Pretty Twisted (8 page)

‘Rosalind,’ said Abby. Her voice sounded the slightest bit shrill. ‘She’s a girl actually.’

‘A cunning disguise. Right.’ He laughed. I tried to imagine Gabe holding a paintbrush but couldn’t. He looked like I’d imagine an estate agent to.

His friends, whom Claudia introduced as Brian and Hugh, were arguing about whose turn it was to buy the drinks. They looked more like I’d expected: slightly scruffy, in their early twenties.

‘I thought they were all meant to be new grads starting up,’ I murmured to Abby. ‘Gabe’s way too old.’

‘Maybe he tagged along,’ she whispered.

‘No way. He’s the one Claudia knows; look at them gabbing.’

‘What’s the secret?’ asked Brian, sitting by Abby. Hugh had gone into the pub.

‘Nothing.’ Abby managed a smile. ‘Oh, I like your earrings.’

‘Made them myself.’ Brian was skinny, with black hair tied back, a goatee and lots of piercings. The earrings Abby had mentioned were silver and shaped like snakes, with black gems for eyes. His skinny black jeans and the skull-shaped buckle on his belt – very like one Abby owned – suggested that he fancied himself as a goth.

Pointedly I said, ‘Claudia told us you were artists. You don’t look like it.’

Gabe grinned. ‘What d’you think an artist looks like? Flowing hair and a beret? Sure we’re artists. We have a great studio.’ His arm snaked round Claudia’s shoulders. She shot me a superior look.

‘I’ve been there. Gabe’s going to be a big photographer one day.’

‘Really,’ I said. ‘What does he photograph?’

‘Lots of stuff,’ Gabe said, stroking Claudia’s hair. ‘You’ve seen some of my snaps, right, babe?’

‘They’re amazing.’ Claudia was practically purring.

Like you’d be able to tell, I thought.

Hugh came out from the pub holding a tray. On it were three pints, two halves of cider – and a Coke. He winked as he took the space opposite me.

‘You’re too cute to get drunk, kid.’

I opened my mouth to say that I was the same age as Abby and only one year younger than Claudia. Then I received a sharp kick under the table that made me bite my lip in pain. Claudia was glaring at me, and I began to understand. I pushed my Coke to one side.

‘Abby,’ I whispered, ‘leave that cider. It might be spiked. I don’t like these guys.’

But Abby’s attention was on Brian.

‘You actually sell jewellery at Camden Market? That’s so cool!’

‘Come over sometime and I’ll show you what I’ve got,’ Brian said.

I looked over the other side of the table. Claudia was cosied up to Gabe and sampling his pint, seemingly enthralled by his words.

‘. . . I’m thinking of blowing up a couple of snaps I’ve had hanging round the studio and selling them to art galleries. They’d be worth a bit.’

In your dreams, I thought. I knew that art was difficult to make a living out of. If Gabe thought he could be successful without breaking into a sweat, he was mad, or lying – probably both.

‘Looks like it’s you and me,’ chuckled Hugh. Was this some kind of weird triple date? I wondered, turning my attention to him. Here was someone whose portrait I wouldn’t mind drawing; Hugh had good bone structure, with a strong, straight nose and high cheekbones. His dark hair needed a cut and it didn’t look as though he’d shaved for a couple of days, but if he brushed up a bit I’d definitely call him handsome.

‘Not drinking your Coke?’ he asked. ‘Promise I didn’t spike it.’

‘That’s what all drink dopers tell their victims,’ I said. ‘Anyway, the coke here is always flat.’

‘Oh, you’re a regular. At such a tender age.’

‘I didn’t choose to come here.’ I nodded at Claudia. ‘It’s her hang-out.’

‘From what I hear, she’s in and out all the pubs in London,’ said Hugh. ‘The George in Kensington is where Graham met her.’

‘Graham?’

Hugh grinned. ‘You didn’t really think his name was Gabriel, did you?’

I glanced at Gabe. He was laughing again and smoking something that didn’t smell like a normal cigarette. ‘He’s way too old for Claudia.’

‘Who cares?’ Hugh took a red paper packet out of his pocket. ‘Fancy a doughnut? Bought a pack from Tesco on the way here and there’s two left. Bit squashed, but perfectly edible.’

He held one in front of me. It was the cheap, sugar-coated type I adored. I looked at it longingly then shook my head. ‘No, thanks.’

‘Go on. You know you want to.’

‘What don’t you understand about the word “no”?’

‘Ouch! It bites back.’ Hugh sank his teeth into a doughnut. ‘Your loss, Miss Way-Too-Suspicious.’

‘Hey, Ros!’ Abby sounded excited. ‘Did you hear what Gabe said?’

‘She was too busy dissing my doughnuts,’ said Hugh. ‘
Répétez, s’il vous plaît
.’

‘We should meet up round our place sometime and hang out.’ Gabe waved a hand round the table with the air of a preacher addressing a large audience. ‘I promised Clauds I’d show her the studio properly.’

‘All of us?’ Abby’s eyes lit up.

Brian tugged her ponytail. ‘Sure. Why not?’

‘Whatever,’ Gabe said, sounding bored. ‘We’re cool with anything. Now will someone get me another pint?’

At about half ten the guys suggested moving on to a bar, but Abby and I knew our parents expected us home. Though I could get away with sneaking in late, Abby’s mum and dad usually waited up. If they had their way, she’d be home by ten; it was only because I was allowed out an hour later that they’d extended her curfew to eleven. It was our good luck that we lived down the same well-lit street.

As Abby was saying goodbye, Claudia took my arm and dragged me away from the others. Leaning close, she hissed, ‘Gabe and the others think Abby’s sixteen and I’m eighteen. You rat on us, I’ll make your life hell. Got it?’

‘Got it,’ I mumbled. Claudia let go of my arm, giving me one of her superior, catty smiles.

‘That was fun,’ Abby said when we were round the corner. ‘I was as freaked out as you at first, but they’re nice, aren’t they?’

‘I guess, but don’t you think it’s strange they want to hang out with us? Don’t they have girlfriends their own age?’

‘Brian and Hugh are only twenty-two. Didn’t you like them?’

I shrugged. Those two weren’t so bad, but Gabe gave me the creeps. His vague, all-too-easy manner bothered me. I got the same feeling around him that I did with Claudia: something beneath the surface wasn’t right.

‘Didn’t you think Gabe was weird?’ I asked.

Abby wrinkled her nose. ‘He was OK, but I don’t get why he’s mates with the other two.’

‘Maybe they’re not mates.’ In fact, I’d got the impression Hugh and Brian were cautious around him. Though Gabe seemed to be the one paying for all the drinks, it had been the other two who’d been collecting them from the bar. At one point, Hugh had grumbled that he wasn’t Gabe’s servant. Gabe had just laughed and given Hugh a tenner and a push that was a bit too forceful to be friendly. ‘So is Claudia going out with him?’

‘Kind of. They’ve met up a few times, and she’s stayed over at his.’

‘She’s not sleeping with him, is she?’

‘Dunno,’ said Abby. Then, more defiantly, ‘So what if she is? It’s not a big deal – just like us going to their place next weekend isn’t a big deal.’

‘That’s only what they
said
.’

‘They want us to come over, and why not? We’re not kids. My parents wouldn’t approve, but I don’t care. Brian and the others are fun – exciting – different. And Claudia’s up for it.’

I wanted to argue, but I hesitated, and Abby noticed.

‘Ros, relax. I don’t get you – you won’t trust people we’ve just had a nice evening with, and yet you tell your Internet boyfriend everything.’

‘Yeah, but Jonathan’s not like these guys.’

‘You don’t even know who he is! Poppy and Kirsten might be right – it’s dead dodgy getting that close to someone on the Net.’

‘Well, maybe I am playing a dangerous game,’ I snapped, ‘but it’s no more dangerous than what
you’re
doing. These guys probably just want sex!’

‘How do you know that’s not what Jonathan wants?’

‘I just do, OK!’

‘Just like
I
know Brian and the others are nice guys!’ We glared at each other and there was a moment of silence. Then Abby said, ‘I don’t want to fall out again, Ros. It’s fine for you to be all snooty – you already have someone, but I don’t, and I really like Brian. I’m going to the studio next weekend – and it’ll be more fun if you come too. That’s all.’

What could I say? I’d feel terrible staying home while Abby was in the centre of London with Claudia and three guys we hardly knew. Despite being sure it was a bad idea, I found myself saying yes.

im not stupid 4 worrying, am i?
I asked Jonathan.
older guys who hang round girls usually just want 2 sleep wiv them.

Weird they didn’t want to take your picture. You’re really pretty.

I was glad neither of us had webcams.
You’re a liar, Ros Fielding,
I thought. Pretending that Jonathan was my boyfriend was easy. I saved our conversations, and every so often I looked at his photo and wondered what his voice sounded like and how it might feel if he kissed me. It had been little things at first – seeing a guitar and imagining him doing his act. These days I couldn’t pass a couple in the street without wondering about Jonathan and Freya – all kinds of stuff, like how much she loved him and whether they’d slept together. Pretending that Olivia was me though – that was a lie I wished I didn’t have to live. The more we spoke, the more I wanted him to like me for being Rosalind, not the pretty girl in the photo.

wot do i do?
I asked.
abby & me hav been friends since we were 7. we stick together.

Funny how sometimes friendship makes you go against your natural instincts. Let someone you trust know where you are. Your sister, if you don’t want your dad to know.

dad isnt round enough 2 notice if im there or not

Tell you what. Let me know the address of this studio. I’ll give you my number. If anything goes wrong, miscall me. I promise I’ll contact the police.

wd u do that 4 me?

Sure. Here it is. Actually, here’s my home one too, just in case.

& heres mine. tnx 4 talkin this thru wiv me.

No prob. Hey, we should meet up sometime.

I swear I stopped breathing.

I’m planning to visit Freya on the weekend of 27th/28th – it’s her birthday on the 30th and I want to hand over her present. I could meet you on the Saturday for lunch or something.

Oh God! I thought. What do I do? He thinks I’m Olivia! And this was the very thing I’d been warned about – meeting strange people off the Net.

Only if you want to.

My fingers fluttered over the keyboard.

Still there?

of course i want 2 meet up!

Cool. You can meet my train.

yeah. ok. great.

I swivelled round in my chair to face the wall, feeling like my stomach had left my body.

Rosalind

Friday 26 September, 6.20 p.m.

I spent the week fretting, only to hear that the aren’t-artists (as I had dubbed them in my head) had blown us out.

‘Claudia says they’re busy this weekend,’ Abby told me. ‘Next Friday’s cool though.’

Brilliant – now I would have to worry all next week too. I hoped they would cancel again.

But before I could blink, Friday had come. Time works in funny ways, I thought as I checked that I had enough cash for the tube. Drags when you want it gone, and shoots forward when you don’t.

‘Enjoy the cinema.’ Dad appeared at my bedroom door. ‘Petra and I are trying that Turkish restaurant tonight – dining like sultans.’

‘Have fun.’

Dad paused. ‘Is there anything worrying you, Rozzle?’

‘No,’ I lied. ‘Why would there be?’

‘You were up late typing. I heard keys clicking. Are you behind on schoolwork?’

‘’Course not.’

‘What were you doing then?’

Dad is very laid-back, but occasionally he has fits of conscience and starts interfering. ‘I was talking to a friend.’

‘Abby?’

‘No. Someone I met online.’

Dad frowned, and I wanted to smack myself for being so stupid. ‘Not sure I like you talking to strangers. There are a lot of weirdos out there.’

I started edging towards the door.

‘I mean it. Sick old guys posing as teenagers.’