Drop (23 page)

“For my own good. I get it.”

The next day at school is as awkward as wearing double fillets in your bra. Ladies, don’t even try it. In Chemistry, Finn makes his usual jokes and grabs me around the waist.

“Come on, Carla. It’s you and me,” he says and I think about what that means:
you and me.
It seems to me that together we’re just a druggie couple. Where will we be in ten years or five years or even one year if we stay as
you and me
? We’ll be another couple of wasters without the buffer of school popularity. I want to be the It Girl, but at what price? Is it worth it?

My grades have taken a nosedive.

I can’t have a good time without taking drugs.

I’ve nearly lost the only real friends I’ve made.

I haven’t seen Isaac all day, and weirdly, I feel a little bit sad about that.

Later, at home, I take to the sofa with a duvet, a monster bag of Maltesers and my new best friend, the remote. I channel-hop until I find an old
Big Bang Theory
, then bury myself in cushions to watch.

Something falls through the letterbox onto the mat in the hall. I groan at the prospect of leaving my cocoon, but get up to investigate. There’s a doodle in one corner of the purple envelope, not a great drawing, but I make out a butterfly. I recognize the handwriting.

Tiger,

I’ve been a right Hampton Wick. Let’s not bull and cow about it.

But if you like, you can punch me in the boat race.

You’re my cloud seven, my only turtle dove.

Please forgive me.

F xxx

I return to the sofa, trying to re-establish cosiness, but can’t get comfortable. I read the note a billion times. It says the same thing, but each time I soften and think,
Maybe I’ll give him another chance.

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.

Afterwards, at home, I lie awake weighing up the pros and cons of
Finn and Carla: The Sequel
. It’s not looking good. Hollywood Execs would not take a risk on this script.

I’m not sure the last pro really counts.

Has anything about him been real?

After a sleepless night, I get up to a dreary day and an even gloomier state of mind. Am I ready for another day of panic-revision, panic-plagiarism, ohmygod-I’m-so-unprepared-for-my-exams-super-freaking-out panic stations? Um, no. Even though I know how important it is for me to get the schoolwork done, it’s still second on my To Do list. I feel like … like …
fucking GGGGggRRRRRrrrrRRRrrrrr
!

I reread the pros and cons list and know what I have to do. But first, I need to find out the truth about Finn and Violet.

In school, I’m on edge. Wound tight, like a jack-in-the-box. I nibble at my fingernails, pulling at the skin with my teeth.

Turning into a corridor, I see Violet and Finn at the other end, heading out of the fire escape. I’ve geared myself up to end it for real with Finn, but I’m curious, too. Is he really as bad as Isaac made out and Sienna and Lauren say? I have to see it with my own eyes.

I have to see him kiss her.

I have to follow them.

I peel myself off the wall and walk to the corner of the PE block. The fire-escape door is open and I hear the screech of after-school basketball practice. I smell rubber and sweat. I peek at the ducks and dives of the B-team blue vests, and glimpse a red vest A-teamer sink a hoop. Four dozen rubber soles collide with the gym’s polished floor like a chorus of chirping birds.
Shreeep … shreeep…

There’s a garage-cum-storeroom-cum-junkpit beyond the Astroturf courts. Everybody calls it the Asbestos Shed. It’s a sheltered area, tucked right at the back of the campus. Finn and Violet step inside and I grimace, thinking about what they might do in there, hidden away.

I stop about six feet from the wall of the shed.

I hear talking.

“Twenty. You know it’s twenty, Slink. Always has been.” Finn’s voice, cocksure and commanding, but still with a playful edge, echoes around the walls.

I summon the courage to move closer to the slightly open door. My breathing sounds loud in my ears. Slinky pipes up.

“I ain’t got twenty, but look, I got these. Come on. I know you do swapsies sometimes and I’ve really got to have some smoke for the weekend. Bro. Please. You know I’m good for it almost always.” He says “always” like the longer he says it the more true it will become.

“What you got, Mr Slinky, what you got?” Finn rubs his hands together, grinning like an excited shop assistant at a new delivery of the latest iPhone. “Don’t keep me waiting, Slink!”