Authors: Beckie Stevenson
“You’ve been watching her all morning,” whispers Riley at the side of me.
I quickly avert my eyes and shake my head. “I haven’t.”
“You have.”
I roll my eyes at him.
“Is it me,” he says, “or does she seem a bit weird to you?”
I glance at her once more and notice how her face does all the right things. She smiles when the rest of them are laughing and she nods when someone asks her a question, but she doesn’t really look as if she’s enjoying herself. I think back to the night I saw her crying in the cemetery and wonder what secrets she has that make her look as if she’s too scared to speak for fear of spilling them.
“She seems a little…withdrawn,” I say. It’s the only word I can
use to describe her. Even when she’s talking to me or acting all annoyed because I nearly ran over her foot, she still doesn’t seem like she’s fully there. And what was that comment she made about not going to parties? It seemed so much more than her just not liking them or even been allowed to go to them. “Charlotte was asking her about the party on Friday when we were swimming the other day, and she just sort of said she doesn’t do parties. No explanation, no excuse. Nothing.”
“How am I supposed to nail her if she doesn’t go to parties?”
I laugh. “Do your charms only work on them if they’re drunk?”
“Hell no,” he laughs. “I’m just gonna have to be careful. She seems like the serious type.”
I don’t think Riley has a cat in hell’s chance with her. Something tells me that Roisin isn’t the sort of girl that likes attention. Riley’s usual wham-bam approach definitely won’t work with her.
“What do you make of that bruise on her face?” he asks
, leaning back in his chair.
I shrug my shoulders. “She claims she fell on the kitchen floor.”
Riley shakes his head. “You and I both know that’s bullshit, right?”
I nod. “Complete bullshit.”
“Maybe she’s got a boyfriend and he likes it a little rough in the bedroom?”
I glance at her again. I hadn’t for a second thought about whether or not she’s got a boyfriend. The thought that she might doesn’t sit right with me. I ignore it and shrug. “
Even if he likes it a bit rough in the bedroom, he shouldn’t be leaving a dirty black bruise on her face like that.”
“Agreed,” say
s Riley. “A bully?”
“Nah,
she’s only been here three days.”
“I don’t know,” he sighs. “Those girls can get pretty nasty. They won’t like that a hot girl has joined the school.”
“They’re not that insecure, are they?”
He nods. “It lowers their percentage.”
Girls are fucking stupid, I think to myself. “I don’t think it’s one of the girls here,” I tell him. “I nearly ran over her this morning and she had a right moan at me. She’s feisty.”
“You almost ran over her?” he asks incredulously.
I smile, recalling the look on her face when she realised it was me that had done it. “She was sort of standing in my parking spot. I was nowhere near her really, but she got all narked about it.”
“I don’t know what narked means,” he says, rolling his eyes at me.
“Pissed,” I clarify. I’m about to tell him more but Gabriella and her flurry of followers stalk across the cafeteria towards our table. Riley suddenly sits up straight and grins at them.
“Hello
, girls,” he says.
Gabriella completely ignores Riley and sits herself down on my lap. I shoot at look at Riley, wondering i
f he said anything to her about what I said the other night.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“Sitting on your lap,” she says, flicking her blonde hair out. “What does it look like I’m doing, Cabe?”
I nod towards the empty seat beside her. “That chair is free.”
She wiggles her skinny ass on my thighs and giggles. “It’s not nearly as comfortable as where I’m sitting now. I think I’ll stay here, thanks.”
I try to wiggle myself out from underneath her but she clearly has other ideas. She throws her arm
around my neck and licks my cheek.
“H
mm,” she smiles. “You taste good enough to eat.”
I hate Gabriella. Even if I sudden
ly decided to change, I wouldn’t touch Gabriella with a barge pole. She’s slept with most of the school soccer team and walks around school thinking she’s the dog’s bollocks. If I was going to open myself up to someone, Gabriella would be the last person I would do that with. Maybe I shouldn’t have blurted her name out to Riley the other night. Maybe I should have just come right out and told him the truth. The whole truth.
“Are you going to the party on Friday?
” she asks, pushing her tits against my arm.
“Yes,” I answer.
“Me too,” she smiles. “Should we go together?”
I shake my head. “I’m cool, thanks.”
She frowns but doesn’t say anything more and she doesn’t get off my lap either.
I pull open the doors to my closet on the morning of Friday the thirteenth and sigh. I still have no idea what to wear. For the past two days I’ve listened to Charlotte talk to Hannah and Cora about what she’s going to wear and then Cora and Hannah telling us what they’re wearing, and yet I still find myself standing at my closet on the morning of the party having not even thought about what I’m going to wear. I don’t even own a bikini, let alone have the confidence to wear one in front of strangers, and especially not in front of Cabe Evans. Even my one-piece swimsuit piece that I have to wear for swimming at school is far too revealing for my liking.
I know that if I’d
asked my Father for money for new clothes, he would have handed it over with no question. But I hadn’t thought about it, and now it was too late to do anything about it. I’ve never been comfortable asking my Dad for money, even though I know he earns plenty of it and wouldn’t want me going without something. It’s just not who I am. I prefer to use the money I receive for my birthday and at Christmas to buy clothes, and when I do, I choose items that I can mix and match so I don’t have to buy as many different outfits.
I close my closet
doors and resign myself to the fact that I’m going to have to tell Charlotte that I can’t go to the party. She’s not going to be happy.
“Don’t be so silly. You can wear some of mine – I have two bags full of clothes. There are about five sets of bikinis that I’ve never worn and still have the tags on.”
I blink at her. “Why do you have so many?”
She waves her hand
at me. “We used to go on vacation all the time when we had money.”
“Why don’t you have money now?” I ask nosily.
“My Mom doesn’t have a very good job anymore.”
I feel myself frowning as I set my tray down on the table. “Why doesn’t she have a good job now?”
“It’s a recession, isn’t it? And life’s shit.” She shrugs and says, “Seems no one wants to buy or sell their houses anymore.”
“Oh,” I say slowly
, thinking about my Father and wondering if he’s been affected at all. “I’m sorry, Charlotte.”
“Don’t
be,” she says, stabbing a straw through her carton of juice. “Shit happens and all that you can do is get over it. Well, I’m over it. Are you going to come over to my house after school to get ready?”
I think about
Ava and wonder how she’ll get home. “I’ll think about it,” I tell her. “I need to ask my Dad.”
“You need t
o ask if you can come over after school?” I can tell by the tone of her voice that she thinks this is strange and I don’t blame her. Girls our age don’t usually need permission to go over to their friends’ houses.
I breathe in deeply. “We had something planned
, that’s all. I need to let him know I won’t be able to make it.”
“
Cool. Well, just let me know.”
As so
on as I get out of the cafeteria, I pull out my cell phone and dial my Father’s office number. He answers on the second ring.
“Rose?”
he breathes.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Is everything okay?”
I can hear the concern in his voice
and need to make sure there’s nothing wrong. “Yeah, I’m fine, Dad. I just wondered if it’s okay if I go to Charlotte’s straight after school later?”
I hear him sigh. “Of course it is
, darling. Why would you ask?”
“
Er,” I say, trying to stall. I’ve always wondered if my Father knew that I picked Ava up from school every day. “Because it means you’ll need to pick Ava up from school.”
He laughs down the line. “What do you mean? Why can’t Hallie pick
Ava up like usual?”
I sneak around
the corner of the building and pinch the skin at the top of my nose. “Hallie doesn’t pick Ava up.”
The line goes silent and I can hear the crackle of the connection echo down the receiver. “Well then who picks her up?”
I hold my breath, thinking about all the things that might happen and how mad Hallie is going to be when she finds out I’ve told on her. “I do it.”
“
What? Every day?”
“Yes,” I sigh. “I always have.”
“Always?” he repeats, the disbelief clear in his voice. “Hasn’t Hallie ever picked Ava up?”
“No
, Dad.”
“What?
Ever?”
I shake my head but r
emember he can’t see me. “No.”
“Okay
.” I can hear him pacing up and down his office. “Well, don’t worry about today; I will pick Ava up. It will give me a chance to spend some time with her on my own.”
“She’ll like that,” I say softly.
“Yeah,” he says.
“Dad?”
I ask carefully.
“Yes
, darling?”
“Don’t mention it to Hallie
, will you? Please.”
“I can’t promise that
, Rose. I’m really annoyed right now.”
I sigh, feeling my knees start to buckle. I let my shoulders fall back against the wall and lean all my weight against it. “Okay.”
“Have a nice evening.” I can tell by the way his words quiver at the end that he’s angry and probably confused. “I will pick you up at midnight.”
“Thanks
, Dad. See you later then?”
“See you later
, darling.”
I hear the click of the receiver and lean my head back against the cool wall. What
the hell have I just done?
I climb out of Charlotte’s
Honda Civic and stare at her sky-blue painted house. All of the houses on her street are little square boxes of wood dotted along the long, straight street. Charlotte’s house has a slanted roof that peaks in the center, three small, square windows, and a cream-colored front door. There are three trough-like pots in the front under the window, filled with brightly-colored flowers. We walk silently up the smooth, concrete drive and climb the two small, stone steps. She knocks on the door and I glance quickly at her, wondering why she hasn’t spoken to me during the entire drive.
“Why are you knocking to get in your own house?” I ask
, staring at the dragon-faced brass knocker.
She turns to me quickly with wide eyes. “Listen, I need to
warn you about my Mother. She’s not…normal.”
“Not normal?” I repeat as my face crinkles into a frown. “What do you mean?”
She shakes her head. “I knew this was a bad idea. Shit,” she hisses. She starts to pace up and down the steps, looking like she’s about to cry. “I don’t know why I invited you really. I never ask people over to my house. Not even Cora or Hannah.”
I take a few steps back
. “Oh, okay.” I stare at Charlotte, wondering what it could possibly be that has sent her into a panic. “Should I go then?”
She nods.
How am I supposed to even get back to my house? Why did she drive me here if she doesn’t really want me going into her house? “I’ll, er, see you later then.”
“Yeah,” she says. “Sorry
, Rose.”
I look at her again and the stress that is clearly visible across her face. When I finally turn away from her
, I’m body-to-body with my ghost. A small scream escapes from my mouth but before I can explain myself to a shocked Charlotte, the door is thrown wide open and a tall, wiry woman with jet black hair stands in the doorway staring at us. When her eyes settle on me, her face falls. I really shouldn’t be here, I think.
“Hello
, girls,” she says quietly. “Come on in.”
She stands back
, gesturing for us to walk past her. Charlotte turns and smiles weakly at me. “Mother, this is Rose. Rose, this is my Mother, Gina.”
I look
over my shoulder but my ghost has disappeared. What is she doing here and where has she been for the last two months? And why now has she suddenly decided to show up? I plaster a smile on my face and walk up the steps. “Nice to meet you, Gina.”
She smiles quickly at me but stares over my head and down the drive. “You’re new here Rose
, is that right?”
“Yes, that’s right,” I say as I move down the narrow hallway. The walls are covered in large sunflowers that are repeated over and over on the cream wallpap
er. “I’ve been here nearly five weeks now.”
“H
mm,” she says, locking the door behind us. I follow Charlotte into the kitchen that’s tiny compared to mine at home, but so much cozier. There are several old pine cabinets dotted along the wall and a small, oval table in the corner with three chairs. “Where did you move from?”
“Utah,” I say
, watching Charlotte open the refrigerator and rifle through the shelves.
“What we can have to eat
, Mom?” She lifts her head over the door and blinks. “There’s nothing here…again.”
“Oh
, I’m sorry,” Gina says, walking across the kitchen. She picks up a packet of cigarettes from off the counter and pulls a long, white stick out. Her thumb brushes over the lighter before a long, wobbly flame flickers in front of her face. I’m surprised she hasn’t burned her eyebrows off. “I’ve got some money in my purse. You two can order pizza, if you want.”
“Cool,” Charlotte says, slamming the fridge door close
d. “We’re going to my room. We’ll order the pizza from there. Can you shout at me when it arrives, please?”
Gina blows a mushroom-
shaped cloud of smoke from her mouth and smiles gently. “Of course, Charlotte.”
I watch her roll her eyes at her mother before striding past me and out of the room. I glance at her Mother quickly and smile politely. “I’ll just go upstairs.
Thank you for letting me come and get ready here.”
She nods and flicks some ash from her cigarette into a glass ashtray that sits next to the sink. “I need to talk to you
, Rose,” she says to me, glancing toward the stairs. “When you’re alone.”
I stop just as I enter the hallway and feel my skin prickle. “Is everything alright? I can go
, if you would prefer.”
“No
, sweetie. You can stay but I do need to talk to you when Charlotte isn’t around. She gets a bit funny.”
“O
-k-ay,” I say, wondering what on earth it could be that she wants to talk to me about. I head up the stairs, but as I get to the top, I realize that I don’t know which room is Charlotte’s. “Charlotte?” I call.
“In here,” she yells from the room at the front of the house.
I push open the door and find myself in room decorated in black, white and red. Three out of the four walls are white. The wall with the two small windows is painted in a deep red and broken up by bright white curtains that hang carefully at the windows. In the middle of the square room is a double bed with black silk bedding and red pillows.
“Wow,” I say
, spying a set of white, floor-to-ceiling glass closets. “Your room is really nice.”
“
Thanks, I had it done just before Mom had her hours reduced at work.” She pats the bed and I sit on the end. I can feel my eyes roaming around as I take in the differences between her room and mine. My bedroom at home feels more like an office than a bedroom.
“I’m sorry about before.” I glance at her as she looks down. “My Mother has always been strange and I just find it awkward telling people about it. I feel like they’re going to judge me.”
I shake my head. I can’t begin to imagine what she would say about my home life. “Why do you think your Mom is weird?”
She sighs
. “She’s a spiritualist. She thinks she can talk to the dead.”
My head snaps up
, making Charlotte jump. “Really?” I ask, sounding far too interested.
Charlotte narrows her eyes
at me. “Yes. She reads cards and palms, and it just really pisses me off that my house is constantly full of strangers and all they do is talk about death. It’s creepy and I’d rather not talk about it anymore.”
I think about the ghost and how I hadn’t seen it for two months before tonight and I wonde
r if it’s true. I feel a sliver of excitement seep through me as I think about Gina and whether or not she could see my ghost.
“Anyway,” she says
, pushing her hair out of her face, “we’ve got a party to get ready for. Have you thought about what you want to wear?”
“No,” I sigh. “
Do I really have to wear a bikini?”
Charlotte laughs.
“No, silly. You should take one for later though; there’s a hot tub.”
“Oh,” I say
, feeling panicked. “I didn’t bring anything with me. I don’t have a dress or make-up or anything.”
She grins
, stands up off the bed, and walks slowly to the closet closest. “Have you ever been to a party before?”
I take a deep breath and shake my head.