Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
MOLLIE
Once I’d stopped crying about Luca dumping me, I just lay there for a while. I thought again about calling Mum, but I knew she’d be busy with Ben. Still laying there, I started thumbing through my phone. Almost as if I wanted to torture myself, I went onto Snapchat to see if anyone was talking about it. There was only a message from Amelia, asking why I didn’t wait for her. I couldn’t face even replying to her. Not yet.
Then I saw that someone called Roman had added me. I didn’t recognise that name. For a couple of minutes I thought he might be a friend of Luca’s and he was going to say something mean. But I couldn’t remember anyone at school with that name. One of his football mates maybe?
Mainly for something to do, I replied and asked him who he was and why he’d added me. He said he’d seen my picture on my friend Amelia’s account and that he recognised me. He thought that he and I had gone to the same school years ago when we were younger.
Amelia and I hadn’t met until I came to this school. Me and my family had had to move after there was a fire at our house when I was eight. Someone at my dad’s work thought that the fire happened because of someone he’d arrested so we had to get a new house and start at a new school. To be honest, I don’t really remember the place we were in before. Or much about the school I went to back then.
Anyway, the school he said he went to wasn’t that school so I told him he’d made a mistake.
He was so embarrassed that I felt sorry for him. Like, he was mortified. Kept saying that I probably thought he was a complete idiot. He was so polite. He even asked if it was okay to send me a picture of himself that showed how embarrassed he was and I know it was stupid – but I said yes. The picture he sent me was really cute. It was him with his fingers in front of his eyes and he’d written ‘Dying’ on the back of his hands.
I told him he really didn’t need to worry about it. Then he said that I was kind and that he was surprised because I always think girls as pretty as you are going to be mean.
I told him to shut up. But sent a picture of myself pulling a face afterwards. Immediately after I sent it, I felt sick. He’d probably think I was so stupid. What did I do that for?
He just replied, Wow.
When Dad came home, I had to go and have dinner, but when I came back to my phone, he was still there. We spent the rest of the night chatting, even after I was supposed to be asleep. It was so nice to talk to someone who didn’t know anything about me or my family or about what was going on at school. In my lessons the next day, I was so tired.
Tuesday morning, I was going to tell Amelia what happened, but – by then – the rumour was everywhere that Luca fancied her and was just waiting for me to ‘get over’ him so that he could ask her out. Can you imagine how that felt? I mean, I know it’s not Amelia’s fault, but it didn’t make me want to talk to her about Roman. I wanted to keep him to myself. A secret just for me.
While my history teacher droned on about the Battle of Hastings, I was writing Roman’s name in different styles in my notebook. Roman. Roman. Roman. Made me think of ‘romantic’. Which is really stupid but I’d never had a boy be that nice to me. When I got home, he’d sent me about twenty messages. Saying he’d been thinking about me all day at school. We chatted again all night. He was so kind. Every so often he would say something about how beautiful I was. And that he’d be stumbling over his words if we met in real life.
He sent me more pictures of himself. Without his hands in front of his face this time. He was so much better looking than Luca. I had this stupid fantasy about him turning up at the school to collect me and everyone’s jaw hitting the floor, Luca realising that he’d been a complete idiot for letting me go.
All the time Roman was saying nice things to me, he was putting himself down. When I told him about Luca, he said that he’d been dumped recently, too. He said he thought it was because he was too skinny. It’s mad, isn’t it? Boys worry about being too skinny and we worry about being too fat.
That’s not what I worry about though, I said to him.
What do you worry about? he asked.
I have scars.
Scars?
From a fire. When I was eight.
And he was so kind about it. So gentle.
Maybe that’s why I did it.
It was on the Wednesday, the third night that we’d been talking. I’d already sent Roman three or four pictures. I’d done my make-up before calling him. Dad doesn’t like me wearing a lot of make-up outside the house, but I love doing tutorials on YouTube. I’m really good at contouring. I had a lot of pictures on my phone that I’d sent to Amelia, so I sent him some of those.
I guess I’m lucky that the scars from the fire aren’t on my face. Mainly, they’re on my right arm. The doctors think I must’ve reached into the fire for something. There are a few curls of red on my right shoulder and I can’t wear a top that shows my collarbones, otherwise you’d be able to see them.
Roman had a big scar across his chest from an operation he’d had as a child. He didn’t go into too much detail about what the operation was, but he said, I get it. I really do. I hate getting changed for PE at school. Everyone just stares at it.
It was so good to be able to talk to someone who knows what it’s like. It’s exactly that , I told him. And they pretend not to be staring but they really are. It’s awful. My scars are so ugly.
I thought I’d upset him for a while. He didn’t reply for about ten minutes. My thumb hovered over the keypad. How could I say sorry? I didn’t mean his scars would be ugly. Had I been as insensitive as those girls in the changing rooms whose eyes skimmed my body before they jerked their faces away, repulsed?
Then a picture arrived. A well-toned body with a long scar that started at his breastbone and ended just above his belly button. A thick white rope of skin, puckered in places, which stood out against his toned torso.
Pretty bad, right?
No . I typed as quickly as I could. Not at all. It’s a neat line. Mine looks like an angry rash across half my body.
I knew what he was going to ask.
Can you show me?
I took a deep breath and pulled down the neck of my t-shirt over my right shoulder. Took a photo of the dark-red bumpy stain and sent it.
That’s not as bad as you said it was. I feel a right idiot now for sending you my chest.
I felt like I’d let him down. And, anyway, the pictures on Snapchat are deleted as soon as you send them. I pulled off my t-shirt and took a picture of my whole body. Sent it to him.
His reply was almost immediate. You are so beautiful.
On Thursday, I felt so much better in school. Roman’s reaction had made me feel like a confident woman. I know that sounds stupid. Talking to him, sharing all my worries about the way I looked and whether that had caused Luca to finish with me, I can’t explain it; it was like I felt more seen than I had been in such a long time.
Sometimes after school, we’d hang out on the high street for half an hour before walking home, but I wanted to come back and talk to Roman, so I made my excuses and came home.
He wasn’t online straight away, so I looked at some Snapchat groups. There was a picture of Luca and Amelia laughing together over a Frappuccino. The way he was looking at her made it obvious that the rumours were true. He was so into her. I scanned any other photos that people had taken after school. In the background of one of them, Luca had his arm across Amelia’s shoulders. Were they together?
Anger fired across my chest. Just as a Snapchat came in from Roman.
Hiiiiii.
I tried to focus on him.
Hi. How was your day?
Boring. I was thinking about you.
When he talked like this, it made me feel fizzy in the pit of my stomach.
What were you thinking?
There was a thirty-second gap before his reply.
I can’t say.
This fizziness increased.
Come on.
I keep thinking about that picture. How beautiful you are. I’m so lucky to be chatting with you. I wish I could see you in real life.
My stomach fluttered. But I couldn’t meet up with him when I didn’t know him, could I?
Instantly, he sent another message.
Ignore that. It sounds creepy. Sorry. I’m embarrassed.
You don’t need to be embarrassed.
I think I’m going to go. I like you more than you like me and I’m an idiot.
You’re not. I knew I needed to say more. I like you too.
Really?
He sent me another picture of him smiling. He had no top on. If anything, the scar on his chest made him more attractive not less. I couldn’t help but think of Luca and his arm around Amelia. Before I could change my mind, I took off my top and took a posed image in my bra. Sent it.
His reply was instant.
Keeping your bra on is cheating.