Title: Baby Girl, I'm a Blur
Author: interpol..ice
Fandom: Skins – Second Generation
Pairing: Naomi Campbell/Emily Fitch
Rating: T (naughty naught-T! not exactly T)
Summary: Naomi Campbell and the complications of having a twin for a girlfriend. Distracting flashbacks and a lovesick mind keep her from telling the night's story straight.
In this comedy of errors, the first thing that got right was letting Naomi narrate. [Pre-Season 4]
Author's Notes: Okay, so let me get this off my tits (my chest) I'M SUCH A LIAR. I never update on time and I want to beat myself silly for it and I'm sorry! I was hospitalised over a month ago and I had to miss some school. In turn, I had to make up for a lot of coursework when I came back and I had to put this story on hold to pass the term. But now this chap's here so you guys don't have to worry anymore. Teehee!
I'm already thanking you in advance for all the time it's going to take to read. Hopefully, it's sticky enough to keep you glued, bbs ;)
EXPECT: The WATER PARK: At light and after dark. Hot fun in the sun and be a loon under the moon! Say hello to the other James! (And a taste of another brother you all miss.) TOWELS! Towels? Yeah, towels. Deal with it. And then... More boys! Boys! BOYS! Testosterone is COOKing up trouble. The gang sharing the secrets and the sweetness. The sorrows and scores. It's almost coming to an end, kids, but wait 'til you witness this twist!
WARNING: The LONGEST CHAPTER YET! A MANDEH-JUST-HAD-A-GROWTH-SPURT-SIZED CHAP! Can you handle the heat? I'm serious, it's pretty facking long (15,000 WORDS!). You could do with some snacks and a personal masseuse accompanying you on your read. Just, be ready for pee breaks and stuff. ENJOY! ;)
Baby Girl, I'm a Blur
by interpol..ice
Chapter 9: The Boys Are Back In Town
= = = ** NAOMI ** = = =
A week after our visit to Aunt Elizabeth's, Effy gets this outlandish idea of taking all us girls to the water park just out of town. It was a tough week at college with the teachers (Keiran included, apparently, 'you are fucking my mum' isn't a reason for me to be exempted from any of it) giving us coursework and modules that I swear could last you a fucking lifetime.
We're all freaking out at this point. Final exams are looming right round the corner and everyone's busy fucking off in hopes of getting decent grades, trading in booze for books. In other words, believe it or not, me and my gang of merry twats are busy revising.
Last Tuesday, Freddie (who I think was on something at the time) accidentally rammed his skateboard into a row of parked bicycles (mine included) because he was too engrossed in the task of reading his flashcards. While Emily went off to check if Freddie was okay, I took it upon myself to gather in all his flash cards that fell on the pavement like life-sized confetti.
Picking them up, I took a look at the notes he made. Freddie listed some sample questions down on the front. Stuff we've gone through in Politics, I realised. But the interesting thing was that he had written lines of continuous "I love her's" on the margins and I wondered why I never went through that drawing-arrows-through-hearts-and-initials phase.
'Oh, Freddie,' I thought. 'That's really fucking gay.'
Freddie chipped my reflector, though. I still have to talk to him about that. I'm no handyman, so he's got to fix that for me later. Hell, you don't fuck my ride and expect to be let off that easy.
The day after, I spotted Cook in the library with JJ.
Talk about a sur-fucking-prise.
I was passing by the study area when I caught Cook's eye. Upon seeing me, he sat straighter, broke into a ridiculous grin, pointed at JJ with his thumb, mouthed a 'boring' and then proceeded to feign sleep all while JJ was busy babbling about Maths. JJ's pencil was making a trail of numbers and signs that I'm positive were giving Cook a total mindfuck.
And much to our chagrin, (because the rest of us, save for Effy, were taking Spanish) Pandora started using French 24/7. It was great with Thomas, who answered her back fluently in under a second every single time. But with us, who were like, French-incompetent, it was just fucking sad. The worst was when Panda, talking about God knows what, asked Katie what her opinion on the matter was.
Then Katie, sticking to the topic of 'God knows what' said:
"Excuse me, baboon. Please pass the blender, yeah?" (In really bad, mangled French that wasn't even really French)
Then Panda said:
"I said 'monkey', not 'baboon'. You weren't listening at all, silly." (In standard English)
I'd rather not tell you about what Katie did after the eye-rolling and the locker-slamming and the bad-ass-mother-fucker-strutting. Because other than that, nothing that exciting that had to be censored happened on Thursday.
Just yesterday, we spotted Katie and Effy on the college green, both holding copies of A Clockwork Orange. Katie was discussing something heatedly (with an animated lisp that I could almost hear from where me and Emily were) and Effy looking on, nonplussed.
My friends and I are making an effort. Comes to show just how fucking important our future is to us. Oh, we all give a fuck. We all want to move under a new roof. We all want to get a decent job that pays the bills and keeps us from the title of 'useless bum'.
We're all so fucking pressured right now because this is obviously a big deal. Big in a way that aside from college or coursework, most of us didn't have the time of day to meet up and exchange the regular pleasantry.
And Effy, well, of course she would notice this rift in our little group's dynamic.
And you know her, when she thinks that it's time to kick back and chillax, it's time to kick back and chillax.
After all, Effy's right most of the time. Scratch that. All of the time.
Thus, this trip to the water park.
We all need the break. Fuck it.
I live closest. Precisely why Effy's picking me up first. Just me and her, silent and tightlipped on fags as she rides her station wagon up the street. We don't need to talk because Effy's like that. She gives you time to be with your own thoughts.
Either that or she's too busy lost in her own.
The windows are rolled down and Effy's generous with her cigarettes. The smoke and our hair, victims of the wind and I'm here just enjoying my precious time sitting at shotgun. Once we pick the twins up, Katie's going to claim her throne.
It's getting old. Being with the quiet of my own thoughts. Because if they're not about Emily, they eventually lead to her anyway and it's just so, so fucking silly that even my subconscious has no sense of control whatsoever when it comes to my girlfriend.
When Effy's phone, placed rather precariously on the dash, starts buzzing, it's as if Effy and I have rediscovered the very useful ability of speech.
"You going to read that?" I ask her.
"No, you are. We practise responsible driving where I come from," Effy says, dead serious.
On contrary, on the very first day of college, I heard the story of Effy's dad ramming their car into one of the bollards surrounding the college green. But of course, being a good mate, I'm sensitive enough to not mention this to her.
I get the hint and reach for her mobile, fiddling around with the keypad for a bit so it'd unlock and whoa... Is that Katie's name in Effy's inbox?
:: Ur comng olrdy? Ds isnt wat we agreEd on lst nyt! I jst woke up! D: ::
I read it aloud to Effy, unable to stop the urge to imitate Katie's voice while I'm at it. It surprises me that I make it through the whole message with a straight face. But it isn't long until the both of us are sniggering like proper twats.
"You didn't sound anything like her," Effy says to me, trying to keep the steering wheel steady.
"I know, I know! And thank God for that!"
Because it'd be impossible for anyone to ever take me seriously if I talked the way Katie Fitch did. The girl's fucking outrageous.
I have another go at it, saying, "Honey, you know that your closet and the laundry basket are two completely different things, right?"
And Effy and I... we just lose it. Just fucking mental right about now.
"Fucking stop," Effy says, struggling to get the words out in between sniggers. "If you keep on doing that I'm fucking blaming you if I run over a squirrel so you better fucking behave, Naomi."
"Alright. Alright. Behaved. Right," I promise.
Eventually catching my breath, I ask Effy, "You and Katie finally checked out that new club up north?"
"No," Effy says plainly. "Why?"
"Well, you and Katie and a Friday night... I mean, what else would you two be doing?"
Effy is hesitant, is probably wondering if she should enlighten me or not.
"Actually, we were at my house. Revising."
"No shit?"
"No shit."
Katie fucking Fitch and Effy fucking Stonem?
Okay. So they were together last night. Fucking. Oh shit, I mean, revising. Revising at the Stonem's. Right.
Why is that so hard to fathom?
Effy speaks up. "She wanted to brush up some things on History with Emily but your girlfriend said she was going to be studying 'Anatomy' with you."
"We don't take Anatomy..." I start, but then Effy cuts in, bursting with a stream of indelicate questions that makes me think that Cook did something to her cerebral system.
"So how are Emsy's tits? Nice, supple, grope-able? And that arse? 'Cause Emily's got an unbelievable bottom, you know? How does it feel when you touch her there, you know, down under? Oh, fuck! She must taste really—"
"Effy!" I exclaim, jumping right out of my fucking seat.
"Fuck me if you two weren't giving each other an in-depth Anatomy lesson last night," she says knowingly.
Great! Just great. Fuck double entendre.
"Okay, okay," I admit guiltily. "We were studying Anatomy."
Effy's profile reveals the visible half of an annoyingly smug smile. "Thought so."
And I slide down my seat, feeling well ashamed, not knowing what to do with myself or Effy's mobile (which is still in my hand) anymore. I'm pretty sure I want to chuck something out the window, though.
But I decide against that too.
"Ummm, so, should I text her back?"
It takes Effy a while to answer. "No need to. She's up already. That's all we need to know. And we're running late," she says, honking impatiently at the 'historic vehicle'dragging on in front of us.
"We are?" I ask, a bit confused because in my understanding, we're twenty minutes early.
Then Effy shocks me by making a sharp turn into the car park of a 24/7 convenience store. She pulls into a free parking space and kills the engine.
There's the crank of the hand brake as Effy wrenches it up and she turns to me with an impish grin.
"Yes, Naomi. We're late. It's a Saturday and the lines here can get pretty long."
We're out of the store, carrying deceptively heavy paper bags. We bought popcorn, chips, sweets, lollies, soda, beer, cigarettes... the works. And I don't know what came over me but I got a jar of jelly beans for Emily.
Effy thinks it's funny and 'too much'.
I think she can go shove it up her arse.
Back in the car, Effy turns the radio on. Little Richard's "Lucille" thunders out the speakers. It's loud and Effy keeps it that way. Like it's making up for all the noise Effy wasn't making in this world.
Amidst the energetic drum beat and the racy singing-slash-moaning, I couldn't help but notice something being a bit off. That's when I see that Effy's mobile lit up again. What I thought was a very out of tune saxophone is actually her ringing tone.
"Frogs?" I say, unable to hide my judgment.
"Yes, frogs. Don't judge."
Sorry, Eff. Already did.
The croaking goes on and on. Like I'm in a blues gig set in a tropical rainforest pond out there somewhere. Just ribbit ribbit and Lucille! taking turns offending my sense of hearing.
Yeah, I'm well annoyed all right. You can fucking bet on it.
"You gonna answer that?" I catch myself asking again. It all feels a little too déjà vu and I'm half expecting-half dreading to hear her answer the same words she said to me earlier.
Not one to disappoint, Effy does exactly that.
"No, you are," she says to me once more. She reaches for the volume knob on the dash and turns it counterclockwise and Little Richard fucks off to take a powder. This is Effy's silent but effective way of saying, "Look, I've made it quiet enough for you to answer the fucking mobile so answer it already."
Talking to Katie is the last thing I want to be doing right now, but it seems that Effy's playing this 'responsible driver' card down to a T. And since she's being extra careful with our safety and shit, I feel semi-obligated to comply. I answer it and take a deep breath.
Here goes nothing...
"Hello?"
"Naomi?"
"Emily?"
"Hey," she says brightly.
"Hey," I manage, like Emily left just enough air in me to say it back at her.
"Wait, this is Effy's number, right?"
"Yes, Ems. You didn't ring mine by accident again," I say teasingly.
I hear Emily laugh at the other end and I high five myself in my head because I can still get her to do that. "Well, fuck you for always being on my mind," she says, all cute and accusatory.
"Fuck you too, for always being on mine."
Yeah, very original, Campbell. Where's your dashing wit when you need it?
There's a silence at the other end and I'd like to believe that I made Emily a little lightheaded despite my lack of originality.
"Anyway, I'm pretty sure I rang Effy's number," she says eventually.
"You did, babe. And congrats on that and everything but Effy can't talk right now. She and her steering wheel are in a committed relationship."
"Oh, right... great. Well, could you please tell Effy that Katie says she's being a twat for not texting back? And Katie says she's taking the front seat."
"But I'm sitting in front," I answer back, stupid-ridden.
Emily tut-tuts. "I guess I'll just have to sit next to Katie then, for the entire ride."
"NO!"
"That bothers you, eh?"
"Yes."
"What's rule number two to being a couple again?"
"Thou shalt always be within the utmost proximity to extremely lovely girlfriend under any given circumstance," I recite obediently.
I can see her from where she is. She's in their room, sitting Indian style on her bed. She's just had a shower so her hair's still wet. I can see her. And I just know she's smiling as she says, "You always have the best made-up rules, babe."
"Who says I made them up? You should know these rules came from fucking Sinai. Moses almost shitted himself because he had to carry down another tablet. Those things weigh a fuckload."
Emily is laughing her head off by this point. "Awww, Naoms, babe, stop being so fuckable."
SCORE! And Campbell is back in the zone!
"Fine, fine. I'll cease the awesome. Wouldn't want Katie to cut you for fucking up her phone bill. So... recap: Effy's a twat? Katie gets front seat?"
"Yeah, that's about it."
"Wait, I forgot something!" I add in a hurry.
"What?"
"And you love me so, so much, yeah?"
She pauses, and then...
"Yeah," she says, laughing softly. "But you love me more. See you, twat."
Emily hangs up and I feel strangely content and then, two seconds later, needing to fucking see her already.
I turn to Effy. I'm about to open my mouth but it seems that she's way, way ahead of me.
"I'm a twat, Katie sits shotgun, you and Emily are still the gayest fucks on the planet. Why, thank you so much for telling me things I already know, Naomi."
She says all that to me very sweetly... like a cherub. And without ever taking her eyes off the road.
Effy Stonem is one talented (and annoyingly precise) motherfucker.
And suddenly, feeling all vengeful, I come up with the brilliant idea of bugging her about her newly acquired relationship status with Katie. I mean, I honestly want to get to the bottom of whatever it is between them.
I'm scrolling down Effy's inbox and 'Katie' is a prevalent name. So's 'Panda'. Freddie's name is spread every ten messages like maraschino cherries found few and far between in Effy's fruit salad of an inbox.
Katie's, though... If Katie's name was in that fruit salad, hers would be a plentiful fruit. A pineapple or something.
"So what's with you two? You act like a married couple."
The uncalled for question makes Effy shift gears sooner than she should've, making the car lurch forward awkwardly before it gets used to the higher speed.
Like the car, Effy regains her cool, squares her shoulders and says, "Oh no, you and Emily have got that married couple thing down already."
"What? That right?"
She doesn't even blink. "Yeah, totally."
"Oh..." I trail, feeling embarrassed, and then...
"Eff?"
"Hmmm?"
"Stop trying to change the subject."
But Effy just smiles her sneaky smile and Effy, cunning as a fox, suggests that I open the fags we just bought.
And it's so obvious that this is another one of her ploys to try and kill the conversation. But I figure, fuck it. If she wants me to shut up for a while, I'll shut up. Free fags get me cooperating.
I'm easy like that.
"So... You and Katie, huh?"
I don't know about you, but I can be a relentless, narking piece of shite if I want to. Whatever, Effy's left me with no choice.
"Yeah, me and Katie. There a problem?" Puffs of smoke are coming out of her nose semi-angrily and she strongly resembles a very stoned and provoked dragon.
"That's just it," I break in. "There should be one, but to me it looks like it's not there anymore."
"Well, she is a little hot-cold-hot-cold, mood-swinging cow sometimes. But lately she's all right."
Effy takes her eyes off the road. She looks at me with these twinkly, happy Effy Eyes and time stops for a second because Effy being this twinkly-happy-looking is just 'not-fucking-happening'.
Like... whoa.
"We're sorted... And it's nice," she says. Slowly. Carefully. Like those words are precious.
Twinkly. Happily.
One line from Effy is as informative as a thousand from JJ. So "we're sorted and it's nice," is good enough for me, mates.
Good enough.
We've reached the Fitch residence already and it's not long until Effy notices that she was the only one who got out of the car.
Her head pops back inside through the driver's window. Like those toy birds that come out of cuckoo clocks when it's time for you to get off your arse and fucking do something.
"What's wrong?" she says, bored.
I take a drag of my cigarette and blow the smoke at Effy's face in an effort to distract her (or blow her away, if reality permits it).
I even flash her an all's-well-and-dandy smile for good measure.
Effy's unmoved by my tricks. "You're still in the car," she tells me like I'm not highly aware of it (which I am).
"Yeah. So?"
Effy's eyes pan across the car's interior, probably looking for things that will give me away. Like, she suspects to find that I might have accidentally super-glued my bum to her car seat or something insane like that. Then her gaze settles on my seatbelt. I'm still wearing it. Effy shakes her head in teasing disapproval and she points at my seatbelt and tells me, "Now, that's just weak."
Okay, fine. I'm getting out.
I unfasten my seatbelt, open the door and get out of the car so escape-artist-fast that Houdini would've been so proud.
Effy figures it clever to reward me with a mocking golf clap to which I reward back with a scowl and a "do you like jazz?" flip off fest (pretending to play a trumpet whilst emphatically sticking out my middle fingers at her to an imaginary tune in my head).
Effy only laughs in return and I wonder why I even fucking bother with my comebacks.
She saunters over to me in that infuriatingly smooth way of hers and she slings an arm around my shoulders. "Care to tell Effy what it is that's getting you?" she says, giving me a quick squeeze before tilting her head to the side in an expectant manner.
I draw in a deep breath because this is Effy and she's probably had hypnosis as a hobby since she was five and try as I might, I can never not answer her questions.
"It's just that... Every time I'm here I think their Mum's going to come out and give me a piece of her mind... that or castrate me."
"Cutting off the balls she wishes you had?"
"Exactly."
"Oh," she just says. And she walks on anyway, unaffected by my confession. It isn't long until she turns around to find me on the same spot from five seconds ago. "What the fuck? You just gonna stand there?"
YES, I want to say. YES, I stopped myself from saying. But Effy reads my expression and that YES is as good as fucking said.
Effy rolls her eyes. "It's going to be fine. Or did you get Emily pregnant while I was away? Because then we'd have a problem."
"Would you stop with the fucking hypothetical cock jokes?"
"Naomi, they're well funny. Stop being such a jokefucker, yeah?"
"But I'm not even that butch! I'd like, really appreciate it if you lot would stop giving me a penis," I argue heatedly. Because everyone was doing it. Thomas, Cook, Katie... I mean, it's not fair that Emily never gets to go through this. Why don't they give her a hypothetical penis?
I imagine Emily with a cock...
Then I immediately take back everything I just said.
And Effy has none of it, continuing on her quest to ridicule me. "But the Dog Lord of Azerbaijan sees a sex change in your future!"
"Oh, fuck you!"
"Look, we're here already. You're still alive. No fire-breathing monster Mum has bitten off your head yet, has it?"
"No," I admit weakly.
"Well, then... doorbell", Effy says, and then she motions to me in a 'you do the honours' kind of way.
I've walked all this way and now Effy expects me to ring the doorbell? What if Rob answers it? What would I say? Would he be able to tell I haven't been working out that much? Oh, fuck, I should've gone to the gym with Keiran... Oh, Christ, what if Jenna answers it? I'll fucking die if Jenna opens the door.
Ding-dong.
What the wanking fuck?
I don't remembering ringing the door bell—fucking Effy!
As the door opens, Effy gracefully side-steps out of open view, leaving me bare and defenseless against the Fitch who has opened the door.
The second before I come face to face with whoever that is, I mouth a quick 'traitorous bitch' at Effy who ironically gives me the peace sign (like that alone can fucking cut it).
When I see James' young, definitely-not-a-parent face, a choir of angels take their golden trumpets out and start singing Hallelujah full-blast in my head.
James realises that it's me and his expression of indifference is wiped away and replaced with pure, unadulterated, childish wonder. Like he expects me to say, "Hugh Hefner sent me to you," instead of the more appropriate "Is my incredibly hot girlfriend around?"
Which I didn't say either, of course.
"Why, hullo, Naomi!" he greets loudly. And I really wish he wouldn't do that. Jenna might be on the prowl.
"Umm. Hi, James," I say.
"Emily didn't say you were coming. If I'd known, I would've worn my number."
"Your number?" I repeat, really confused.
Before Emily's little brother could explain, Katie comes barging down the stairs crying bloody murder. "James! James, you fuck, what did you do to my dress?" Every word louder for every step she descends.
Katie's looking well angry by the time she reaches her brother at the door. Like she's really intent on cutting James' head off. She has a towel wrapped around her body and another wrapped around her head. A raging bull in fluffy towels. If she wasn't so menacing I would have done something stupid like... I dunno... Laugh at her.
Then she's all up on James' face, grabbing at his ear viciously and just like that, James is reduced to a whining mess. "Ow! Ow! Owww! Muuuum! Mum! Katie's hurting me!"
"Mum's not here, loser." And Katie is more than happy to twist it harder.
"Can you explain just what the fuck you did to this?" Katie demands, holding up something. It's a hanger. And hanging from that hanger is a tiny and tight-looking dark dress with five inches of a different-patterned textile that's so out of place sewn onto it.
"I added a little length. It wouldn't cover my thighs," James huffs indignantly, fists swinging at Katie even though her other hand is keeping him at a safe distance by holding his head.
"Who the fuck is going to care if it covers your thighs or not?"
James points at me with his eyes and something tells me I'm in deep shit.
Katie sees it and her face scrunches up, showing her distaste all too well. She's turns to me and stares hard like she doesn't believe it.
Why do I feel like I want to run back to my Mum... possibly in tears?
"Jesus Christ! He's in love with you too?" Katie says, too high-strung.
I shrug hopelessly at that. It's not like I wanted for this to happen, for fuck's sake.
Katie shakes her head at me like I've disappointed her in some way. She rounds on James again and she growls at him like we're all in a crazy jungle and Katie's out for blood.
"Fine! You can fucking have your prissy little number!" Katie shouts with a finality. She then hurls the dress at James and it wraps itself around his head like a lemur. Or a sloth. Or those stupid monkey toys with the long arms and velcro on their hands.
Katie goes off to "find something decent to wear", leaving James rubbing his ear consolingly, and angrily muttering "bitch" in Katie's wake.
Effy and I watch as their little brother shakes it off and composes himself. He turns to us politely and says, "Don't mind her. She's got premature mental pause."
Wait...
Did he just say mental pause?
Before I can even try to stop it, a snort escapes me. "Really?" I ask, incredibly amused. Then Effy elbows me in the ribs. Probably for being insensitive or something.
James scratches his head thoughtfully before saying, "That's what she said. I'm not sure, though. Lately she's gone non-stop mental that I'm not quite sure if she really has premature mental pause. Fucking dinocologist must've made a mistake with the diagnosis, I guess..."
"JAMES!"
It's Emily this time. She sounds angry too. She sounds angry from the kitchen.
"What now?" he asks, annoyed.
"You haven't done the dishes yet."
James eyes widen in realisation. "Oh, shit," he says before bolting back into the house, abandoning me and Effy at their door.
So now we're staring into the Fitch hallway, not quite sure what to make of the information we just received.
"Dinocologist," I say.
"Premature mental pause," Effy replies.
Effy and I lock eyes.
"Oh-kaaaaay," I draw out awkwardly.
Effy's eyebrows are surprised, high up on her brow.
"That explains a lot."
When the twins walk out, all wonderful and eye-stealing. With the wind in their hair, and the sun shining down on their pale faces like it missed them, I couldn't stop myself from imagining them naked.
Sorry, I'm gay and they're fit. Reflex action.
They're moving in slow motion. And I want to slap myself because... why the fuck haven't I gotten use to this yet? Why? Why? Why? Because really, I should've gotten used to this by now.
Emily glows when she sees me and she walks faster to close the distance and in my head I hear myself saying, here she comes, here she comes.
"Hey," Emily says brightly.
She's close enough and I'm in real-time again.
"Hey," I breathe out, feeling incredibly weak in the knees from the moment she walked out that door.
I slide my arms around her waist and she throws hers around my neck. We've done this countless times already and it's always this wonderful.
We kiss and my eyes close. I see nothing and just...
Feel it all.
Once Panda's let loose she whirls around the place in a kind of tornado-on-crack abandon. Like a mouse cursor hovering erratically over a random-scene-of-nature desktop background.
But I get her excitement.
It's nice here. Like, really nice. You can smell the trees in the wind. And it's quiet save for the birds. They're singing songs in their own morse code and I have to say that I find it pleasing to listen to. Peaceful.
Christ, I sound like a fucking hippie.
The water is murky. Sort of lazy looking. And it's in this shade of blue that just... calms you down. Just a cool, understated, off-beat blue that's climbing over the fence to be green. Not bright and sparkly like if you look at it long enough, your eyes would start to hurt.
This place, it's just so easy to take in. It's the perfect fix for the pre-exam tension.
And this is what I need at the moment. Something easy.
Effy takes a picnic basket out of her car. A fucking perfect picnic basket with extra food and grapes and shit. Not to mention bottles of wine and champagne (with the respective glass and flute that all of us notice and go "But, Eff, we never use those" at, silently in our heads). It's even more bizarre when Effy starts passing around sandwiches.
"Used to make these for my brother. They're a pleasure to the palette, according to him," she says as everyone's taking their first bite.
"Egg and cress!" Panda exclaims with a full mouth, bits of bread flying out with every syllable. "Eff, you never said you could whippy up a super yumyum sandwich! I'd like some for my birthday, if it's okay?"
"Sure Panda," Effy says before turning to Katie expectantly as if saying, "Well...?"
Katie, chewing thoughtfully, looks back at Effy. Thoughtfully. "Considering the fact I don't even like cress, this is pretty good." Katie takes another bite, giving Effy a little wink afterwards. Now Effy has this silly grin on her face and I like being not confused about them anymore.
Because Katie and Effy, they're "sorted and it's nice." So I leave it at that.
Emily purrs contentedly beside me. "Nice," Emily says in a way that can only mean that she's bitten into ham and cheese. She confirms my theory in a second by saying, "I got ham and cheese. Yours, babe?"
I haven't tasted mine yet so I don't know. I dig in and chew, figuring out the flavours. It could be tuna or chicken. I'm baffled by the ambiguity. Or maybe all the smoking is fucking up my taste buds.
"This is tuna," I say, unsure of myself. But then I don't notice a fishy aftertaste (if there is such a thing as a fishy aftertaste, that is) so I quickly strikethrough my first answer, settling with an "it's chicken," instead.
Emily insists we swap sandwiches. And that's how it is with us. We're in each other's shoes any chance we can get. Like, she comes to rallies with me now and I can't tell you what kind of kick I get from hearing my girlfriend's husky voice amplified via megaphone.
Or like...
Emily sometimes mentions that she's heard this song, she's seen that movie or she's read that book. And it won't be long before I've heard that song, seen that movie or read that book too.
Her world. My world. Gradually settling their differences.
Emily opens up my sandwich and inspects the insides. She closes it up again, still undecided, and has some. I like watching her eat, you know. She has such a strong jaw and it never fails to turn me on when she moves it up and down like that. When she talks. When she eats. When she trails a train of kisses from my stomach up to my neck...
Reality Emily steals me away from Fantasy Emily (the one who just ravished me in my thoughts) by shoving my chicken-possibly-tuna sandwich back in my hands.
"I can't fucking tell," she says, her frustration shining through, equally confused as I am.
"Chicken," Effy confirms belatedly from where she is, bent over the picnic basket. She straightens up, revealing a champagne bottle in her hold.
"All right. Who wants to pop this fucker?" she announces grandly, auctioneer-style.
"I've always wanted to try that."
All heads whip towards Emily. All those heads have a raised pair of eyebrows to boot.
As expected, Effy's the first to recover. "Okay, then Emily," she says, not missing a beat as she hands the bottle over to Emily. "Fire away."
A slight fear takes over me when I watch Emily fumble with the foil. And then it grows in intensity when she's reached the wire cage.
"Wait!"
Emily almost drops the champagne bottle. "What?" she says, sounding irritated.
"Is it chilled enough?"
And what was I going to do? Walk up to Emily and check if the thing has a fucking fever?
"I brought a fucking ice bucket," Effy says and somehow that's all self-explanatory.
"Great. Now I'm having second thoughts," Emily says, looking at the bottle like it's a loaded gun.
"Don't be a pussy, Ems. Open the bubbly already!" Katie says, tipping her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose so she could peer over them at Emily in an overbearing manner.
"She doesn't have to if she doesn't want to," I say, jumping to Emily's defense and warding Katie off.
After that, Emily shoots me a dirty look that says don't patronise me.
Shit, I think to myself. Shit. Shit. Shit.
"God, you're all such wankers," Emily says. And I have a bad feeling that she's gone to that place again. That place she goes to, you know, to try and prove us wrong. Which means someone's eye is going to have a run-in with a flying cork sometime soon.
"Let Effy do it," I plead, reaching to take the bottle away from her.
Emily slaps my hands away and it stings more than it should have. "Babe, I can fucking do this, all right?"
I'm still itching to grab it from her but with a sigh, I drop my hands to my sides. "Fine. But don't pull the cork out. You have to twist the bottle, Ems. Okay? Twist it until it pops. Don't try and fucking pull the—"
POP!
My eyes shut instinctively. Because hey, cork bullet!
Each of us lets out a shriek and a curse or two before it all comes down to an empty silence. The only thing you could hear is the soft fizzle coming from what's left of the champagne bottle. And I think that if I could concentrate harder, I'd be able to hear Emily's guilt.
I open my eyes. I planned on opening my mouth to yell at her too but what stops me is the glorious sight of a wet, white tank top and the tits that are like... protruding under it.
"Whizzer!"
That's what Panda says.
"Holyfuck! MygirlfriendisSOFUCKINGHOT!"
That's what I'd say.
If I could say anything, that is.
"Okay, is anyone hurt?" Emily asks, starting the headcount (and looking mighty fine while she's at it).
"No," Effy says.
"Nice one, cow," Katie says.
"Ohhh, champagne!" Panda just says in that oblivious way of hers, already stealing the bottle from Emily.
And then all eyes are on me (but I don't know that because...) I, on the other hand, am still busy looking at a certain someone's fucking chest.
I'm not hurt or anything severe... but I'd like to volunteer Emily to give me mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
It's getting fucking hard to breathe again because of her.
Especially because of those perky, juicy, symmetrical...
"NAOMS?"
"Whah?" I say. But TITS, I think.
"You hurt?" Emily asks, tipping my chin up with her fingers. She takes my face in her hand and turns my head from side to side, surveying any possible damage while I follow along limply.
She lets go and looks at me, worry etched on her adorable features.
I blink back at her dumbly. And then I say, rather mindlessly—or maybe this is my vagina talking or whatever... But I say to her,
"Can you take your top off?"
And that, my friends, is how you get laid.
The sun isn't as glaring but we all think it best to put on some sunscreen. Me and Emily are happy to use this as another good excuse to touch each other. This is the closest we're ever going to get to oilzzz and stuff.
I'm rubbing her back. Touching her neck. And her body's moving...
Okay.
I'm feeling really hot and bothered right now.
And I wish I could solely blame the sun for it.
We've been lazing around for most of the afternoon. All of us spread across a very wide picnic blanket of stereotypical red and white tartan. Five girls in bikinis, soaking up sunshine and each other's company, talking shit about everything under the sun.
And when I mean anything under the sun, I mean anything under the sun. Like, for example, Panda says that before college, her life's goal was to invent bacon perfume. Or this food stall I came upon on the way to the grocers last week. It was called "Sanitary Tacos". It's no surprise that Effy and I spend fifteen minutes going on and on about how they got their name and we all decide it's because reports of cockroaches found taking refuge in Mexican food have seem to be running rampant lately and naming the stand, "Sanitary Tacos" was just a desperate attempt to save the business. And we even touch the subject of Kanye West's shutter glasses. About how ridiculous they are (coming from Emily). About how they're so not (coming from Katie).
No one sides with Katie, if you're asking. I mean, what are those things for anyway? And don't you dare say, "because our eyes are the windows of the soul and they could do with some shutter-inspired accessorising" because Katie already said that and even Panda rolled her eyes at her.
And this is Panda we're talking about, people.
No one mentions the exams. Effy and I don't bring up Katie's 'premature mental pause' either.
We can save all that for a rainy day.
A quarter to four, Effy taps me on the shoulder. "C'mon, Naomi, ice cream."
She drags me off to the sides, near the dirt path and the bushes and proceed to be confounded. I don't see any ice cream. Soon enough, Effy takes a fag-pack out of her board shorts.
Smoking break. Right. Should've known.
"Katie can't stand it, right?" I say, as I take the fresh fag Effy holds up for me.
"Yep, she's quite the saint," Effy deadpans, lighting my cigarette expertly.
Effy's wearing these round, purple tinted glasses. The kind you see on John Lennon... only purple.
She's watching Panda and the twins through her purple lenses. I follow suit.
Panda's already by the lake. Her toes must have already tasted the water. As for the twins... they've gotten up to fix the picnic blanket. Well Emily fixes it, flaps it out to get it all nice and spread out and everything and as per usual, Katie sits back to watch.
I focus on Emily as a breeze lifts her hair back.
God, she's gorgeous.
And Katie gets up, makes an entrance into the scene. And I rethink.
God, they're gorgeous.
From where I'm standing the resemblance is uncanny. They really are twins. And they laugh, and they toss their heads back. It's too fucking perfect and I think it's going to take a lot of work for me to look away from this.
Then I hear bells ringing. It's a happy sound. And it gives me the extra push to tear my eyes away from Emily and Katie.
I see the vendor in the distance. With his ice-cream cart and his cliché straw boater hat. You know, like what Dick Van Dyke wore when he was dancing with the cartoon penguins in Mary Poppins.
Just as he's about to stop in front of us, Effy throws her fag out of sight. She looks as innocent as fucking ever and I don't want to look like some demon next to her so I drop my fag and crush it under my sneaker. There it shall stay until the ice cream is procured.
The environmentalist in me vows to pick it up later.
So this man, in his late twenties or whatever, parks his ice cream mobile in front of me and Effy and offers us in the sunniest manner, "Fancy Italian Gelato, girls? Easy on the ass and hips, a tasty wonder for your lips!"
He kisses the tips of his fingers explosively as visible punctuation and that's just... just so endearing.
"So what've we got, Mister?" Effy asks, trying to discern the label-less lumps of frozen dessert.
"Crowd pleasers today, miss. Chocolate, strawberry, vanilla, and pistacchio."
Effy and I exchange glances. We silently agree that we like the way he says Pistacchio.
Pee-STAHK-yoh
So Italian of him.
I order two vanillas for the twins (apparently it's possible for them to agree on something) and after a little deliberation I settle on strawberry for myself.
"What does Panda want?" I ask Effy who's still eyeing the selections.
"Chocolate," Effy says. "She has a thing for chocolate."
"Does that thing have to do anything with Thomas?" I guess.
"Possibly. But I strongly believe it has to do with chocolate."
Well, she has a point. Like she always does.
"I'm having Pistacchio, please," Effys says, pronouncing it just like the ice cream man did.
Pee-STAHK-yoh.
Effy makes it sound sexy and naughty... and Italian!
Is there anything this girl can't bloody do?
"Thanks for the treat, Naomi. Cheers!"
Apparently, there is. She can't fucking pay for ice cream she dragged me along to buy.
"What the bollocking—" I start. Then the man hands out three ice cream cones for me to take. And I take them and my hands are full and he has successfully censored the rest of my profanity.
And now I can't even reach for my notes.
"Cash in your right side-pocket, right?" Effy asks and I really want to punch her right now.
For the nth time today, I sigh. "No, in the left," I grumble.
Why do I feel like I've been mugged?
Upon the exposure of ice cream, there's this face a person makes that's very similar to a face you would make if you managed to catch a glimpse of the world's cutest baby dressed in a costume of your favourite animal for Halloween (When I was two, Mum got me in an elephant getup to take me trick-or-treating. She's got fucking pictures as proof and let's just say the look on her face that night was nothing short of unadulterated bliss).
I assure you. Panda, Katie and Emily? They're making those faces right now and astonishingly, I have Effy to thank for this. For helping me land this investment.
Panda devours her chocolate gelato like some sort of champion. Her ice cream cone's existence is short-lived and she's been staring longingly at Katie's for a good while now. Katie senses the imminent threat from the girl and casually gets the fuck away from her, finding an old log atop a thick layer of gravel. She figures it might be a good spot to finish her ice cream and this is where Emily and I soon join her to keep our cones safe from Panda too.
It's sort of mean of us and this obviously saddens Panda. So, dessertless and bored, she goes ahead to start a wanking scene. "Hey, what's wrong with you lot? It's a tip-toppy day and we haven't gone for a dip yet!"
"You're right, Panda," Effy says, finishing off her Pistacchio gelato. "These ladies don't know what they're missing."
Effy kicks her shorts off and Panda does the same. When they're down to being half naked, the five of us do nothing but look back at each other, waiting for the next move.
That 'next move' comes from Panda who begins stomping her feet impatiently and then going, "Race you all! Last one in has to marry Cook!" And with that, she promptly turns on her heel to start sprinting for the water, screaming, "Woooo-fucking-hooo!" from the top of her lungs.
Effy has a big laugh at that and she tosses her John Lennon shades aside. She looks at the twins and I, says to us challengingly, "Well, what will it be, girls?"
And I'm sitting there, thinking, "I'd like to eat my fucking strawberry gelato in peace, thanks."
But then Emily sticks her ice cream cone straight into the gravel. Just literally, sticks it in! And I can only watch in disbelief.
"Hey, I paid for that," I point out to her in semi-not-quite-out-there outrage.
There's a dangerous gleam in her brown eyes. "No fucking way I'm letting you marry Cook," Emily says fiercely.
My heart stops... And I drop my cone accidentally but I sort of don't care about that anymore.
She grabs my hand and just like that, we're off and flying across the grass. Besides the hard pounding in my chest, behind us I could hear cheering, howling and laughing. And I find out, a moment after, that I'm a big contributor to the hysteria as well.
I feel so fucking...
I'm breathing heavy. My legs are burning, my heart's racing...
Happy.
I'm so fucking happy. I can't even...
Emily picks up the pace, tugs me a bit harder. My little red engine that could, running up that hill with me. And she thinks I can do anything.
Anything. Fucking anything! As long as she's here.
So I run, I run like it's for my fucking life. I'm running for something bigger than I can amount to by myself. I'm running for Emily—with Emily. There's no looking back.
There's no going back.
This is it. This is real. This is my girl.
My Emily.
And I'll never be the same again.
Underwater, I'm cold all around. Except for my hand, it's still in Emily's.
It's warm where our skins meet.
"Who wants popcorn?" Effy asks, fairly dry by now.
Katie hasn't gotten her hair wet as she was the last to go in and for her, gone was the whole point of dipping in entirely. Emily, Panda and I are still dripping though, suitably splashed. After all that excitement I think it's too soon for food.
"Oh, whizzer! Popcorn! I do! I do!" Panda says, getting up and waving her arms around like an excited, wet chimpanzee.
And now the hard part...
"So how do we get it cooked?" Katie asks.
I turn to Effy expectantly. She looks back at me, confused. "What?" she says at all of us.
"Did you bring a pot or what?" I ask.
Effy shakes her head, showing no sign of remorse.
Oh, Christ. I roll my eyes at Effy. "Why did you buy popcorn and not bring something to cook it in?"
"Panda likes popcorn. So I got popcorn," Effy says simply.
Panda smiles at that. "And you got a whacker-load of it, Eff." She holds the pack of kernels up thoughtfully. "Thanks so much!"
"That's an awful lot," Emily agrees. "Shame we can't get it cooked."
Then Panda bounces to her feet. "I've got an idea!" she says before she disappears to get something from her bag.
She's back with her cell phone. "I've been thinking... Our mobiles send out electro-magnetic waves when somebody rings us, right?"
I dunno. It sounds wrong. But I think all of us are curious to hear the rest of Panda's theory so we don't interrupt with fact-checks and just nod to whatever she's saying.
"And aren't those the same you find in microwaves? Well, if we got people to call us, we could generate enough electro-magnetic waves to get all this popped and corned!" she lays out, shaking the bag of kernels in her fist passionately.
"We're not trying that." I say, shooting the idea out of the sky. That's before I can realise I was being a total fucking killjoy.
"Come on, Naoms, it'd be fun," Emily tries.
Katie gets up and grabs the bag of unpopped popcorn from Panda. "Fuck it, I say it's worth a try. How does this work again, Panda?" she says, playing nice.
"We toss our mobiles together and sprinkle in the 'pixie dust' also known as the 'popcorn kernels'. It's a simple enough principle."
"Then what?"
"Have our boyfriends ring us," Panda says with confidence.
The Fitch twins retort.
"I don't have a boyfriend," they chorus.
"Naomi will do," Effy says to Emily with a cheeky wink and I redden on the fucking spot.
Great, I think. No getting popcorn kernels on my mobile. Safe.
"What about me?" Katie butts in.
Anyone who isn't Katie Fitch says, "Cook," like it's the most obvious answer in the world.
Katie, who doesn't have enough fingers to flip everyone off, balls her fists at her sides instead. "Fuck no! I'm not ringing Cook to have him ring me."
Panda handles Katie. "I'm afraid you're Mrs. Cook now, Katie. Last one in, yeah?"
"Fuck you all," Katie sighs, dialing Cook already.
We understand that we're all under the temporary rule General Panda so we follow her every order with a certain mock obedience. The most hilarious thing she's asked of us is to have me situated a hundred paces away from the 'cooking site' so Emily escorts me to where I am to be exiled.
"I still don't get why I have to be far away," I say when we get there.
Emily kisses my cheek chastely like she's dropping me off for boarding school or something devastating like that and she tells me, "Panda says that if you're too close, the electromagnetic waves might be strong enough to burn the popcorn."
Oh, Christ. Why do I put up with this shit?
"Don't worry, babe. We're only like, thirty metres away," Emily says, trying to rid me of my pout.
She takes my hand to place my phone in it. Then she looks at me all coquettish, slowly backing away to join the others at the spot where they'll assemble their mobiles together. When Emily's taken about ten steps away, she makes a phone fist, her pinkie near her mouth and her thumb at her ear.
"Call me," she mouths with a wink.
I resist the strong impulse to clutch my chest. It feels like someone shot me through the heart.
Really, now. That girl's too fucking cute.
Thomas rings Panda, Freddie rings Effy, Cook rings Katie and I ring Emily.
After fifteen minutes of continuous ringing and ringing...
SHAZAM!
Nothing.
"What do we do now?" I ask after I've paced a hundred paces back to them.
Then Katie, really amiable and shit, welcomes me with, "Duh, Naomi. Don't be daft. We're answering our phones and inviting the boys over. What else?"
See? This is exactly why I like Emily better.
When the boys arrive, they drop their duffle bags and knapsacks of booty. Judging by the heavy sounds their luggage makes, they've brought an ample amountof booty. And extra booty is good, mates. Very good.
"Ladies," they greet just before bowing in front of us theatrically.
I wonder if they talked that stunt over on the way here. It looked practiced. It warms my heart how hard they try.
Oh, boys.
JJ takes on a stance. "The night's still young and so are we, it's time to—"
"Jay?" Freddie interrupts, his eyebrow raised comically. "Really?"
And I'm with Freddie on this one. I'm always up for anything that shuts JJ the fuck up.
Cook doesn't seem to think the same, though. He steps in and claps Freddie on the back. "Awww, Freds. Let our little fruit bat have his speech," he insists and then, turning to JJ he goes, "what was that, Jay? 'The night's still young and so are we'?"
JJ nods meekly and Cook gets right back on it, roaring, "So I say it's time to party, party, PAR-TAY!" He's pumping his fists in the air emphatically, doing a well job of cranking things up a notch (or twenty) that he's got us all in a hooting frenzy.
But I overhear JJ anyway when he, with his head down, says, "That wasn't what I was going to say."
And then before you know it, Thomas slumps an arm around JJ to says, "You can make your speech next time, Mark Antony."
JJ looks up and meets my eye, doesn't hold my stare long enough for me to offer a smile.
The boys are circled around a mass of wood, stones and coal, trying to light a fire. Because, you know, that's the sort of thing you leave to boys. You can always count on them to burn stuff.
Once they have it going, Thomas makes for his magic schoolbag and dutifully brings out a roll of aluminum foil and a camping fork. He asks for the popcorn kernels and some oil so Effy takes him to the car because she's left it all there. Panda follows along with the bag of popcorn kernels.
Effy's torso disappears into the trunk for a while before emerging with a bottle of oil (oilzzz, I think). She hands it over to Thomas, who already tore of a wide piece of aluminum and set it flat against the car's hood.
He drizzles the foil with oil and grabs three handfuls worth of kernels and gets it all at the middle. Then he quickly folds the sides up so nothing would spill. He continues folding until he has this nice aluminum ball with a stiff, rolled-up side. That's where he pokes his campfire fork through and now he has got this silver lantern thingy that looks like a hobo alien's bindle.
Now, we're all watching this wildlife survival scene play out before us as Thomas sits by the fire, holding his makeshift popper above it. We're observing with high levels of interest and I'm taking mental notes because this is top-shit, man.
Okay, I guess this is what boy scouts in Africa do when they decide to have a slumber party out in the savannah or whatever. And I think it's so fucking neat. Like, I'm going to teach some kids that one day.
In due time, everyone has a bit of the popcorn. Not Panda though. Panda has a lot. Up to this moment, she's stuffing herself with it, staring at Thomas with this grateful and starry-eyed look. I laugh despite myself because I'm seriously convinced that Panda's seriously convinced that Thomas is a superhero. Right. Captain Sexy Lumps.
Thank God Emily doesn't have a superhero name for me.
Freddie's over by the water, occupying one of the two deckchairs Effy cared to bring along. He isn't facing the water, though. He's turned the chair around so it could face the fire. Before I arrived to take the free seat he was looking over at us the way he usually does: In a state of broody quiet with a joint in his hand.
So I've been sitting next to him, nibbling on my chips for a good two minutes now. I find it totally annoying that he's too high to not be aware of my presence. Now, that's too much, even for Freddie.
"Hey, Fredster," I finally say.
I startle him, of course. No surprise there.
"Shit," Freddie says, and I can tell that he feels bad to not have noticed me. "Naomi! I didn't know you were there," he continues with a nervous laugh.
Then I get to business.
In my best 'I'm only saying...' voice, I say, "You fucked up my reflector, you know?"
"Your what?"
"My reflector. Shiny things you put on bikes and unicycles and the like so cars don't fucking run you over? Yeah, well, you broke mine."
Freddie looks really sorry. Like a sad raccoon. "I'm sorry, I guess."
He hangs his head down and for a second there I fear that he might've fallen asleep. Turns out, he hasn't.
"Look, I can get you a new one," he proposes excitedly, almost leaping out of his deck chair.
"You sure?"
"Yeah, yeah. I probably have extras in the shed. Promise."
He's never going to get me a new one.
Freddie's always had this cloud of despair following him around. Holding him back, gnawing away at his insides. I mean, the boy's got such a handsome smile. This drug-induced haze kind of hides it.
I nick his spliff from him and take a hit. "You always stoned, Freds?"
He let's out a soft, "Hah!" and then he says, "More like 'always screwed'. But not in the way I like."
He laughs. And I find myself laughing at that too because Freddie can be turn-of-the moment funny if he wants to.
"Well, too bad we can't all be like you, Naomi. You got your girl already," Freddie says, taking a swig of the wine. His eyes betray him, they're hooked on Effy.
I cross my arms because somehow we've reached a touchy subject. "Yeah, well. It wasn't easy. It isn't easy."
"Why so, Naoms?" he asks, sounding genuinely concerned.
And it shocks the both of us that he doesn't have to wait too long for a reply. I lean in, give him back his spliff and tell him my secrets.
"Well, getting your girl, that's just the start. The real challenge is in keeping her. Every day you're faced with decisions... To do things you wouldn't normally do... Sometimes even things that scare the fuck out of you. But you do them anyway, because you love her. And losing her isn't an option."
He's asking all the hard questions but here I am, answering them anyway.
Freddie's been listening intently and when I'm done speaking he takes another slug from the bottle. As if the wine's going to help my words go down or wherever it's supposed to go. "You're a nice surprise, y'know?" he says as we exchange wine and chips.
"Oh yeah?" I say before tasting the wine myself. "Is it my food? Or my winning personality?"
Freddie snickers and then grins at me. "I just never thought you'd care about somebody this much. Yeah, I know you gave a fuck. But it was about the world. I can tell by the way you'd never shut up during Politics that all this stuff going round, all these issues... they're really important to you... but focusing all that on just one person?" Freddie pauses, purses his lips. "Thought it'd never happen."
I laugh softly at this. I drink my wine and watch with worried and fascinated eyes as Emily wields a sparkler. She dances around the fire like a pretty, electric wood nymph or something. And it's so sublime. A sight that would've driven Shakespeare to write a thousand more sonnets.
"Believe me, Freds. I had it coming."
I mean, come on. I loved the girl the first time I saw her. No contest.
The boys have not only brought their blokey, useless (with the exception of Thomas) selves but they came with a radio. Effy's currently acting as the DJ of the night and we all have to listen to whatever frequency Effy is on.
Pandora and Thomas have been dancing long before Effy turned the thing on and they're still at it until now, full fucking steam ahead. Cook and JJ have been at it too, just hopping around akin to rabbits on acid. They look like they're having the time of their lives, jerking up and down, the beer in their Carlsberg cans sloshing out unwatched.
Katie's with Effy at the radio. They're sitting together. Not touching or anything... But close enough to be considered 'sitting together'.
If that doesn't make sense to you or anything, Gestalt has this Law of Proximity. If you're close enough, you can be in the group. So the brain automatically, instinctively says you're together.
I wonder if Freddie's thinking the same. In the dark, you could tell he's watching them both. Two girls he's fucked over in some way. In the dark, you wish he'd do something about it already.
And he does. He gets up and goes over to them just as Effy reclines backwards to lie flat on the grass. Her eyes are probably reflecting the full moon above because yes, Effy Stonem has those kind of eyes.
Freddie stands beside her, the tips of his high cuts almost touching her arms. He kneels down beside Effy and Katie sees this. And the thing is, Katie doesn't seem to be bothered by it at all. It's like she even approves of it happening because there's this little smile tugging at the corners of her lips before she politely turns her head to the other side.
As much as a bonfire will allow me to see, it's evident that Freddie's totally taken by Effy. His eyes never leave hers as he reaches over to gently tug the radio out of her grasp. He only looks away to find the tuner, but other than that, his stare is permanently glued on her.
Moments like this slap me in the face because this is probably what it feels like when other people look at me and Emily. It's this ache that hurts the heart. Crushing it in good and bad ways.
Freddie listens as he turns the knob, still boring his eyes into Effy in a way that makes even me shudder. He stops the tuning when he hears a familiar electric piano intro. It's King Harvest's "Dancing in the Moonlight" and Freddie finally cracks a grin. He sets the radio down and he offers his hand to Effy and... how can she not take it?
They get up and walk over to the middle, consequently leaving Katie alone. Katie scoots over to the radio that had fallen flat on its speakers. She sets it straight and the music isn't so muffled anymore.
"Ho! Ho! I love this tune!" Cook cries out deliriously, somehow knocking himself over Katie because he's so fucking excited about it all.
Now she's pinned underneath him and he carries on reaching for the radio. Thankfully, he turns the correct knob and the song's smashing out, louder and merrier than ever.
Giving us all the more reason to get up and go 'dancing in the fucking moonlight' and everything.
"Cook? Cook? Fucking get off me!"
"Awwright, awwright. Fucking relax, man. Give the lad a break?" Cook says, struggling to get to his feet.
Katie wriggles free, gets up and dusts herself off. She turns to Cook, starts kicking his legs. "I could whack your head in if I wanted, fucking tosser!" she growls at him angrily.
"Whoaaa! Whoaaa!" Cook goes, as Katie chases him around, aiming for his shins. Cook turns around and grabs her shoulders, stopping her in her tracks. "Katiekins! What do you mean whacking my head in? You wouldn't want to do that, princess!" Cook tries to sway.
Katie kicks him in the balls. She says to him then, triumphantly, "Oh, yeah? Why wouldn't I want to do that, Cook? It seems like a pretty good idea to me."
Cook's bent over, grabbing his crotch. He tries to stand straighter, and he does, a bit. So he puts on a smile and asks Katie in this weak but undeniably charming way, "Because... Who's gonna dance with you then?"
The anger slowly leaves Katie's face and she gives Cook a small, crooked smile. "Fuck it," she says before grabbing Cook by the arm and pulling him closer to the other couples and JJ.
Now they're all dancing...
I've felt Emily itching to dance with me the moment I came back from my talk with Freddie. I better get a move on.
"Dance?" I whisper into her ear after which she lets out a relieved sigh.
"Dance," she says back, as confirmation.
I slowly lead her over to where the others are then turn around to face her. Emily's so lovely in front of me. She's wearing that sweater I gave her again. I feel its infinitely soft sleeves circle me as she hooks her arms around my neck.
"Naoms?"
"Yes, Emily?" I say, my arms circling her waist.
"See the world with me, yeah?"
My hold on her loosens. Not on purpose though. It's just... Well, I can't promise her that much yet.
"There's a lot of the world to see, Em..."
"I know. But we can be together. Anywhere we want, Naomi. Be anywhere together. Be together anywhere," she says, like she's so fucking sure of it, making it sound like it's really going to happen and it's all going to be okay.
Is it? Is it going to be okay?
I let out a heavy breath. "Do you really want to be stuck with me for that long a time?" I say, trying to conceal my uncertainty with a joke.
She doesn't answer that. Instead, she clutches on to me harder, like I'm the only thing that's keeping her here. Emily commands my attention and I've never seen her brown eyes more wistful than they are now.
"Show me the world, Naomi Campbell," she pleads.
Something comes over me. Maybe it's what she said. But I'm trembling as I rush in closer to kiss her on the forehead. I press my lips against her deeply, giving it everything I got, hoping to fuck that she understands me now even though I don't even understand myself right now.
I break apart and her eyes look up into mine. She's watery and twinkling. She's a blur. I close my eyes. A beautiful blur. It's then when I realise that my cheeks are wet. Oh, fuck. I'm crying. I'm fucking crying.
Me and the love of my life going round the world like it's no one's fucking business. That's such a perfect plan, isn't it? Yeah, it would be except for the fact that I'd have to turn down a couple of scholarships that I've worked all my teenage life for to go join the circus with Emily.
I mean, she's asking for a big thing. For us to take one, possibly even two gap years together. For me to put uni and hopes of a fucking career on hold.
She's basically asking for the rest of my life.
I sniff once, twice. The sadness silently running down my cheeks in steady streams.
Emily moves her hands to my face and she's tenderly wiping away my tears with the pads of her thumb. She sucks her lips in and I know she's trying her fucking hardest to keep from crying as well.
And I know she won't say anything because if she does, she'll croak it out in a way the both of us can't take. So I swoop in until our foreheads are touching. I'm going,
Please don't read my mind. Please don't read my mind. You don't want to know how scared I am now.
Looking into her eyes, I remember what I said to Freddie.
But you do them anyway, because you love her.
I sniff once, twice. Then I clear my throat. Wait for my voice to find me.
"All right, Emily Fitch. I'm getting you out of here."
= = = ** EFFY ** = = =
This morning I woke up, took a shower and made myself some breakfast. While waiting on the kettle, I went to check the post and there on our doormat was a brown envelope.
My A-level results.
I picked the small stack up and I also found bills and two postcards (one from Dad, the other from Tony).
Dad asked how I am, how the house was... regular stuff. As always, he left the "How's your Mum holding up? Well, send her my best," for last.
Then the kettle sang and the toaster gave way.
My breakfast beckoned.
Hiya Eff,
A-level Results Day, right? Right, cuz I've checked. So yeah, a big CONGRATS! to you. I know you've done splendid. You are, after all, my little Sis.
Cardiff's still a bore but I know you'll love the Archaeology and Ancient History Programme. The Greeks and the Romans on a daily basis. You know, like when we were kids. Right cool, Eff. You can't go wrong.
I could use some family here. Spice things up.
I'll be back soon. In the meantime, look after Mum.
All my love,
Tony
I set Tony's postcard next to my plate of toast. Cardiff with Tony. I have to add that to the growing mental pile in my head designated as 'OPTIONS'.
I'm not the type who likes to control things, you know. At the most, I just give things a little push and hope they go somewhere nice but usually I just let things happen. I don't give a fuck about where I'm going to be in five years or whatever. I can tell, by the way that some people look at me, that they all think I've got so much inside of me... I'm not exactly sorry to disappoint, you know.
You're a clever girl, Elizabeth. It's a shame, you'd do well in (insert something young, urban and professional-ish here).
A fierce lack of ambition. That's what they call it.
What sets me apart from my brother.
That's why I'm lovely. But just not as lovely as Tony is.
I eat my toast and pretend he's here with me at the dining table. Dad's screaming his balls off while Mum is occasionally opening the refrigerator in an effort to ignore the ruckus.
And Tony says to me, "We've got to get our own lives, Eff. It's what they would've wanted." He points his fork at our parents and when I turn to try and look at Mum and Dad, they're gone. Then in a mild panic, I turn to Tony only to find out he's gone as well.
They're all gone.
My mobile comes to life. I seriously think Naomi's a wanker for making fun of my froggie ringing tone, you know. Anyway, it's Katie.
I answer it. "Katie."
It's noisy at the other end but I still hear Katie's "Bitch!" cutting clear over the country music.
"I hear my mixed CD in the background. How sweet of you," I say, remembering all the work I put into that Taylor Swift "tribute".
"This is the last time I will ever play this CD, also known as 'Effy Stonem's idea of a fucking laugh'. I'm proper annoyed right now, happy?"
"Feeling fantastic, Katie."
"Splendid. Now would you hold on a sec?"
She covers her mouthpiece but I still make out Katie ordering Emily to stop the player and then it goes quiet.
Katie gets back to me. "I'm not chucking it away though. I'm keeping it."
Somewhere in my chest, I'm a little less cold just hearing that from her.
"Of course you are. I made the fucking cover art."
"You did? No wonder it looks shit. No pictures or anything..."
"It's called typography," I say.
"Yeah, typography, whatever," she says dismissively. "Anyway, I've got to go somewhere. See you at Keith's later, yeah?"
"Can't wait to show us your grades?"
"Kind of. I think I've proven that I'm not a completely tasteless chav. You know, what you guys call a philistine?"
"Definitely not a philistine," I say back with a laugh, honestly proud of how much Katie has grown.
"I better not be. I'm like, using big words here," she says and we laugh some more until she goes, "Okay, I'm hanging up now. Gotta dash."
She hangs up and I'm alone again. I pick the scary, brown envelope up. It's funny how the stuff written outside, my name and my address, define me better than the stuff I'll find in the inside.
I tear the envelope open with shaky hands and I scold myself, they're only fucking results.
I take a big breath. Pull out the sheet that determines my future.
Everyone's a little drunk when Katie finally walks in the pub. Katie appears to be a little down but it seems like I'm the only one who notices that. Cook and the others erupt into a bout of cheers seeing nothing wrong.
Freddie gets up and helps Katie out of her coat. They hook arms as Freddie accompanies her to a seat next to Cook and for the quickest of moments I feel this ambiguous jealousy. I don't know whose hair I wanted to pull off, Freddie's or Katie's.
Cook clumsily slams a pint in front of Katie with everything miraculously staying in its glass. "Drink up, Princess!" he tells her, his face red, crinkly and so obviously stoked.
JJ rises and clinks his glass repeatedly with Freddie's lighter. The ting ting ting gets them all to quiet down. Once he's satisfied, JJ downs the rest of his beer and he puffs his chest out self-importantly.
"Now that Katie's here and we're all fittingly boozed up, the Exam Results Party Planning Committee..."
Of which JJ is the only member.
"...have decreed that all our results be read out in quick succession. So, ready? I'll start."
I like it when he gets like that. Once you see past the annoying over-intellect he's actually rather cute.
"A-A-A!" he says and we all hoot our approval as JJ sits back down, blushing with a curved show of his braces, pleasantly embarrassed.
That's what I mean about 'over-intellect'.
Naomi shoots up next, looking really smug. And by that alone you can already tell...
"A! A! A!" she yells, holding her results sheet in front of everyone like a round girl. Naomi gets an impressed whoa from us and wolf-whistles from the boys before we all join together to give her a hearty round of applause.
"Top, man! Fucking top!" Cook shouts, raising his glass to her and Naomi beams at him in return before she flops back into her chair blissfully to see her girlfriend's reaction. It's unsettling how Emily has this sad-happy thing going on which completely wipes the grin off Naomi's face.
What's that I see? Trouble in paradise?
Emily musters a big (but subtly strained) smile before she leans in to kiss Naomi on the cheek with a "Congrats, babe," before getting up herself to tell us her grades.
Naomi's hand sneaks its way into Emily and you can almost feel how strong that grip between them is.
This makes the redhead smirk but she's all modest anyway when she enlightens us with an, "A-A-B."
Everyone claps and howls wildly but no one can beat how ecstatic Naomi's being about it. Naomi's so happy she goes on banging the table with her free fist. Seems like she's forgotten about how she and Emily weren't seeing eye to eye just then.
Naomi suddenly gets up and captures Emily's lips with her own and now they're snogging there, breaking the "read in quick succession" rule right in front of JJ's face. He doesn't seem to be bothered by it though. With good reason too.
I mean... Lesbians.
And that's fucking hot.
Emily pulls away, breathless and looking like she well enjoyed that. She gives Naomi a playful shove in the chest. "What the fuck was that for?" she says, trying to sound cross but it does not (no, not at all) hide the fact that Naomi's just gotten her incredibly turned on.
Naomi shoots Emily a daredevil smile that could make all the ladies and gentlemen swoon with how handsomely beautiful it is. And she says to Emily, "I have no idea, really."
Oh, God. You're right smooth Campbell. Would you mind hitting on my dead Nan too?
"Right, Ems. She just jumped on you, didn't she?" Katie says jokingly at which Emily can only respond to with a timid bite of her lip. It is Katie's turn and the happy, gay couple stumble back into their seats, both caught in their own fucking giddiness or whatever.
Katie, in her animal prints and her pearls, goes "B-B-C!" and we turn it up a good deal of decibels again. Katie does a little curtsey before resuming her seat. She takes a sip of her beer and she catches my eye. Katie smiles her thanks and my heart swells because I did, in fact, help her get those results.
Thomas jumps up. His headphones are around his neck and he's doing this sort of funky dance. He raps about his results going, "A-B-C, baby!" and his three-second music video comes to a close. He and JJ high five each other before Panda attacks Thomas with a hug.
At long last, Panda lets go of Thomas and she faces the lot of us saying,
"C in Philosophy! Super A's in History and French!"
A quiet shock dawns over the table. Because no one's gotten an A Plus yet. And for Panda to rack up two... that's just... fucking great.
Panda stares back at us looking like she did us all a great wrong. "I did some exams without telling you guys. I'm sorry."
"No Panda, that's great! It's just that we're all... surprised. Yeah, that's it. Surprised," Emily supplies, speaking for all of us then adding a sincere, "We're very happy for you, Panda. Congratulations!"
"Oh, alright, good," Panda says, relieved somewhat. "You know, for a second there I thought you were all mad at me."
I get to Panda as quick as I can and circle my arms around her, squeeze her really hard. "Don't be silly, Panda Pops. You've done excellent and I can't be more proud of anyone in this room."
Panda tears up and I look at her feeling nothing but affection. My best friend is a genius.
And everyone else is still sitting there with a stunned look on display. A fresh pint reaches its way in front of Cook. He finishes it in one go and then his glass goes down with a dull thud after which he wipes his mouth with the sleeves of his jumper.
He's fucking disgusting, really.
Cook clears the table, just moves some bottles and glasses and chips aside and we all witness in drunken confusion as he climbs onto the table. He throws his arms out and screams from the top of his lungs, "I GOT EXPELLED!"
It's like Panda's news all over again. The same silence. The same collection of round eyes.
It goes on like that for a while before Cook hops down and says, "Just shitting with you lot." He steals Freddie's fag, takes a quick drag before reciting, "C-C-F!"
Panda starts laughing nervously and we join in because Cook is being the fun twat-fuck he is. Freddie wrestles for his fag back saying, "You bastard," with just a hint of fondness.
Cook turns to JJ. "Sorry, Jay. I'm just really shit at Maths," he says, giving JJ's hair a good ruffle.
JJ just shrugs Cook off and claps his hands at Freddie, barking "Quick succession! Quick succession!"
Freddie straightens up at this and suddenly his tall, lanky frame is towering over everyone. He has his hands shoved deep down the pockets of his shorts. With a cigarette between his lips he goes, "A-C-C," in that laid-back way of his.
And the way he does it, it's...
Sexy, I think before I can stop myself.
This is why they call him The Lips, I guess.
I find myself actually thankful for Cook's congratulatory wails. They drown out the sound of my other thoughts.
It's just that I really fucking hate admitting Freddie's irresistible.
"Eff?" Panda says and I realise that everyone else has read out their grades. I'm the only one who hasn't yet.
"A-A-B," I say dully but my friends are the type you can count on to go ballistic about it anyway.
Everyone's happy for everyone and it's almost too surreal because two years ago all we ever thought we'd be to each other was 'just this person in my form'.
We've gone a long way, me and them. And somewhere in between JJ's congratulatory speech and the appearance of a new round of drinks (compliments of Keith), I come to the conclusion that...
Fucking hell, I actually love these people.
As soon as I step out of the pub, I'm crushed by a heavy fall of rain and I immediately regret my decision of braving the storm.
But then I finally find her leopard-print parka and her strings of pearls, leaning against the brick wall. And there's something about it that's sad. So sad.
She notices me around. "Just thought I'd step outside a bit. Couldn't take the smoke anymore."
This would've been normal and okay and everything, being outside to get a breath of fresh air... but it's like she doesn't even notice that it's a fucking monsoon out here.
"Katie?"
Katie won't look at me.
"Why the fuck are you here?"
I can't stop my teeth from chattering. It's too fucking cold.
"I can't have children," she says loudly, competing with the thunder and the crashing sound the rain makes as it hits the pavement, the roof, the window... everything.
"I can't have kids!" she shouts to the sky like she's furious at God. "I can't have kids... I can't have kids..." she keeps repeating, sinking heavily down the wall. She's collapsed into a sobbing heap on the pavement and I don't know what to fucking make of it.
I sit next to her and try not to mind how wet it's making my jeans. I draw Katie in my arms and let her cry against me because... Fuck it, she can't possibly make my jacket any wetter than it already is.
Water's pouring around us unforgivingly and I think this could do her some good, you know. Wash away some of the hurt.
So I hold onto her tighter in the rain and just hope it makes a difference.
Back inside, Keith takes one look at us and with a snap of his fingers a lady sets off and returns with some towels. Katie and I take them with grateful smiles and we walk over to a corner booth, planning to stay there until we dried up a bit.
Naomi and Emily are playing darts at one corner. They're laughing and having a pretty good time. Emily manages to hit the wall thrice in a row and Naomi looks like she's going to be doubled up laughing like that forever.
Katie's staring hard at Emily.
"It's funny, if she's ever going to have a baby... It's going to be so fucking hard because... Because that could've been me. And when I'm going to tuck that kid in one night, as fucking Auntie Katie... I'm going to look at that face and say to myself, 'You could've been mine,' and it's just so... fucking unfair because I've always wanted to be like mum. To be a mum! And with that gone, I don't fucking know what I'm supposed to be anymore..."
I don't know what to feel. Much less what to say. It's like somebody died in that booth with us.
Somebody that wasn't supposed to.
It turns out that Katie's significantly better at darts than Emily is and she can't get enough of it, rubbing it in Emily's face while Naomi stands back obviously amused by their sibling rivalry. Katie's considerably cheered up.
This is when I decide to make my way over to the bar. To get another drink... or something.
"So what are you doing sitting here? Looking for doilies?"
"No," Freddie replies. "Just looking," he says, his eyes never leaving mine.
There's this gleam in them (his, not mine) that gets this scene in my head. About Aphrodite coming down and beating the shit out of a boy's face. When it's over, the boy will get up and smile. He'll be bleeding honey and looking more divine than ever. In my head, that boy is Freddie.
What I hate about him (or maybe myself) is the silence. He doesn't fucking say anything but I know the words already. Sometimes there aren't any words. Just lots of... lots of conceptual things.
Strong, conceptual things.
I play with the draw strings of his hoodie, tempted to pull him closer with them. But I don't. I don't.
"Keep looking then," I say, before turning around and vanishing back into the normal world. Where people bleed right and red.
The world where Freddie doesn't have such a tight hold on my heart.
I'm now sharing a booth with Panda, Thomas, JJ and Cook. I had to have a smoke so I couldn't hang with Katie. That's why I'm here listening to JJ and Cook argue over Cook's big mathematical disappointment.
"So what if you've got three A's?" Cook says before taking a hit of his cigarette. "Doesn't mean you get to eat cunt for breakfast."
JJ looks colossally offended, comes up with this as a defense. "Naomi got three A's. I bet she has three square meals of cunt every day!"
Cook's initially baffled at this because well, JJ does have a point.
"Yeah, well..." Cook starts, struggling for some proper retaliation.
Oh, I'd love to hear this...
"...that only applies to lesbians. Have you noticed, Jay? Lesbians get off on similarities, yeah? They both have tits—" he says, pausing to make groping motions at his chest. "Both have pussies. So naturally, my dear Jonah Jeremiah, both should have brains. Lezzers like their birds clever, Jay. Law of the world."
JJ is soaking up Cook's argument and he's goes all thoughtful about it. "So, are you saying, that if I try coming on to a lesbian, there's a 75 percent chance that she'd have sex with me?" he asks while Cook's busy gulping down another pint.
But then Cook raises his hand to JJ as if to say, "Wait, stop right there."
We all wait until he slams the empty glass down and Cook looks at JJ incredulously. "What? Because of your brilliant bonce?"
JJ nods with vigour.
Cook doesn't seem to think the same way. So he lets JJ down easy.
"Well, not exactly. But no harm in trying. You might wanna play that card sometime, Jay."
"Yeah," JJ agrees, his blue eyes looking lively and he looks braver since the last time he spoke. "Yeah, I should," he says again, with more conviction.
"Jay?" Cook says.
"Yes?" JJ says, distracted and all charged up at the same time.
"Not with Emilio though. Blondie's not gonna like that."
JJ stops looking at Emily and snaps his head back to us faster than anyone can say, "Naomi's going to fucking kill you."
It's nice of Cook. To care about them. Just comes to prove that no matter how much of an ass you can be there will always be this sacred goodness inside of you.
Cook spots another girl by the pool table sporting a cue stick. She's looks pretty bored about everything even as she's constantly knocking down all those difficult shots. Those table's pockets seem fucking hungry for those balls.
"What about her?" Cook proposes and without even looking at her JJ's all like, "No fucking way, not for a thousand Tic Tacs!" until the crowd parts and he finally sights the girl Cook's referring to.
The blonde hair and the pink hair extension. Spandau Ballet's "True" is spilling out of the jukebox.
JJ's face at this moment? Nothing less of lovestruck.
"Go on, don't be a pussy. Talk to her," Cook says, pushing JJ out of the booth with his foot. And JJ's up and fumbling with his hair self-consciously, making his way to her.
JJ starts chatting the girl up, magically conjuring up the cue ball from behind the girl's ear (I still wonder how the fuck he does that). All's going well for the most part. We're all silently praying for him to succeed and everything.
Have you ever come across Murphy's Law? You know... Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong? Yeah, that old adage.
Well, clearly Murphy knows his shit.
Suddenly, this guy who looks like Jim Carrey comes out of fucking nowhere and clocks JJ hard in the face. The next thing we know is that it's a whirl of fists and arms and Cook's just beating the wits out of this guy.
Me and the girls rush over to JJ while Freddie, Thomas and Naomi (yes, the Naomi fucking Campbell!) rush over to the brawl, clawing Cook and the other guy apart. It takes a while for them to pull Cook away and even then, he's still kicking and screaming but Naomi and Freddie have successfully dragged him away from causing any more carnage.
Cook's spotless. No sign of blood on his face. Except, of course, for his knuckles.
I can't say the same for Jim Carrey though. He's covered in red. Blood coming out his nose, his lip cut and... I have to look away. Because as of now, Cook's made it a face only a mother would love.
Thomas is kneeling over the guy, checking his pulse and everything. The blonde girl falls to the floor and wipes some of the blood away with a handkerchief. "For fuck's sake, Liam!" she says through her sniveling, "look what they've done to you!"
All the people in the bar look rattled. The older customers start glaring at us and we're all painfully aware of how quiet it is. The adrenalin's died down and now my heartbeat's not loud and frantic enough to mask the sound of police sirens outside.
"Fucking hell!" Keith hollers, purely outraged. "Who the fuck called Scotland Yard?"
A/N: First of all, THANK YOU SO MUCH for reading up to this point! It means so much to me that you've read all nine chapters (and friend, you deserve applause because this is story has like... a lot of words) despite the time in between updates. I never thought that this one-shot would turn into something more. I have you guys to thank for that, you helped this baby grow. I love you so much (in a totally "I don't know you but hey, common interests!" sort of way)! So yeah, spread the love on this sandwich, mate. For the willing, criticise/review if you will. ;)
For the interested: I know I'm being like a total loser for doing this (promoting my twitter page like a desperate hooker on the streets), but if some of you guys want to get live feed on how the last chap is going, you can check there. And also if you want to know about the wild and not-so-wild shit I'm up to. Haha! The link's on my profile page, so there... you know where to find me, bbs.
NEXT: The LAST CHAPTER! And that's all I'm giving away, friends ;)
I need all the magic I can get so wish me luck, loves! Until the last chapter!
