Skin Deep (13 page)

‘But she likes you. She wouldn’t have been so annoyed if she didn’t.’

‘She’ll get over it.’

‘That’s not very nice,’ Jenna said in a small voice.

‘Yeah, well, she wasn’t very nice to you.’

‘I knew I’d ruined your night.’

‘You haven’t. Shut up and eat your burger.’

‘If you speak to her like that, I’m not surprised she dumped you.’

‘There, see, she’s had a lucky escape. Feel better now?’

She hid a laugh behind her hand and ate her burger while I devoured my fries.

‘Do you ever talk about the accident?’ I asked as she sipped coffee.

‘No.’

‘Tell me about it.’

‘No! I hardly know you.’ Her hand started to shake on the cup.

‘I’m a good listener. Maybe you should.’

‘Why?’ Jenna slammed the cup down and a little pool of coffee slopped up out of the plastic drinking hole. She gestured to her face. ‘So you can satisfy your curiosity about what made
this
.’

‘They’re just scars. They’re not you.’ I mopped the coffee up with a paper napkin. She stared at me, big blue eyes filling up again, and I felt like a shit.

‘If they’re just scars, why do people stare? You stared. Why do people act differently around me? Have you got any idea what it’s like to walk down the street and have little kids point and ask their mums why you look horrible? And have nobody be able to look at you properly because you turn their stomach?’

‘You don’t turn mine. I stared because I didn’t expect it. And then I thought whatever did it must have hurt really bad, and how I’d been wrong about why you wouldn’t come to get your dog. And that I was a dick. But I didn’t feel sick.’

She buried her face in her hands.

‘No, don’t!’ I scooted round on to the bench seat next to her. ‘Look, don’t cry. I keep making you cry and it makes me feel like a right bastard.’

‘Why did he do it?’ she mumbled through her fingers.

I rested my elbow on her shoulder and stroked her hair. It felt like the silk Mum made her jewellery pouches from. ‘Because he’s a complete and utter wanker. Did you like him a lot?’

She shook her head. ‘No, he was boring and . . .’

‘Uh-huh, and?’

‘I hated kissing him. See? I’m a freak.’

I did try not to snigger, but I couldn’t keep it in. ‘Was that your first kiss?’

‘Shut up!’

‘OK, that means it was. Oi, look at me. I’m not laughing at you. Him, yes, but not you.’ I shrugged. ‘Don’t blame you for hating it. I’d hate it if he kissed
me
.’

She made a surprised noise that I decided would’ve been a laugh if she wasn’t so upset. Good – she thought I was funny.

‘So what didn’t you like about it?’ I whispered in her ear. ‘Go on, tell me. Give me details.’

That stopped her crying – she jerked her head out of her hands. ‘No!’

I grabbed her. ‘Tell me or I’ll tickle.’

She struggled to free her arms. ‘Stop it. Let go.’

‘Did he put his tongue in your mouth?’

‘Yes. Yes, he did. And it was gross. All right? Happy now? Let me go!’ I released her and she slid to the end of the bench. ‘You’re horrible!’

I leaned on the table and grinned at her. ‘You didn’t like it because he was useless at it. It’s not you, it’s him. Doesn’t know how to do it properly. Bet you a fiver I’m right.’

Her forehead crinkled up. ‘You think?’

‘No. I know.’

‘How?’

‘Nobody who knew what they were doing would stick their hands up your top that fast. Trust me. He’s the freak, not you. Ugly bastard too. You can do way better than him.’

Her mouth twitched and I nodded solemnly at her. She bit her lip. Then she couldn’t hold it any longer and she burst out laughing.

I winked. ‘Better. Now you gonna tell me or don’t you trust me?’

She eyed me exactly as if she didn’t trust me. ‘It’s not that. I told you, I don’t talk about it. Not to anyone.’

I patted the seat. ‘Yeah, but I’m different. And I’m just gonna go on and on at you until you do tell me. So come here and get it over with.’

She sighed hard, but she shuffled back towards me and I angled round so I blocked her from anyone else’s view. ‘Right, look at me. Nobody else in here can see you. Just me. I want you to tell me the whole story. As long as it takes. I’m not going anywhere. We’ve got loads of time.’ I flicked her under the chin with my finger. ‘Tell me. Please? You’ll feel better afterwards, I promise. And if you don’t you can thump me.’

Jenna frowned. ‘I don’t want to thump you.’

‘Yeah, but I’ll let you. I’ll sit here and you can pound on my head and I won’t say a word. Won’t make a sound. I might cry a bit, but I’ll do it silently. How often do you get an offer like that?’ She was wavering, trying not to smile . . . I got a buzz from seeing that – strange. There was no way I was giving up now. I looked down at our legs nearly touching. She hadn’t moved away so she didn’t feel that uncomfortable with me. I could feel her watching my face so I glanced up at her from under my lashes – that worked on girls sometimes. ‘Please? I’ll feel a failure if you don’t.’

Her resistance crumbled and she looked away in a hurry.

OK, so you like me doing that, do you? I’ll remember that
. Why I should want to remember I wasn’t sure, but never mind – I was concentrating on her, not me.

She sighed. ‘All right, if it shuts you up. I don’t want to, but –’

Yes! Got her!
‘Just get it out, the whole thing. Don’t stop and think. Go for it.’

She fixed her eyes on a spot behind me. ‘OK, I guess it starts with Lindsay.’

I didn’t want to talk about this at all, but he was so persistent and I didn’t want to be as rude as I’d have to be to get him to back off.
Not after he got punched for standing up for me.

‘Lindz was my best friend ever since we moved to Strenton when I was seven. We used to do everything together. She was a year older than me and she was the most alive person I’ve ever met. She never walked anywhere, she always ran. But when she was twelve, her mum walked out. It was the talk of the village because everyone thought they were the perfect family. Lindz’s dad ran all the village events and her mum organised the fêtes and knew everyone. But one day, Mrs Norman just left out of the blue with a man she’d been seeing for over a year. No one had suspected a thing. She wanted to take Lindz with her, but Lindz didn’t want to go and live in a flat in Stoke and lose her pony and all her friends.’

Ryan swallowed some coffee and nodded at me. Either he was good at faking or he really was interested.

‘She went a bit mad after that. Lindz, I mean. Sort of off the rails. Hanging around with lots of boys, and drinking. And she was a year older than me so . . .’

‘You got left out?’

‘A bit. Then last year she got together with Steven Carlisle after he was kicked out of school. She was majorly into him and I saw less and less of her. I missed her, you know, because we used to tell each other everything.’ I paused, remembering back to when I was twelve. ‘We even shared blood once. We cut our hands with a vegetable knife and mixed it like American Indians do. A bond. Something no one could take away. Look, you can still see the scar.’ I held my palm up for him to see the tiny faint line there.

‘So just after Christmas, when Steven got this flash car for his eighteenth birthday, she asked me to come out for a ride with them, and I went.’ I took a breath in and my chest felt tighter. ‘Because I wanted us to be close again. There were two other girls with us. Charlotte was from Strenton too, but I didn’t really know Sarah.’

He nodded.

‘Steven had a friend, Rob, with him. They were in the front with us girls in the back. They were passing vodka and a joint around and we were all a bit out of it.’

‘Carlisle too?’

‘Uh-huh, and he was driving fast. Way too fast, showing off.’

I found it hard to speak now and Ryan ducked his head down to catch my eyes. ‘You OK?’ He handed me the coffee cup and I took a few sips.

‘Thanks.’

I fiddled with the lid on the cup, snapping and unsnapping the tab. Somehow that helped. ‘There isn’t much more. Basically Steven lost control, ploughed the car off the road. Sarah had a seat belt on and she got out OK. So did the boys. Charlotte and Lindz were killed. They told me the car rolled a few times, you see. Then it caught fire. Rob pulled me out, but not before this.’ I waved at my right cheek. ‘The car blew up. I . . . I . . . still have nightmares that I didn’t get out in time and I’m in there when it blows.’ I scratched at my hands, not able to stop myself. ‘I don’t know why I’m telling you this.’

He reached over and twizzled a strand of my hair round his finger.

‘And I don’t know why you’re listening.’

‘What happened next? Why is Carlisle on your case?’ he asked as if he hadn’t heard me.

‘He was charged with dangerous driving. There was a court case. His dad hired a very good lawyer and Steven got a suspended sentence. People in the village were really angry. Some of them set up an action group. My dad heads it up. It sort of gained momentum and spread. People from Whitmere and other villages got involved.’

‘And what happened with you?’

‘Me? Huh! Hospital, skin grafts, operations, counselling. I had to wear a compression mask over my face for six months after the last graft to help the healing.’ I tucked my feet up on the seat and wrapped my arms round them. ‘I’m supposed to keep going for counselling, but all the talking in the world can’t make
this
right. They just say, “Oh, Jenna, you have to come to terms with it,” but I can’t. I can’t! And I’m so angry. I’m so, so angry and I have to pretend I’m not because they all want me to get better. But it’s not their face, is it?’

He shook his head. ‘No, it’s not.’ And his eyes stayed on my face, like he understood.

She was breathing fast like she’d run a long way.
She looked out of words and out of energy – smaller and paler than ten minutes ago, curled into a little ball on the seat. I wanted to hug her, but I didn’t know if she’d let me.

Oh bollocks! I can’t just sit here.

I put both arms round her, pulled her almost on to my knee. She was as taut as fence wire.

‘What’re you doing?’ she squeaked.

‘I’m giving you a friggin’ hug because you need one. What do you think I’m doing?’

She slapped me on the chest and half laughed. ‘I don’t know. I’m sure you could be doing something better than sitting here with me.’

‘Hang on, I’m thinking . . . er . . . er . . . nope. Not coming up with anything.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘Hey, it’s not every day I meet someone who catapults me into horseshit.’

That did make her laugh, reluctantly at first, but then properly. ‘I so don’t get you,’ she said.

‘You’re in good company. I don’t get me either.’ Christ, I meant that too. How had she got me to say that? Then I realised something. ‘Hey, you know your friend said you never talked.’ She stopped smiling. ‘You talked to me OK. Didn’t you?’

She screwed up her face. ‘Mmm.’

‘Your nose scrunches up when you do that. Like a rabbit.’ I grinned. ‘Or a pig.’

She stopped doing it immediately. ‘You’re the pig . . . Oh no! Beth! I was supposed to phone her again to sort out what’s happening later.’ She rooted in her bag for her mobile.

‘Are you going home with her or are you calling your parents to get picked up?’

‘I don’t know.’ She tapped the phone in her fingers. ‘I don’t want to see Beth because she’ll be all . . . pitying.’ She spat the word out. ‘But Dad . . . Oh, I don’t know, what should I do?’

I turned my pockets out on to the table. ‘I haven’t got enough for a taxi.’

‘There aren’t any around here anyway.’

‘I’d walk you home, but it’s too far. You wouldn’t get a quarter of a mile in those heels.’

‘You’d walk me home?’

‘Course I would.’ Mad girl, as if I wouldn’t. ‘Hey, can you ride a bike?’

‘Yes, why?’

‘Got an idea. I’ll take you home on mine. Call your friend and sort it.’

I could see why she didn’t want to tell her dad. Like how I never wanted to let on to Mum when I’d got beaten up by some townie.

She rang the number. ‘Beth, it’s me again. Listen, make an excuse to your dad. I’m getting a lift back with someone from Strenton. OK, yes, I’ll call you when I get back so you know I’m all right . . . No, I’m not with anyone dodgy.’ I sniggered and she thumped me, trying not to laugh. ‘Talk later. Bye.’ She put the phone down. ‘So what’s your idea?’

‘I’ve got – Ow!’ She’d grabbed my hand.

‘Oh my God, Ryan, why didn’t you say something?’ She glared at my mashed knuckles.

‘It’s nothing. I’m not bothered.’