CHAPTER TWELVE
Solana decided she would drive Raina all the way to Barnes and come to the party.
The mere mention of a gathering at Raina’s house was enough to send her little sister bolting upstairs to change out of her gym clothes and into something more celebratory.
While their parents weakly protested, the girls piled into Solana’s Mini Cooper and scattered the stones on the driveway as they sped out onto the street, heading for London.
‘You have to help me set up if you’re coming,’ Raina said sternly, putting her playlist on and adjusting her seat. ‘God, how short are your boyfriends-slash-girlfriends? My legs were pressed right up against the glove box.’
‘I don’t let boys in this car,’ Solana said, laughing. ‘But check said glove box, by the by.’
Raina opened it to find a little purple bag. She made a noise of delight, lifting out a giant golden coin. A voucher for Liberty of London.
‘I know you love that place,’ Solana said gleefully. ‘And you’ll be needing a dress for the Mondays.’
‘You are a class act, Solana Lewis.’
‘It’s a hundred quid – consider it a contribution to your winning outfit.’
‘I doubt we’ll win.’
‘You will.’
Raina was feeling something pretty close to elation.
She was speeding home with one of her favourite people to spend time with some of her other favourite people.
She’d been very liberal when buying food for the party, all of which was waiting in the kitchen to be put out.
The fridge and drink trolley were both heaving with bottles from the corner shop, and Pepper was bringing a cake from a bakery on the Fulham Road.
She was nominated for two Mondays, celebrating a birthday and had managed to escape lunch with her parents without a single argument or deeply traumatic comment from her mother.
‘So, Rai,’ Solana said gently, ‘what’s really going on with Tom Branimir? We’re not in front of the parental boomers now; you can tell me.’
‘Nothing’s going on,’ Raina insisted, turning the air conditioning on and closing her eyes. ‘He’s scoping me out for a story, that’s it.’
‘I like him, you know,’ Solana said gingerly. ‘I’ve screenshotted a bunch of his stuff to use in my dissertation. Quoted every article, too. He’s very quotable.’
‘I’m sure. Can’t wait to see how he ruins my reputation.’
‘So, let him ruin your reputation in, like, a nineteenth-century way.’
‘Oh, my God,’ cried Raina, spluttering out a laugh and opening her eyes to gape at her little sister. ‘Look at what Oxbridge is doing to you!’
‘He’s so hot, though! And that picture? He’s looking at you the way Mum looks at a nice South African red!’
‘Warning,’ Raina said, putting on her older sibling voice and pointing a finger at Solana’s cheek. ‘That’s a yellow card.’
Solana laughed but they sat together in silence for a moment, enjoying the music and the cool air. Solana flexed her hands on the steering wheel and stole a quick glance at her sister.
‘I think it would be great to see you happy with someone.’
Raina let out a breath and smiled widely. ‘And you think the guy you’re quoting in your university essays is the one to do that?’
‘You need someone who is, like, crazy smart. Someone who can actually get on your level. If he’s as smart in person as he is when he’s writing . . . I think it would be great.’
‘He made a damn fool of himself the night we first met.’
‘I saw the pictures of you and Pepper. I can guess why.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘You can’t unleash cleavage and long legs and your brain on a guy for the first time and expect him to put a coherent sentence together.’
‘That’s a very old-fashioned view.’
‘Horniness is always in fashion. He was probably super nervous.’
‘Sol.’ Raina wound the window down a little, suddenly feeling flushed.
‘He is hunting me down in the hopes that I reveal something useable for him to put in his book. That’s the catch.
He’s like one of those orcas circling a seal on the ice.
He looks all sweet and adorable, but he’s waiting for an opportunity to sink me. ’
Solana bit her lip and sighed. ‘But you’re not a seal, Rai. You’re a mermaid.’
‘And he’s the scientist with his net, hoping to make a mint.’
Raina couldn’t believe she was suddenly blinking back tears. Solana certainly hadn’t intended to make her sister cry. She was no doubt referring to Raina’s childhood bedroom, which had been a shrine to mermaid lore. Wallpaper, clothing, pencil cases, pillows and rugs. She’d been obsessed.
To an outsider, it seemed a perfectly normal fixation for a little girl to have.
If a little too intense. To Raina, it represented a story she felt was her own.
The fish out of water. When she was little, she liked to escape into a fantasy where she was a mermaid pretending to be a human.
Every time she was bullied, shunned or chastised for appearing different, she would silently tell herself it was only temporary.
Every medical trial, every bit of occupational therapy, it was all just part of the story.
And only for now. She was just waiting until she could get back to the ocean. Her ocean.
Wherever in the world that would be.
She pretended to nap for the rest of the drive, saving all of her social battery for the party. Solana was very used to this side of her and took it in her stride, offering to start the party preparations while Raina showered and got ready.
Raina sat down in the shower and let the water rush over her.
She was excited for the party, but she would need to mentally prepare.
It would require a lot of mingling and checking on people’s drinks.
It would need her to be on her toes to answer all kinds of questions, probably over and over again.
She would need to accept that people would rearrange her furnishings and touch her belongings, at least downstairs.
To any neurotypical person, a party was nothing at all. To Raina, it was partly a joy. Partly a performance. Mostly an endurance test.
Her dress was a shimmering silver flapper-style number, with her red-bottom shoes and a silver choker to match.
While the hairdryer was blowing, she got a text from Pepper to say she was letting herself in through the front door in five minutes with the cake.
The night was officially underway.
She scrunched some product into her long, damp hair and realized one stark, true thing: she was getting ready purely with the intention of rendering Tom Branimir speechless.
She knew the shimmering silver would catch the dim lights in the house and turn her into a human mirror ball.
She knew the cut of the hem would showcase her long legs.
She had sparkling eyeshadow to match, as well as the shoes.
It was absolutely an outfit she would have worn to a party sans Tom Branimir.
But she wanted to see his face. If Solana’s theory was to be believed, a rose-gold dress had got her into this trouble, so a silver one could get her out.
She would tell him tonight. No story. She didn’t consent.
He had nothing worth publishing, in her opinion.
She was determined, and she needed the dress and heels for courage.
An unconventional battle uniform, but fashion had always helped Raina find her voice.
He’d seen her standing outside of Liberty in a pale-pink trench, carrying a butt vase. He’d seen her in casual Sunday clothes before the marathon. He’d slid her shoes onto her bare feet while she wore a three-year-old sundress.
She wanted to remind him just exactly whom he was hunting.