A Child To Heal Them. Louisa Heaton
always a bit sweaty-looking, she’d had a thick mass of hair that had never looked combed. Metal braces on her teeth.
And the worst thing...? She’d had a crush on him.
Dex had told him.
‘Nit-Nat’s got the hots for you, mate! You’re in trouble!’
‘Why do you call her Nit-Nat?’
‘She’s got bloody nits! They’re all caught up in that mop she calls her hair! They can’t escape! I reckon it’s one massive nest!’
He’d wrinkled his nose in disgust. Nits? They were always sending letters from school to parents telling them to be vigilant against nits. He’d remembered having them himself once, when he was about seven or eight—not that he’d been about to tell Dex that.
Dex had had great fun teasing him about Nit-Nat fancying him. It had been a running joke that never seemed to go away. Quinn had hated it. He’d worked so hard to perfect his image amongst his friends. He’d wanted to be known for going with the hottest girls of his year—not for the disgusting crush Nit-Nat had on him!
He’d tried to laugh it off, tried to ignore it, and he’d even once got angry with Dex for going on about it. In the end he’d let it wash over him, pretending to play along, pretending to be mortified so that the joke wasn’t on him but on poor, misguided Nit-Nat.
The crush had become more and more obvious each time he’d visited Dex—almost to the point that he hadn’t wanted to go there any more and had asked Dex to meet him somewhere else. That had worked for a while. He’d stayed away for a good six months. And then, when even he had forgotten about it, he’d made the mistake of calling in on Dex at the children’s home.
She hadn’t changed. In fact she’d seemed thrilled to see him.
‘Quinn! You’re back!’
She’d beamed a smile, revealing all that metal.
He’d been appalled. It wasn’t over.
‘Hi.’
‘You here for Dexter?’
‘Yep.’
He hadn’t wanted to give her anything. It had been embarrassing, the way she’d stood there—thirteen years old, her hair a frizzy mess and her round body forced into a dress that was at least one size too small. Those buttons had looked as if they were about to burst apart.
‘Haven’t seen you for a while.’
‘I’ve been busy.’
‘What with?’
‘This and that.’
‘Did you know there’s going to be a party this Friday?’
‘Nope.’
‘It’s for Lexi. She’s sixteen. We all get to bring a friend.’
‘That’s nice.’
‘Would you come as my friend?’
He’d stared at her in horror, and realised her invitation had been timed perfectly to coincide with Dex’s arrival down the stairs.
Quinn had looked at his friend, hoping he hadn’t heard, but it had been plain by the look of awesome amusement on Dex’s face that he had heard every word.
He’d been embarrassed, not at all happy that she’d had shamed him this way again when he’d been trying to be so cool and standoffish. He’d had to make it stop. Had to make that crush of hers end. And the only way he’d known how to do that at the time was to be brutally blunt.
Only it had somehow tipped over into cruelty.
He’d grimaced, walked right up to her.
‘You realise you’re ugly, right? And fat? And that there are so many things living in your hair they could do a nature documentary over five seasons?’
He’d looked her up and down, unaware that loads of the other kids in the home had gathered round to see what all the shouting was about.
‘If you were the last girl on earth I’d probably kill myself!’
He’d seen the look of horror on her face. The way her cheeks had flushed bright red. The way tears had welled up in her eyes and had begun to run roughly down her ruddy cheeks. And he’d hated what he’d said, but hadn’t been able to stop himself.
‘The only boyfriend you could ever get would be a blind one.’
And then he’d grabbed the gaping, gawking, laughing Dex.
‘Let’s go.’
Dex had ripped into him for hours after that, and he’d spent days feeling angry and ashamed that he’d treated someone like that, made her feel small just so he could maintain his street cred with a friend.
He’d not been brought up to be that way. His dad had raised him to be respectful of women, despite the way his own wife had treated him. He’d been taught never to bring another person down, but instead to make yourself better. Despite his mother walking out on them, he had never heard his father badmouth his wife.
And what had he done? Believed his reputation to be more important. Believed that being ‘one of the boys’ was more important.
He’d never gone back to the children’s home after that. He’d not wanted to see the hurt in Nit-Nat’s eyes. Not wanted to be reminded of what he’d done. And the only way he’d been able to cope had been to push it to the back of his mind, pretend it had never happened and bury the shame beneath mountains of other stuff. Fighting the urge to go and apologise the way he knew he should.
He hadn’t thought about her for years. Why would he? He’d been just sixteen when it had happened. She had been thirteen. It was ancient history. So much had happened since then. Other stuff had taken precedence, as was wont to happen in life.
Until now.
He’d never believed they would ever be face to face again. The world was a big place to get lost in.
Quinn sucked in a breath, his heart pounding in his chest, the shame from all those years ago flooding him like a tsunami of regret. He knew what he ought to say. Right now.
I’m sorry I hurt you. I apologise. I never meant to do it. I hated myself for it.
‘Tasha, I—’
‘You know, I know we were just kids, but I was thirteen years old. Thirteen! You were my first love. The first boy I lost my heart to. Now I know why they call it a crush. Because when you’re rejected and humiliated in front of everyone it feels like you’re being crushed. That’s what you did. That’s how you made me feel. Tiny. Inconsequential. Stamped on from a great height. You could have just said No, thanks. I would have understood.’
He watched as she gunned the engine, put her hand on the gearstick to shove it into first gear.
Quinn laid his hand upon hers. He didn’t want her to start driving yet. He had to tell her. Had to let her know.
‘I’m so sorry. I behaved appallingly. I know I did. You won’t believe me, but I was incredibly ashamed of what I said to you. It haunted me. I wasn’t raised to act like that and yet I did, out of some misguided belief that my credibility with my friend was more important than your heart. I felt guilty for ages.’
She yanked her hand out from under his. ‘Good. I’m glad.’
‘I really am sorry, Tasha. I should never have hurt you.’
‘Well, you did.’
She stared at him for a moment, those eyes of hers welling up once again. As the first tear dripped onto her cheek she revved the engine.
‘Let’s get back to the ship.’
And then she was driving.
He