Pretty Twisted (2 page)

Funny to think that a couple of months ago I’d been wishing everything would change. Now I was almost wishing I’d never let Jonathan into my life.

I lay on my bed and stared at the stain on my ceiling from when a tile fell off the roof and the rain came in. If you looked at it in a certain way, it was shaped like Great Britain. Dad had been promising to do something about it for months, but of course he hadn’t.

My phone rang. It was Jonathan.

‘Ros?’

He sounded dazed, and I wished I was there so I could hug him. I pulled myself off the bed and closed the door. Olivia had gone by now so there was no one home to overhear, but I felt safer with it shut.

‘Jono! Are you OK? What did they say?’

He drew breath, and I knew what he was thinking even before he said it.

‘Ros, how the hell did we get into this mess?’

Rosalind

Saturday 30 August, 10.00 p.m.

In the moments you need contact with a human being, there’s never the right person there.

Strangely, when I had this thought, I was hardly alone. It was ten o’clock on Saturday night and I was hanging out round the back of the bowling alley with my best friend, Abby, Claudia Rowley-Wood and a bunch of Claudia’s hangers-on I didn’t know. Abby was crouched in a corner, giggling. Whether she was drunk on the few mouthfuls she’d taken from the bottle of Smirnoff Ice we’d passed round or just pretending, I couldn’t tell. Claudia, unnecessarily dolled up for an evening in a grubby alleyway, was baiting two of the boys with a packet of fries.

‘Time for art class.’ One of the guys opened a plastic bag to reveal multicoloured spray cans.

‘We could go to the park,’ another said. ‘The wall at the back of the tennis courts has just been repainted. It’s begging for some decoration.’

‘What should I write, Claudia?’ Abby, equipped with green spray, managed to make the question sound like begging. Claudia tilted her head and pursed her well-glossed lips. It sickened me to see Abby, a self-styled goth who talked about ‘standing out’, acting like a faithful dog, so I joined the graffiti boys. They were laughing and spraying the wall, thinking they were being clever. Even though I was aware that someone would have to clean this off, I pressed the nozzle. I knew what would happen, but was still surprised when a splodge of bright orange appeared on the wall. The splodge turned into a curve, and I joined the curves to make a figure. It was easily recognizable as a woman wearing a ball gown. Her face I left blank.

I would have drawn her a partner if the others hadn’t got restless. We trailed out, across the car park and on to the pavement leading away from the retail park. For a Saturday night it was quiet, with only a few cars and a bus on the normally busy road. The noise we were making seemed to carry a long way. I walked alongside Abby, but she was too busy sharing Claudia’s cigarette and trying hard not to look like it was the first time she’d smoked to pay me any attention. A middle-aged couple saw us coming and crossed over the road.

‘Are we hanging out tomorrow?’ said Abby.

Claudia made a pretence of considering this. I ground my teeth together.
Of course
we were hanging out tomorrow. Claudia’s crew spent every Sunday on the benches outside Tesco.

‘S’pose so,’ said Claudia, making it sound like a gracious handout.

‘Great. Outside Tesco then. Can Ros come?’

Claudia’s gaze flickered my way, then she turned, talking loudly to one of the guys as if I wasn’t there.

I don’t care, I thought, glaring at her back view. And I wouldn’t go tomorrow, just to show I didn’t care. If Abby wanted to go and act stupid, that was her problem.

We stopped outside the Malt and Hops, looking through the old-fashioned arched windows to see who was working behind the bar and whether they’d be likely to serve us. Everyone looked to Claudia for a lead – and I decided that was it. There was no way I, a fourteen-year-old who didn’t even look her age, would be let in. I wasn’t going to give Claudia the satisfaction of seeing me turned away.

I was expecting someone to call out and ask where I was going, but I turned off the high street without anyone noticing. I wondered how long it would take them to realize I wasn’t there – if they realized at all.

I hoped Abby would phone the next morning, but she didn’t. I was alone in the house, so I made pancakes with whipped cream, chocolate spread and Gummi bears on top to cheer myself up. I feel rather like Cinderella these days, stuck indoors while others are out having fun. I’m always finding notes on the table –
Remember to take the recycling bins out
or
Could you give the kitchen a clean?Thanks!
The last time we did something as a family was a long time ago. My older sister, Olivia, is always round at her boyfriend’s house, and Dad has started seeing Petra, who just happens to be covering my drama teacher’s maternity leave. They met at parents’ evening, and I could tell at once there was something there, because Petra didn’t mention that I’m heading for a D in drama unless I start being more ‘sociable’ and learn to work better with other students. Dad has never been an interfering parent, but thanks to Petra I barely see him now. He’s started squeezing into trendy shirts and jeans and he’s even planning to go to
Ibiza
with her. I mean – please! Petra’s OK – friendly without being in your face, and she tells quite funny stories about people she knows in theatre – but she’s still my teacher. I feel really awkward whenever we pass in the school corridor, even though Petra keeps it neutral. Thank goodness she’s only at my school until half-term.

As for Mum – well, Mum’s not around.

Normally I have no problem amusing myself. I like to draw people – either from memory or photographs in fashion magazines. I have sketchbooks filled with portraits. Today, though, I couldn’t make the pencil do what I wanted, and I gave up. So I messed about baking a chocolate cake that sank in the middle, made myself a sandwich, then watched a romantic comedy which annoyed me so much that I turned the TV off. I’ll never understand how people can enjoy films where heroines stop wearing glasses, straighten their frizzy hair and suddenly become so beautiful that everyone falls at their feet. Maybe they’re living in a different world to me. The world I know is one where people let you down and happy endings don’t happen.

After eating some of my cake, which tasted better than I thought it would, I went online and checked MyPlace, my favourite social-networking site. Just at that moment a message popped up, telling me that an unknown person calling themselves ‘Squeebunny’ was messaging me.

I hadn’t used MyPlace’s instant-messaging function much; I was more interested in uploading my artwork than chatting to people. Besides, I didn’t know this person. ‘Squeebunny’: one stupid name out of billions of faceless Internet users. I moved the mouse to delete him or her. But then the message box popped up, and Squeebunny spoke.

Jonathan

10.30 p.m.

I stood at the side of the room, trying to look like I was having a good time. Sixteen-year-olds are meant to enjoy parties, and this one seemed like a good idea – it was being hosted by Tammy Whiting, whose parents were loaded. As well as most of our year, she’d invited a bunch of kids I didn’t know; I guessed they must have enrolled in some of the same colleges as us. Not for the first time, I wished my school did A levels and I didn’t live in the sticks. The nearest sixth-form colleges were in Norwich, a good twenty miles away. Even worse, I’d have to catch the 7 a.m. zombie bus, which everyone says is only ever on time when you’re late. I couldn’t wait until I could start driving lessons next summer.

I’d thought that everyone would be nervous about starting college, but I couldn’t imagine that the trendily dressed, confident-looking people around me had been fretting all summer like I had. They looked alarmingly at ease, laughing in groups, already the greatest of friends. I can never think of what to say to new people – besides, they were talking about celebrities I’d barely heard of. They probably wouldn’t be interested in me anyway – heck, even people I knew weren’t. Two girls from my year I’d just approached had given me blank looks and said, ‘Sorry – what was your name?’

‘You don’t know after five years in the same school?’ I tried to make it a joke, but it came out sounding wrong so I added quickly, ‘Jonathan. You know – Freya’s boyfriend?’

Freya’s name sparked some interest and we managed to talk for a while, shouting over the music – some annoying playlist of hits from talentless boy bands. I wished Freya was here; people always looked at me differently when we were together. But she had left for her aunt’s house in London a few days ago and so far was having a good time. Classes at her music school hadn’t begun yet, but she’d already made a number of friends. I wasn’t surprised – Freya’s pretty and, unlike me, always seems to know the right thing to say. She’s just one of those people others warm to.

This was the first time I’d been out without her in months, I realized. It was difficult to remember how things had been before; I’d changed a lot since we’d started dating. I was surprised none of the people Freya had introduced me to were here tonight – I knew they’d been round Tammy Whiting’s house before. Though they were more her friends than mine, I’d been banking on their company. I was beginning to wish I’d made an effort to keep up with my old mates; while I’d been a bit of a loner, there were a few kids I was friendly with, mainly from karate class. But they’d become distant, and if I was honest, I knew it was my fault for getting too wound up in Freya’s world.

A fist connected with my stomach, making me choke on a mouthful of Archers.

‘Jono! Where’ve you been hiding all summer?’

It was Stuart, a guy who’d been in my class. We often played battleships during
RE
classes and he sometimes copied my homework when rugby practice got in the way of doing it himself. While we weren’t exactly mates, I was ridiculously relieved to see him.

‘Wasn’t hiding,’ I said. ‘Just didn’t hang out much. Freya and I were composing stuff.’

‘You look like your cat’s just died. Here.’ He shoved a plastic cup at me. ‘Drown your sorrows.’

‘What is it?’

‘Cider. Go on.’

I took the cup, putting down my half-finished Archers. I don’t really like cider, and I was already starting to feel pretty peculiar after the drinks I’d had earlier, but I didn’t want to look a wimp in front of Stuart.

‘Your girlfriend’s gone to some fancy music school, right?’ Stuart asked, watching me as I took a gulp of the drink. ‘The Conservatory or something. Sounds well up itself.’

‘It’s a conservatoire, actually. The London Conservatoire.’

‘Whatever. How come you’re not going?’

I shrugged. ‘Even aspiring rock stars need A levels. According to my parents.’

‘Hey, have you heard? Tom Copeland’s moved to Bury.’

I swallowed too quickly and choked.

Stuart slapped me on the back. ‘My mum reckons it’s your fault,’ he said. ‘Mrs Copeland told her she didn’t want Tom having anything to do with us after what you did. Says you’re dangerous.’

‘Look, I don’t want to talk about that. College is meant to be a new start, OK?’

It was at this point I realized a girl was standing next to me. ‘Hi, Jonathan,’ she said, giving me a wave.

‘Uh . . . do I know you?’ I asked.

‘Nope, but you will, because someone told me you’re taking maths at the same college I’m going to. I’m Natasha.’

‘Ah, right.’ There was a pause, during which I tried to think of something witty to say. I felt Stuart’s elbow come into contact with my ribs.

‘Lucky,’ he muttered. ‘She’s fit.’

‘I noticed,’ I said, and gave Natasha a wobbly smile as I finished the cider. ‘So, are you a maths whizz?’

‘Far from it. Maybe you can help me out.’

‘I guess I could try.’

She laughed. ‘Don’t be so modest! You’re really smart. I’ve heard stories.’

I couldn’t help but feel flattered. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad party after all.

‘What stories?’ I asked.

‘Freya Rose told me you used to do her maths homework for her.’

‘You know Freya?’

‘Yeah, we had the same violin teacher. You went out, right? I heard she’d picked up a geeky boyfriend.’

I hadn’t been called a geek in a long time. Seemed a lifetime ago I’d been the guy who hid in the computer lab at lunchtime, who wore bad glasses and came top of the class. ‘I still am her boyfriend.’

‘Right.’ Natasha looked amused. ‘Somehow I can’t see Freya holding up a long-distance relationship. She’s had quite a lot of boyfriends, hasn’t she?’

Suddenly I didn’t feel quite so at ease. I shook my head when Stuart offered me another drink, beginning to wish I could get out of the room, away from all these people. ‘What?’

‘Nothing. Just . . . a few interesting stories about Freya came my way.’

‘Well, I don’t want to hear them.’

‘Very loyal of you.’

Now I had no idea what she was getting at. I was trying to think of how I could reply when my head started to spin. I reached out and held on to the back of a chair.