Solitaire, Part 2 of 3 (12 page)

Authors: Alice Oseman

I go back outside. It has finally started to snow. Properly. The music’s over, but everyone’s skipping around, screaming, trying to catch flakes in their mouths. I look out at the scene. The flakes float on the water and dissolve, joining with the river as it sails past me towards the sea. I love snow. Snow can make anything beautiful.

It’s then that I see Becky again.

She’s with a guy up against a tree and I know she’s definitely still pissed because they’re not even kissing romantically. I’m about to turn away, but then they move around a little and I see who the guy is.

It’s Ben Hope.

I don’t know how long I stand there, but at some point he opens his eyes and sees me. Becky looks too. She giggles and then she
realises
. I got a drink on my way out, but it’s fallen on the snow now and my hand is just cupping the air. They recoil from me, and then Ben hurries past me and into the house. Becky stays by the tree.

She raises her eyebrows at me when I reach her and says, “
What?
”

I wish I were dead. My hands clench and unclench.

She laughs. “
What
, for God’s sake!”

Becky has betrayed me. Because she doesn’t care.

“Everything I thought about you,” I say, “is wrong.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Am I hallucinating this?”

“Are you drunk?”

“You are a nasty
bitch
,” I say. I think I’m shouting, but I can’t really tell. I’m only seventy per cent sure I’m saying any of this out loud. “I used to think that you were just forgetful, but now I have solid proof that you just
don’t care
.”

“Wh—”

“Don’t try acting like you don’t know what you’ve just done. Grow a backbone. Go on, try and defend yourself. I am literally dying to hear your justification. Are you going to tell me that I don’t understand?”

Becky’s eyes begin to fill with tears. As if she’s actually
upset
. “I’m not—”

“That’s it, isn’t it? I’m your naive little friend whose sad little life makes you feel
better
about yourself. Well, you’re absolutely spot-on there. I haven’t got a single clue about anything. But you know what I do know? I know when someone is being a nasty bitch. Go ahead and cry your stupid little crocodile tears if you want to. You don’t fucking care
at all
, do you?”

Becky’s voice is sober now, if a little wobbly, and she begins to shout at me. “Well – you – you’re the one being a nasty bitch! Jesus Christ, just calm down!”

I pause. This is bad. I need to stop. I can’t. “I’m sorry – do you have any comprehension of the level of betrayal you have just reached? Do you have
any
concept of friendship? I didn’t think it was possible for someone to be
that
selfish, but
clearly
I’ve been wrong all this time.” I think I’m crying. “You’ve killed me. You’ve literally killed me.”

“Calm
down
! Oh my
God
, Tori!”

“You have solidly proven that everyone and everything is shit. Well done. Gold star. Please delete yourself from my life.”

And that is it. I am gone. I am gone. I guess everyone is like this. Smiles, hugs, years together, holidays, late-night confessions, tears, phone calls, one million words – they don’t mean anything. Becky doesn’t care. No one really cares.

The snowfall is blurring my vision or maybe it’s the tears. I stumble back to the house and, just as I enter, people start screaming and holding their phones above their heads. I can’t stop crying, but I manage to get out my phone and find the Solitaire page and there is the post:

00:30 23rd January

Solitairians.

We would like you to collaborate on our latest venture.

At our meet-up tonight, there is a Higgs Year 12 named Ben Hope who has deliberately injured a Truham Year 11. Ben Hope is a known homophobe and a bully, who hides behind the façade of popularity.

We hope that you will join Solitaire in preventing such acts of violence in the future by giving him exactly what he deserves.

Act accordingly. Protect the unprotected. Justice is everything. Patience Kills.

TWENTY-SEVEN

THERE IS A
tornado of people around me, screaming in all directions, and I can’t go anywhere. After several minutes of pandemonium, the flow steadily softens in one direction rather than a whirlpool and I am torn out of the house in the current. Everyone is in the garden. Someone cries out: “Karma, motherfucker!”

Is this karma?

Two boys hold Ben Hope while several others hurl punches and kicks at him. Blood splatters on to the snow and the spectacle gets wild cheers every time a hit is made. Only a few metres away, Nick and Charlie are standing in the crowd, Nick’s arm round Charlie, both of their expressions unreadable. Charlie steps forward, as if he’s about to intervene, but Nick pulls him back. They exchange a look and then turn away from the show. They walk out of the crowd and disappear.

I couldn’t stick up for Charlie, and now Solitaire’s doing my job for me. I’ve never been able to do my job properly, I suppose.

Then again, maybe this isn’t about Charlie.

I think back to what Michael said to me in Café Rivière.

Oh God.

Maybe it’s about me.

I laugh, tears still falling, so hard that my stomach aches. Silly. Silly thought. Silly me.
Selfish
. Nothing is
ever
about me.

Another hit. The crowd shriek with joy, waving their drinks in the air, like they’re at a concert, like they’re happy.

Nobody is trying to help.

Nobody

nobody.

I don’t know what to do. If this were a film, I would be there, I would be the hero stopping this false justice. But this isn’t a film. I am not the hero.

I start to panic. I turn back into the crowd and break out through the other side. My eyes won’t focus. Sirens start to blare, distant in the town. Ambulance? Police? Justice is everything? Patience Kills?

Michael, out of nowhere, grabs me by the shoulders. He’s not looking at me. He’s looking at the scene, just like the rest of the crowd, watching but doing nothing, not caring.

I throw his hands off me, muttering crazily. “This is what we are. Solitaire. We could just – they just – they’ll
kill
him. You think you’ve met bad people, and then you meet people who are worse. They’re doing nothing – they’re not – we’re just as bad. We’re just as bad for doing nothing. We don’t care. We don’t care that they could
kill
him—”

“
Tori
.” Michael takes hold of my shoulders again, but I step backwards and his arms drop. “I’ll take you home.”

“I don’t want you to take me home.”

“I’m your friend, Tori. This is what we do.”

“I don’t have any friends. You are not my friend. Stop pretending that you fucking
care
.”

Before he can argue, I’m gone. I’m running. I’m out of the house. I’m out of the garden. I’m out of the world. The giants and demons are rising and I am chasing them. I’m pretty sure I’m going to be sick. Am I hallucinating this? I am not the hero. It’s funny because it’s true. I begin to laugh, or maybe I’m crying. Maybe I don’t care any more. Maybe I’m going to pass out. Maybe I’ll die when I’m twenty-seven.

Click on the cover to read the last instalment of SOLITAIRE:

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@aliceoseman

Follow Tori Spring on Tumblr:
www.chronic-pessimist.tumblr.com

About the Author

Alice Oseman is a debut author from Rochester Kent, and is currently attending Durham university reading English. Alice has thoroughly researched sarcastic teenagers who spend a lot of time on the internet, by being a sarcastic teenager who spends a lot of time on the internet. Her debut novel,
Solitaire
, was signed when she was eighteen years old.

She is active on Twitter and Tumblr – her writing of
Solitaire
has been significantly inspired by behavioural trends on Tumblr. Alice is currently working on her second novel.

Copyright

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2014

HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers

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Hammersmith, London W6 8JB

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers 2014

Pride and Prejudice
courtesy of Universal Studios Licensing LLC

Donnie Darko – The Director’s Cut
courtesy of Richard Kelly

Alice Oseman asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780007559220

Version: 2014-06-25

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