Drop (30 page)

“You’ll have to face them sometime.”

“I won’t. I’ll just drop out, run away to South Africa, work at a butterfly sanctuary.” I let my mind wander, let it fill with beautiful butterflies. I think about that perfect moment by the river on my birthday. The sodium rock that looked like coke. “Hey, Isaac, you’re not doing any drugs tonight, are you?”

“No, I’m done with that.”

“I wouldn’t want to stop you having a good time.”

“Honestly, I don’t need to,
want
to. I think” – Isaac kicks a pebble – “they’re overrated. Besides, who needs drugs on a day like this: sun shining, waves lapping, ice-creams, er … ice-creaming?”

Will I ever do drugs again? My mind runs through all the times I’ve done them before. Reliving the highs. Feeling loud, confident, pretty. Like a queen. My fifteen minutes of fame, on a coke high. On a pedestal. On top of the world. Pilled up and free. But the feeling never lasts. Sure, I could do it. I could use drugs to dissociate from reality and not face my results. The flaw in that plan is that tomorrow will always rear its ugly head and the results will still be there, unchanged. Like Isaac says, the drugs are just a hiding place. Pretty soon you have to come out into the light and face the day, whatever it may bring.

I think back over the weekends with Finn, lost to drugs.

Sometimes I wouldn’t see a weekend at all. The blinds were always down.

I think about how I camped in my bedroom, under a duvet, worshipping artificial sunlight from my Sunday God: the television. All hail the romcoms. Bow to the chick-flicks. Raise your spliffs in praise of the Eighties robot-themed action movie. Comedown films must be like comedown food: easy to digest.

Adrenalin overload, zero sleep.

I’d get paranoid.

Feel sick.

Look like a ghost.

Why would I want to go through that agony again?

I watch the sea sloshing against the wooden legs of the pier, an enormous neon centipede standing in the water. The smell of popcorn fills the air as we edge closer to the sound of clinking coins and arcade games. I beat Isaac on the dance machine; he trounces me at
Street Racer
. He says he hasn’t played in ages, but evidently, fingers never forget. Like it’s a fair contest! I can’t even drive.

We play a couple of rounds of air hockey, at which, by the way, I’m awesome. Well, usually I am, but Isaac seems to have some special puck-flicking technique apparently learned from a Jedi master, so I may have let a few goals in.

Isaac’s phone buzzes.

“The others have arrived. They’re on the beach.”

“Oh.”

“We don’t have to go.”

“We do. I need to make peace at least. We have a whole other year to spend together in the same classes.”

The waves rush at the shore like a herd of wild horses, galloping and intent. In the distance I see Finn, Slinky, Greg and Georgia paddling in the shallows. Greg picks up Georgia to throw her in the water but stops at the last second. She laughs, pushes him back and he splashes into the waves. Violet sits on the beach in a very teeny bikini, shades on, reading a magazine. She reminds me of an iguana basking in the sun, trying to get some sort of warmth into her stone-hearted, cold-blooded being.

Georgia sees Isaac and me and runs over to meet us.

“I hear congrats are in order,” she says to Isaac. “You’re off to Nottingham.”

“Just barely.”

“Modest much?” Georgia pokes Isaac playfully on the shoulder. “All
A
s says otherwise. Greg told me.”

Isaac shrugs. “Yeah, well, it’s not all about results. It doesn’t matter what you get, really.” We all know that’s not true but I appreciate him trying to make me feel better, and I don’t say anything when he puts his arm around my waist to comfort me, even though I know for certain it will raise eyebrows.

“You’re coming tonight, right?” Georgia asks.

“Not really in the mood.”

“You have to come.”

Finn starts to walk over, then stops, Violet tugging at his T-shirt, arms snaking around his chest and whispering in his ear. But something has changed in me and strangely, I don’t feel jealous. I’ve taken off the rose-tinted specs. Finn abandons the plan to confront us and instead nods in our direction and steers clear.

I pick up a stone and throw it into the rolling waves. “I think I’m going to talk to him. Clear the air,” I tell Isaac.

“You want me to come?”

“I’ll be all right. Just … don’t go far.”

“There’s an ice-cream truck up on the promenade. I’ll get us some cones.”

Finn sees me coming and gets to his feet. He looks as cute as ever in board shorts and flip-flops, hair wild and windswept.

Violet shoots me a stare loaded with all kinds of evil. She aims a similar glance at Finn but he takes no notice.

“Can we walk?” I ask Finn.

“Sure.”

We leave the scowler flipping through the pages of
Glamour
.

“Where are you going?” she asks Finn. He waves her off.

“She’s kind of dramatic,” I say.

“She’s not so bad, just has a mean streak.”

“A crazy streak, if you ask me.”

“What do you care who I see anyway?”

“You’re seeing her?”

“No, nothing’s changed. I get her stuff, that’s all.” Finn runs a hand through his hair. “What do you want, Carla?”

“I guess I just wanted to call a truce. We’ll have to see each other next year so let’s agree to get on.”

“Fine. But, Carla, I never stopped getting along with you. I still
love
you.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

“I don’t believe you.”

I thought it wasn’t possible for Finn’s eyes to darken any more, but just now they do. He grips me by the shoulder. “What are you doing with Isaac?”

Oh, so that’s it. He’s trying to manipulate me into not seeing his brother. If he can’t have me, no one else can.

“We’re friends, that’s all.”

A lump rises in my throat.

Finn grabs my wrist. “Doesn’t look that way.”

“Let go of me.”

He releases my arm. “You’d better go. Your
friend
is waiting for you,” he says.

I walk along the beach towards Isaac, not looking back. But I hear Finn calling after me, “He’s the liar, Carla. He only wanted to take you from me. He doesn’t care about you like I do. I know you. I know what you are. You’re just like me.”

I’m done with Finn Masterson.

* * *

As I walk back across the beach Violet sticks her foot out to trip me.

“Grow up.”

“Well, which one is it, Carla? You can’t have both. Isn’t one enough for you?”

I try to ignore her.

“You’re certainly working your way through the group. Slut.”

She’s really pushing my buttons.

“He doesn’t want you any more. So just leave us alone. He only went out with you to make me jealous. Like that could work.”

“Then why aren’t you two back together? Go on.” I point to where Finn is standing, looking out to sea. “There he is. Go get him.”

Violet shrugs.

“You’re full of shit,” I say. “You and Finn may have had a thing once but now he’s just your dealer. It’s pretty sad when you think about it.”

“Finn loves me, always has, always will,” Violet says.

“Well, good luck with that. Look, there’s no reason why I should try and help you, but I’ll give you one nugget of advice: Finn doesn’t love you any more than he loved me; forget about him and move on.”

“Right, so you can swoop in and get him back? Never going to happen. Anyway he would never go for you now. You’re just a little girl who couldn’t handle playing with the big kids. You wish you were me. I can see it in your eyes. I saw it the day you started at Thorncroft.”

Violet takes a baggie out of her bikini top and uses a key to scoop up a little mound of coke or
godknowswhat
.

“You couldn’t be further from the truth right now. Yeah, go powder your nose with poison, darling. That’ll make it all better.”

“Why are you even here? Finn’s moved on and you’re still chasing after him. It’s so sad.”

“Er, hello. Look in a mirror, Violet. You’ve been groping him all year.”

Violet shrugs and goes back to her magazine. “Go home, ho-bag. No one wants you here.”

But when she says that, it has the opposite effect to what she intends. I know I deserve to be here as much as she does. I was invited. And I’ll go out tonight and show her that.

I jog back to Isaac and he drops an arm around my shoulder. It feels natural and not at all weighted with expectation.

He hands me a Mr Whippy. “With hot fudge sauce. Just the way you like it.”

“Thanks.”

We walk down the beach towards the water, away from the group. I carry my flip-flops so I can feel the sand between my toes. Isaac does the same. The beach is mostly pebbles but there’s sand nearer the water.

“Saw you talking to Vi. You OK?” Isaac asks.

“Yeah. Wicked Witch of the West was just spitting her usual caustic diatribe,” I say, dipping a toe in the cool seawater. “I’m fine though. She’s delusional. I kind of feel sorry for her.”

I tell him it didn’t go so well with Finn either. “He said he still loves me, but he’s full of it.”

Isaac looks concerned and I try to reassure him.

“Don’t worry, I’m over it,” I say, and mean it.

Before we know it, the crystal-clear day has turned into a clammy night and we’re still talking on the beach. A curtain of stars has drawn over the blue; but dark stains of cloud are beginning to seep into the fabric of the sky and the intense heat promises a downpour later.

“We better go check into the hostel.”

After a spit and a hiss and a
crunk
the little Micra clatters to a halt on a roundabout.

“Not good.” Isaac bites his lip and ruffles his hair. “Erm, you may have to help push us to the side of the road.”

After a lot of huffing and puffing – and
how much does this thing weigh? –
we manage to get the car to relative safety, hazard lights flashing into the night.

“How bad is it?”

“Clutch has gone. We’re basically screwed. I’ll call the AA.”

“What can I do?”

“You could take the bags to the hostel. It’s getting late and they might think we’re not coming. It’s not far, just on the corner over there, by the chippy.”

“So near, yet so far!”

“I’ll meet you in the club, if you don’t mind hanging with Georgia for a while. Shouldn’t be more than an hour.”

I’m really starting to think Georgia’s OK. She and Greg came to join us on the beach earlier and she admitted she didn’t like the divide in the group. We actually have a lot in common. Her dad works away quite often; even though her parents have millions, it just makes him work harder to keep them. He puts money into start-ups and is very hands-on with his investments. I can sympathize with her about missing having him around.

I tell Isaac of course that’s fine and I buy him some chips to keep him going, before heading to the hostel to get ready to go out.

I’ve just about finished doing my eyeliner when there’s a knock on the door. Georgia’s hair explodes in red tendrils from the top of her head like a mad octopus. She’s wearing one of those mini top hats. She’s a gentrified Mr Tickle.

“That’s an interesting hair development since I saw you this afternoon.”

“You likey?”

“Beautiful.”

“Come on, let’s go. It’s only a fiver to get in before ten. Finn and the others have already left. You can stay with me and Greg, if you want to. Must be awkward.”

“A little. Loads actually.”

“Stick with me, Miss C.”

* * *

The door to the club, curved in the brickwork, opens like a black hole. Like the wide, dark jaw of a crocodile, about to swallow me up. Georgia and I got to reminiscing about nights out on the way over here and I’d be lying if I said I don’t have a pang of longing to do drugs, but it’s quickly quashed. I never want to go back there again.

A female bouncer pads me down and checks through my bag. I pay a girl wearing a top that’s too small for her and too brightly coloured for
anyone
and she stamps my hand with a smiley face.

It isn’t long before a man sidles up to me, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt: just a normal bloke, but his eyes are wide and dart around the room. The green lasers bounce off his irises.

“Any pills? Tenner each. It’s good stuff. A high like old-school pills. Lasts all night.” He flashes me a baggie full of blue pills. “B2Ms. They’re new.”

“Betamax?”

“So new you could coin that as its street name… Look, I dropped one hours ago and I’m still rushing. They’re well worth the cash.”

“No thanks.”

I check my phone, partly because I want to look busy so this guy goes away and partly because I’m willing it to buzz so I know Isaac will be here soon. But there are no new messages. Maybe I should have stayed with him.

The man gets the hint and leaves.

“There’s Greg, crazy coke eyes at four o’clock.” Georgia gestures a bangle-laden arm towards a makeshift bar under a hot-pink awning that says
AUDIO FRICTION! ELECTRO AND BREAKS
10
P.M.
– 7
A.M. EVERY FRIDAY
©
FUNCT
.