40 Things I Want to Tell You (5 page)

“Could we all
stop
with the nostalgia?” I begged.

“Ah, so modest,” Dad said. “But it’s your birthday, so we’re supposed to talk about you.” He started coughing. “Gah, hot chili, sorry.”

My phone vibrated again. I slid it out of my pocket to give it a glance.

Am I right? Cos I’m thinking about you. X Pete

Mum’s eyes sharpened. “Who’s that?”

I hardly heard her. My whole head was full of Pete’s intense eyes, his hot, smoky mouth. “Um, someone, uh, wishing me happy birthday. I’ll deal with it later.” I shouldn’t be thinking about Pete with Griffin right here. I shouldn’t be thinking about Pete at all. I switched off my phone and shoved it deep into my pocket.

Griffin said, “Did you get the history homework done?” He was wearing a white shirt and his hair looked like he’d just washed it—clean and shiny.

“All done,” I said.

Cleo elbowed me. “Of course she did, but do we have to talk about homework now? I’m trying to eat here.”

Dad said, “None of that. Did I tell you, Griffin, about my plan for an extension at the back of the house? We’re going to use it for company offices.”

Mum sighed heavily, and Dad hesitated, clenching his teeth. When she said nothing, he continued talking to Griffin. “The solar bricks are going to take off. You know, no one’s ever thought about this before, yet by my calculations they catch twenty-one percent more sunlight than solar panels. I just need some more start-up money and we’ll be—”

Mum interrupted with “Okay, time for gifts.”

I opened my presents. Here’s what I got:

We finished supper. Cleo winked one of her big eyes at me—
knowingly—and then she left. Mum and Dad started to bicker about something, so Griffin and I took the opportunity to slip out.

Griffin took my hand. The plan was unfolding. The stones of his gravel path crunched underfoot. I shivered in the cool night air. As we went inside, I noticed how quiet the house seemed. His mum was out somewhere with a friend, like he’d told me she would be. She rarely went out, and without her there, the house felt lonely. The corridor was too narrow and the book-lined walls closed in. I remembered running in there when I was nine or ten with a cut knee. I was sobbing hysterically and Griffin’s mum took me in her arms. I wondered now why I didn’t go to my own mother.

Griffin’s mum was so different since his dad died. She’d always been a bit … eccentric, I guess, but after the death, she wafted about like a ghost. I knew Griffin made her supper most nights, and once, from my window, I saw him supporting her as she stumbled along the corridor to her room. I pretended I hadn’t seen anything because it felt like that was what he wanted. Along with my crush on Pete, it was one more thing we didn’t talk about.

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs now and leaned forward to kiss me. I kissed him back, telling myself this was what I wanted.

“I love you, Bird.” He kissed along my jaw toward my neck, which he knew I liked.

“Mmm,” I murmured.

“You’re so beautiful.” He tugged at my waistband and pulled me against him. I could feel through his jeans that he was hard. He slipped his hand up my top.

I felt myself freeze, but to stop him noticing, I said, “Let’s go upstairs.” He was being confident and assertive, and I should have been pleased. Instead, it just made me more uncomfortable.

He pulled back, his eyes searching mine, and after a pause, he kissed me on the nose. “I love you.”

I didn’t feel I could respond to him, but I followed anyway, my heart pounding like it was trying to break out of my body. I told myself I’d made him wait long enough. But everything felt so
wrong.

“Griffin,” I murmured to his back, “wait.”

He didn’t hear me. He got to the top of the stairs and beckoned me up. I joined him and he wrapped me in a warm hug. He said, “I can’t believe we’re finally doing this.”

When I even
looked
at Pete, my body responded like I was dissolving. A tiny voice called out from deep inside me:
you’ve never felt anything like that with Griffin.

Griffin pulled me along, kicking open his door, still holding on to me. We half fell into his room. He’d made the bed with new-smelling maroon sheets and covered the pillows with rose petals and paper cut-out hearts. He was such a … such a …

“It’s, um, perfect,” I stammered, trying to be nice.

“You okay?”

I looked at the hearts lying on the pillows. Each one had writing on it. I stepped closer to see more clearly what the words said.

FOR BIRD I LOVE YOU HAPPY BIRTHDAY

“Um, cute,” I said. I wanted him to tell me that it was all one big goofy joke, that really we were going to go outside and ride our bikes and hang out like we used to when we were
kids, laughing and racing each other from the top of the hill to the lake. When did we stop being kids? When did we stop being
friends
? He began to unbutton my top. Then, with some fiddling, he flipped the clasp of my bra.

He said into my hair, “I have condoms.”

“Uh-huh.”

His cheek was warm against my ear. Embarrassed? Turned on? He lay back on the bed and pulled me closer. My hands wanted to cover every bit of me.

“I love you, Bird.” His pupils widened. He really meant it. He wriggled out of his T-shirt and I kissed his chest. His hand was in my jeans; the buttons had come undone.

He said, “Are you sure?”

“Mm-hmm.” I nodded, keeping my gaze from his.

He helped me get my jeans off and took off his own. Now both of us were nearly naked. I curled my legs up but he manoeuvred them straight with his thighs.

“Don’t be nervous,” he said. “It’s me.”

He pulled at my underwear, which I had to kick to get free from my legs. One of his hands cupped my breast. My breath came out faster.

He reached over to his bedside table and, from the drawer, pulled out a condom, tearing the package carefully with his teeth. “Can you put it on?” he murmured. He laid me back on the bed and smoothed my hair from my face.

My hands were clammy, as if I had a fever.

“You’re beautiful,” Griffin was saying.

Just him telling me I was beautiful made me feel irritated with him—like, couldn’t he just stop
talking
?

“Just relax,” he suggested.

I twisted awkwardly below him. We were so close to … to actually doing it.

I froze.

“Bird, is something wrong?”

It’s strange how your body can be one place and your brain somewhere else entirely. Lying there in Griffin’s arms, I thought of a third Top Tip for my website.

“Griffin, I’m really sorry,” I muttered.

He stopped and looked at me.

I held his gaze. “I can’t do this,” I said. I jumped up off the bed, pulling the sheet with me to cover myself. “I’m sorry, I … I’m really sorry,” I stammered again. “I just …”

He slumped back. “Oh, Bird.” He added, “I don’t get it.”

Suddenly I wanted to be far away, climbing a tree or taking a photograph of an empty street. I found my knickers and slipped them on. I grabbed my bra and shirt. I still hadn’t answered him. I said, “I should go.”

“What’s wrong?” he pleaded.

“Um, Mum and Dad will be wondering where I am.”

“We should talk. You’ve been trying to slow things down. This is my fault.” Concern spread like a blush across his face. “You know I love you, right?”

Even though it was me causing all the drama, my skin prickled with annoyance that he wouldn’t just let me go. “Everything’s fine,” I said. I scrambled to get on my jeans. “I just have to go.”

“Will you wait for me tomorrow to walk to school?” He sounded like he used to when he was a kid.

I couldn’t be cruel to him. I bent forward and kissed him

gently.

“Of course,” I said. “Sure.”

After I was done answering A Liar, I wrote a to-do list:

• Bring out winter clothes and pack away summer things—it’s definitely full-on winter: stop kidding yourself!

• Review website stats—up or down this month?

• Is there time for a job with schoolwork this year? Write list of pros and cons.

• Get ahead with reading for English. Books next to bed.

I’d start going through the list as soon as I got home. Right now, it was time to get on with the day.

On my way out the house, I passed the kitchen and saw Mum leaning against the counter, her eyes shut. On the fridge to her right were all her lists for the week. She was dressed and ready for work in the black suit she always wore (she had four that were practically the same), but she seemed different somehow. I checked my watch—I didn’t have time to talk to her.

I texted Griffin.

Leaving right now. By any chance, u awake?

He texted straight back.

Slept in. Bad night. Can u wait?

Pulling my front door closed behind me, I glanced over at his house. The curtains weren’t even open. I knew I should wait for him—I’d said I would—and I should deal with everything
from the night before. My tummy clenched at the thought. I texted back.

Will see you at school. Love u. Am sorry.

I hoped he realized I was apologizing both for not waiting for him
and
for everything else. I shoved my phone in my pocket and hurried down the road, keeping my eyes glued to the ground.

I WAS AT SCHOOL, DRINKING MY LATTE, PUTTING A BOOK AWAY IN MY
locker, when Cleo cornered me and said, “If you don’t tell me, I’m going to scream.”

“Cleo—”

“How was it? You had
sex for the first time
and you haven’t called me. What? Am I, like, not your best friend or what?”

“Come on, that’s not it.”

“You did do it, didn’t you? You didn’t bail on him, did you, Bird?”

“I wasn’t—”

She interrupted, “How was he? What was it like? Was it better than I said it would be, or was it crap?”

“I didn’t—”

Kitty Moss, a skinny blonde who always wore too much makeup, came over. “Everyone can hear you guys,” she said.

“Leave us alone,” Cleo said.

“So you finally did it with Griffin,” Kitty said. “About time. Poor guy was probably wondering what was wrong with you.”

“Just go away,” Cleo said, turning her fiercest glare onto Kitty, whose slow eyebrow raise showed she wasn’t bothered at all.

“I’ll bet Griffin was glad to be put out of his misery. God knows what he sees in you,” Kitty said to me.

“Things are great with Griffin.”

“Sure, that’s why he looks so puppy dog all the time,” Kitty said. “I bet you didn’t even do it, Miss Perfect.”

“We did,” I lied, heat high on my cheeks.

Cleo said, “Come on, Bird.” She pulled me away and into the girls’ toilets, slamming the door behind us. Then she said, “She’s such a bitch.”

“She’s right. Griffin’s unhappy.”

Cleo shook her head. “Of course he’s not. He loves you.”

“Yeah.” I clambered up to sit on the table next to the sinks and swung my legs beneath me.

She said, “You know that, right?”

I picked at a split end in my hair. “Course. How are things going with Joe?”

“Joe Friesen? Forget him. So tell me, you think I should ask out Mark? He seems pretty nice and I know you keep saying I should date guys who are nice.”

“Did I say that? When?”

“Well, you were right about Xavier. He was
not
a nice guy. Hot, though—shame so many other girls agree.” She grinned. “Anyway, that’s the end of that. So should I ask Mark to the party? Should I just ask him straight out or be more subtle? Oh, I have to email you the stuff about the caterers so you can help me chose.”

Cleo was having a big party—she did it every November, figuring it made the worst month of the year bearable.

“You,
subtle
? Ask him. He’d be crazy to turn you down. Just
go for it. I love that you’re brave enough to ask a guy out—I would be too scared.”

“Don’t guys like to take the lead? I read that somewhere. On your website, maybe, in one of your answers to someone?” She gushed, “Miss Take-Control-of-Your-Life, tell me what to do!”

“Um, remember to be casual. Be yourself. And
don’t
call me that here. It’s a secret, remember?”

She jumped up to sit next to me, precariously. The table groaned in protest. “Casual is
not
a problem for me. It’s commitment I find hard. Hang on. How are we talking about me and not you? How do you always manage to do that? Come on. I want to hear all the details about your hot sex life.”

The bell rang and a girl burst in, clearly hurrying so as not to be late to class.

“I’ll tell you later,” I said. “Send me that catering stuff and I’ll get back to you.”

A Top Tip for my website slid guiltily into my brain, to be typed in when I got home.

I REALIZED I WAS AVOIDING GRIFFIN WHEN I DUCKED OUT OF SCHOOL
at the end of the day without even looking for him. This was ridiculous. He was my
boyfriend
, my best friend, the person I was most intimate with in the world, and I was acting like this. We hadn’t spoken
all day.
I crossed into the park opposite the
school and slunk to sit shivering on the bench by the lake. The water was calm but reflected the deep grey clouds above. There was a rumour that snow was coming. In London. In November. The weather was going mad. The world was going crazy. I let out a deep sigh just as Pete Loewen appeared in front of me.

He crossed his arms and said, “Look who we’ve got here.”

I stood up, which only made me physically closer to him. I was surprised to find I was furious with him for the way he kept getting into my head. My tone sharp, I said, “What do you want?”

“Now that’s not very friendly.”

“God, Pete, what are you playing at? What was that text about on my birthday? How did you even get my number?”

“It was your birthday? I didn’t know that. Okay, I did. I saw it on Facebook. And I was right, wasn’t I? You were thinking about me.”

“You’re so arrogant. Of course I wasn’t. I don’t know you or like you or think about you or … or anything.”
He’d Facebook stalked me!

He took a step nearer to me. His eyes were open and honest. “You didn’t even bother replying to my texts. What’s your problem with me, Amy?”

My body fizzed. I said, softening, “I wasn’t thinking about

you.”

He reached a hand up so that one of his fingers rested on my chin. It was the first time he’d touched me and I held my breath.

He said, “You’re a terrible liar.”

“I … I … just …” Words were failing me. What did I know about this guy? Nothing. What did I like about him?
Everything.
I liked the way my body felt. I liked the way he seemed to see right through me even though he hardly knew me.

I took a tiny step in his direction.

His hand slid to the back of my neck, making all the hairs on my arms and legs stand to shivery attention.

“Can I kiss you?” he said, and the tone of his voice made me feel like he was hopeful, not arrogant at all. Maybe I’d got everything about him wrong. He said, “Amy?”

He said my name like
I
had bewitched
him.

And the way he said my name made me do it.

I leaned my face up toward him and pressed my lips lightly to his. God, his mouth felt good against mine. I kissed him a little harder, letting my tongue slip to touch his. Then he put his other hand along my back and crushed me against him. My arms were around him, his tongue was in my mouth, my body melted entirely in his embrace and I felt … free.

When I was eight years old, I climbed up a tree and told my mum I was a bird. Before she could stop me, I jumped out the branches trying to fly.

I could remember being at the top of the tree, the branches wide around me, the leaves dancing in the breeze. I’d balanced at the edge of one branch and looked into the blue, tempting sky. My mum had screamed at me, “No, Amy, stop.”

“I’m a bird,” I cried, and flew.

That was how I broke my leg.

Now, in the park, with huge effort, I pushed Pete away. I wiped my mouth. This was too risky. I cried, “What am I doing?”

His grey eyes sparked with frustration.

“I can’t, Pete.” I took another step back. “I can’t believe I did
that. Oh my God.” I turned away from him and started walking fast. I had to get out of there. I had to get as far away from Pete Loewen as possible.

I spent the rest of the evening ignoring my phone and studying hard. When I went to bed, I couldn’t help but notice that Pete hadn’t texted. And that Griffin had—three times.

THE NEXT MORNING I SLEPT THROUGH MY ALARM. IMMEDIATELY UPON
waking I checked the time, bewildered, and then I thought of Pete, remembering him sliding his hand to the back of my neck, remembering him kissing me. My skin got goosebumpy. For a moment, I felt light and cheerful. Weird that I could be happy when I should be feeling like the worst person on earth. My joyful mood dissolved like sugar in hot water. I’d
cheated
on Griffin. Cheating was the sort of thing other people did. Not
me.

My phone beeped. It was Griffin. Guilt seeped through my veins.

Am outside. U up? We really need to talk xxx

I stuck my head up to look out the window. I’d forgotten to shut the curtains the night before. The sky was full of white flurries. It was snowing! I sat up properly and looked down to the road. The whole of the street was blanketed in white. A car was trying to weave along the road, headlights on. And there was Griffin, waiting by my front gate.

He waved. I waved back and sent him a text. Going through the motions.

Give me 5 mins.

Outside, my boots sank in the thick snow blanketing the front steps. The cold sneaked up the sleeves of my jacket and twisted round my arms. Brrr. Griffin stood looking the other way. He wore a black coat and striped red-and-navy scarf. He swivelled his head and a smile lit up his face. He looked good. Bright blue eyes, big smile. My camera was slung round my neck. I lifted it and clicked. In the digital screen, I could see it was a good photo. A perfect image of a perfect moment in a teen girl’s life: cute, loving boyfriend framed by the snowy street. I felt suddenly tired and worn out. I had to tell him what I’d done. Oh my God, what had I done? Telling him would ruin everything.

He threw a snowball at me and it hit me lightly on my jacket, bursting into powdery flakes. “Hey, Bird,” he said, “you look pretty in the snow.”

“It looked good from the window,” I said, wondering guiltily if
Pete
found me pretty. “But it’s so cold,” I added.

“I didn’t know we even had snow like this in England,” Griffin said. He was so oblivious of what was going on inside my head, so oblivious of what a lying, cheating, horrible girl I really was.

I smiled at him, trudged down the path and kissed him lightly on his cold lips as he was expecting. “It’s November. It’s crazy. I’ll have to buy proper boots.”

“Even with the wrong boots, you do look really pretty.”

“Griffin—”

“Come on, Bird, lighten up. Let’s not talk about the other night right now.”

I remembered the last time I’d seen Griffin as I rushed out of his room.

Later
, I told myself,
I’ll tell him later.
The argument began in my head. I had to tell him about kissing Pete, I had to deal with it, I had to fix what I’d done.

Or I could break up with him. I could tell Griffin it was over and, I dunno, start dating Pete.

Just the idea made my brain whirl. I could never actually
do
something like that, could I? It would be so … so … I imagined telling Cleo that I’d dumped Griffin to be with a guy who
everyone
knew was no good. I just wasn’t the sort of girl who fell in love with a bad boy and started breaking all the rules.
Drugs? Expelled?
Those were the words that came to mind when I thought about Pete. Plus, I couldn’t be sure he even really liked me. He was the kind of guy I warned Cleo about all the time, the kind
she
adored. Sure, Pete seemed to have a soft, sweet side when he spoke to me, but he was probably like that with all the girls. Even thinking about Pete made me all confused and crazy. There was no way I could date him.

I looked at Griffin standing there, as excited by the snow as a lovable puppy. With Griffin, I knew exactly where I was and where we were going. I plastered on a smile and slipped my camera from my neck to place it safely in my bag.

“You have to catch me first.”

I started running but the slippery blanket under my feet made me tumble. Griffin grabbed me before I fell, which made both of us collapse onto the snowy ground.

“You want to take the day off with me?” he said, pinning me down. Snow slithered down my neck.

“What are you talking about?”