Chapter 6 #2
It turned out we had more in common than I could have hoped.
Gemma had moved because her parents had split up, leaving her mum with next to nothing.
The good news was, I knew how to make next to nothing go a long way.
We always met at her flat, because my house was a circus and Gemma’s mum worked long shifts so was barely ever home.
Finding someone to swap clothes, discuss problems and create in-jokes with was more amazing than I ever envisaged.
Having an automatic partner for school projects, a person to hang around with at break times and not-get-invited-to-parties with was bliss.
For the first time, I trusted someone other than my sister.
Which was perfect timing, because since Lacey had moved out, I’d barely seen her.
As our conversations bounced between trivialities like make-up and music, and more serious topics including how we were getting out of Crandon and Gemma’s dad’s new partner, we inevitably started talking about boys.
One boy, in my case. A different boy every month, in Gemma’s.
I decided I was hopelessly in love with Amir about the same time we were both chosen to represent the school in the county science competition.
Amir was unashamedly smart, star of the football team and played the drums. He was tall with a floppy black fringe, dark olive skin and an easy-going grin.
His lack of interest in being popular made everybody like him, especially the girls.
Crucially, he’d never ridiculed me or acted like I was invisible, and that was more than enough to win my neglected heart.
I knew there was zero chance of my obsession being reciprocated, but a fifteen-year-old girl is going to dream.
Once I’d confided this infatuation to Gemma, she got totally on board as any best friend would do.
We spent hours constructing scenarios which would result in Amir falling for me.
Gemma insisted he was bound to love me, if only he got the chance to know me properly.
All we had to do was create the right opportunity.
After spending most of the school year scheming from the safety of Gemma’s bedroom, it was inevitable we would aim all my hopes at the cliché of the year eleven prom.
‘He’s still not asked anyone,’ Gemma updated me in the canteen queue after unsubtly questioning his best friend, Alfie.
‘Why?’ I groaned, because if he did, then at least I could mourn and move on. ‘He could invite literally anybody and they’d say yes.’
‘Apparently, he’d rather be free to have a laugh with his mates than obligated to one girl. He said it’s the dumbest place to have a first date.’
My heart sank. ‘He’ll be too busy with his friends to notice me. If I try to talk to him, he’ll think I’m being annoying.’
I picked up my tray and started walking towards our usual seat in the corner. The one with a direct view of where Amir sat with his cool friends.
‘You won’t have to try to talk to him,’ Gemma scoffed. ‘One look at you and he’ll lose all interest in his mates or anything else.’
I gave a noncommittal grunt, taking a bite into an apple, because since I’d been eating most of my meals at Gemma’s, I’d started putting on weight. She said boys liked women with boobs and a bum, but I wasn’t sure how I felt about it yet.
We spent the month leading up to the Big Night in full-on mission mode.
I blew a scary amount of my savings on a perfect dress – a dark green that brought out the emerald flecks in my eyes, with a ruched bodice and full skirt that made my new curves feel sexy rather than awkward.
I spent hours with Lacey’s old hair tongs perfecting soft curls and ordered a pile of library books on make-up techniques.
Gemma had her eye on one of Amir’s mates, and was borrowing her mum’s little black dress, which showed off her long legs to perfection. I helped add blonde highlights to her mousy hair, and she regularly chatted to Amir to subtly garner updates on his non-prom-date status.
As the evening grew closer, I spent many nights lying awake, tuning out the rowing downstairs or the mildew spreading across our bedroom ceiling.
I forgot to worry about how my exams had gone, or whether Lacey was taking drugs.
Instead, I lost myself in the fantasy of leaving behind Alexis Nixon, the poor, smelly freak with horrendous parents and zero social status, and becoming Alex Nixon – girlfriend of Amir, the most popular boy in the school.
Gemma and I were obviously going to get ready together at her flat.
Until, the day before, she texted to say her mum wasn’t well, so I’d need to do it at my house.
Because I was a novice when it came to friendships, I assumed we’d still be going together.
The prom was at a local hotel, a short bus ride away from Gemma’s.
It wasn’t ideal that her mum couldn’t drop us off any more, but what mattered was the night itself, not how we got there.
So, I slipped into a pair of gold sandals, grabbed a jacket and, ignoring the fact Gemma hadn’t answered my texts, let alone called so we could chat while we got ready, I made the fifteen-minute walk to her small block of flats.
As I rounded the corner into the scrubby square of concrete outside the main entrance, I tried phoning her again.
There was no answer, but weirdly, I heard ringing from somewhere nearby before it suddenly cut off.
Looking around, apprehension prickling the back of my neck as I began to realise something was off, I saw her, propping open the main door to the building.
She wasn’t alone.
I ducked behind a rusty van, breath catching in my throat as I peeked around the side.
Before stepping out onto the forecourt, she cautiously peered about, as if checking for someone.
I realised, when the other person followed her out and I couldn’t pretend I’d mistaken him any longer, the someone she was checking for was me.
Gemma, my first ever real friend, gave Amir her cutest smile as she took hold of his hand. They walked over to a waiting BMW, and Amir opened the door for his prom date to climb inside.
I slowly slid down the filthy van into a crumpled heap on the floor, my whole body winded by the force of the betrayal.
It had been two days ago, I realised, replaying the subtle change in Gemma’s manner when I’d called round.
She’d been distracted, almost impatient, and I’d put it down to her growing bored with my Amir obsession.
I’d tried switching the conversation to his friend she liked, but she’d been dismissive, complaining her head ached, so I’d left.
Amir had asked her to the prom two days ago, and she’d said yes.
She’d said yes and not even told me.
She’d let me dress up, curl my hair, stick on ridiculous eyelashes and walk around here like the fool I was.
I slunk home, ripping off my dress the second I snuck up to my bedroom before crying myself to sleep, face pressed into my skinny pillow.
By the time I’d woken up the following morning, my anger and pain had been redirected to where it belonged.
I couldn’t believe I’d been so stupid. I knew better than that.
Better than to trust someone. Count on them. Share my heart and expect them to genuinely care about it. Point proven, when my parents didn’t even ask about the prom. They hadn’t noticed me coming home early because they’d forgotten where I was supposed to be going.
All I could do now was make sure I never trusted anyone like that again.
Despite all my efforts, I spotted Gemma a couple of times that summer.
On both occasions, she was hanging about with a group of kids from our school in the square beside the shopping centre.
She’d dyed her hair platinum and got her nose pierced.
Gemma took a swig from a bottle of WKD, laughing at something one of the boys had said as I marched past. She could laugh away.
I was done with Gemma and the other people from school.
Done with other people, full stop. From now on, it was me against the world, and I wasn’t going to let anyone hold me back.