40 Things I Want to Tell You (7 page)

Griffin texted just as I logged off.

Up early—want to walk in together?

I grabbed my bag and texted him on the way down the stairs.

Meet u outside in 2 mins.

The snow had vanished in the rain of the last week and the world outside looked only mildly wintery. Wrapping my arms around myself, I waited for Griffin to join me. I looked up at his window and he waved down. I gestured at my watch and he nodded, disappearing from the frame.

He bounded along the path. “Wow, it’s pretty good getting up early.”

I laughed. “I’ve been telling you that for years.”

“Mom woke me wanting something—she’s fine—but then I couldn’t get back to sleep.” He yawned, then leaned in to kiss me.

I kissed him lightly, pulled back and said, “Let’s get to school.”

We walked for a while, an awkward silence booming between us. We got to Coffee Grounds and I ordered my coffee. The bustle in the café eased the weird quiet between us, and Griffin said, “You excited about Cleo’s party?”

“I haven’t done anything to help.”

“She doesn’t need help. She always has everything sorted for these things. I don’t know how she gets it all together when she seems like the most disorganized person ever.”

I put the lid on my coffee cup and we headed back outside, walking through the park to get ourselves to school. As we crossed the spot where I kissed Pete, I felt like I could see my past self in his embrace. Griffin was asking me a question but I didn’t hear what he said.

“Are you even listening?” he interrupted.

“Sorry, I’m just, you know, there’s a lot of— I guess I’m stressed about how much homework we have.”

“You’ll be fine, Bird. You’ve got it all under control. So I was saying, we should plan something fun for the two of us—no schoolwork, no stress. Why don’t we go out somewhere?”

“What about Cleo’s party? That’d be a good place for us to have fun. I, uh, don’t know if I should take any other nights off—with all the schoolwork we have, I mean.”

He draped an arm around me. “Sounds good. But I actually meant a date where just the two of us do date stuff—we haven’t really ever been on a date. We could get milkshakes or something. A real American 1950s-style date.”

I giggled. “I wouldn’t have any idea where we could get a milkshake,” I said. “But okay, you’re right. We should do that. It’d be good for us.”

“Surely there’s a perfect date place somewhere nearby—I’ll figure something out.” He squeezed me against him.

Suddenly, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I tucked my head under his chin and tried to get my emotions under control.

I GOT A B IN MY ENGLISH ESSAY, AND I NORMALLY NEVER,
EVER
GOT
lower than an A-minus. Then Mr. Hopkins yelled at me for not listening in class and Ms. Devlin criticized my lame attempt at a reply in spoken Spanish. Cleo was busy all day hanging out with Xavier—I saw them arguing in the corridor and then in deep discussion against the lockers. Things seemed to be back on with Xavier—yuck. I was just passing Cleo when Griffin came over. He tried to kiss me, but I ducked my head.

Cleo pulled a face, grabbed Xavier’s hand and said, “We’re leaving you lovebirds to it.” They headed off.

I caught sight of Pete. He was leaning against his locker and staring over at me and Griffin. He held my gaze, making my body quiver, then gave me a slow smile. I could tell he’d seen me avoiding kissing Griffin and I felt in that moment that he could see everything about me. It was a feeling I’d had with Pete before. It was a feeling I enjoyed. I liked how I seemed to Pete—a little wild, a little free. I bit my lip. He stared at me for a second too long, then turned and walked away.

GRIFFIN HAD TO STAY AFTER SCHOOL FOR A GROUP PROJECT MEETING,
so I walked home alone, my mind spinning with the image of Pete staring at me, of the way I shuddered when Griffin kissed me and of the way everything in my classes was suddenly going so wrong.

I arrived home and I could hear Mum’s voice spiking the cool air as I opened the front door.

“What do you expect? What do you honestly expect? We can’t go on like this.”

“It’s only one more loan.” That was my father. “It’s brilliant. Support this, darling.”

“Will you stop? Please? I just can’t—”

“I’m only doing it for you and Bird.”

“For me? For us?”

“Yes, who the bloody hell else?”

She yelled, “The bank called. You tried to get a mortgage on our house.
My
house. You wanted to put it up as collateral for your stupid—”

“Oh, it’s stupid now, is it?”

“For God’s sake.”

There was a pause, then Dad said, “You weren’t supposed to know.”

“My house,” she yelled. “My inheritance from my mother. The only stable thing in our lives. I can’t live with this. With what you’ve done.”

“We’ll be rich, darling. This is going to work. I can feel it. Support me.”

“Support you? How much more can I support you? You’re never going to change,” she cried. “I can’t believe how much of
my life I’ve wasted. Can’t you see how miserable I am? I don’t want—”

I couldn’t listen anymore. I headed back out again.

I WALKED FOR A LONG TIME, THINKING ABOUT GRIFFIN, ABOUT MUM
and Dad, about Pete, about my life, about what I wanted, whatever that was. The streets were slick with winter night. I was starting to feel like night was sinking all the way through me, that’s the sort of mood I was in, when I realized I’d walked nearly all the way back to school. I was at the edge of the little lake in the park opposite the front entrance of the school gates when I heard voices. Three or four guys were laughing, and from the whoops and the shattering of glass, it sounded like they were throwing bottles at trees. Early to be drunk, I thought. And then I felt a little scared: I was all by myself. That’s when one of them noticed me as I stood there like an idiot.

“All right, darlin’?” he yelled, walking toward me.

My breath caught. It was Pete.

At exactly that moment, he said, “It’s you. Good.”

His mouth curled in that smile that made me sick. Sick. With. Wanting. Him.

I looked at his lips and thought about the way he tasted. Smoky and hot.

His friends—none of whom I recognized from school—yelled out that they were leaving, one of them snickering loudly. But I hardly noticed. Pete stepped closer. My heart beat faster, taking on a rhythm all its own. In the orange glow of a
streetlight, I could see through the opening in his jacket how his muscles looked under his T-shirt. Hard. Taut.

“Do you want a drink?” He handed me a bottle of beer, the cap already off. I took it wordlessly. “You okay?”

A sigh escaped me.

“Come and sit down. Tell me about it.”

He came closer and my body—stupid body—felt like it was melting.

He lightly placed a hand on my arm and guided me to a bench, where we sat. I could feel where his hand had touched me even after he’d taken it away.

I blurted out, “It might not have been a big deal to you, but I hate what I’ve done to Griffin.”

He leaned his elbows on his knees. I tipped the bottle to my mouth and tasted the warm beer. I liked that he’d just been drinking from the same bottle.

He said, “I don’t want to make things difficult for you. I really don’t. And it seems like you’ve got a good thing going with Griffin. I can’t make any promises, right?”

I tensed.

He turned and put his hand up to my face. Every pore of my skin opened.

“Hey, Amy.”

“Don’t …”

“Come here.”

I shifted away. “Really, I don’t want this. I don’t want something that doesn’t have any guarantees.”

“I guess that’s what I like about you.”

I couldn’t look at him. I leaned against the cool, hard bench.
I said, “Okay, so we’re clear? We can just forget about what happened?”

“If that’s what you want.”

I drank again. I said, “I don’t normally walk about in the park on my own late at night.” He let out a short laugh. “Good.”

“I just had to get out the house.”

He was quiet. He seemed to understand my need to get away from my family without me having to explain it.

I said, wanting to explain anyway, “My parents were fighting. Again. They seem to be fighting all the time. I had to get out of there.” I continued, “Things seem, I dunno, they just seem to be going through something. If I think about it, they’ve been at each other for months. Mum is … God, I don’t know why I’m even telling you.”

“My parents used to fight all the time. I was much younger but I remember standing upstairs, face pressed against the banister, desperate for them to stop yelling. I can still feel the wood of the banister. It was an old house. It was almost like I enjoyed the feel of that splintery wood against my face.”

“I heard that your mum walked out.”

His jaw clenched. “That’s the simple way of looking at it, I guess.”

I sipped again from the beer. I said, “It’s probably no big deal with my mum and dad. They go through patches where they don’t get on and then things are fine. It’s just … well, my mum’s so distant right now.”

“Do you get on with her?”

“I don’t know. Not really—well, we don’t really talk or anything.
We’re not close.” I drank again, flat beer spilling from my lips in a tiny trickle, which I wiped away with the back of my hand.

Pete reached out and I passed the bottle to him. He drank. Watching him, I wanted to shake off everything in my life. I knew, suddenly, exactly what I was going to do.

“Pete, would you mind …” I said, the words feeling naked in the fresh night, “would you mind if I kissed you?”

He turned, arching an eyebrow in surprise.

My heart was the bird now and I was just Amy. I faced him, sliding closer on the bench. And then my lips were on his. He tasted of smoke and cider and nothing that should taste good, but my mouth was responding, my body was curling like paper in the heat of a fire.

“Follow me,” he whispered, and pulled me up to standing.

I tried to say something, but the words dissolved in my throat.

His eyes glittered and he grabbed one of my hands. “Follow me,” he said again.

I let him lead me, my fingers entwined in his, the calluses of his palms rough against my skin.

He pulled me down to the ground, on grass that was rough and soft at the same time. I was kissing him as if I would break in two if I stopped. He yanked up my top. I wriggled out of my jeans.

His hands were warm; the air was cold, but not so cold I couldn’t bear it, and tiny twigs scratched against my bare skin.
I didn’t care. I laughed and tipped my head back. He kissed my neck, my collarbone, trailed his lips lower. My body shivered and pressed against him as if it were not under my control.

Stopping, he looked at me. “Amy?” he said, his eyes question marks.

I nodded. I pulled him closer.

I couldn’t stop.

I didn’t want to.

Afterward, we lay next to each other on the grass, the night heavy on us.

I kissed him on the mouth, whispered goodbye, leaving him lying there, his hands folded behind his head.

Walking home, I replayed every minute.

As I collapsed into bed, I smiled. Then I wrapped myself up in my duvet and sat on my bed, fully dressed.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. A text from Griffin. I slid the phone onto my desk, leaving his message unread.

I burst into tears.

WHEN I WOKE UP, I STARED AT THE CEILING, MY TONGUE THICK IN MY
mouth, my guts churning. I’d been so careless, so carefree. We hadn’t even thought about using protection until it was too late. The whole time, I hadn’t worried about a thing, and the moments when it hurt had melted away in the heat of what came next. Thank God he stopped himself just before he …

I sat up and pushed my hair back from my face. My clothes were in a heap on the floor where I’d left them; my school bag lay open and unpacked. I grabbed my phone. There were two text messages.

Both from Griffin.

A pang of loss went through me: it was over now between Griffin and me.

I pressed in Pete’s number. He answered on the third ring.

“Hey,” I said. “I was thinking about you.”

There was silence on the end of the line.

Eventually he said, “How’s it going?” Formal. Cold.

My heart dropped like an egg rolling from the kitchen counter, smashing on the ground.

“Pete, it’s Amy,” I said, hating how I sounded.

“Yeah,” he said. “I know. Look, I can’t talk now. I’m really sorry.”

“What do you mean you can’t talk now?”

“I just … I can’t make any promises—you know that, right?”

It was my turn to be silent. Oh my God. Without saying another word, I hung up the phone.

A text buzzed into it immediately.

For about a second, I thought everything was going to be okay. Pete had written. That horrible conversation hadn’t just happened.

But it was Griffin.

Cleo and I r waiting outside—walk with us?

The last two people I wanted to see. I texted back:

Will be down in 5.

I threw on the first thing I could find, grabbed my disorderly school bag and a couple of textbooks, and hurtled out the door. The day greeted me with cold sunshine and the smiling faces of my two best friends.

After the conversation with Pete, I already knew what I had to do for now. I was going to act like nothing had happened. Like nothing had changed.

I hugged Cleo and kissed Griffin lightly on the mouth. See, all fine. I could do this. Avoiding their eyes, I said, all cheeriness and light, “Come on, we should hurry. We don’t want to be late.”

OH GOD. ONE DAY WENT BY, THEN TWO. PETE DIDN’T TEXT ME OR EVEN
look
at me at school, and my shame—if it was ever that—began to turn to anger. I’d gone all the way with a guy who didn’t care about me at all. I couldn’t gather my feelings together properly to begin to process what I’d done—I didn’t even recognize the girl I had become. So I studied hard, trying to stop myself constantly checking my phone for word from Pete. I avoided hanging out with Cleo and Griffin at school, and I hardly spoke to my parents.

The second evening, I was mournfully checking through my Miss Take-Control inbox when a new message arrived.

With a sharp jab of the delete key, her email was gone.

TWO DAYS BECAME THREE WITH NO WORD FROM PETE, NO SIGN OF
what had happened between us, nothing … and then the Friday of Cleo’s party dawned.

I was putting some stuff in my locker when Griffin grabbed me round the waist.

“Hey, gorgeous. You’ve been so busy this week, I’ve hardly
seen you. All recovered from the B grade? All your homework ahead of schedule? Ready for the party tonight?”

I turned so I was looking up at him. I had been an idiot to take Griffin for granted.

Just behind him, I saw Pete. After days of acting like we were strangers, he was now looking at me with a curious expression on his face, one I couldn’t read at all.

Griffin bent down, so I tilted my face up to receive his kiss. If Pete Loewen thought it was okay to do what we’d done and then just ignore me all week, if he wanted to treat me like one of the girls in his long line of conquests, then I’d show him I wasn’t hanging around waiting for him to—

I pulled away from Griffin. Pete’s expression had changed. He looked like … looked like he wasn’t surprised, like I’d gone and disappointed him, like
I’d
just done something wrong. He shook his head slightly, clenched his jaw and spun away from me.

CLEO’S HOUSE LOOKED NORMAL FROM THE FRONT BUT HER MUM HAD
designed it so the back was all made of glass. I loved loved loved it. My mum wouldn’t have done anything so audacious and beautiful with our old, boring house. Not that we ever had enough money for anything like that—it was just like it had been when Granny gave it to Mum. Full of old relics and antiques that weren’t worth anything.

Because Cleo’s mum and dad were so successful (she was an architect, he was a lawyer), Cleo pretty much got whatever she
wanted, so along with holidays in Jamaica every summer to visit her gran, she had these fantastic parties every November. Everyone at school wanted to come.

She’d invited over a hundred people. Her mum had caterers in, so the room overlooking the gardens was groaning with food. The other guests hadn’t even arrived and I was already gobbling down a fifth mini-sausage-roll.

“This is going to be great,” I said.

Cleo wore a short sea-blue wrap-dress, which made her limbs look even longer than usual. She grinned at me, her white teeth perfectly straight, and hugged herself with obvious glee.

“Everything’s falling into place. The caterers have got it all organized. You know what Mum’s like.”

“Want to trade parents?”

“What I want is to be in love like you are. I know I’m always saying it’s fun to date different boys, but I’d love to meet someone I really like.”

“Where did that come from? What’s going on with you and Xavier? Or did you ask Mark to come in the end?”

She blew me a kiss. “Not my type. Plus, Xavier said he might be coming tonight, so I just … You know, it would be so much easier if I was with someone like Griffin.”

“You don’t even like Griffin very much.”

“That’s not true.” She touched her earlobes lightly. “Oh, I forgot my earrings. Come with me.”

I followed her up the sweeping stairs to her bedroom. It was twice the size of mine and decorated with lavish soft curtains and a four-poster bed. When we were younger, when I stayed at her house, I imagined I was a princess. I’d never told her that
because she didn’t even notice her lovely room. Sometimes I wished I lived at her place instead of mine.

She had loads of pictures of us on the wall over her desk. We were laughing in nearly all of them. My favourite was one where we stood back to back with our faces slightly upturned. The low sunlight softened us, blurring the contrasting lines between my skin and Cleo’s. My mum had taken the perfectly composed shot, making it look like Cleo and I were two halves of the same person—it was a photograph about friendship.

Cleo was digging around in her massive jewellery box. She said, “You know, I’m still annoyed that Pete Loewen turned me down. What’s wrong with him? Apparently he’s said no to every girl who’s asked.”

I felt a flush of pleasure, quickly replaced by guilt. Now was a perfect time to tell her what I’d done with Pete.

She said, “He’s not coming tonight. I didn’t ask him.”

Good. That was good. Okay. It was now or never. I tried to get the words out.

But Cleo was already talking about something else. “Do you want to come to Jamaica with me this summer to meet my family?”

It took a second to process what she was saying. I shrieked, “What? Are you kidding? You bet I do! Wow, I’m totally going to apply for a job with a photographer and start saving. Like, now.”

“Really? Excellent. Every year I go and think,
Why isn’t Bird here to enjoy this?
Are you sure you can bear to be away from Griffin for all that time?”

I lay on her bed, propping myself up on one elbow. Jamaica
or not, I
had
to tell her about Pete. “Things aren’t that great between—”

The doorbell rang. She slipped in a pair of dangly earrings. “Come on. They’re arriving,” she said. She stopped in the doorway. “Bird, is everything okay? I mean, are you all right? Are things with Griffin all right?”

I couldn’t find the words. The party was about to begin. I said, “Nothing’s wrong. Just, there’ll be no sausage rolls left if you let me near the food,” I said.

She grabbed me and laughed. “Let’s go.”

By the time the moon came up and the stars were jiggling in the sky, Cleo’s house was bursting with people. As usual, more people came than she’d invited, but she never turned gatecrashers away, especially if they were good-looking. She stood, laughing and gesturing, with an admiring group of guys. Griffin went to play on the computer in the den with some other guys, after kissing me all over my face and promising to come back soon. I was absently picking at the food.

I felt someone’s hand on my shoulder, so I turned, expecting to see Griffin. My heart raced. It was Pete, wearing his usual black T-shirt and jeans. He was staring down at me and his brooding eyes were the colour of slate in the evening light. Intense.

“What are you doing here?” I said as nonchalantly as I could with my insides in knots.

“My date brought me.” He gestured over at one of the girls dancing.

“You came with Kitty Moss?” Oh my God. He was at the party with
Kitty Moss.
Total bitch. Total slut. I was so
stupid.
I said, “I should have listened to what people were saying.”

Rage flickered in his eyes. “What were they saying?”

“That you’re …”

“What? I’m what?”

I couldn’t help a scornful smile, and at the same time my stomach felt like someone was wringing it out to dry. I said, with more confidence than I felt, “I guess for you it … it was just what always happens with girls. Well, I fell for it.”

“I just needed a bit of time to work out what was going on in my own head. The phone thing was a mistake. I was … I dunno.”

“And you thought you’d just ignore me all week too? After … after what happened? Was that just a
mistake
too? I don’t understand what you want from me. You can’t just wander in and make my head all crazy and act like that’s no big deal.”

“It’s not like you were waiting around.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snapped.

“So I should have been … different … afterward. Just like Griffin would have been. That’s what you’re saying? I’m not him, Amy.”

“Think about what you
said
to me on the phone the morning after. How do you expect me to feel? You want me to walk away from Griffin after you’ve treated me like that? He’s worth a hundred of you.”

He continued, “So I did what I’ve always done in the past, but you have to believe I got it wrong. I freaked out, okay? I just couldn’t handle it.”

I wanted to believe him, but I wasn’t going to make that mistake. I said, “You’re just like everyone said. Arrogant, full of it.”

“No. I’ve changed.”

“That’s exactly what Xavier tells Cleo all the time. You don’t get it, Pete. I’m happy with how I’m running my life. I like how everything is. I like being with Griffin.”

“Why would you settle just for something you
like
?”

Just then, Kitty prowled across the room and leaned up to kiss Pete on the cheek. She gave me a savage glare and said, “Honey, wanna dance?”

I bit my lower lip. Pete whispered something into Kitty’s ear, and with another nasty scowl at me, she sloped off.

Kitty Moss. He was here with Kitty Moss. So what if he seemed to be saying he liked me, and the way he was on the phone had been a mistake. So what if he was saying he’d changed.

I mumbled, “I was kidding myself.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

I said, “You’ve been messing with my head and I just want to get on with my life. Anyway, you’ve got Kitty now: I wasn’t the only one not waiting around.”

“You jealous of Kitty, Amy? Is that what this is about? You’re here with Griffin, remember?”

“I don’t even know you,” I said. I could make out his muscles under his T-shirt.

“If you say so,” he said, coming suddenly close to me. I felt his smoky breath on my cheek and it tickled down my jawline, along my neck and down my spine.

“Don’t even think about it,” I said. My eyes flicked over the busy room.

Griffin came in, saw me and waved, a slight frown creasing his face.

“Oh, I think about it,” Pete said. His look was tender, his voice serious.

My stomach jumped. I gritted my teeth, fighting it. I couldn’t trust him at all: he was way too big of a risk. “You’re better off with Kitty. She’s your type,” I muttered. Then more firmly, “Back off.”

Griffin appeared at my side. “Everything okay?”

I smiled over at him. “Everything’s fine. Pete was just asking me about some Spanish homework we had to do.”

“Didn’t know you did homework, Pete,” Griffin said.

“I don’t,” Pete replied, glowering at me. Before any of us could say anything else, he spun away. He went over and grabbed Kitty round the waist. She squealed.

Who even had a name like Kitty?

Griffin leaned over and kissed me hard on the mouth. “What was that about? Everyone knows Pete’s a waste of time.”

I felt a flush of irritation.

He said, “You let me know if he bothers you again. He’s a loser.”

“Why are you being so judgmental?”

“I heard he’s been in trouble with drugs.”

“Where did you hear that?” It was true, then. My skin prickled. I was being blinded by my feelings. Everyone kept saying he was trouble. And
trouble
didn’t really fit with my plan for the future. I shouldn’t even be thinking about the future when thinking about Pete Loewen. He was here with Kitty Moss. He’d treated me horribly.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” Griffin mumbled.

His words didn’t make me tingle anywhere. I made myself smile up at him. “Here?”