The sun is an ink spot, bleeding reds and golds onto a cyan canvas. Finn’s fingers are laced with mine. We lie gazing at the painted sky, picking out shapes in rouge-tinted clouds.
“I see a turtle.”
“I see a VW camper.”
“A pizza.”
“A face with sharp teeth.”
“A bowl of Thai purple meatballs.”
“I see a problem,” I say. “We need to talk.”
I tell Finn there can be no more secrets. That this is his only chance. And that, most importantly, we have to stop the drugs. NO MORE DRUGS. Step 1 on my three-step plan:
1. NO MORE DRUGS
2. NO MORE LIES
3. WAAAAAY MORE REVISION
“Course. Anything you want. I won’t even touch drugs again. I’ll quit. We’ll both stop. Right now. For ever.” He rubs my arm, his hands warm on my skin. He brushes my hair out of my eyes and kisses my nose.
We get up from the grass and stroll to the playground.
“I thought I was going to lose you,” Finn says.
I twirl in the swing seat, twisting the chains into a tight spiral, then release. The park whirls around and around, blurring into horizontal stripes of colour, like a Rothko.
“Never,” I say. But for such a short word, it still manages to wrap around my neck and choke me.
Later, I go to the movies with Lauren and Sienna.
“What’s Finn up to tonight?” Lauren asks.
“Does Finn have to be busy for me to want to see you guys?”
Sienna throws me a look.
“OK,” I concede. “Battle Cry 3: Do or Die. Boys’ night, in other words. Exerting their masculinity by slaughtering a virtual mutant army.”
“Figures.”
The cinema is in a big complex, overlooking an atrium edged with shops and restaurants, with a fountain in the centre. Outside, fingers of dim moonlight poke through thick cloud, the only illumination in the otherwise black night. But inside you couldn’t tell. It could be one in the afternoon or one in the morning, the light would still be a million watts and bright as burning magnesium.
We climb the escalator two steps at a time to buy our tickets. The girls are, to say the least, unimpressed that I’m sticking with Finn, but happy I’m curbing the drugs.
“Do you think you can just give it up like that?”
“I’ve got to. To have any chance of passing my exams.”
At the snack counter, I order a jumbo Coke and an even bigger popcorn, practically a bucket. Half and half, salted and sweet.
Sienna gives me a funny look, like I’m mentally disturbed.
“It’s like dinner and dessert,” I say.
“Gross. Hurry up if you want decent seats.”
“Hey, look. There’s Little Miss Hair Flick.” Lauren points to the ticket queue. Violet is in a trench coat, cinched at the waist, apparently bare legs and six-inch killer heels. I’d kill her with those heels…
I grab my food and drink and yank the girls behind the pick ’n’ mix stand. We huddle like we’re planning an ambush.
“What are we doing?”
“Hiding. Duh.”
“Why? She’s the little ho-bag scamming on your boyfriend. Not that I’m taking his side. He’s not worth—”
“You’ve already made your feelings quite clear. They’re duly noted.” I cut Sienna off.
She waggles a finger at me. “I think you should get rid of that handsome but poisonous weasel.”
“Weasels aren’t poisonous.” Lauren flicks a piece of popcorn at Sienna and it lodges in her hair. She picks it out and shoves it in her mouth.
“Oh, well, this one got bitten by a radioactive spider or something.”
“So Finn is Spider-weasel?” Lauren laughs.
“What are you on about?”
“Never mind,” Sienna rolls her eyes. “Violet’s the one who’s all ‘Oh, Finn, I dropped my pen, could you pick it up for me?’ and ‘Oh, Finn, you look so hot in your shorts’, so why are you the acting stealth?”
“You’re right. I should be telling her to go shove a pineapple up her arse.”
“Maybe we could break into her house, crimp her hair and shave her eyebrows off.”
“I’d love to see her try to work the Vi Brody charm while rocking that look.”
“She’d probably still be hot sans eyebrows. I bet everyone would copy it like it was the new fashion or something. Bloody sheep.” Sienna thinks for a moment, as if we are seriously considering committing any of these heinous acts. “We could hold her down while you stuff popcorn up her nose.”
“Sweet or salted?”
“Half and half. One in each nostril.”
They may not be the coolest girls but they do make me laugh.
Violet studies the board with the movie listings, then buys her tickets and heads down the escalators into the atrium. I walk over to the mezzanine balcony. Below me, she struts towards the fountain.
“Are you going to talk to her?”
“I think I might,” I say, courage making me stand taller.
I step onto the escalator, the metal stairs humming beneath me, then retreat, stagger back up the moving steps and tumble onto the mezzanine. I whack my wrist on the marble floor but don’t feel the pain.
My heart stops. I recognize his walk, his shape from behind, the lazy swing of his hips.
Finn. Here. To meet her. WTF???
I mean, WHAT THE FFFFFFFUUUCCCCCKKKKKIIIINNNGGG FFFUUUCCCKKKK??????
My nails dig into the handrail.
Are you freaking kidding me? She’s nothing to him? Not even mates, he’d said.
My teeth clench. Every muscle tenses, as if my blood has suddenly solidified. I’m rigid. LIVID.
INSANE CRAZY-WOMAN ANGRY.
He talks to Violet for a moment. She gives him his movie ticket, touches his face with her perfectly manicured hands, kisses him on the mouth, just a peck, but it’s enough. I’ve seen all I can take.
EYE-TWITCHING RAVING-LUNATIC FURIOUS.
I rub my wrist, welcoming the pain now flooding there, reddening the skin. It’s a distraction. And although all I want to do is summon enough strength to rip up the ticket kiosk, hurl it over the balcony and onto Finn’s arrogant, lying, little head, I don’t. Instead I bite down on my emotion and say, “Come on. We’ll miss the film.” I grab Lauren with my good arm and steer her and Sienna towards Screen 10.
FOAMING-AT-THE-MOUTH APE-SHIT FUMING.
VOLATILE.
VIOLENT.
VILE.
VIOLET!!!! Ugh…
The film is a blur. My racing thoughts are all I can hear, not Gabriel Grayson, not the motorbike chase, not the exploding helicopter, just:
WHAT THE HELL IS HE DOING WITH HER?
HE LIED TO ME.
I AM SUCH AN IDIOT.