tuna sandwich and a couple of Cokes. Then, when my traumatised parents were going ballistic at her during the last few hours, I made sure I stayed well and truly hidden in my room. I’m not some vindictive ghoul; I didn’t need to hear them tearing into her. I was happy enough just revelling in the good sister role for once in my life. And while my mum and dad still seemed to assume I’d stuck to the plan and stayed over at Pamela’s, I wasn’t about to set them straight.
“It hasn’t upset you, all this nonsense with Sarah today, has it?” Mum gazes down at me, crinkling her neatly plucked eyebrows in concern.
“No,” I shake my head. “I’m just glad that nobody did anything to my room, that’s all.”
“I know, I know…” Mum pats me on the shoulder. “Well, Sarah has been a very silly girl for letting it happen. I suppose she was led astray by Cherish and Angel – she said they were the ones who persuaded her to have the stupid party in the first place…”
I don’t mean to have any particular expression on my face, but Mum spots it straight away.
“I know…I know I shouldn’t make excuses for her,Megan,” Mum bites her lip, chastised by my look, a cynical, disbelieving “Oh, yeah?!” if it conveyed what I was thinking.deep-down “So…you won’t be working too late on your homework, will you, Meg?”
“Just got a bit more to do,” I tell her, tapping on the scribbled papers by my side.
“Good for you. But when you finish, why don’t you come down and join your dad and me? When Harry Met Sally is coming on soon…”
Wow. I feel like the Chosen One. (Sarah, the usual Chosen One, is currently squirrelled away in her room, licking her wounds.) Just like my tarot cards said, things are changing, and fast.
“By the way, I forgot to tell you,” says Mum, halfway out the door then peeking back round it again. “When we got back this afternoon, old Mrs Harrison was sweeping her path and called me over. She said you’d helped her last week – lifting a cupboard or something?”
“Bookshelves,” I correct her.
“Bookshelves then. You know, that was really, really kind of you, Megan. Why didn’t you tell us about it?”
I shrug and feel myself blushing slightly at her words. But how can I answer her truthfully? How can I tell her that the reason I kept quiet was because I can never normally get a word in edgeways when we’re all together,since the conversation (and the world) revolves around Sarah?
“Well, your dad and I are very proud, Pumpkin.”
For once, I don’t hate being called Pumpkin; I’m too stunned at the compliments I’m hearing. I’m also glad when I see Mum retreat from the doorway and shut the door behind her, before she can see the grateful tears that are trembling, on the verge of tumbling, from my eyes.
I have to do something fast to take my mind off this. Blindly, I turn back to the screen and hesitantly doub-leclick on what I think is my homework essay. Instead, what flashes up is something completely different. I don’t know how I managed it, but I’ve just opened up an e-mail – and an e-mail to Sarah from her friend Angel. It’s dated today, 2.27pm to be precise; I spot that just as I’m about to close the file and try again. And then my finger stalls, hovering over the mouse, not quite connecting my finger with the clicker, not quite doing what I thought I’d do. This is awful…it’s private…I shouldn’t be looking, but I can’t stop myself.
Omigod, I can’t believe I got that drunk last night. I feel such a fool, Sarah – a total, complete idiot. Yeah, you were right when you asked if I’d done it with Joel last night. I’m sorry if I got angry with you
and tried to deny it – I was just off my face. And off my head for – oh, I can’t even believe it happened – losing my virginity to that big-headed creep!
I feel dizzy as I read, and then realise I’m so stunned I’ve forgotten to breath. I take a deep gasp of air and
“It hasn’t upset you, all this nonsense with Sarah today, has it?” Mum gazes down at me, crinkling her neatly plucked eyebrows in concern.
“No,” I shake my head. “I’m just glad that nobody did anything to my room, that’s all.”
“I know, I know…” Mum pats me on the shoulder. “Well, Sarah has been a very silly girl for letting it happen. I suppose she was led astray by Cherish and Angel – she said they were the ones who persuaded her to have the stupid party in the first place…”
I don’t mean to have any particular expression on my face, but Mum spots it straight away.
“I know…I know I shouldn’t make excuses for her,Megan,” Mum bites her lip, chastised by my look, a cynical, disbelieving “Oh, yeah?!” if it conveyed what I was thinking.deep-down “So…you won’t be working too late on your homework, will you, Meg?”
“Just got a bit more to do,” I tell her, tapping on the scribbled papers by my side.
“Good for you. But when you finish, why don’t you come down and join your dad and me? When Harry Met Sally is coming on soon…”
Wow. I feel like the Chosen One. (Sarah, the usual Chosen One, is currently squirrelled away in her room, licking her wounds.) Just like my tarot cards said, things are changing, and fast.
“By the way, I forgot to tell you,” says Mum, halfway out the door then peeking back round it again. “When we got back this afternoon, old Mrs Harrison was sweeping her path and called me over. She said you’d helped her last week – lifting a cupboard or something?”
“Bookshelves,” I correct her.
“Bookshelves then. You know, that was really, really kind of you, Megan. Why didn’t you tell us about it?”
I shrug and feel myself blushing slightly at her words. But how can I answer her truthfully? How can I tell her that the reason I kept quiet was because I can never normally get a word in edgeways when we’re all together,since the conversation (and the world) revolves around Sarah?
“Well, your dad and I are very proud, Pumpkin.”
For once, I don’t hate being called Pumpkin; I’m too stunned at the compliments I’m hearing. I’m also glad when I see Mum retreat from the doorway and shut the door behind her, before she can see the grateful tears that are trembling, on the verge of tumbling, from my eyes.
I have to do something fast to take my mind off this. Blindly, I turn back to the screen and hesitantly doub-leclick on what I think is my homework essay. Instead, what flashes up is something completely different. I don’t know how I managed it, but I’ve just opened up an e-mail – and an e-mail to Sarah from her friend Angel. It’s dated today, 2.27pm to be precise; I spot that just as I’m about to close the file and try again. And then my finger stalls, hovering over the mouse, not quite connecting my finger with the clicker, not quite doing what I thought I’d do. This is awful…it’s private…I shouldn’t be looking, but I can’t stop myself.
Omigod, I can’t believe I got that drunk last night. I feel such a fool, Sarah – a total, complete idiot. Yeah, you were right when you asked if I’d done it with Joel last night. I’m sorry if I got angry with you
and tried to deny it – I was just off my face. And off my head for – oh, I can’t even believe it happened – losing my virginity to that big-headed creep!
I feel dizzy as I read, and then realise I’m so stunned I’ve forgotten to breath. I take a deep gasp of air and
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