A Kiss in the Dark (5 page)

I laughed and Kate frowned. ‘You said you wouldn’t laugh! Oh God, this is so embarrassing. I knew I shouldn’t have told you. Forget I said anything. I’ve been on lots of dates … LOADS. At least three every week. In fact, it leaves me very little time for anything else. So there.’ She stuck out her bottom lip in the perfect pout and it was unbelievably adorable.

‘I’m sorry! I wasn’t laughing
at
you … honestly. It’s just …’ I hesitated. Could I be as brave as her? About this, at least. I had to. ‘I’ve never been on a date before either.’

She didn’t believe me. I could tell that before she even opened her mouth. ‘You’re just saying that to make me feeling better.’

‘I’m not.’ We looked into each other’s eyes for a second or two and then she sat back in her chair and smiled.

‘So we’re both newbies then? For some reason I thought you were really experienced or … I don’t
know. You seem so … cool with everything. Like nothing fazes you.’ She couldn’t have been more wrong. ‘So this is really your very first date?’ I nodded, pretending to be as cool as she thought I was. She narrowed her eyes. ‘So this is definitely a real, proper date?’ I nodded again.

Kate considered that for a moment or two. ‘That makes me happy.’

I considered for a moment or two longer. ‘Me too.’

We sat there grinning at each other. It was the kind of thing that’s a bit sickening if you’re not actually involved in it. But I
was
involved in it and it was brilliant.

It was nearly three o’clock by the time we’d finished eating. I went to get my wallet out but one stern look from Kate stopped me in my tracks. I held up my hands in surrender and she looked smug. ‘You can pay next time …’

Another next time. Another chance. I wondered if she kept saying ‘next time’ deliberately, like she sensed I needed reassurance. Or maybe
she
was looking for reassurance.

We left the restaurant and wandered back up the hill towards town. I didn’t say anything when we passed the end of my road. Princes Street was rammed with people who have nothing better to do on a Saturday
afternoon than shop for crap they don’t need. I waited with Kate at the bus stop. There were loads of people waiting – old ladies and women with buggies mostly. The bus came and we stepped back to let everyone else on first. Kate took my hand and squeezed it. She whispered in my ear and her breath tickled a bit. ‘I really want to kiss you but I have terrible garlic breath and I’d rather not do it in front of all these people. Can we go somewhere more private next time? Assuming you … um … want to kiss me too?’

‘I … yes. I really do.’

I had never wanted anything more.

*

It was a good first date. As good as a first date can be when there’s a secret that huge hanging over you, threatening to flatten you the minute you slip up and say or do the wrong thing. There was only one thing missing, but I was happy to wait. It was excruciating, of course – the anticipation of what it would be like when her lips met mine.

I took off the bandages as soon as I got home and breathed the biggest sigh of relief. Now that I knew for sure that Kate wanted to kiss me, I was on top of the world – nothing could touch me. When Mum and Dad got back from Glasgow and Mum was in a foul mood because there was nothing in the fridge for dinner
so we’d have to get takeaway again, I just smiled and fanned out the menus in front of her like a magician. Said I’d even go and collect it. She looked at me suspiciously; I never volunteered to get the takeaway.

Mum knew something was up, but she couldn’t figure out what it was. It must have been the smiling. I wasn’t one for pointless smiling. Anyway, she didn’t push the matter and we actually had a pretty decent evening, stuffing ourselves and taking the piss out of people on some TV talent show. Kate texted a couple of times and asked what I was up to. I said I was listening to music in my room. Weirdly enough, this tiny lie made me feel guilty. Probably because there was no good reason for it, other than the fact that I didn’t want Kate to think I was the sort of loser who watched Saturday night telly with their parents. I decided that one day soon I’d come clean about it. Strange how you can focus on the little things when there’s a massive black cloud looming over you.

*

On Monday the real world was waiting for me. I showered quickly and got dressed. I zipped up my skirt and stared at myself in the mirror. My shirt was at least three sizes too big. Most of the girls wore theirs tight, desperate to show off their boobs. Which you could just about understand in a co-ed school, but in a
girls’ school it was just bizarre. Everyone else usually rolled up the tops of their skirts to make them as short as possible. I never bothered. There was no way to make it look good so what was the point of trying? I hated the tights too. I went bare-legged for as long as possible every year, waiting for the day Mum insisted I wear tights. By that time it was usually so cold that my legs went mottled and blue-ish.

I looked like crap in my uniform, there was no question about that. It just looked
wrong
somehow. Like I was wearing a costume, dressing up like someone playing a schoolgirl in a play. The first day of secondary school when I came down for breakfast decked out in my new clothes, Mum clapped her hands together and said, ‘Look at my baby girl, all grown up and off to big school!’ Dad smiled indulgently. Jamie laughed for five minutes straight. I didn’t even mind; I laughed right along with him.

There was a strict no-phones policy at school, so I didn’t even have texts from Kate to get me through the horrors of Monday. I tried to convince myself that none of this mattered – the teachers droning on, the girls ignoring me, the boredom. This wasn’t my
real
life. My real life was skating and music and … Kate?

I spent most of the morning thinking about Saturday, trying not to cringe at the moments I’d
made a right twat of myself. There weren’t too many, but that didn’t stop me going over them in my head, again and again, trying to work out just how lame Kate thought I was. When I’d had enough of beating myself up about things I focused on the good stuff. The way she laughed when I was trying to be funny, the way she looked at me all intense when we were talking about something serious, her shy smile when she thought she’d said something outrageous. These thoughts were enough to get me through double Maths before lunch.

I always brought a packed lunch with me. Mum used to make it for me but she gave up a couple of years ago. She usually made fancy stuff like quinoa salad and Moroccan wraps but I was happy with ham sandwiches (white bread, a tiny bit of mustard), an apple and a banana. The way I saw it, there was no point having anything better. School was a depressing place to be and I hated the thought of it tainting any nice food Mum made for me. Ham sandwiches were inherently disappointing (to me at least), so they were the perfect lunch for schooldays. I never tried to explain all this to Mum because she wouldn’t have understood.

I usually ate my lunch on some steps near the staff room. No one else hung around there, obviously. It was getting way too cold to sit out there though; my hands were numb by the time I’d finished my sandwich. I
was just getting started on my apple (I always had the banana last – always) when I heard voices. They were getting closer and I was pissed off that someone had dared to invade my space. Two girls came round the corner, leaning against each other to hold themselves up, laughing and screeching. Anyone else and it would have been OK. Anyone else in a school of eight hundred pupils. But no. It had to be
her
. Heather Harris.

Heather Harris with her stupid messy dyed red hair and her eyeliner and her pierced nose (totally against school rules but no one ever challenged her on it).

Heather Harris, who somehow managed to make the school uniform look halfway decent. Like it had been custom-made to fit her just right.

Heather Harris, who’d tried to kiss me last week. And succeeded.

Heather Harris was this year’s New Girl. She’d arrived after the start of term and was specially introduced by the headmistress in assembly. Mrs Goldberg made Heather stand up in front of everyone. I would have died of embarrassment but Heather stood there like she didn’t give a toss that the entire school was staring at her. She looked like she was waiting for a bus and so not impressed that it was late. Whenever I saw her in the corridor after that, she usually had that same expression on her face. I couldn’t blame her: school was unimpressive in every way.

For the first week or so Heather was by herself every time I saw her. It even crossed my mind that maybe I should talk to her. She looked different from the rest of them – she didn’t seem to be another clone of Marcy Davies for one thing. She looked like she might have something interesting to say for herself.
Of course, I didn’t end up approaching her, because that’s not the kind of thing I would ever do.

A few weeks before I met Kate, Heather Harris and I talked for the first time. She’d joined the running squad even though she was crap at running. I always waited until the changing room was empty before taking a shower. Undressing in front of people has always been a bit of a phobia of mine. The one and only time I’ve ever been invited to a sleepover I didn’t even have to fake a stomach ache to get Mum to call Priya’s mother to say I couldn’t go – I threw up three times from nerves. I could tell Mum was disappointed that I couldn’t go to Priya’s – she probably thought that me being invited was the start of something for me. She wasn’t to know that Priya’s parents had forced her to invite every girl in our class.

That day after training I was sitting on a wooden bench in the furthest corner of the changing room, waiting. I knew someone was still there, but I didn’t know who. I wouldn’t allow myself to look up in case I had to engage in conversation. I unlaced my trainers painfully slowly, like I was defusing a bomb. The mystery person
still
hadn’t left by the time my Asics were off. I was going to have to get a move on otherwise I’d be late for English. I’d just have to be really quick about it and hope that whoever it was would leave as
soon as possible. I took a deep breath and went to pull my T-shirt over my head. The fabric was right over my face when I heard a voice in front of me.

There was a cough. ‘Hi. I was just wondering where you got your trainers from.’

I quickly pulled my T-shirt back down, hoping my face wasn’t too red. It was Heather. Barefoot, wearing running shorts and a sports bra and nothing else. ‘Um … that shop on Lothian Road?’ As if I wasn’t entirely sure.

‘I don’t know it.’ Of course she didn’t. She’d just moved here.

Heather was staring at me, waiting. I was clearly going to have to elaborate. ‘It’s pretty decent. They video you on a running machine so they can work out which trainers you need. It’s not cheap – my mum doesn’t understand why I can’t just get a pair from the supermarket or whatever.’

‘Oh God, tell me about it. My mum’s the same.’

This seemed like a natural point to end the conversation, but Heather showed no sign of moving. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself – there was no way I was getting changed right in front of her. She didn’t seem in the least bit self-conscious about standing there in her bra. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest. Mum always says that means someone’s being
defensive, but I didn’t think that was the case here. In fact, I was pretty sure Heather was standing like that to push her boobs up and make them look bigger than they were.

I glanced at my watch and saw that the bell was about to go. I was going to be late. Heather took my hand and turned my wrist round so she could see the time. ‘Shit!’ She rushed over to the other side of the changing rooms and whipped off her bra. She carried on talking as she changed back into her uniform. ‘Oh God, I’m going to stink this afternoon. Reckon I’ll be giving Mr Perkins a run for his money.’ She paused to spray copious amounts of deodorant over every inch of her body. I was watching her even though I didn’t mean to. She glanced over. ‘Aren’t you going to be late?’

‘Nah, I’ve got a free period next. I thought I’d take my time … maybe wash my hair.’

Heather stopped for a second and looked at me. She knew I was lying – I was sure of it – but she just nodded slowly. ‘So I was wondering if you need a training partner? Maybe we could run together on weekends or something?’ She was buttoning up her shirt really slowly as she said this.

‘Yeah, that would be cool.’ There was no way in hell she’d be able to keep up with me, but I wasn’t
bothered. For some reason this new girl seemed to want to be friends with me. Maybe she
was
different from the others. It would be kind of nice to have a friend at school.

‘Cool.’ Heather smiled and held my eye for a moment or two – slightly longer than was comfortable, if I’m being entirely honest. ‘I’ll leave you to it then. Enjoy your shower.’ There was something about the way she said ‘shower’, something sarcastic. Like she wanted me to know she knew I was lying. Not in a mean way though – almost as if it was our little secret. It made me feel uneasy all the same.

In the end I was ten minutes late for English, but I just told Mrs Enthoven I’d been helping one of the PE teachers with something. She believed me. Teachers always believed me, because I always handed in my work on time and got good grades. My thoughts kept drifting back towards Heather all afternoon. There had been something strange going on between us – a weird kind of tension in the air. But I couldn’t work out where it came from or even whether I liked it or not.

*

Heather and I weren’t left alone together for another couple of weeks. She hadn’t asked again about us running together, and I wasn’t about to talk to her
first. I’d noticed her watching me a couple of times during training. I thought she might be trying to pick up a few tips – she certainly needed them.

A week before I met Kate at the gig, Heather and I were the last ones in the changing room again. I’d dawdled around outside, taking extra time over my warm down exercises. Some of the girls were already coming out of the changing rooms by the time I went in. I sat in my little corner and waited. When silence finally descended I looked up and saw her looking at me. I wondered how long she’d been watching.