house last night, I’m keeping all of my fingers and toes crossed that Josh will blow off his rugby party and turn up at my house later.
My heart leaps a tiny bit as I watch the Greens’ massive Range Rover pull up outside our house, from the safety of my bedroom with the overhead light switched off. If they came in ‘the beast’ rather than Tina’s little yellow Mini, this must mean the whole family is in attendance…
There’s Tina – my mum’s best friend – and her husband Greg, followed by Tristan, Josh’s little brother, leaping out of the back ninja-style. And that’s it. The car does that annoying double-beep and locking sound behind them, just to rub it in.
I’m not so much heartbroken as a bit blah. Especially when I add up all those hours of wasted time – washing, blow-drying and straightening my hair; painstakingly applying liquid eyeliner; painting my nails and toenails a new shade of navy blue that I bought in town today; trying on three different outfits before settling on leggings, flat sandals and a short shift dress in sixties fabric that I bought on Etsy. Not to mention wasting some of the last precious drops of my Marc Jacobs perfume that I’m trying to eke out until my birthday, when I might get enough cash to buy some more.
‘Sorana!’ my mum’s voice inevitably drifts up the stairs.
‘Oh my God!’ I hear when I am only halfway down into the hall. ‘Sorana, you look more like your mother every time I see you. Only much younger and taller and thinner, obviously – damn you. Lucy, your daughter is getting far too beautiful.’
I’d be flattered if Tina didn’t say this sort of thing to everyone. She’s my mum’s best friend – they used to work together. She’s about ten years older than my mum but she’s immensely cool, with a loud voice and hair that changes colour every week. It’s currently pillar-box red, with a quiff at the front. Josh finds her mortifying and I don’t blame him, but she takes it with the sort of good humour that annoys him even more – Tina’s awesome, but I’m quite glad she’s not my mother.
‘Josh is following in his own car,’ she adds. ‘I hope you don’t mind him having such bad manners – he’s just going to pop in for some food and then he’s got a party to whizz off to later. You know what these teenagers are like.’
‘Only too well.’ Mum shoots me a smile as she says it. ‘Now, what are you drinking?’
Daisy and Tristan – who are roughly the same age, just as Josh and I are – have already disappeared to play on the Wii. I pour myself a glass of wine, and then I have to try not to react when I hear the doorbell ring. Instead, I choke on my drink and do a weird half-cough/half-hiccup type thing and fiddle with the buckle on my shoe like the meaning of life is stuck in it somewhere.
‘Sorana!’ Pete shouts, wearing oven gloves and poking his head out from the kitchen. ‘Can you get the door, please?’
‘Yeah, all right, calm down.’ I immediately feel bad for snapping at Pete, who is never anything but totally easy-going. ‘I mean, yeah, OK, just a minute…’
Deep breath. Gather.
‘Oh, hey, Josh – how are you doing?’
‘Not bad, not bad. How are we?’
Josh casually kisses me on the cheek before walking straight past me and heading into the kitchen, where he falls into instant conversation with Pete and Greg. Assessing him objectively from afar, I do kind of wonder what I ever saw in Josh. It’s not as if we have anything in common, except for our families and age. I mean, he’s wearing a rugby shirt, board shorts and flip-flops even though it’s raining outside.
‘And what the hell did you do to your hair, kid?’ Pete asks out loud. ‘Didn’t have you down as the punk-rocker type, Joshua.’
‘Don’t even ask,’ Josh groans, gesturing to his hair – which is usually a sort of dark biscuityginger – and trying to hide the fact that he’s obviously rather pleased with himself. ‘We were on this school trip to Vienna, and of course I fell asleep on the back seat of the coach, and some of the guys attacked me with this girl’s Sun-In or something. At least I kept my eyebrows, I suppose.’
Josh goes to a school that is way posher than mine, but somehow much more normal. It’s a boys’ school but they let girls in for sixth form – and imagine how lucky those girls are. It’s in the countryside, only about an hour away, but Josh boards during the week because he actually likes it.
Despite this, he somehow manages to know absolutely everyone our age in this town, and is kind of universally beloved. When they’re not hanging out at The Crown – where Josh sometimes goes on a Friday night, too – Amie Bellairs and co sometimes deign to go to house parties held by boys from Josh’s school. Somehow he manages to be the guy who all the parents love, while always having a stash of weed on him and being the drunkest at parties.
‘I swear, this boy’ll be the death of me,’ faux-laments Greg, ruffling Josh’s hair affectionately and handing him a beer.
‘Come on! Sit down, let’s eat!’
The cries begin reverberating around the house as the younger kids thunder down the stairs, more drinks are poured and we all pile in around the kitchen table – kitchen rather than dining room because it’s just the Greens and we’ve been having these kind of chaotic, casual family dinners since the days when Josh and I used to smear food on our faces and then get thrown in the bath together. OK, great – that’s just put a weird picture in my mind that I can’t get rid of as I slide into my seat…
‘So, Sorana,’ Tina asks, as soon as we’ve all got loaded plates of lasagne in front of us, and the salad bowl and garlic bread are doing the rounds, ‘it’s your birthday coming up soon, isn’t it? The big one-seven. What are you up to? Are you going to be out partying?’
‘Um, Trouble Every Day are playing at the Arts Centre. I’m going with my friend Shimmi.’
An all-ages local gig at the Arts Centre may not sound like the most amazing thing to be doing to celebrate my seventeenth birthday – but it’s my favourite band of all time, playing a small venue about ten minutes’ walk from my house and, even though it’s still a few weeks away, I could not be more excited.
‘Oh, that chubby girl Shimmi Miah?’ Josh says through a mouthful of food. ‘The one whose parents own the curry house? Sam O’Shaughnessy told me that she… Actually, never mind – I’ll tell you later.’
That’s another funny thing about Josh – he’s kind of a gossip. I know he probably won’t tell me later; because it gets him in his parents’ good books, he always makes out that we’re much closer than we really are.
‘Much too salacious for us elderly folk.’ Pete grins. ‘So, what’s this party you’re running off to tonight, Josh?’
‘Just this girl Alice Pincott, who’s going out with my mate Dan.’ Josh shrugs. ‘Her parents are away and she’s having this big house party. She’s got a pool; it should be quite good.’
‘Alice Pincott,’ my mum echoes. ‘Isn’t she in your class at school, Sorana?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Well, are you going?’
‘No.’
‘Why
