her.’
‘Pointless. She’d be gutted and you still wouldn’t know any more about Jack.’
‘Hmm,’ I said. ‘So I’ve got to go through with it, then? Shit.’
‘Yeah,’ said Katie. ‘You’ve got to finish what you started.’
‘What about Jack?’ I asked. ‘What do I tell him? I was supposed to be seeing him Saturday.’
‘Just say you’ve got to meet me and you’ll meet him later. Say I needed you to come shopping with me for a dress, or whatever.’
‘OK.’ I thought for a moment. Maybe there was a way of putting off my decision a little longer. ‘You know what? I’m going to call Jack now and get him to come round.
I’m going to give him one last chance to tell me everything, and if he does I’ll end it with Alex. If he doesn’t, I’ll tell her I’ll go to the match with
her.’
‘Sounds like a plan,’ said Katie. ‘Good luck.’
Chapter 9
I know it was my fault, that nobody made me do it. But if only Jack had made up a decent story about Alex and his dad, instead of being so evasive, then I wouldn’t
have had to do it. I wouldn’t have felt the need to do it. Why didn’t he just say, ‘Alex dumped me because she met someone else’ and make me feel sorry for him? Poor Jack,
I’d have thought, what a bitch that Alex was, she so didn’t deserve you . . . Why didn’t he tell me his dad had died in a car accident, or a plane crash, or been knifed outside a
pub, or something equally tragic? I wouldn’t have asked for the gory details, I’m sure I wouldn’t. I’d have swallowed those stories and I’d have been satisfied and
I’d probably have cared about him more.
Who ever came up with the idea that honesty is always the best policy?
My pathetic plan didn’t work, which is why I found myself waiting anxiously outside the entrance to Arsenal football ground at two-thirty the following Saturday
afternoon. As I stood in the cold, swarms of expectant real fans gathering around me, I felt like a fish out of water, contemplating a terrible fate, which is probably the way my very last goldfish
felt when it decided to throw itself out of its bowl in a final act of suicidal desperation. You know those shots in films and adverts where someone is standing completely still, frozen in time,
while everything and everyone whirls around them at a double speed? That was me. I was virtually rooted to the spot with fear and anticipation; I think I knew that if I took just one step I’d
probably keep on walking until I got all the way home.
Jack had come round the night I received Alex’s message, just as I’d intended. Unfortunately, we’d spent most of the evening doing my maths coursework. Saying I needed his help
with it was the only way I could persuade my parents to allow him to visit on a school night and, annoyingly, he took me at my word. That’s the thing with Jack, he doesn’t do hints or
subtlety. If you want him to understand what you really mean, you have to spell things out to him in block capitals and, obviously, in this instance, I couldn’t. I find that boys are often a
bit dense like that. You just have to look at another girl in a particular way and she ‘gets’ it, without a word being said. But boys? It’s like trying to take an x-ray through
lead. I suppose it has its advantages. It’s certainly much easier to pull the wool over Dad’s eyes than Mum’s.
Two hours after Jack arrived, we’d endured eating dinner with my parents and we’d listened to a couple of tracks I’d downloaded, but I still hadn’t made any headway,
either with the matter at hand or with my maths coursework.
‘The “x” goes there,’ Jack said, showing no signs of impatience whatsoever, despite having explained the equation to me at least eight times. ‘See?’
‘I think so,’ I said. ‘Sort of. So the “y” goes there?’
He sighed. ‘No, Lil. It goes at the end. Like I showed you before. Y equals five.’
‘I still don’t get it. We’re going
‘Pointless. She’d be gutted and you still wouldn’t know any more about Jack.’
‘Hmm,’ I said. ‘So I’ve got to go through with it, then? Shit.’
‘Yeah,’ said Katie. ‘You’ve got to finish what you started.’
‘What about Jack?’ I asked. ‘What do I tell him? I was supposed to be seeing him Saturday.’
‘Just say you’ve got to meet me and you’ll meet him later. Say I needed you to come shopping with me for a dress, or whatever.’
‘OK.’ I thought for a moment. Maybe there was a way of putting off my decision a little longer. ‘You know what? I’m going to call Jack now and get him to come round.
I’m going to give him one last chance to tell me everything, and if he does I’ll end it with Alex. If he doesn’t, I’ll tell her I’ll go to the match with
her.’
‘Sounds like a plan,’ said Katie. ‘Good luck.’
Chapter 9
I know it was my fault, that nobody made me do it. But if only Jack had made up a decent story about Alex and his dad, instead of being so evasive, then I wouldn’t
have had to do it. I wouldn’t have felt the need to do it. Why didn’t he just say, ‘Alex dumped me because she met someone else’ and make me feel sorry for him? Poor Jack,
I’d have thought, what a bitch that Alex was, she so didn’t deserve you . . . Why didn’t he tell me his dad had died in a car accident, or a plane crash, or been knifed outside a
pub, or something equally tragic? I wouldn’t have asked for the gory details, I’m sure I wouldn’t. I’d have swallowed those stories and I’d have been satisfied and
I’d probably have cared about him more.
Who ever came up with the idea that honesty is always the best policy?
My pathetic plan didn’t work, which is why I found myself waiting anxiously outside the entrance to Arsenal football ground at two-thirty the following Saturday
afternoon. As I stood in the cold, swarms of expectant real fans gathering around me, I felt like a fish out of water, contemplating a terrible fate, which is probably the way my very last goldfish
felt when it decided to throw itself out of its bowl in a final act of suicidal desperation. You know those shots in films and adverts where someone is standing completely still, frozen in time,
while everything and everyone whirls around them at a double speed? That was me. I was virtually rooted to the spot with fear and anticipation; I think I knew that if I took just one step I’d
probably keep on walking until I got all the way home.
Jack had come round the night I received Alex’s message, just as I’d intended. Unfortunately, we’d spent most of the evening doing my maths coursework. Saying I needed his help
with it was the only way I could persuade my parents to allow him to visit on a school night and, annoyingly, he took me at my word. That’s the thing with Jack, he doesn’t do hints or
subtlety. If you want him to understand what you really mean, you have to spell things out to him in block capitals and, obviously, in this instance, I couldn’t. I find that boys are often a
bit dense like that. You just have to look at another girl in a particular way and she ‘gets’ it, without a word being said. But boys? It’s like trying to take an x-ray through
lead. I suppose it has its advantages. It’s certainly much easier to pull the wool over Dad’s eyes than Mum’s.
Two hours after Jack arrived, we’d endured eating dinner with my parents and we’d listened to a couple of tracks I’d downloaded, but I still hadn’t made any headway,
either with the matter at hand or with my maths coursework.
‘The “x” goes there,’ Jack said, showing no signs of impatience whatsoever, despite having explained the equation to me at least eight times. ‘See?’
‘I think so,’ I said. ‘Sort of. So the “y” goes there?’
He sighed. ‘No, Lil. It goes at the end. Like I showed you before. Y equals five.’
‘I still don’t get it. We’re going
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