Torn (31 page)

‘Yeah, we’ll see about that.’ I flounce past him, dropping my jacket on the back of the sofa. Then I turn and smile, and he smiles back, and everything is right with the world.

Jack orders a Thai takeaway, which makes me
wonder if he can read my mind. He apologizes for not cooking something himself – he reckons he’s a terrible cook. Tara used to tell him he’d never get a girlfriend if he didn’t know how to cook. Tara was wrong.

We sit on the living-room floor eating the food straight out of the boxes. There’s a single silver-framed picture of Tara on the mantelpiece. It’s very hard to ignore, but I try my best.

The pristine cream carpet is so thick it’s probably comfier than most people’s beds and I’m so paranoid about making a mess that I force myself to eat extra-slowly. And I only eat about half the amount I would normally eat. It’s partly down to nerves, and partly that I don’t want Jack to think I’m a greedy cow. And I’m more than a little bit worried about garlic breath.

Jack’s super-talkative and super-attentive – he keeps asking if I need a top-up, or whether I think he should put the central heating on. It makes me feel more at ease, knowing he’s just as nervous as I am. We haven’t talked about it, but I’m pretty sure he’s a virgin too. I can’t know for sure without asking, and I would never ever do that. I wonder if I’ll be able to tell when we’re doing it.

He brings out some mint-choc-chip ice cream that he bought for pudding. ‘Now I may not be able to
cook, but I can create the most perfect scoops of ice cream you will ever see. It’s a gift.’

‘You are truly blessed.’

‘Ouch! Your cynicism
hurts
. I feel actual, real pain. Right here.’ He taps his chest and adopts a facial expression that would put Bambi to shame.

I have to admit, the ice cream is perfectly scooped. I pretend to inspect it carefully from every angle. ‘Not bad, not bad. But I’ve seen better.’

‘Oh, you are in so much trouble. You should never, ever disrespect a man’s scooping abilities.’ He scoots closer to me and before I know what he’s doing he’s stuck a finger in his ice cream and smeared it on my nose. It tickles.

I raise an eyebrow, seriously unimpressed. ‘I seem to have ice cream on my nose. I suggest you do something to rectify this situation as soon as is humanly possible.’

‘Or what?’ he says, a cheeky, challenging grin working its way across his face.

‘Or a world of pain is coming your way in the next five seconds … four … three … two … one.’ At the exact moment the word ‘one’ passes my lips, Jack tilts his head towards mine and licks my nose.

He leans back and looks at me through narrowed
eyes. ‘Nope, think I missed a bit.’ He goes in for another lick. ‘There, that does it. Good as new.’

‘That was … gross.’

‘Did you know that nose-licking is the greatest sign of respect in … um … Azerbaijan?’

I lean in close and he does the same. I pause when his lips are tantalizingly close to mine. ‘You … are … full of it.’ His laugh is stifled by my mouth on his.

The ice cream has melted into ice-cream soup by the time we get round to eating it.

We sit in silence for a little while. I know what’s coming, but I’m not going to be the one to say something.

‘Do you … I mean, should we … go upstairs? Only if you want to, of course. We can always watch a DVD or something if you’d rather …’

We head for the stairs, exchanging a couple of nervous glances. I make a quick diversion to the bathroom while Jack waits in his room.

I squeeze some toothpaste onto my finger and give my teeth a quick onceover. I check my hair in the mirror – it’s looking only slightly dishevelled. Right. This is it. No turning back now. Unless I jump out the window. I doubt I’d fit though. Jack would break down the door to find my legs dangling over the sink and my arse well and truly jammed in the window frame. Something tells me that wouldn’t be a good look.

Jack’s sitting on the edge of the bed looking slightly anxious when I enter the room. There are no candles, no rose petals. The curtains are drawn and there
is
some mood lighting – if you count the desk lamp, which has been angled to shine its light on a poster of some obscure French film.

I stand in front of him and when he looks up I know this is going to be OK. I just need to muster up some fake confidence from somewhere.

‘I think I’d like to kiss you now.’ And I
do
sound confident. Not even a hint of wobbliness in my voice.

He nods. ‘I think I would definitely be OK with that.’

I lean down and put my lips on his, gently at first. Then harder. I push his chest so he lies back on the bed and then I’m mostly lying on top of him, except our feet are still on the floor.

Jack stops kissing me for a second and says, ‘Toothpaste? No fair.’

I kiss his neck. Tiny little kisses.

‘Seriously. Now I want to brush
my
teeth. I don’t want you thinking my breath stinks while you’re all minty fresh.’

I laugh into his neck. ‘I don’t care, Jack. And you’re not going anywhere.’ I clamber over him so I’m properly on the bed. Then I pat the space next to me and give him what I’m hoping resembles a come-hither glance. Jack shrugs and flings himself onto the bed beside me.

We kiss for a long time and I start to worry about the time. I have to be back at the house before Dad, and I’ve no idea what time it is now. If something’s
going to happen, it had better happen soon. One of us has to make the first move and it looks like it’s going to have to be me.

I reach down and pull at the bottom of Jack’s T-shirt. Our lips have to part while I pull the fabric up over his head, but it only takes a second. His skin is hot to the touch. I like the way it feels beneath my fingers.

Jack tugs at my top and I help him out by yanking it over my head. And then we’re skin to skin, with only my bra in the way. The kissing gets faster, hungrier. My heart is galloping as I start working on his belt buckle.

Jack moans into my mouth. My fingers are unzipping his flies when he pulls away from me, breathing heavily. ‘Can we … stop for a second?’ He zips up and sits up.

Shit. He’s changed his mind.

I lie back on the bed and steel myself for the badness that’s coming, but Jack reaches for my hands and hauls me into a sitting position.

My jeans are digging into my sides and I can’t bear to look down to see how that looks. And I can’t bear to look at Jack, so I concentrate on the door. My escape route.

Jack keeps hold of my hands. His breathing is
slowly getting back to normal, as is mine. ‘Alice, why are you staring at the door?’

So now I have to look at him. At his messed-up hair, his flushed face, his chocolate-brown eyes. He’s biting his lip.

Jack squeezes my hands in his. ‘There’s something I want to say. Before we do this.’ I’m slightly reassured by the ‘before’ there. If he still wants to have sex with me, how bad can it be?

I wait.

‘OK, here goes. I think I sort of … maybe … love you a little bit.’

Something ignites inside my heart.

‘Shit, I messed that up. Let me try again. I love you, Alice King.’

Fireworks explode inside my heart. I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life for him to say these words. I feel like I was born to hear him say these words.

I close my eyes to fend off a wave of dizziness that threatens to overwhelm me.

‘Alice, are you all right? You look kind of weird. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out. It’s OK if you … um … don’t feel the same … yet. I just wanted to say it. I didn’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you, or that I sleep with girls all the time or anything. I mean, I haven’t slept with
any
girls,
ever
. You know that, right? This is special to me.
You’re
special to me. I’ve never felt this way before. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.’

‘Tara didn’t drown.’

‘What? Yes, she …
What?
’ Jack’s eyebrows knit together in confusion.

Why? Why did I say that?
Because it’s the right thing to do.
Tara’s voice is back inside my head. I look towards the door again. If I leave now, we can pretend this never happened. I’ll call him later and make up some excuse for being such a weirdo.
No, you won’t.

‘Alice, talk to me. What do you mean?’

This is it. I am hanging from a cliff by my fingernails. I can try to scrabble back up to safety. Or I can let go and fall.

I let go. ‘There’s something I need to tell you. It’s serious.’

Jack goes very still. His hands are still holding mine, but his grip has loosened. It won’t take much to break the bond. ‘About my sister?’

I nod. ‘Maybe we should get dressed first?’

‘Tell me now. Please?’ He squeezes my hands a little too hard. My knuckles crunch together.

‘I wanted to tell you. I really did. But I was so scared, and I know how bad it sounds. But you have to understand that it wasn’t like that. It all went wrong.’ Twin tears start trickling down my face.

‘Alice, you’re scaring me. Please tell me what you’re talking about.’ He lets go of my hands, as I knew he would. I know we will never hold hands again.

My jaw’s so tight it feels like my teeth might crush each other and crumble in my mouth.
Tell him. Everything.

I tell him all of it. Everything I missed out when I told him about the holiday. Duncan. Polly’s humiliation in the cave and in the dining hall. The plan to get revenge on Tara. What went wrong. I tell him about Rae’s note in my locker. My conversation with Polly in the media lab.

I stare at my hands the whole time. I can’t look at him. He doesn’t interrupt me once. I wish he would interrupt so that I can stop talking. There’s just one thing I leave out. One thing I can’t bear to tell him. It shouldn’t be any more horrifying than what I’ve already said. But somehow it is.

The silence in the room stretches away into
infinity. I risk a glance at Jack, hoping he’s not looking at me. He is. His face is hard, unforgiving. He looks like a man. I look away fast. ‘Where is she?’ Ice-cold words.

‘Jack, I—’

‘Where is she?’ I want to touch him. Some gesture – anything – that will remind him of what we have. What we had.

‘You have to understand … we were scared out of our minds. We didn’t know what else to do.’ I’m babbling and stuttering.

‘Tell me. Now.’ I flinch.

‘There … there was an abandoned well.’ If my voice was any quieter it would be inaudible.

Jack’s jaw flexes a couple of times. His hands are bunched into fists. ‘A
well
… ?’ he croaks.

So now I’ve told him all there is to know. I don’t feel relieved. I don’t feel like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I feel like I would do anything to take back what I’ve said – to turn back the clock and tell Jack that I love him too. Because that’s the truth.

Jack gets up from the bed and stalks to the other side of the room. He leans his head into the wall and hits it with his fist – hard. His shoulder blades stick out sharply. It’s as if a pair of wings is lurking under
his skin, ready to sprout. It’s hard to believe that I was running my fingers up and down his spine only minutes ago.

I grab my top and pull it over my head.

After a couple of minutes and seven more punches to the wall, I have to say something before the silence suffocates me. ‘Jack … say something, please?’

‘Don’t talk to me. I can’t listen to you right now.’ His words are clipped, harsh.

‘Do you want me to …? Should I go?’

‘You’re not going anywhere. Just … stop talking.’ His head is still against the wall. If anyone walked in they might think he was counting to a hundred for a game of hide-and-seek.

I look at my watch. 9.03.

Eventually Jack turns away from the wall and lets himself slide down so he’s sitting on the floor. His legs are pulled up against his bare chest. Tears stream down his cheeks and he swipes at them angrily.

I can’t stay quiet. ‘Jack, I’m so sorry. You have to believe me.’

He barks an ugly laugh. ‘
Believe
you? You honestly think I can believe anything that comes out of your mouth?’

‘I’m telling the truth. Jack! Please … I love you.’

‘Don’t. You killed my sister. You left her to rot in
a fucking well.’ His face crumples. ‘My
sister
. What is the
matter
with you?’

‘It was an accident.’ Pointless words.

‘If you say that one more time I swear I’ll …’ Then he lets go and starts sobbing. His shoulders shake and the sound is the second-worst thing I’ve ever heard.

I can’t help myself. I get up off the bed and go to him. I sit down on the floor in front of him. Tentatively I put my hand on his knee. He flinches a little but doesn’t say anything.

The sobbing subsides after a little while. ‘Why didn’t you tell someone?’ he asks. His voice is thick with tears.

‘I wanted to. But we were scared. We didn’t know what would happen to us.’

‘You should have told someone.’

‘I know.’

‘And Polly could have helped her.’ It’s hard to tell if this is a question or not – his words are so flat.

‘Yes.’

‘She hated having asthma, you know? She started having breathing problems a couple of years ago, but she didn’t tell Mum for ages – not till she had a really bad attack. And when she finally got an inhaler, she hardly ever used it. Not at first. She said that only losers had asthma. Ridiculous, really.’

I feel something in the back pocket of my jeans, digging into me. The ring. It’s been there for two days; I forgot all about it. It’s almost as though it’s waited for this exact moment to make its presence known.

I lean forward so I can get it out of my pocket.

My hand trembles as I hold it out for Jack to see.

Jack plucks the ring from my palm and closes his fist around it. ‘Where did you get it?’

‘It slipped off her finger.’ There is no need for him to know the exact circumstances.

‘You’ve had it all this time? Why didn’t you tell me, Alice? Why did you let me fall in love with you? You should have stayed away.’