It doesn’t get that far. When she slides her hand along the side of Selena’s mattress, between the bed and the wall, she finds a lump. Neat little slit in the mattress cover, and inside, surprise surprise, a phone. An adorable itsy-bitsy pink one, just like the one Alison bought off Joanne. Chris must have stocked up by the armful, one for each of the lucky babes he was planning on honouring with his glorious dick. Up until she saw that phone in her hand, Julia still thought there was a chance Gemma was lying.
Selena hasn’t put a lock code on it, which might give Julia a flicker of guilt if she had room for that. Instead she goes to Messages and starts reading.
She keeps reading. Chris is excellent; Julia is almost impressed. He had Selena sussed dead on, right from the start. One sext, one hint of romance even, and she’d have been gone; so smart boy Chris never went near there. Instead he went for long texts about his emo sister’s problems, or how his parents didn’t understand him, or how it wounded him that he couldn’t show his true sensitive self to his shallow friends. Julia is glad she’s already puked herself empty.
Selena is a sucker for anyone who needs her. Maybe some people would call it arrogance, thinking she’s so super-special she can help where no one else could, but the thing is sometimes she can. Julia should know. You can say anything to Selena and she, unlike apparently everyone else in the world, will never come back with something that makes you want to hit her and yourself for having opened your big stupid mouth. So people who never talk to anyone talk to her. That’s what she’s used to. That’s what Chris Harper smelled off her. And that’s what he used to wiggle his way close enough to shove his hand down her top.
Because Selena was talking to him, too.
She has never said anything like that to Julia. Julia never had a clue that she felt that way.
They’ve been meeting for more than a month. It gets more obvious with every text that Selena is gaga about Chris, gooey, stupid in love. Julia has a hard time deciding who is the world’s biggest moron: the one who’s fallen in love with Chris the Sleaze Harper, or the three who pranced along next to her while she did it without noticing one single thing. She grits her teeth and mashes her elbow along the wall next to her till it’s scraped raw.
And then Julia gets to this morning. No wonder Selena looks spaced out. She just dumped Chris’s nasty arse.
The rush of relief almost throws Julia flat on her back on the bed, but a second later it drains away. This won’t last. Selena can’t even get through the dump text without babbling about how much she loves Chris, and he’s already come back with a wild text demanding to know WTF and begging her to meet him tonight. Selena hasn’t answered, but another few days of oh-please-I-need-you-so-much and she will.
Julia hears it clear as tapped bronze.
It takes her a long humming minute to understand what that means. To hold in one hand what will happen if she does, and in the other what will happen if she doesn’t.