Chapter Two
Emmie
Saturday mornings are for sleeping in. It’s an unspoken rule in every teenager’s life, right? Next to, ‘don’t trust anyone who says no offense’ and ‘never sit in the front row unless you want to be volunteered for something’.
So, when mum rocks up to my bedroom, standing over my bed like a possessed Stepford wife, at only eleven a.m., with a takeaway coffee and a chipper smile, I groan, pulling my pillow over my head.
“Get up, we’re going for a walk.”
“You’ve mistaken me for someone outdoorsy,” I mutter through the pillow.
She tosses a hoodie onto my bed. “Come on, Em. It’s a lovely day. You’ve been cooped up all week.”
“I’ve been at college all week,” I retort.
“Fresh air and vitamin D is what you need.” She pauses, “I’ll buy you a muffin.”
I crack one eye open. “Chocolate chip?”
She grins. “Double.”
Damn it.
Ten minutes later, we’re walking through the park. It’s busier than usual, and I wonder if everyone else’s mum is a crackpot like mine. She gets these wild ideas, and we have to run with them until she gets bored. This health kick one is lasting longer than I’d like.
Kids on scooters whizz past, and a couple of dogs bark in the distance. And on the far field, a group of guys are playing football.
Mum waves at someone in that direction and I follow her gaze, freezing on the spot. No. Way. Of all the people to bump into, it had to be him .
Joel Banks is standing near the edge of the pitch, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, with one eye on the game and the other on my mother. I scan the field, immediately spotting Kai. Sweaty and in the middle of some dramatic sprint.
I glance at Mum, who’s smiling like she’s in the scene of a Hallmark movie.
“Maxine,” Joel greats warmly, stepping into her space and gently kissing her cheek.
“I didn’t expect to see you here.” I’m like a goldfish as I watch them, open-mouthed, unable to speak.
Wondering when the hell my mum and Joel Banks were on cheek-kissing terms.
“We were just out for a walk,” Mum replies, tucking her hair behind her ear in that casual, yet not so casual, way when she’s flirting . “I didn’t know you were a football dad.” Pass me the damn bucket.
“Saturday team,” he says with a shrug. “I’m just here for the shouting and emotional damage.
”Mum laughs, like really laughs, and I stare down at the grass, wondering how weird it would be if I laid down and asked it to swallow me up.
Joel glances back over his shoulder before adding, “The game is almost over, actually. Why don’t you stick around for the last five minutes? ”
I open my mouth to politely decline, maybe fake a sudden death in the family, but Mum is already nodding. “We’d love to, wouldn’t we, Emmie.”
Joel’s eyes finally land on me like he’s suddenly realised I’m here. I offer a weak smile. “Sure,” I mutter.
So, I stand awkwardly on the sideline with them, feeling like the third wheel as they discuss the rules. Like Mum actually cares.
The final whistle blows, and I watch Kai jog over to grab the water bottle by his dad’s feet. He runs a hand through his damp hair, flashing a grin at my mum before his eyes land on me and his smile falters. “You,” he mutters, his voice flat.
I, on the other hand, smile wide. “Tragically, yes. It’s me.”
“You two know each other?” Joel asks.
“We go to the same college,” Kai explains, not taking his eyes off me.
Mum’s face lights up. “That’s perfect,” she says a little too enthusiastically. “I was going to make something nice for lunch. Why don’t you both come over.”
“No,” I blurt out, soon realising it actually came out of my mouth when they all turn to stare at me.
“Emmie,” Mum hisses with embarrassment.
“I mean . . . no, I can’t. I have plans.”
“It sounds great,” says Joel, pulling Mum’s attention away from me. “Kai?”
Kai arches a brow in my direction, “Definitely.”
I blink, my breath catching in my throat. What game is he playing?
Mum claps her hands together like she’s solved world peace. “Wonderful. And Emmie, cancel your plans, we have guests.”
Wonderful.
Fan-bloody-tastic.
Because spending my Saturday afternoon sitting across from the guy whose phone I’m holding low-key hostage, the same guy who makes fun of me daily, is ideal.
What could possibly go wrong?
Kai
Of all the people to run into, it had to be her.
And typically, I’m drenched in sweat while she looks weird.
Standing there like a sore thumb in her massive hoodie, looking like she’s been dragged out of bed and is hating on the world for it.
Her hair is doing its own thing like it often does, and as usual, she’s gone makeup-free, which plays a hand in that unimpressed expression she has, like she’s too good for all of us.
And lunch; I was fully ready to get out of that one, but when Emmie’s face dropped like someone was about to read her diary out loud, I had to say yes. Partly to mess with her. It’s one of my pastimes. But also, because I’m curious about what the inside of her weird world looks like.
So, as we head to their house, Dad is chatting away with Maxine, chucking out smooth lines like he’s Casanova, whilst I’m stuck beside Wednesday Adams, a less dramatic version.
She glances around like she’s looking for an escape. It’s irritating. “I don’t bite,” I mutter.
“I do,” she snipes.
What does that even mean?
I roll my eyes, resisting the urge to walk with Romeo and Juliette. At this point, I’m not sure which is worse.
The wind blows gently, and her scent surrounds me.
She smells like coconut or something vanilla like, which I didn’t expect.
I had her down as more of a dry shampoo and second-hand book pages kind of girl.
“What are your plans then?” I ask. “You know, the ones you conveniently remembered when your mum invited us?”
She side-eyes me. “Important nerd duties. You wouldn’t understand.”
God, she’s so weird. But also, quick. Quicker than most people I talk to.
I’m used to girls giggling and hair flicking, but Emmie insults herself before I can do it.
She does it without blinking and adds a little dig in there for good measure.
I almost smile. And now, I’m going to spend the next hour eating quiche or whatever Maxine thinks counts as ‘a nice lunch’ while Emmie silently plots my death.
Maxine turns up the path to a house just opposite the park.
It’s standard for this area, a two-bedroom terrace, neighbours both sides and the smallest garden known to man.
The council call it affordable housing, and I brace myself for what lies beneath the front door.
But as I step inside, I’m surprised. I expected clutter and flowered wallpaper, but it’s modern and clean.
“Don’t act so surprised,” hisses Emmie from beside me.
I ignore her, tuning in to Maxine, who looks embarrassed as she says, “I know it’s not much, but we like to call it home.”
“It’s beautiful,” Dad tells her, following her to the kitchen.
Emmie steps around me and heads that way, too, so I follow, relieved when I see a couch in the corner of their open-plan kitchen/dining room. I drop down, dumping my bag at my feet, then pull out my old mobile. I’m disappointed when I see no messages from the phone-napper.
“What is that?” asks Emmie, pointing to the device in my hand and trying to not laugh.
“A phone. Obviously.”
She puts her hand to her ear, pretending to talk into it. “Hello, the nineties called, they want their phone back.”
Dad glances over, then smiles too. “He’s not having another one. He lost his new one, it cost me a fortune.”
“I didn’t lose it, it got stolen,” I mutter.
“Have you reported it?” Maxine asks as she moves around the kitchen gracefully, gathering things she needs to make lunch.
“No, we have not,” Dad cuts in firmly. “He isn’t wasting police time over his disregard for his own property.”
Emmie smirks with a glint in her eye. “Naughty boy,” she mutters before turning on her heel and walking out. I roll my eyes and take my attention back to the cracked screen. I really need to get that phone back.
It’s another half hour before Maxine calls us to the table. I trudge over, eyeing the quiche with disdain. How did I guess it would be my most hated thing, with the other most hated thing, salad.
I take a seat opposite Emmie, who is already serving up.
“Emmie,” Maxine says, tapping her hand until she drops the salad tongs. “We have guests.”
She gives me a stiff smile before holding out the tongs, which I take.
“So,” says Maxine brightly as she tops my glass up from a jug of iced water. “I didn’t realise you went to Oakridge too. What a coincidence.”
Try punishment, I think as I load my plate with salad. “We don’t exactly hang out,” I say, dropping the tongs.
“We exist in the same building,” says Emmie, deadpan. Maxine laughs awkwardly, glancing back and forth between us.
“Maybe that will change,” Dad says, slipping his hand into Maxine’s, who smiles back at him like he’s her everything. “Especially if we-”
“Dad,” I snap, cutting him off. And he and Maxine exchange a wary look.
I don’t want to throw a spanner in his love life, but the truth is, I’ve seen it all before.
He gets swept up, goes all in, and then it falls apart.
And I can’t let that happen because Emmie knows me.
Well, she thinks she knows me. And I’m happy to let her think I’m a walking cliché, for her to roll her eyes in irritation whenever I look her way.
I don’t care that she doesn’t drop to my feet like all the other girls in college.
But she can absolutely know nothing about my real life. Ever.