Undone by Cat Clarke
The back seat is cosy, to say the least. Stu’s leg presses up against mine and I can feel the strength there. There’s a hole in the knee of his jeans. I remember it from that night in the greenhouse. His knobbly knee sticks through, and if you weren’t careful you might find it kind of endearing. You might think he was a little boy who’d fallen off his bicycle. You would be very, very wrong.
We head out of town, and Bugs is driving way better than I would have expected. Boy racer he is not. Every time I glance at the speedometer it’s exactly on the speed limit. Stu keeps taking the piss, shouting things like, ‘My gran drives faster than this . . . and she’s been dead for two years,’ and, ‘What’s the point in that beast of an engine if you’re going to drive like a woman?’ The latter is swiftly followed by a ‘no offence, ladies’ and what he thinks is a disarming grin. Stu’s ability to be a complete tool never ceases to amaze me.
Bugs tells Stu to shut up on more than one occasion, and every furtive sideways glance at Sasha (of which there are many) makes it abundantly clear that she’s the reason he’s driving so carefully. Either he doesn’t want to crash the car and risk damaging her beautiful face or he wants her to think he’s mature and sensible and other things he most definitely is not.
The journey takes about an hour, which is a very long time to be trapped in a tiny car with anyone, let alone four people you can’t stand. I mostly stay quiet and look out the window. If I try really hard I can block them out and imagine I’m on my way to somewhere amazing. With someone amazing.
By the time we pull into the car park it’s starting to rain. The prospect of this little outing being ruined cheers me up a little. The others have this big debate about what we should do. Bugs and Sasha want to head to a cafe, Lucas and Stu want to go to the beach (‘It’s only a bit of rain, for fuck’s sake. We’re waterproof, aren’t we?’). Sasha’s worried about her hair, and if I’m being completely honest I’m worried about mine too. I never used to be the kind of girl who worried about her hair.
Everyone clambers out of the car and that’s when I make my move. It doesn’t even take two seconds. Not enough time for anyone to wonder about later. It’s almost too easy.
My level of guilt is precisely zero.
This is going to be good.
chapter twenty-seven
Lucas shouts everyone hot chocolate and doughnuts in this cafe overlooking the front. Sasha takes ages deciding whether or not to have a doughnut, and it’s only when Stu makes a grab for the last one (having eaten his own in two monstrous bites) that she smacks his hand away and nibbles on it in the most dainty way possible. I eat mine like a normal person.
We sit around until the rain becomes drizzle, and sit around some more until the drizzle becomes nothing. Then we walk on the beach and the boys engage in one of their obligatory wrestling matches. Sasha and I ignore them and walk ahead. She’s quieter than usual, which is disconcerting, because if she’s the quiet one then I have to think of something to say to fill the silence. And all I can come up with is, ‘I like the sea,’ which is too stupid for words.
We sit on the damp sand and Sasha uses her finger to draw a heart with JH and LM inside it. I scuff over it with my boot while she laughs. ‘You’re hilarious. Truly.’ I can tell she thinks my sarcasm is cute, which makes me never want to be sarcastic ever again.
The boys arrive back at the car a few minutes after us, all ruddy-faced and sandy. Lucas leans over and ruffles his hair for ages, trying to get every last grain of sand out. Everyone agrees that we should head back home. There’s some boxing match on TV that the boys are going to watch at Stu’s house. Watching two sweaty guys beating the shit out of each other is exactly the sort of entertainment I would expect them to enjoy.
I’m more talkative on the way back, mostly because I’m trying to disguise the fact that my foot is ever so slowly sliding something out from under the driver’s seat. Little by little, it edges out until anyone looking down at my feet would see it. But of course no one is looking down at my feet.
I ask Bugs to drop me off in town, claiming I have to pick something up for Mum. I say my goodbyes and slam the door and I swear Bugs winces. I take a few steps away from the car before turning round. Stu’s watching me through the open window. I think he likes the way my bum looks in these jeans.
‘I forgot my bag! Stu, would you mind . . . ?’
He nods and reaches down to grab my bag.
His brow furrows.
His eyes widen.
He laughs. No, it’s more like a guffaw. ‘Well, well, well, what have we got here?! Bugs . . . something you want to tell us, mate?’
I open the car door. I’m the first one to say, ‘What’s that?’ This might not seem important, but it is.
Lucas makes a grab for the magazine in Stu’s hand, while Stu reaches down and rummages under Bugs’s seat. ‘Wait! There’s more!’ He pulls out two more magazines with a look on his face that can only be described as gleeful.
Sasha and Bugs are both leaning over their shoulders, trying to see what all the fuss is about. Stu treats them to a particularly graphic page – he has a lot to choose from. Sasha’s hand flies to her mouth in a gesture that I was pretty sure no one actually did in real life. Turns out I was wrong. Bugs’s eyes bug out. I laugh, because that’s what I should do in this situation.
‘What the fuck?! They’re not mine!’ And it sounds like he’s lying, which is just brilliant.
Lucas joins in the fun. ‘Yeah, yeah, that’s what they ALL say. That’s exactly what you said when your mum found that weed in your bedroom, remember?’
Bugs tries to grab the magazines from Stu, but Stu’s ready for him. ‘Hands off! I’m learning a lot . . . this picture in particular is very . . . er . . . educational.’ The photo shows bodies in positions I didn’t know bodies could get into. And lots and lots of penises.
Sasha’s blushing almost as much as Bugs. I didn’t have her marked down a prude, but maybe she’s just embarrassed for him.
Bugs jumps out of the car and nudges me out of the way. His enormous bulk hides Stu and Lucas from view, but from the sounds of things there’s a struggle going on. There’s laughter, swearing, and a pleasing ‘ow!’ from Stu. I’m transfixed by the sight of Bugs’s bum crack peeking over the top of his jeans. A few ginger hairs are sprouting here and there.
Lucas and Stu spill out of the other side of the car and Bugs reverses out of this side, nearly flooring me in the process. A chase ensues, but Bugs has no chance. Lucas has one magazine, Stu has the other two – and they run in opposite directions. Bugs is huffing and puffing like an angry asthmatic bear and the other two are taunting him – waving the magazines in front of him.
Stu shouts, ‘Mate, you should have told me . . . It’s nothing to be ashamed of.’ He bends over and looks between his legs. ‘You want a piece of this sweet, sweet ass? Come and get it, big boy!’ Bugs almost catches him this time, but Stu dodges out of the way with expert ease.
‘You fucking fuck! You put them there, didn’t you? I’m going to kill you, you little bastard.’ He’s focusing the chase on Stu now, the obvious candidate for planting the magazines. That’s the price you have to pay for playing pathetic practical jokes all the time, I guess.
Sasha gets out of the car and this is when I have to be careful, because she may be many things, but stupid isn’t one of them. ‘Poor Bugs,’ she says.
‘I know. So embarrassing. I had no idea.’
‘No idea about what?’
‘That he’s, y’know . . .’
‘Gay?! Bugs isn’t gay! No way . . . no chance. Stu planted those magazines, I bet you anything.’
‘You think? That’d be kind of a low thing to do. I mean, that stuff looks pretty hardcore . . . literally.’
Sasha doesn’t laugh at my lame attempt at humour. ‘There’s no way.’ She shakes her head and frowns. ‘No way.’
‘Are you sure? It’d be pretty tough for the big rugby star to admit . . . even to himself.’ I thi
Now she’s looking thoughtful. That reversal of tactics was a wise move. ‘Yeah, maybe. You know, I always thought Bugs fancied me . . . but. . .’
‘But what?’ It’s like reeling in a fish – a very small fish that’s not even struggling.
She shakes her head because Stu is running towards us, with Bugs close on his heels. He dodges the car at the last minute and the two of them carry on up the street. ‘I don’t know. Why would he keep them there, though? Pretty weird, don’t you think?’
She has a point, but I counter with, ‘That’s teenage boys for you,’ meaning they like to get their rocks off at any opportunity.
I don’t push it any further. There’s no need. The seed of doubt is there, planted deep inside her brain. She’ll never be able to look at him in the same way, no matter what he does to convince her. And with a bit of luck, this rumour will spread through the school and into the boys’ changing rooms. Even if the boys on the rugby team don’t believe it, they’ll still take the piss out of him. Mercilessly. And that’s good enough for me. He’ll know what it’s like to have people staring at you, whispering about you.
Kai would hate this. There’s no doubt about that. He’d say something about me sinking down to their level. And he’d ask me if I thought this was really the right way to go about things. Knowing full well that if I really, truly thought about it, the answer would be no. But it’s the only way I know. I’ve come too far to backtrack. And they deserve everything that’s coming to them – let’s not forget that.
The pointless chase round the town centre ends eventually. Sasha’s the peacemaker. She takes the magazines from Stu and Lucas and hands them back to Bugs. He puts his hands up as if the very act of touching them might make him a little bit gay. ‘No! I TOLD you! They’re not mine. Chuck ’em in a bin or something. Stu, you are so gonna pay for this, man. It’s not funny.’
Stu’s still grinning like this is the best thing that’s ever happened. ‘OK, two things: first of all, it is fucking hilarious. And second of all, I had nothing to do with it. I wish I had! So either you’re a closet homo with a serious addiction to wanking off – in the car though, dude? Really? – or someone else put them there. My money is totally on you being queer though – all those sweaty bodies in the changing rooms after rugby . . . how can you resist?’ He dodges Bugs’s attempt to hit him by hiding behind Sasha and using her as a shield.
Stu and Lucas are making the most of this, really enjoying themselves. But there’s no way they believe it. They know Bugs isn’t gay. I’d like to think that if they suspected there was even the tiniest chance he might be, they’d be slightly more sensitive to the situation. He is their mate, after all. Unlike Kai.
Sasha’s different though. She’s not so sure. And everyone else at school will be in the same boat as her. They don’t know Bugs well enough – that’s the beauty of it. And people love nothing more than gossip. It doesn’t need to be true, just possible.
I make a show of looking at my watch and saying I’m going to be late for dinner if I don’t hurry up. So I don’t see how they leave things. All I know is that when I walk away (triumphant grin kept in check – for now) Bugs is angry as hell, embarrassed like he’s never been embarrassed in his life, and trying desperately to convince Sasha that he has no idea how those magazines found their way into his car. Lucas and Stu are leafing through the magazines, pointing and laughing like eight-year-olds. And Sasha’s standing there with her arms crossed, not sure what to say or do. Probably weighing up the possibility that the one boy she could rely on to worship the ground she walks on might in fact bat for the other team.
It’s bloody brilliant.
The rumour has spread around school. To such an extent that no one seems to be talking about Jasmine James any more. To such an extent that Stu and Lucas have stopped taking the piss out of Bugs. It’s not so funny for them any more.
Bugs seems to be going out of his way to prove his sexuality. Lewd comments at any opportunity. Most of his lewdness is aimed at Sasha; I don’t think she’ll be sitting on his knee or snuggling up to him anytime soon. His cluelessness is truly breathtaking.
People will forget about it in a couple of weeks, with the exams and everything. But it’s enough just to see Bugs shuffling down the corridors looking unhappy. It doesn’t matter that it won’t last. It’s enough – for him, anyway. Bugs should count his lucky stars he clearly couldn’t be considered the brains behind any kind of operation, let alone one as cruelly calculating as what they did to Kai.
One down, two to go.
chapter twenty-eight
Something happened yesterday. Or rather, something didn’t happen. I forgot to open Kai’s letter. I wouldn’t have thought that was possible. With the other letters, I was thinking about nothing else for days, even weeks before. As soon as I’d opened one I’d be counting down the days to the next one. It took so much willpower not to open them early, just to hear his voice again.
But yesterday was the last day of term and it was madness. Bugs and Stu were determined to make it the best ever – ‘the stuff of legend’ were the exact words Bugs used. I’ve always thought it’s kind of stupid that the Year 11s go crazy every year, running rampage through the school like they’re engaged in some kind of prison riot. I think they forget that they’re going to be coming back after the summer. That teacher you throw a water balloon at might well be teaching you in September, and everyone knows that teachers have longer memories than elephants.
But it’s tradition at Allander Park. And even though we all despise that word when it’s used about the tedious assemblies or the lame school song or the horrible brown ties we have to wear, suddenly we don’t mind it at all. It’s tradition for people to scrawl obscene messages on each other’s shirts; it’s tradition to steal the portrait of the headmaster from outside his office and replace it with something funnier than last year’s lot managed; it’s tradition to cause as much trouble as possible in whatever way you can think of. On the last day of term Allander Park doesn’t so much resemble a zoo, as a zoo where someone’s unlocked all the cages after pumping the animals full of fizzy drinks and E-numbers. Hyper doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Last year Kai and I hid out in the library at break and lunchtime. It seemed like the safest place to be. The stampeding Year 11s usually left other students alone, but you could never be sure. At the end of lunchtime a bunch of boys stumbled in – soaking wet even though it wasn’t raining outside – and asked loudly if they could borrow The Joy of Sex. The librarian was not amused. The leader of the gang leaned right over her desk and said, ‘Come on, we know you’ve got a copy stashed under there. Knowledge should be shared, you know? That’s what Mr Slater always says . . .’
Kai rolled his eyes at me and I shook my head. We thought we were terribly mature, looking down on these idiots even though we were a year younger. I never would have expected that this year I’d be right in the thick of things. And I certainly never would have expected to enjoy it so much, but there was something infectious about the excitement. I even threw a water balloon. Kai would not be pleased.
I couldn’t help wondering if the only reason I’d disapproved of the end-of-term shenanigans before was because I knew I wouldn’t be allowed to get involved. The real fun was reserved for the popular or semi-popular kids or even the kids who were just there. People like me (the old me) didn’t get a look in – apart from the odd bit of shirt-signing. But somehow I found myself being given a piggyback by Bugs, acting like I ruled the school. Acting like one of them – and loving it.
Bugs was just glad to have a girl’s legs wrapped around him, I think. He made a point of running round the entire building, making sure as many people as possible saw us. Hoping to lay those gay rumours to rest
After school we headed to the park and lounged around talking about our summer plans. Nina’s the only one who’s doing anything remotely interesting – two months in New York with her dad. I wish my dad lived in New York . . . but I suppose that would mean my parents would have to be divorced and that would mostly be a bad thing. Still, I wouldn’t say no to an apartment overlooking Central Park. It beats a couple of weeks in Spain, which is the sum total of our summer-holiday plans.
There was also the obligatory reminiscing about the day. You could tell the boys enjoyed talking about the things they’d got up to almost as much as they’d enjoyed doing them. Exaggerations were already starting to creep into the story – especially from Stu: ‘Did you hear about me pelting Mr Watt with eggs? Man, you should have seen his face!’ (I was pretty sure no eggs had been involved.)
Lucas sat close to me, and when I said I wanted a go on the swings he volunteered to push me. I ignored the meaningful look from Sasha as we left the others. It was fine hanging out with Lucas without the others. We didn’t talk about anything much – I was too busy giggling like an idiot and he was too busy pushing me as high as he could, trying to show off how strong he was.
I came home to raised eyebrows from Mum and Dad when they saw the state of my shirt (and my tie, which I was wearing like a headband for some reason). They didn’t say anything though – just asked if I’d had a nice time and seemed pleased when I said yes. I fell into bed after a late dinner, completely exhausted. My mind was buzzing from the day’s activities but somehow I fell asleep quicker than I’d done in months.