picked up the bags I’d put on the pavement.
‘I need to get going,’ I said quickly. ‘I’ll see you soon. OK?’ And I dashed off as Dylan shouted something about a Christmas party at me.
17th December
Today I deleted the email from Dylan because I need to stop reading it every hour and theorising about what every word means. All that stuff he wrote about me being heartless and hard has really wounded me. I have too much heart, if anything. It gets me into trouble all the time.
18th December
It was the Christmas Party at the children’s ward today. One of the doctors dressed up as Father Christmas and we sang carols and handed out presents.
Nat and I managed to raise just under thirty quid and my dad rounded it up to fifty. We bought all the kids a book and one of those stockings stuffed full of chocolate each. Aw! In return we got this home-made card that they’d all signed with a picture of me and Nat on it (I had yellow hair, I was pleased to see) by a Christmas tree. I think it was a Christmas tree. Either that, or a really strange-looking reindeer.
I sat and held Asha’s hand for a little bit and she tried to sit up. Her parents were there and they thanked me for making the angel and for spending time with her. Her mum seemed really reined in, like she was trying to hold herself together and when I went to say goodbye and gave Asha a kiss on the forehead, her mum hugged me so hard, I thought she was going to break one of my ribs.
19th December
Asha died last night.
20th December
Nat has gone down in history as the only boy who’s ever going to be allowed to spend the night in my room. I phoned him in tears yesterday to tell him about Asha and he came over and we both cried a lot and ate too many mince pies.
And then I asked if he could stay over and Mum went and got a pair of Dad’s pyjamas for him to sleep in and then I laughed so hard that I was one pelvic floor exercise away from completely wetting myself.
The only other person that I really wanted to call was… not on my speed dial any more.
23rd December
Nat and I spent the day delivering our Christmas cards. He’s all about being busy to take our minds off being sad about Asha and depressed about toxic ex-boyfriends. The postman thing didn’t take very long actually. But it did take an hour for him and Shona (who was the only other person on our delivery route) to persuade me to go round to Dylan’s new flat.
‘So we’ll just pretend that we were passing,’ Shona said.
‘We’ve got to deliver some Christmas cards anyway,’ Nat reckoned.
‘But we
are
just passing. And we do have to deliver Christmas cards,’ I pointed out as they dragged me up the garden path.
I had never been privileged enough to actually get an invitation to Dylan’s home when we were, like, dating but there I was standing nervously on his doorstep with Nat and Shona each grabbing one of my arms so I couldn’t make a run for it.
Paul answered the door and led us into the lounge. I thought I was going to throw up. There was Dylan with Veronique sitting on his lap. Do they have to be surgically attached to each other all the time? Then there was Simon, who I hadn’t seen since I got drunk and ended up snogging him, and that lanky git Carter who looked up and said, ‘Oh, it’s Eddie, no longer an officially missing person.’
‘Oh it’s Cartman,’ I hissed. ‘The rudest boy in the world.’
‘It’s
Carter
, sweetheart,’ he said.
‘And it’s
Edie
, dickweed,’ I snarled while Shona shot me a warning look.
I had to sit there for a very painful hour while Veronique wittered on about her Performance Art piece. I don’t know what Dylan sees in her. He kept sneaking looks at me like he couldn’t believe that I was sitting there on his sofa after my disappearing act. I pretended everything was cool but seeing him with Veronique tore me apart. And what with Simon’s smirking and Carter’s sneering the whole thing was just
‘I need to get going,’ I said quickly. ‘I’ll see you soon. OK?’ And I dashed off as Dylan shouted something about a Christmas party at me.
17th December
Today I deleted the email from Dylan because I need to stop reading it every hour and theorising about what every word means. All that stuff he wrote about me being heartless and hard has really wounded me. I have too much heart, if anything. It gets me into trouble all the time.
18th December
It was the Christmas Party at the children’s ward today. One of the doctors dressed up as Father Christmas and we sang carols and handed out presents.
Nat and I managed to raise just under thirty quid and my dad rounded it up to fifty. We bought all the kids a book and one of those stockings stuffed full of chocolate each. Aw! In return we got this home-made card that they’d all signed with a picture of me and Nat on it (I had yellow hair, I was pleased to see) by a Christmas tree. I think it was a Christmas tree. Either that, or a really strange-looking reindeer.
I sat and held Asha’s hand for a little bit and she tried to sit up. Her parents were there and they thanked me for making the angel and for spending time with her. Her mum seemed really reined in, like she was trying to hold herself together and when I went to say goodbye and gave Asha a kiss on the forehead, her mum hugged me so hard, I thought she was going to break one of my ribs.
19th December
Asha died last night.
20th December
Nat has gone down in history as the only boy who’s ever going to be allowed to spend the night in my room. I phoned him in tears yesterday to tell him about Asha and he came over and we both cried a lot and ate too many mince pies.
And then I asked if he could stay over and Mum went and got a pair of Dad’s pyjamas for him to sleep in and then I laughed so hard that I was one pelvic floor exercise away from completely wetting myself.
The only other person that I really wanted to call was… not on my speed dial any more.
23rd December
Nat and I spent the day delivering our Christmas cards. He’s all about being busy to take our minds off being sad about Asha and depressed about toxic ex-boyfriends. The postman thing didn’t take very long actually. But it did take an hour for him and Shona (who was the only other person on our delivery route) to persuade me to go round to Dylan’s new flat.
‘So we’ll just pretend that we were passing,’ Shona said.
‘We’ve got to deliver some Christmas cards anyway,’ Nat reckoned.
‘But we
are
just passing. And we do have to deliver Christmas cards,’ I pointed out as they dragged me up the garden path.
I had never been privileged enough to actually get an invitation to Dylan’s home when we were, like, dating but there I was standing nervously on his doorstep with Nat and Shona each grabbing one of my arms so I couldn’t make a run for it.
Paul answered the door and led us into the lounge. I thought I was going to throw up. There was Dylan with Veronique sitting on his lap. Do they have to be surgically attached to each other all the time? Then there was Simon, who I hadn’t seen since I got drunk and ended up snogging him, and that lanky git Carter who looked up and said, ‘Oh, it’s Eddie, no longer an officially missing person.’
‘Oh it’s Cartman,’ I hissed. ‘The rudest boy in the world.’
‘It’s
Carter
, sweetheart,’ he said.
‘And it’s
Edie
, dickweed,’ I snarled while Shona shot me a warning look.
I had to sit there for a very painful hour while Veronique wittered on about her Performance Art piece. I don’t know what Dylan sees in her. He kept sneaking looks at me like he couldn’t believe that I was sitting there on his sofa after my disappearing act. I pretended everything was cool but seeing him with Veronique tore me apart. And what with Simon’s smirking and Carter’s sneering the whole thing was just
Similar Books
