“Thanks for nothing,” Katie hisses at the shopkeeper, turning so violently that she’s propelled the metre it takes to bump into me. For a second her glance slides over me as if I’m nothing but an obstruction, then her eyes narrow.
I step past and pay for my haul, aware that Katie hasn’t moved. As I head for the door, she falls into step beside me.
“News flash, Emo Boy, it’s winter.” She snatches Hannah’s ice cream from my hands and flicks it against my shoulder hard enough for it to snap before handing it back as we reach the exit.
I jam my toe under the edge of the door.
“Buy another one,” I say, quietly.
“Fuck off!” Katie tries to yank the door open, but I lean my weight on it. “Get out the fucking way!”
I wait, impassive.
“Aaron!”
“So you do know my name.”
“Just move.”
“Don’t want to keep your friends waiting, do you?”
She shoots me a murderous glare. “As if you’re going to stand there all day.” But I can tell by the way she looks at me that she’s not sure I won’t. “What do you want?”
I look at her and wait some more until she storms off in a cloud of swear words, returning with a new ice cream.
“Thank you,” I say, holding the door open for her.
“I hope you choke on it.”
“Unlikely. It’s for Hannah.” Katie’s three paces ahead, but she still hears me and I see her half turn, her face relaxed enough for me to see something there — a sadness so profound that for a fleeting moment I think that maybe—
“Well, Hannah can fucking choke on it, then, can’t she?” She marches ahead of me, arms crossed against the wind, magazines tucked under her blazer. Katie knows she made a mistake, but she’ll die before she admits it. She traded everything she had for the chance to be Marcy’s lapdog. There’s no going back now.
TUESDAY 9TH FEBRUARY
AARON
Hannah fidgets during English. It’s distracting.
Could you maybe sit still for more than thirty seconds at a time? Some of us are trying to work here.
I turn my notebook towards her and tap the page.
Cd u mayb stop bein such a suck up? Some of us r tryin 2 bum here.
She adds a little smiley face with the tongue sticking out. I find it entertaining the way Hannah writes as if she’s texting.
What’s up?
Because something is. Emoticon aside, Hannah isn’t smiling.
Wot u doin @ wknd?
The question unnerves me. It’s Valentine’s Day on Sunday.
Seeing Neville on Sunday.
I make a mental note to switch my date with Neville, which should amuse him.
Come 4 family dinner on Sat? There’s a pause in her writing as Mrs English looks up from marking a stack of essays to check we’re all dutifully reading our texts. J up 4 wknd.
Jay’s home? This is interesting.
SATURDAY 13TH FEBRUARY
HALF-TERM
AARON
“Hi,” I say and hold out my hand.
“Hi.” Jason takes my hand and sizes me up as he shakes. “So you’re Hannah’s boyfriend.”
Hannah and I give him what must be identical stares. Whatever he’s been told, I’m sure no one’s told him we’re actually dating. That has never been the story.
“Sorry, I’m not sure what the appropriate title is…” he starts to say, but Hannah shoots him down.
“How about ‘friend’ — you’ve heard of those, right?”
Immediately I reassess the situation. Hannah’s been subdued this week, something I’d put down to hormones, which is the excuse she gives for absolutely everything. But I was wrong. Whatever this is, it has less to do with hormones and more to do with Jay. Whatever it is, I’m on Hannah’s side. As if I’d be anywhere else.
“Aaron!” Lola flies out of the front room and cannons into me for a hug.
Robert comes out of his office and claps his son on the shoulder. “So you two have met, then?”
“Just now, Dad. We exchanged maybe a sentence before Lolly came in and stole Aaron from me.” He playfully prods his little sister in the cheek, but she presses closer to me instead of him. It’s nice to be the favourite, but there’s something in the way Jay looks at me that tells me I’ll regret it.
Dinner is a Chinese takeaway that Hannah and Jay go to collect in his car. Paula and Robert are busy in the kitchen, leaving me and Lola to play Mario Kart in the front room. This suits me fine — although, being more of an RPG player, I endure a relentless drubbing from the nearly-six-year-old girl next to me. Lola doesn’t seem to mind that I’m a far from worthy opponent and when she hears her brother and sister come in, she pulls me into the kitchen and sits me next to her.
“And Mummy on the other side.” Lola pats the chair to her left.
“What about Jason, Lolly? You haven’t seen him in a while. I’m sure he’d like a chance to spend some time with you.” Only parents do this — presume it’s OK to speak for you even when it’s obviously inviting trouble.
Lola looks at Jason with wide eyes as he puts the bags on the table then she leans into me a little as she looks up at her mum and beckons her closer.
“I don’t want to sit next to Jay. He’s not been very nice to Hannah,” she whispers into her mother’s ear so quietly that I only just catch it and I’m sitting right next to her.
Hannah’s mum frowns and leans in to whisper back.
“I’m sure they made up when they went to get the takeaway.” She catches me looking and I turn away. “Please, poppet, ask to sit with Jay — he’s missed you.”
Lola glances at me and after I give the slightest of nods, she announces that she’s changed her mind. Disaster averted, we settle down and I watch as Jay tries to engage Lolly in conversation, then I watch Hannah watching him. It’s not as if I believed Paula before — about her stepson and her daughter making up — but it looks like they’ve been arguing some more. Hannah’s jaw is locked in attack mode and she’s snapping prawn crackers like a piranha. Jay on the other hand won’t look at her. At all. Not even when she asks him to pass her the soy sauce.
The conversation takes a dangerous turn at the unwrapping of the duck pancakes when Jay asks me whether I’d like to come and see what Warwick is like in case I fancy applying. He’s just being polite (or smug) but it draws attention to the fact that in two and a half years’ time I should be in a position to go to university.
“I thought I might go somewhere close by,” I say, smearing plum sauce on my pancake. Hannah and I haven’t really got an exit strategy for our fabricated relationship so I’m forced to ad lib.