Mine. S.A Partridge
lately. It’s easier to fight than to talk about why I’m so unhappy. Like she’d even understand anyway.
Craig and I head to my room.
As soon as the door’s closed he shoves me against the wall and presses his lips against mine. I like the way Craig kisses me. The last guy who came over, Greg, didn’t bother to kiss me at all.
Craig pulls off my shirt and starts pawing at me with his hands. Goosebumps flare up my arms. The teddy bear on my bedside table watches us out of his remaining button eye.
“This is so wrong. You’re like my sister,” he says as he kisses me.
I push him away roughly. “Don’t say that.” He doesn’t realise how hurtful the things he says are. If Craig was anything like a brother, he’d actually care about me.
He smirks. “Aw, come on. You like it.”
“Don’t be gross, Craig.”
I don’t like it. What I do like is his crooked smile, the way his blue eyes linger on mine, as if underneath his bad boy act he really does like me. That this isn’t just pretend.
We move to the bed and I climb on top of him.
WHEN I GO to the mirror to check if my mascara is smudged like a panda, I find myself looking at someone else. My cheeks are rosy and my hair is thick and wild, with the dyed blue ends shimmering in the light that streams in through the window. Lorenda keeps telling me how pretty I am, but she’s just being a mom. I can’t see it, although my stomach is flat and my boobs aren’t that small. If he keeps wanting to hook up, surely Craig must think I’m a little bit pretty?
When I turn around, he has my diary propped open on his knees. The crow-feather bookmark dangles from the spine. Time freezes.
“Who’s Greg? Your boyfriend? Am I in here?” he asks, grinning.
I fly forward, my heart in my throat. “Get out,” I say, snatching the book away from him.
“What? Why leave it out in the open if you don’t want anyone to read it?”
“It wasn’t left out. It was underneath a pile of Justice League Dark comics.”
Craig glowers at me and grabs his shirt from the floor. “Whatever. Crazy cow.” He slams the door behind him.
So much for being like a sister.
I slump back to the bed and iron out the bent page with my hand. He can’t read my diary. No one can.
If he knew the truth … I write about him a lot. Other than my friends Rebecca and Jasmine, he’s the only person at school who is ever nice to me or who bothers to talk to me. I overheard Sam bragging about hooking up with Craig at a party last weekend, and he apparently showed up at her house with flowers the next day. He didn’t seem to mind everyone knowing about the two of them.
He’s never bought me flowers.
I sit down and put my hands over my face. I have a flute recital I need to practise for, but I can’t bring myself to start. Music is my passion, yet I keep getting distracted by my feelings. Instead, I reach for a pen and start writing. I record every second of Craig’s visit, every sentence spoken, every action. And a list, which helps me make sense of things. Seeing it in black and white is a good reminder to myself when my heart starts slipping in his direction.
Reasons why Craig Cupido will never date me:
I wear too much make-up.
I’m not special.
I’m not pretty enough.
I’m crazy.
I’m uncool, boring and weird.
I’m unlovable.
The dating game is a huge lie. Whenever I fall for a guy, I get ignored. When guys do pay me any attention, it’s because they want to hook up. I say yes because I hope it’ll lead to something more. But it never does. Not with me anyway. You have to be up for anything, but not have any expectations.
Is love always like this? Lorenda says I’m miserable all the time.
The truth is, I have nothing to smile about.
They think I’m ungrateful. Is that the secret? If you act grateful and happy all the time, then people start to like you?
It can’t be that simple. Seems like just another trick.
But I suspect it’s just me with all the bad luck.
Finlay
LANSDOWNE, MONDAY
Instead of going straight to Brendan’s, I walk home to pick up my gear. The route takes me underneath a dodgy bridge lined with unconscious bergies. Sometimes I wish one of them would start a fight with me. But I think it shows in my face, because no one ever does.
At home, there’s still nothing in the fridge. I’m going to have to grab something at Brendan’s place or get something on the way. Fin the bum. I untangle my headphones, second-hand like all my gear, and stuff them into my backpack. I pull on my heavy jacket and cap, which makes me look even more street. Then I raid my secret wad of cash inside my lampshade for taxi money.
I head off quickly past the dead grass and random metal junk rusting in the sun, and jump over the wall. I hate people knowing this is where I live. That’s why practice is always at Brendan’s place. I tell them we can’t come here because the old man works nights as a security guard and needs to sleep. It’s easier for them to believe a lie.
The taxi rattles down Main Road. I get off in Claremont and walk up Kildare Road, where all the fancy restaurants are. Brendan lives in his parents’ place in Newlands. It’s the type of house where normal, happy people live. Garden. Welcome mat. Chimes that tinkle in the wind.
Bones is just getting out his Citi Golf as I come round the corner. He lifts his arm and makes a dumb-ass gesture with his fingers. I do the same because we’re all just a bunch of dumb-asses. He puts a beer on the roof of his car and disappears to the back to fetch his gear. I grab the beer can as I pass, and head straight inside before he notices.
Brendan and his dad are busy transforming the garage into a studio for us, with proper soundproofing and everything. It’s pretty sweet. Wish my old man would do something like that. But if I told him Dark Father was getting steady gigs, he’d just hold out a hand for his share of the cash.
I make a beeline for the kitchen and start pulling food out the fridge. There’s bread on the counter. I don’t even bother buttering it, just start piling stuff on and eating it right there, out my hand. I finish the beer and grab a can of Pepsi out the fridge because Jules won’t mind.
Oh crap – Jules. I forgot I was going to run into Brendan’s little sister.
Someone slaps me hard on the back, and I turn around and snap my fingers against Brendan’s.
“You alright, bru?” he asks.
“Yeah. I’m always alright.”
Brendan grins and fiddles with his peak cap. It’s so big it makes him look about fourteen years old, which is funny because he just turned twenty-one.
“Bones wrote the sickest beat last night. Wait till you hear it.”
It’d better be good – I ditched detention to be here.
I down the rest of the Pepsi and follow him to the garage, passing Jules’ bedroom. She lifts her head and smiles, and I quickly look away. Brendan doesn’t know his sister basically threw herself at me at the ElectroVerse party a few weeks ago. Her exact words were very PG 18. And how was I supposed to respond to that? I’ve known the girl since she was nine years old. I told her in her drunk state that I didn’t want her to be a one-night stand, that she means more than that.
Special. That’s what I said. What the hell was I thinking? So now she’s been texting me. I hope she doesn’t