Popping the Cherry (32 page)

The next few days were tough going, especially when Gemma didn’t show up at college, but I just had to take one day at a time. Gemma reappeared at the lunch table on Friday, looking much more herself, but a sombre, more muted version. We still chatted and spent time together within the group but the special bond we’d had was gone. Broken. It was weird not texting her all the time, or calling her up about the silliest things.

Term dragged on and on, but, with winter in full swing, my thoughts switched to my birthday. Nathan and Flick persuaded me to hold a Valentine’s Ball, and Mum and Dad managed to snag the perfect venue, thanks to being quiz buddies with the manager. A Valentine’s Ball meant dancing though, and ballroom-dancing lessons were a must, apparently, with Nathan as my unfortunate dance partner, but we soon got the hang of it, twirling and waltzing our way to the Christmas break.

Mum and Dad surprised me with a holiday, two-week all-inclusive in Antigua, in a bid to cheer me up and end the year on a good note. Nathan had been let in on the secret and had managed to get my shifts covered at work, so all I had to do was pack my suitcase and off I went with Mum and Dad. Our villa was amazing, right next to the harbour, on the edge of a mile-long sandy beach. The hot sun on my skin was glorious, not to mention long overdue.

Everything was so colourful, from the azure blue sky to the bright orange and red tropical flowers, to the turquoise ocean that called my name. I threw myself into the watersports: I learned to windsurf and to sail a catamaran. But the waterskiing was beyond me. The longest I managed to stand was two seconds at most before I face-planted into the warm, blue Caribbean Sea. Forced to admit defeat, with my thighs cut to shreds by the force of the water, and my body covered in bruises.

My comedy mishap prompted me to send a long-overdue text to Zac, wishing him a Merry Christmas, sending him the same photo I’d already texted to both Flick and Nathan: me, chilling on the beach beneath a palm tree in my favourite red bikini, with a cocktail in my hand and a strand of silver tinsel wrapped around my head. It was about as festive as it got on a tropical island. The holiday was exactly what I needed, though, and it was great spending quality time with Mum and Dad. But not even the scorching white sand could reach the cold, empty spot in my heart.

After hours of umming and ahing, I sent the Christmas text to Jake and Gemma, too. Christmas wasn’t really Christmas without the Saunders family involved somehow.

As our plane descended on our return flight, my holiday buzz went with it. Rain lashed the windows and the air temperature plummeted to bitterly cold as we hurried from the terminal to the airport parking in completely inappropriate clothes. My flip-flops squelched and slid beneath my feet, but I’d packed my shoes in the suitcase without thinking of the weather at the other end. Dad had the heaters going full blast all the way home, and the colour of the sky threatened snow. It was certainly cold enough.

Despite getting soaked and frozen to the bone, it was still good to be home. A new year meant new beginnings. No way could the year ahead be as bad as the one that had finally passed. And I had a totally awesome tan to show off. I hadn’t even got my seatbelt off when Gemma pulled onto the driveway behind us. She cut the engine and climbed out of her car, not noticing us as she dashed past our car in her haste to get to the front door. Gemma pressed the doorbell with one hand, and held a pretty gift bag in the other.

‘Someone’s keen to see you,’ Mum said.

‘Yeah.’ I could feel my face changing as my surprise gave way to curiosity.

Gemma’s body language grew more agitated and her shoulders sagged when nobody answered the door.

‘You go on ahead and open up, love. Your dad and I can bring the cases in.’

‘OK, thanks.’ I didn’t needed telling twice, so I opened my car door and stepped out into the rain. ‘I’m over here.’

Gemma spun around to search for me. A bright smile lit up her face before she could tone it down to a more polite, reserved welcome. Maybe I wasn’t the only one struggling with how things were. I slipped and slopped over the driveway to join her at the front of the house, grabbing my keys out of my bag so we could get under cover.

‘Welcome home,’ Gemma said, as I unlocked the door. She followed me inside and we stood, loitering in the hallway. ‘Thank you for your text. It looks like you were having a great time.’

‘I did, yeah, and I’ve got loads of pictures,’ I said, going along with the small talk. It wasn’t as if I had any better ideas of what to talk about. The last time I’d been on my own with Gemma was when she’d dropped me home after all the hoo-ha. ‘Do you want to come up to my room?’ The question sounded so lame, I cringed.

Man, this sucks
.

I hated how awkward things were between us. There was no denying I missed her—every single day—and I would have loved to be able to wave a magic wand to make it all go back to how it had once been.

‘Yeah, I’d like that,’ she said, so I set off up the stairs. Gemma closed my bedroom door behind her and held the gift bag out to me. ‘Merry Christmas, Lena.’

‘Thanks.’ A heavy sensation settled in my stomach, and I couldn’t meet her gaze. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t get you anything.’

‘Good, I didn’t deserve anything.’ She spoke so fast I struggled to keep up. ‘I’ve been a terrible friend to you. I should have been there for you but I wasn’t, and I’ll never forgive myself for the way I treated you after everything you’d been through. I’m so sorry for being such an idiot.’

‘Um … thanks.’

I didn’t know whether to burst into tears, throw my arms around her, or kick her out, so we stood facing each other instead.

‘Why don’t you open your presents?’

‘Presents?’ I switched my attention to the bag and undid the bow to open it. Inside were three presents: two wrapped in a plain green metallic paper, the third wrapped in a patterned paper complete with ribbons and a bow. ‘This is too much. You shouldn’t have.’

‘Er … well … two of them are from Jake.’

‘Jake?’ My voice cracked.

‘Yeah, he came home on Christmas Day and asked me to give them to you.’

‘Came home?’

‘Did you not know? Jake moved out not long after …’ Gemma wrung her hands together and her cheeks flushed. ‘He said he needed his own space, and some privacy, away from a meddling, melodramatic sister.’

‘Oh.’ I couldn’t blame him. ‘So how is he?’

The moment the words had left my lips I realised I hadn’t even asked how Gemma was. I braced myself for fireworks but they never came.

‘He’s busy,’ she said flatly. ‘If he’s not at work, he’s doing his house up.’ Gemma paused, sadness taking over her features. ‘I don’t really see much of him any more.’

Desperate to change the subject, I reached into the bag and drew out the girlier-looking present, oblong and flat, and lighter than I expected. ‘From you, I assume?’

A half-smile flitted over her lips. ‘How ever did you guess?’

Inside was a framed photograph of me, Gemma and Jake, taken at his birthday party. He was standing between us, an arm over each of our shoulders, and all three of us smiling brightly. The ache in my heart made it painful to breathe. I itched to trace a finger over his face but thought better of it.

‘I love it,’ I said, determined not to crumble, but my voice wavered all the same. There had to be plenty of pictures of just Gemma and me, even from Jake’s party, yet she’d chosen one with the three of us together. ‘Thank you.’

‘I miss you, Lena,’ she blurted. ‘Do you think there’s any chance at all that we could go back to being friends?’ Her face twisted with anguish. She couldn’t have looked more sorry if she’d tried. ‘That you could ever forgive me?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said truthfully. ‘But I’d like to try.’

Gemma rushed at me and threw her arms around me in a hug. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll never let you down again, I swear.’ I couldn’t return her embrace, my hands full, but it felt nice. She pulled back after a few moments and nodded towards the bag. ‘So what did Jake get you?’

‘You don’t know?’

‘Not a clue.’

‘And you won’t get mad? I can wait until later if it makes you uncomfortable.’

‘Thanks, but no. It’s my stupid problem and I’m doing my best to get over it. Plus, it’s been driving me mad, trying to figure out what he’s got you.’

‘OK.’ I opened the smaller of the two green parcels and found a white box inside. The lid was tight but it slowly came off to reveal the treasure within. My whole body clenched and tears threatened to spill over. ‘Oh …’

Jake had given me a delicate silver bookmark; the metal kind that hooks over the spine of the book. The stem was wavy, maybe ten centimetres long, and on the dangling part there were clear crystal beads with an emerald-green pearl bead in between, but at the end of it hung a Tinkerbell charm. A grown-up version, though, cast in silver, with purple crystals for wings.

‘That’s really pretty.’

I nodded. ‘It’s beautiful.’

‘I guess he knows you quite well. It would also explain this too,’ Gemma said, handing me the second green parcel.

Although it didn’t match Gemma’s art in wrapping, Jake had actually done a neat job. It was easily as good as my efforts, he just hadn’t bothered with all the extra fluff. The gift itself was rectangular, fairly heavy, and it could bend, too.

‘I reckon you’re right: it has to be a book.’

But which one?

My hands shook as I hooked my finger under one of the seams. The paper fell open to reveal a copy of
Shakespeare’s Sonnets
.

‘Huh, I take it he knows you’re into Shakespeare, then?’

‘Yeah.’

I turned the book over in my hands, studying it, trying to make sense of his incredibly thoughtful gifts. Opening the front cover, I saw Jake’s surprisingly neat handwriting on the first page:

‘Dear Tink,

‘After all your talk about Shakespeare, I decided to look him up for myself. I confess I didn’t know which play to choose, and I couldn’t face
Romeo and Juliet
, it’s just not my thing at all, but even I can sit and read through a few poems. Some of them went straight over my head, but I was especially drawn to numbers 56 and 97. And, for what it’s worth, I’m not on the market for another sister.

‘Yours, Jake

‘xXx.’

My head swam, scrambling to understand. Surely it couldn’t mean what I thought, it just couldn’t. I blinked and shook my head, but, no matter how many times I read Jake’s message, I kept coming to the same conclusion. Hope blossomed in my chest—dangerous and threatening—depriving me of air.

‘I don’t believe it,’ I murmured.

‘What does it say?’ Gemma reached for the book, but I snatched it back and closed it before she could read what was inside.

I’d forgotten she was there.

‘N-nothing,’ I stammered.

Her face fell. ‘OK, no problem. But, if there did happen to be a message in there, I promise I wouldn’t freak.’

I stared at her, trying to get a read on her mood.

‘Cross my heart,’ she said, drawing her hand across her chest, reminding me of the way we’d shared our secrets as kids.

It worked.

Wordlessly, I offered the book to her, then walked over to my bed and sank back onto it to stare up at the ceiling.

Gemma gasped, and I heard her flipping through the pages, reading the sonnets he’d highlighted, but then her next words stunned me. ‘That explains a lot.’

‘Pardon?’ I pushed up onto my elbows to see her.

‘Um … I didn’t tell you, but he finished with Danielle at my party. Right after you left, in fact.’ Gemma sank onto the bed next to me, so I ended up staring at her back. ‘He hasn’t been near another girl since.’ Her shoulders drooped even further. ‘I was blind. I knew he was hurting but I didn’t try to help.’

‘Hurting?’

‘Yeah, I think so,’ she said. ‘Jake’s been the grumpiest I’ve ever known him. And it’s like he’s avoiding me, not wanting to be in the same room as me. I know he doesn’t really hate me but …’

‘Of course he doesn’t,’ I offered.

Maybe if I focused on her and Jake, I could put off thinking about Jake and me.

‘Why don’t you read them for yourself?’ Gemma twisted at the waist and took in my blank expression. She rolled her eyes. I couldn’t believe how much I’d missed the gesture. ‘This,’ she said, tossing the book onto my stomach, practically winding me. ‘The two sonnets he picked.’

‘Oh, yeah …’

Tingles ran riot through my veins but I thumbed through the pages until I came to the first, Sonnet 56, opting to read it aloud.

Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said

Thy edge should blunter be than appetite
,

Which but to-day by feeding is allay’d
,

To-morrow sharpen’d in his former might:

So, love, be thou; although to-day thou fill

Thy hungry eyes even till they wink with fullness
,

To-morrow see again, and do not kill

The spirit of love with a perpetual dullness
.

Let this sad interim like the ocean be

Which parts the shore, where two contracted new

Come daily to the banks, that, when they see

Return of love, more blest may be the view;

Else call it winter, which being full of care

Makes summer’s welcome thrice more wish’d, more rare
.

‘Fucking hell.’ I dragged my hand through my hair and stared at the words so hard, they stopped making sense. They might as well have been in Arabic. I slipped the Tinkerbell bookmark into place and flipped through the next few pages to find Sonnet 97.

How like a winter hath my absence been

From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!

What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!

What old December’s bareness every where!

And yet this time removed was summer’s time
,

The teeming autumn, big with rich increase
,

Bearing the wanton burden of the prime
,