EVIE
I take a peek at my phone to see if Ann’s been on again. We’ve been chatting on and off for hours and while it’s just chit-chat, it’s fun. I like her.
AnnMurphy: Your folks still at it?
EvieGuinness: Yep. Whisper-fighting now. Like, yeah right, we can’t hear you.
AnnMurphy: Scarlet for them. When Mam and Dad fight, they go at it like hammer and tongs. All shouters in our house.
EvieGuinness: Mine use silence like a weapon of mass destruction. And the looks they are throwing at each other, all the time. Can’t cope.
AnnMurphy: Talking of weapons, Martina had something that looked like a nuclear explosion on the end of her chin today.
EvieGuinness: Wtf?
AnnMurphy: Seriously, it should be paying her rent, the size of that spot.
EvieGuinness: Stop, you’re killing me!
AnnMurphy: That zit was killing me. You didn’t have to look at it! Btw, just put your earphones on, then you don’t have to listen to them fighting.
And just like that, I feel better. I never realised that Ann was so funny before. I get up and put headphones on, and drown out Mam’s voice shushing Dad. Who do they think they are kidding? I’m not stupid. I can read the subtext. It’s actually insulting the way they try to cover up their impending explosion of a marriage.
‘Just a little disagreement, nothing to worry about,’ Mam said last night, her voice all stretched like a rubber band about to snap. WTF? Hello, I’ve an IQ of 131 and she expects me to believe that! And I did that stupid IQ test on a day when I had a cold and my head was all mushed up. I’m not making excuses, I’m just stating facts. I could get at least 140 if I took the test again today.
Mind you, there’s also a strong chance that the other week’s stupidity could have melted quite a few of my brain cells. So maybe I should be grateful for the 131 score.
I flick through the books on my bedside locker, with no real interest. I normally go through at least three a week, but I’ve not managed to keep concentration long enough on anything for ages now. Even though I read on my Kindle and get loads from the library, whenever I love a book, I always buy it. Mam says I need to cull some of my books, give them to charity, but I can’t part with any of them. I always say to her that having too many books is not a problem. Not having enough shelving is what I struggle with. Not sure Mam gets my sense of humour, though.
Ping. I scrabble for my phone.
AnnMurphy: Don’t forget new episode of OUAT on Netflix today. That will cheer you up. Serious crushing on Hook.
EvieGuinness: I’ll take him any day over Charming.
Last night I discovered that Ann watches Once Upon a Time too. Not sure she obsesses about it as much as me, though. I can’t get enough of it. I think about the storyline all the time, trying to work out what’s going to happen next.
And I met Luke because of the show. Just thinking about that first encounter at the Valentine’s Day disco makes me want to cry. It will never happen again and it was the best moment of my entire life.
I hadn’t wanted to go. In fact, I refused to go, but my parents insisted. Talk about irony, there were girls whose parents wouldn’t let them go out and mine were horrified that I’d rather stay at home. To be fair, they didn’t realise that I was terrified that Martina and Deirdre would start something at school. And I knew that I’d be on my own. Because everyone else in my class seemed to take two steps away from me, the more they ramped up their bullying. I think they were worried that by being my friend, they’d be in the firing line too. Thank goodness Mam and Dad insisted I go. Because I wasn’t alone, in fact I had the best night of my entire life. There were posters up on the walls of the school hall advertising a new musical – Peter Pan – that was coming to the Dun Mhuire. And as I looked at the poster, at the picture of a smiling, benevolent, happy Peter Pan, I laughed. Because in Once Upon a Time, he’s the personification of evil. He’s also the Pied Piper – two bad-assed fairytale characters rolled into one. I didn’t mean to speak out loud, standing there, looking at that poster, but I did. I can’t help myself, like a well read book, I allow the memory of that night to flitter out.
‘If only people knew that you are Rumpelstiltskin’s father, Peter Pan.’
‘Now that was a plot twist,’ a voice says from behind me. I turn around, surprised, and come face to face with a guy who looks like he could be the sixth member of One Direction. Masses of dark, curly hair, which should make him look girly, but made him just look beautiful. He’s got a red-check shirt on, buttoned up to the collar, with skinny blue denims. I can’t stop staring at his hair. I actually feel my hand rise up, involuntarily making its way towards the mop. Scarlet for me and I pull it back to my side. What the hell is wrong with me?
‘I’m loving all the underworld stuff now,’ he says.
‘Me too. It’s so clever how they keep changing the story, introducing new characters.’ I blush, sure I sound way too excited about a TV show. I’m a little surprised at how much I want to be cool for a guy that I have just met. But he smiles and asks me, ‘Want to grab a Coke and swap theories?’
In what feels like two minutes, but in fact is two hours, we chat and laugh about all sorts of things, not just a mutually loved TV show. Is this what true happiness feels like? Is this love? I look at Luke’s lips and wonder what it would be like to feel them on mine.
And then, as if he’d taken the thought from my mind, Luke leans in and kisses me. My first kiss. I’ve dreamt about such an event, had no idea who might actually do the kissing, but I’ve often thought about it.
There is a bit of a false start at first. Noses bang and we both giggle self-consciously as we realign our necks. It feels like an out-of-body experience. And even though my stomach is flipping and my heart is beating like a runaway train, the rest of the world fades to the background, save for the smell, the feel, the touch of him.
When his lips touch mine, soft, he tastes sweet, like Coca-Cola. It lasts only a few seconds, but it is everything and more than I ever dreamed a kiss could be.
We pull apart and I feel a bit light-headed. Partly because the lights have just come on, signalling the end of the disco. Partly, from the kiss.
Luke whispers to me, ‘We’ve an audience.’ I follow his gaze and see Martina and Deirdre watching me. Before I can process why they look so annoyed, he grabs me by my hand and pulls me to my feet.
The best moment of my life that night. Evie, the geek, only went and got the boy.
I sigh as I look down at the yellow t-shirt I’m wearing, with ‘Never Trust an Atom … They Make Up Everything!’ blazoned on its front in bold black writing. Geek humour at its best, there. Luke would get the joke. I know he would. But I don’t suppose I’ll get the chance to show him this now.
Because it appears that the geek lost the boy just as quick as she got him. I don’t know what I’ve done to make him disappear, but it hurts. Like the time I fell off the tree at the end of our garden. It felt like an eternity till I hit the cold, hard ground. But when I did, every bone in my body rattled and screamed out in protest at the pain inflicted.
Ann then appears to read my mind, sending me another message with uncanny timing.
AnnMurphy: Are you like, going out with Luke?
EvieGuinness: No.
AnnMurphy: Oh. Do you like him though? You looked like you did at the disco.
EvieGuinness: Dunno. Maybe. A bit. Yeah. I do.
AnnMurphy: He’s like Harry from 1D.
EvieGuinness: Don’t say that! You’ll put me off him.
AnnMurphy: You’re funny.
EvieGuinness: We kissed at the Valentine’s Disco.
AnnMurphy: That’s not news. Sure was the talk of the class. Martina was green. Sick as a small hospital. She’s been mad about him for ages.
EvieGuinness: I didn’t know that …
AnnMurphy: That’s why she’s been gunning for you. She’s jealous. The big green nuclear explosive spotty wagon.
Crying with laughter here. I love this girl.
EvieGuinness: As much as you are making me feel better, she’s got nothing to be jealous of. Luke disappeared off the face of the earth a few weeks back.
AnnMurphy: That sucks. And Evie, I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it, but I need to tell you, that I know I should have stuck up for you before. I wanted to. I don’t know why I didn’t. I don’t even like those two. You didn’t deserve what happened.
I don’t know what to say.
AnnMurphy: You still there?
EvieGuinness: Yeah.
AnnMurphy: I had nothing to do with the dare. I thought it was all kinds of wrong. But I should have stepped in. I’m sorry.
EvieGuinness: It’s k.
AnnMurphy: k.
But before I can answer her, Jamie bursts in and jumps onto my bed.
‘Get out.’ I don’t even look up. If I ignore him, he might go away.
‘I’m bored,’ he replies. ‘What you doing?’
‘None of your business. Go on, get out.’ I try to twist myself away from him as he tries to use me as a climbing frame. ‘I swear if Mam and Dad don’t let me lock my door again soon …’
How can I persuade them that if I lock myself in I won’t get locked again? Ha, that’s funny. Must tell Ann that one.
‘What you laughing at?’ Jamie asks.
‘None of your business.’ But I’m still smiling. Feels weird, my facial muscles haven’t done it in so long, they’re all out of shape. ‘Go on, get out of here, squirt.’
He sticks his tongue out at me as he slides off my bed. Loser.
AnnMurphy: I promise that it will be different next term.
AnnMurphy: Evie?
EvieGuinness: Soz, little brother came in. Wasn’t ignoring you. Thanx. I can’t think about school right now. With everything going on …
AnnMurphy: I know. Hugz.
EvieGuinness: Hugz.
I can’t shift this horrible, heavy feeling of shame. I can’t move with it sometimes. I feel guilty about so much in my life right now. The thought of going back to school again fills me with dread. Even with Ann on my side this time. I don’t think I’m strong enough.
I stretch out and am relieved to note that physically, at least, I’m beginning to feel better. The body part, at least. It doesn’t hurt so much now when I move or walk about. My splitting headache has reduced to a low throb and, when I look in the mirror, the old me stares back.
But I don’t suppose I am the old me any more. I’m not sure who I am. I used to think that I didn’t care what people thought about me. I used to think that I was confident enough to stand apart and be myself.
That was before I let a bunch of people define me and get inside my head and now I can’t get them out. Maybe there is something wrong with me. Maybe I need to change, to fit in with the others. Be less geek-like.
I know that accepting their dare to drink a cocktail is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. And the worst thing is, I KNEW that as I downed the poisoned chalice.
Mam said yesterday that we need a big talk. She said that she’s giving me a little space because of Pops dying, but that the subject of my drinking is not closed. Someone shoot me now. Part of me feels that I should just tell her everything. But the bigger part of me, the part that answers to the name ‘coward’, wants to just go ‘la la la la’ and not think about it at all.
I know she’s confused and I know that at some point I have to explain myself to them both. But I don’t know what to say. When Mam showed Jamie and me YouTube clips and online articles about alcohol-related deaths a few months back, I felt so sorry for those people. And a bit superior too. I just couldn’t fathom the recklessness of the people involved. I kept questioning what on earth would make them do something so ridiculous? But now I know.
Desperation. Fear. Loneliness. And a good dose of stupidity.
I hate myself for letting Martina and Deirdre get to me. I hate myself for being a victim. I hate that Luke seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth. I hate that I can’t stop thinking about him and that kiss. I hate that my parents seem to loathe each other now. I hate that Pops is dead.
I hate my life.