All That Glitters (37 page)

I look down.

Nearly a year ago, Toby vomited on me and I was forced to walk around Birmingham wearing little blue nylon shorts, a yellow T-shirt with the number 9 on the back and knee-high green socks.

I am now in a boy’s football kit again, complete with little studded boots. You can say what you like about the universe, but it obviously has a very symmetrical and ironic sense of humour.

I just wish it wasn’t always aimed at me, that’s all.

“Absolutely,” I grin. “Or as good as I’m ever going to get, anyway.”

Then I clear my throat.

After I’d raided the PE lost property box, I took a deep breath and raced to Nat’s house as fast as I could. I still haven’t given her an invitation to my party, and it doesn’t matter how hurt I am by her, she’s my best friend, I love her, and I need to make sure she has one.

Two, actually: one for Theo as well.

He’d seriously better be worth all this trouble. I’m going to be very annoyed if he’s as drippy as François.

“Umm.” I step into the hallway and hand Nat’s mum two pieces of laminated plastic. “I just brought these round for Nat. Can you give them to her? Also, is it OK if I run upstairs and get something from her cupboard?”

Every fun thing I own in the world is currently in a cardboard box that has NAT AND HARRIET’S WORLD OF FUN written on the side in purple Sharpie.

My party doesn’t need it – obviously – but it’s always nice to have a fall-back plan.

“Of course, darling,” Nat’s mum says as I tug off a football boot. I might look into getting some for myself: they’re remarkably grippy. “But why don’t you just give them to her yourself? She’s in her bedroom, watching a film.”

I pause, still holding on to a red lace. “What?”

“
Roman Holiday
, I think. She said it’s for her course but I’m not entirely convinced it isn’t just an excuse to watch Gregory Peck drive a scooter.”

“But …” I blink a few times. “Nat said she was out every night this week.”

Nat’s mum laughs. “In that case, she’s been climbing up the chimney like Santa Claus. To the best of my knowledge, Natalie has barely left the house for anything but college in a fortnight.”

My stomach flip-flops.

“Then I must have misunderstood,” I say slowly as I take the other shoe off and start climbing the stairs.

“You definitely have some kind of wires crossed,” Nat’s mum says brightly.

“Huh,” I say, frowning. “Weird.”

But as I climb the stairs, I check my phone again: just to make sure.

I’m out every night this week.
I’ll ring soon.
Love you. Nat xxxx

Two sad faces, four kisses.

And she never rang me.

So you can analyse and pull it apart as much as you like, but there isn’t a lot of ambiguity in that sentence.

I don’t think I’ve misunderstood at all.

he Birch and Swinnerton-Dyer conjecture is one of six unsolved Millennium Prize Problems. It’s regarded as one of the most challenging mathematical problems in the world, and it’s so hard there’s a $1,000,000 prize for the first one to solve it.

By the time I reach my best friend’s room, three floors up, I’ve decided I’d rather be giving that a shot right now than trying to work out what’s going on here.

None of this makes any sense.

Nat has repeatedly told me she hasn’t got any time to see me, but she’s been in
every night
? What the
sugar cookies
is going on?

Has Jasper got to her now too?

Maybe he’s written a list of my failures as a human being in the sky with plane smoke and trailed it all over Hertfordshire.

Frowning, I lurk anxiously outside Nat’s bedroom for a few seconds.

Then I knock politely on the door. We normally have a strict no-knocking policy, but I no longer feel totally comfortable just walking straight in.

“I said
in a minute
!” Nat yells through the wood. “I’m still drying, Mum! You know I can’t eat pizza with wet nails! Enamel is not a topping!”

“It’s not Mum,” I say in a slightly bewildered voice. “It’s Harriet.”

There’s a short silence and a little clatter.

Then the door swings slowly open.

Nat’s wearing a bright green dressing gown with cotton wool balls stuck between each of her toes, fingers spread wide in the air in a large Y shape and a white blackhead strip plastered across her nose.

“Harriet! What are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same of you,” I say, folding my arms tightly. My throat is starting to hurt again. “You said you were out all week, and yet …
here you are.
”

A familiar, guilty red pattern has started making its way across Nat’s collarbone and I watch it travel suspiciously up her neck and on to her jawline.

“I’m just … getting ready to go out again.”

I fold my arms a bit tighter. “Funny, because your mum just told me you haven’t left the house much in weeks.”

“Right.” The pink rash climbs a little higher on to her cheeks. “Well, I’ve been sneaking Theo in. You know … without Mum knowing.”

My shoulders relax a little bit, but not entirely.

That might be true, but Theo’s certainly not here right now: I’ve known my best friend skip a maths exam because she had an unsightly blocked pore. She’s not going to be sneaking in a boy while dressed like Kermit.

“OK,” I say slightly stiffly. “Well …” There’s an uncomfortable pause. “If he’s not here now can I come in, then?”

“Oh.” Nat nods and opens the door properly. “Yes, please do come in.”

“I will,” I say awkwardly, walking forward and taking an uncomfortable seat on the edge of her bed like an old matron aunt. “I’ll come in. Thank you very much.”

Then I twiddle my thumbs.

“Nice weather we’re having,” I say experimentally, even though it’s been raining all day. “Unseasonally warm.”

“It … umm. Is,” she says. “They say there’s a storm coming.”

I’ve never, ever felt like this around Nat before.

Together, we’ve made it through eleven years, three countries, three break-ups, six million fights and three hundred chicken and jam sandwiches, but there’s never been this kind of distance between us before.

I just don’t understand where it’s come from.

“Well.” I stand up and clear my throat. “I thought you should know that I’m having a party tomorrow, Natalie. You are most welcome to come.”

Natalie
. I just called my best friend
Natalie.

“A
party
?” Nat stares at me for a few seconds. “You’re having a
party
?”

“Yes.”

“Like, a proper party? With proper people?
Real
people?”

“Yes.” I’d be offended if ninety-five per cent of our guests in the past hadn’t consisted entirely of teddy bears, Mickey Mouse and a shaved-headed Barbie doll. “Real people.”

Nat’s eyes are so round she looks like an ocelot. “A physical, real-life party, with people and music and food and lights and—”

“I understand the basic concept of a party, Nat.” I’m getting a bit irritated now. “Yes, a
party
.”

She frowns and stares into space.

My stomach suddenly flips, and every single bit of stiffness abruptly melts away in a wave of guilt.

“Oh please don’t be angry with me, Nat,” I say, jumping off the bed and grabbing her hands. “I know I didn’t tell you, and I know it’s normally just us, and I know we normally arrange it all together and it’s a tradition, but you weren’t around and I didn’t know what else to do and …
Please
don’t hate me, Nat.”

Nat blinks a few more times. Then her face clears.

“What on
earth
are you talking about? I couldn’t be more delighted. A
party
. Harriet Manners is throwing a
party
!”

Like a soldier she drops to the floor and starts rummaging under her bed until she’s dragged out a huge, familiar cardboard box.

Then she hops up and claps her hands.

“So,” she says brightly, rushing across the room and flinging open her cupboard with a flourish, “we’ll need to sort you something to wear, obviously. It’s important to get it
exactly right,
because otherwise … tragedy. Chaos. And we can’t have that.”

She pulls out a yellow dress, holds it up critically, then shakes her head and lobs it on the floor.

I can feel every single cell in my body starting to uncurl. It’s all going to be OK again. The Super Team are back.

“You really don’t mind? Really?”

“Of
course
I don’t mind, you silly billy. A
party
.” She laughs. “An actual
party.
Who’d have thought it?!”

“Not me,” I say fervently, starting to laugh too. “I’m throwing a party.
Me.
Can you believe it!”

We’re both snorting with laughter now.

“Hey, what’s that big party you’ve heard of?” Nat chuckles. “Oh it’s
only
Harriet Manners’! Biggest party of the year, dontcha know.”

“What’s that?” I giggle, holding my hand up to my ear. “Want a ticket to the bestest party of the year? Well, you only need to speak to
Harriet Manners
.”

“Hahahahahaha!” Nat shakes her head as she drags an orange dress out of her wardrobe and then lobs it on the floor too. “Unbelievable! So who’s coming? How big is it? What’s the plan? How did this come about? I need to know
everything
.”

“
Well,
” I say excitedly as Nat pulls a green dress out and holds it against me with narrowed eyes, “it’s going to be pretty amazing, Nat. I’ve thought of
everything
, and almost everyone in my form has RSVPd, I think. Quite a lot of the boys’ football team, the girls’ netball team …”

“Maybe with blue shoes,” Nat murmurs, now lost on Planet Fashion. “Silver? Black?”

“Most of my biology class,” I continue happily, ticking them off on my fingers. “Physics and maths. Lydia and her friends.”

“
Gold
,” Nat says triumphantly. “Gold shoes, green dress, earrings in … silver?”

“And then my new gang, obviously.” I hold my hands up thoughtfully. “So that’s India – she’s new and she’s got this really cool bright-purple hair I think you’d love – Liv and Anan—”