Follow Me, Like Me Page 5
‘What happened with Jerome?’ I say politely.
Louise’s face breaks into a smile, before she quickly rearranges her features.
‘Yeah, same really, I was so out of it, I left early, but he’s been messaging.’
She holds out her phone to show me a string of messages between them, her chin jutting out.
I wrinkle my brow. ‘Wasn’t he dating that girl in the year below – Maisie or someone?’
‘Oh no – that is so over,’ she says with a snort, scrolling through her phone. ‘Look, he even triple-messaged at one point!’
For some reason, even looking at those messages from Jerome on Louise’s phone makes my stomach churn.
‘Mmm . . . cool,’ I mutter and put my head back to my textbook.
Louise is smirking down at her screen, then she glances at me. ‘You OK?’
‘What? Yeah – why?’
‘You just seem, I dunno . . . quiet.’
I pause.
What am I doing? She’s one of my best friends. I can tell her anything. Anything.
‘Sorry, I should have . . .’ I take a deep breath. ‘Something else happened at the party—’
Louise gasps loudly and shakes her head.
‘Don’t Chlo – you don’t have to say. I already know!’
I blink. ‘You know?’
‘Yes, Rachel saw.’
‘Rachel saw?’
Louise nods. ‘She saw everything.’ She glances at my stricken expression. ‘It’s OK! He’s a bastard. We all know he’s a bastard.’
I nod dumbly. Feeling the colour drain from my face. They saw me and J. Louise – she knew? Everyone knows? Oh Christ. What do they all think of me?
Sven’s message dances before my eyes.
Sven_247 Slut.
Why the hell did I ever wear that stupid tight green dress? I thought I looked so pretty – now I wish I could screw it up into a tiny ball, rip the beaded material to shreds.
‘. . . and to think he got with Tori, when you were right there—’
Tori? Wait, what—
Louise hasn’t noticed my change of expression. She’s talking fast, in a low, conspiratorial tone.
‘It was his party, but c’mon. You’ve barely been split up a month!’
The churning in my stomach starts to ease. So no one actually saw me and J?
‘Tom? Tom got with Tori? That’s what you saw?’
Louise frowns at me. ‘Um, yeah. Why, what did you think—’
‘Oh, nothing. I just – it’s just been such a shock, you know.’
Louise presses her lips together and squeezes my arm. ‘I know. We can just be us girls at break if you want.’
‘No, no. I’m going to have to talk to him at some point. Might as well clear the air.’
I’m slowly starting to digest the fact that Tom got with someone else. I expected to feel upset, but instead I just feel . . . numb.
Of course he was going to get with someone else. Look what I did – flirting with anyone in the room. He probably hates me.
I think of J’s hands all over my body. My body tenses up.
To be honest, I hate myself.
Louise misinterprets my silence and gives me a sympathetic smile.
‘He’s a dickhead,’ she mouths, reaching over and squeezing my arm.
I manage a weak smile back, as my phone lights up with three new messages.
* * *
At break, I find myself standing near one of the school benches along the tarmacked edge of the field, staring up at Tom’s face.
I’m not quite sure how I ended up with just him. As soon as I approached the group of guys, all the girls went silent and Louise nudged me sharply in the ribs before saying, ‘Tom, Chloe wants a word,’ in an icy voice.
So now we’re standing here. Alone.
Tom is fidgeting like he doesn’t want to be here. I’m trying hard to ignore the heavy feeling of my phone in my pocket, vibrating manically against my leg.
Tom’s floppy blond hair is more tousled than usual, and there are purple rings under his eyes.
He pouts.
After a few seconds of me not saying anything, he starts to bite one of his nails. ‘Look. There’s really not much to say, is there? You got with that guy from Andy’s football team. I got with Tori. I know we were together a while, but –’ he shrugs – ‘we should at least try to be mates.’
Tom is looking down at me, his brow creased on his lightly tanned face.
‘Right?’
My phone buzzes again against my leg. All of a sudden, I want to fall straight into Tom’s chest, feel his familiar arms wrapped around me.
I feel so alone.
BuzzBuzzBuzz.
So scared.
‘Chloe?’ Tom’s voice is gruff.
I swallow a hard lump in my throat.
‘I’m going to head back to the guys. OK?’
Hot tears are welling in my eyes.
My phone buzzes again, and I feel one of the brimming tears splash down my cheek.
Tom ducks his head down to peer at me. I turn my head away, but he sees my face.
‘Christ. What’s wrong?’
Then his voice softens. He gently touches my shoulder.
‘Are you OK?’
I look up at his kind face. Too good for me. I don’t deserve him.
BuzzBuzzBuzz.
Tears erupt down my cheeks, and my whole body falls apart.
CHAPTER 14
Chloe
I can’t stop crying. I don’t mean I can’t stop a pretty, single tear falling down my cheek. I mean I can’t stop these huge chest-heaving sobs from racking my entire body.
I can’t even speak. I’m trying to say something to Tom but all that is coming out is choking gasps. I can barely even breathe through the sobs.
Tom has seen me like this once, maybe twice before. When my mum threw me out of the house for coming home late a few months ago and I had nowhere to go. When my grandma died last year. He held me then, and I clung to him for comfort. It felt like things would never get better, but they did.
‘Look, it’s OK. Let’s go somewhere private.’ Tom takes my arm now, firmly, and steers me away from school.
I keep my head down, terrified someone else is going to see me in this state, but Tom leads me away from the crowds.
He takes me down the back path, by the humanities block, away from the main field. A couple of Year Sevens are loitering on the walkway. Before they catch a glimpse of me, he shouts at them to leave. They scatter like a flock of birds.
Once we reach the end of the path, he glances both ways to see if there are any teachers, before pulling me across the staff car park and out of the school gates. Tom can sign out without much trouble as he’s in lower sixth, but if I’m caught walking out of school without permission, I’ll be given detention for the rest of term.
A few steps past the school gates, Tom glances over his shoulder and waves me to sit down next to him on a low brick wall at the front of someone’s garden.
My breath is still coming in huge, choking sobs, but there are no more tears. I’m just howling.
Tom digs his hands into his pockets. ‘Fuck. I don’t have a tissue.’
Almost without thinking about it, I lean my face against his chest. He wraps his arms around me and the warmth of his skin under his crisp white school shirt makes a tingling feeling sweep across my cheeks. His familiar smell takes me back to all the time we spent together.
I cry even harder.
I just want everything to feel better.
I’ve left black mascara marks and dirty foundation smudges across his shirt. I remember how nice it felt when we were together, kissing, skin on skin. I’m desperate to feel like that again.
Reaching my head up, I see Tom’s concerned face and I press my lips against his. The warm sensation of his lips is so nice, I never want to think about anything else again.
Tom pushes me away abruptly. ‘What are you doing?’
‘What is going on with you? Why are you being like this? You split up with me, remember?’
My phone buzzes again against my leg.
I feel mad, unhinged.
Reaching into my pocket, I see over fifty messages from Sven, and in a blind fury I draw back my arm to throw the phone in the road.
Tom reaches above my head and grabs my wrist, holding it steady.
‘I can’t do this any more, Tom. I can’t make him stop. Or the guy from the party. I can’t make anyone stop.’
Tom looks at me and gently lets go of my wrist, taking my phone out of my hand. He glances down at the screen.
‘Bloody hell. Who sends fifty messages in a morning?’
I snatch my phone back, embarrassed. I don’t know why, but suddenly I feel like an idiot. Oh God, why did I burst into tears in front of Tom?
Why am I behaving like this?
‘It’s fine,’ I say, flipping the phone screen over so neither of us can see. ‘It’s totally fine. I’m sorry – I don’t know what came over me. I should have—’ I try to keep my voice steady, but it cracks on the final word.
Slowly, Tom wraps an arm over my shoulder.
‘What happened?’ he says quietly.
I bury my head into his neck.
‘I don’t . . . I don’t want to say,’ I whisper.
Tom rests his lips against my forehead. ‘Go on. Tell me.’
I swallow – my throat is so dry, and scratchy.
‘It’s that guy, Sven. I don’t know – everyone.’ My voice is so quiet, even I can barely hear it. ‘And that guy J at the party, when we got together. I didn’t want to – not once we got outside. He made me.’
Tom presses me tighter against his chest, and I grip onto the collar of his shirt.
CHAPTER 15
Amber
The air has turned bitingly cold by the time I’m walking back home from school. The wind clatters together a couple of coke cans rolling at the side of the road, and occasionally they brush against the pavement with a rattle.
My schoolbag is bumping against my back, and with each dull, rhythmic thud, my entire body cringes. I can’t stop thinking about me pretending to be Ren’s sister to the leisure centre people. It was so stupid.
Why did I do it?
My eyes skim over the group of Year Tens in front. They’re all laughing, jostling into one another, and don’t even notice me walking behind them.
I try to hang back a little so I don’t end up directly beside them.
Ahead of the crowd, there’s a flash of blue and orange sweatshirt on a tall, dark-haired guy.
Wait a minute—
Is that . . . Ren?
I crane my neck, but the figure is already heading down smokers’ lane, this narrow, sloped walk between two of the housing estates. No one actually smokes there any more, but it still has the name.
Wait. What did I actually see?
It was only a flash of blue; a dash of orange. I tap open Snap Map, but Ren’s not online. There’s no way to know for sure.
Biting my lip, I quicken my pace.
* * *
I’ve never been down smokers’ lane before. I’ve never had a reason to; it comes out on the complete opposite side of town, and the only places I really visit are home, school and the gym.
A group of sixth-formers are standing at the entrance, but I don’t even look at them. I stare at the ground, my cheeks prickling, and keep going. I feel like at any moment someone is going to turn around and tell me I’m not meant to be going this way. But they don’t.
When I emerge at the bottom of the lane, Ren isn’t there.
It’s colder here, and the streets are flanked either side by blocks of flats, not houses. As I squint, there’s a blob of royal blue in the far distance, snaking down the road.
Pulling my jumper down over my fingertips, I walk as fast as humanly possible in its direction. My teeth start to chatter, but I ignore it. Soon, I’m close enough to make out broad shoulders, a lick of dark hair at the nape of a neck.
Oh-my-God. It’s actually him.
His phone buzzes, so he reaches in his pocket, turning his head slightly. But it’s the wrong face. His hair sticks directly up, and he has a flat, upturned nose.
Oh God, it’s not Ren! It’s one of the other college trainees from the gym. The one who’s always talking to Ren. What was this guy’s name – Ansh?
My stomach plummets. Here I am, in the middle of nowhere, behind some random guy who I don’t know.
What am I doing?
I almost feel like I’m going to cry, but then something inside me stirs. This guy worked with Ren – he will know why he was fired. Maybe I could ask him what happened . . .
It takes me about a nanosecond to quicken my pace. Soon I’m standing directly beside him.
‘Hey,’ I say.
But he doesn’t even hear me; he just walks on, staring ahead.
‘Hey!’ I say, a little louder this time.
He glances across at me, and I can feel myself give this weird, crooked smile. Ansh frowns slightly, his nose turning up even more.
‘Have you just come from the gym?’ I squeak.
He ducks his gangly head down and pulls one of his wireless headphones out of an ear.
‘Are you speaking to me?’ he says, dark eyes squinting.
‘Yes, um, sorry . . .’ I gulp. ‘I, erm, recognized you – from the gym.’
‘Oh,’ he says, then he gives me a little half-smile, bending down to peer closer. ‘Yeah, I think I’ve seen you around.’
There’s a long pause.
‘Are you walking this way too?’ he says eventually, straightening up again.
I meet his eye and flush. ‘Yeah, um – yeah, I am.’
We walk for a few steps. I open my mouth. Close it. Then open it again.
‘So . . . do you . . . do you know . . .’ I stare at my hands. ‘Do you know why Ren doesn’t work at the gym any more?’
Ansh looks at me. ‘You’re his sister, right?’
How does he . . . ?
‘I was just chatting to the receptionist, who said Ren’s sister had come by,’ he says, as though he can read the question on my face.
I swallow. Here I go again.
‘Yeah. Yeah, I am.’
CHAPTER 16
Amber
Ansh is looking down at me, the spikes of his dark gelled hair twitching in the wind. He frowns, and the edge of his lips crease.
‘You don’t know? Christ, sorry. I can’t say – not to his sister.’ He rakes a hand through his stiff hair.
I open my mouth, and before I know what’s happening, I start talking. Quickly. Confidently. It’s like I’ve stepped out of my own body and I’m listening to someone else. I hear her say some crap about how Ren won’t stop talking about being fired at home; how Mum is totally stressed out. This other person says to Ansh they just want to hear what he thinks, as their brother’s friend.
When I close my mouth, Ansh is looking at me with an odd expression on his face. He stops walking for a second.
‘You’re his sister . . . He never—’
‘Me and my parents really, really want to hear what the other people at the gym think.’
Ansh lets out a low sigh. ‘OK. If you want my honest o pinion: I think he did it.’
‘Did what?’
Ansh splays his hands out. ‘Well, the first one – Maisie . . . Was that her name? She said he never left her alone. Then he turned up at her house one day.’
I blink several times.
‘Ren turned up at someone’s home?’ I say quietly.
How can I blame him for that, when I did the same?
But it’s almost like Ansh hasn’t heard me; he keeps going. ‘And then Jemma. He was always weird with her in the gym – he did the same thing. And on the first day of October, they met up – fo
r a date, I guess. And –’Ansh shrugs. ‘Well I guess no one really knows what happened. He says they never met up. She says that he, well . . .’
There’s an icy feeling that runs down my spine. What is Ren meant to have done, exactly . . .
. . . And am I just as bad?
Ansh sees my face. ‘Are you OK?’
I shake my head. ‘Yeah, I guess. It’s just a lot to take in.’
Ansh runs a hand across the back of his skinny neck. ‘Didn’t you say you and your family knew about this already?’
‘Um, I did,’ I say quickly. ‘Just not the details. My – er – our parents didn’t say.’
Ansh raises his eyebrows. ‘Good. Glad I don’t have to tell you the last story then. It’s grim.’
‘What do you mean—’
‘Here’s me,’ says Ansh, nodding to an alley that leads to about four houses.
I can’t really pretend I need to go that way too; he must know I don’t live in one of those houses . . . Maybe I could say I’ve just moved in? I doubt he knows his neighbours very well . . .
‘Catch you later,’ he says, before I have time to say anything, and he gives me a wave.
I want to ask him more questions, but I can’t think of a normal way to do it, so I just stare dumbly at him as he walks off.
My mind is buzzing.
So Ren turned up at Maisie’s house, and then did something that upset Jemma on their date. Why would that get him fired?
And what happened to the third girl?
I think of the way Ren smiled at me, his hand gently resting on my shoulder. I try to imagine him turning up at Maisie’s house . . . but he just wouldn’t do things like that – I’m sure of it.
The wind rattles, and a shiver snakes down my spine.
There’s something else that’s been bothering me since I heard he met up with Jemma. Something feels off.
I think back to last night, lying in bed, scrolling through Ren’s Instagram feed.
Wait a minute . . .
I unlock my phone, exit Snap Map, and click on to his Instagram profile. I scroll back further, to the beginning of October.
On 01 October at 9.01 p.m., there’s an Instagram video he’s posted of him on the sofa with several mates drinking beers.
There’s a tiny caption: Great night in with the lads.