The Gatecrasher by Sophie Kinsella Page A

“if all they do is send you back home?” Antony didn’t know. He didn’t care. It wasn’t his problem.
    The road to the clubhouse was downhill, lined with grass and trees and the gates to other people’s houses. Antony glanced at each driveway as he passed, assessing from the presence of cars who was at home and who wasn’t. The Forresters had a new white Jeep, he noticed, pausing by their gate. Very nice.
    “Hey, Antony! Like my Jeep?” Antony started, and looked up. Sitting on the grass about fifty yards down the road were Xanthe Forrester and Mex Taylor. Their legs were entwined in a tangle of 501s and they were both smoking. Antony fought with a desire to turn round and pretend he hadn’t heard. Xanthe was about his own age; he’d known her for ever. She’d always been a bitchy little girl; now she was just a bitch. She always managed to make him feel stupid and awkward and ugly. Mex Taylor was new to Greyworth. All Antony knew was that he was in the upper sixth at Eton and played off seven, and all the girls thought he was great. Which was enough.
    He walked slowly down the hill towards them, trying not to rush, trying to keep his breath steady, trying to think of something clever to say. Then, as he neared them, Xanthe suddenly put out her cigarette and began kissing Mex, clutching his head and writhing about as though she were in some stupid movie. Antony told himself furiously that she was just showing off. She probably thought he was jealous.She probably thought he’d never snogged anyone in his life before. If only she knew. At school, they were bussed off to dances nearly every weekend, and Antony always came away with a couple of love bites and a phone number, no problem. But that was at school, where there was no childhood history; where people took him for what he was. Whereas Xanthe Forrester, Fifi Tilling—all that little clique—still thought of him as square old Antony Favour, good for a round of golf but not much else.
    Suddenly Xanthe pulled herself away from Mex.
    “My phone! It’s vibrating!” She darted a wicked look at Mex, glanced at Antony, then pulled her mobile phone from the bright red leather holster on her hip. Antony looked awkwardly at Mex and, in spite of himself, felt his hand shoot up protectively to his eye, covering his birthmark.
    “Hi? Fifi! Yeah, I’m with Mex!” Xanthe’s voice was triumphant.
    “Want a smoke?” said Mex casually to Antony. Antony considered. If he said yes, he would have to stay and talk to them. And someone might see him and tell his dad, which would be a real hassle. But if he said no, they’d think he was square.
    “OK.”
    Xanthe was still babbling away into her phone, but as Antony lit up, she paused and said with a giggle, “Antony! Smoking! That’s a bit daring for you, isn’t it?” Mex gave Antony an amused look and Antony felt himself flushing.
    “It’s so cool!” said Xanthe, putting her phone away. “Fifi’s parents are away until Friday. We’re all meeting at hers tonight,” she added to Mex. “You, me, Fifi and Tania. Tania’s got some stuff.”
    “Sounds good,” said Mex. “What about . . .” He jerked his head towards Antony. Xanthe pulled the briefest of faces at Mex, then turned to Antony.
    “D’you want to meet up, Antony? We’re watching
Betty Blue
on Fifi’s laser disc.”
    “I can’t, I’m afraid,” said Antony. “My dad’s . . .” He paused. He wasn’t about to tell Xanthe that his dad had a girlfriend. “My dad’s coming home,” he said weakly.
    “Your dad’s coming home?” said Xanthe incredulously. “You can’t come out because your dad’s coming home?”
    “I think that’s really nice,” said Mex kindly. “I wish I was that close to my dad.” He smirked at Xanthe. “It would help if I didn’t hate his guts.”
    Xanthe burst into peals of laughter.
    “I wish I was closer to my dad,” she said. “Maybe then he would have given me a Jag instead of a Jeep.” She lit up