably should, don’t you?’ She hauls herself up into a sitting position and I do the same.