Took my ear a second even to hear the question, past the burst of
Skitter of hooded glances, little smirks. Good answer.
Joanne said, ‘Because she’s sooo totally
‘Such a
‘So
‘So
‘I bet she acted like she was totally terrified of you, right?’ Joanne dipping her head, doing fake-simpery doe-eyes up at me. ‘Rebecca’d never do anything bold. She’s probably never even had a sip of booze in her life. Never even OMG
Gemma laughed, low.
I said, ‘That’s not true, no?’ My heart was starting a slow hard pound, jungle drums, carrying a message.
‘Well, I don’t know if she’s ever had booze – I mean, who cares. But she’s looked at a guy, all right.’
Orla sniggered. ‘You should’ve
I said, ‘Chris Harper.’
Slowly, Joanne started to smile. She said, ‘Ding. You win the prize.’
Orla said, ‘Rebecca was
I said, ‘And you think in the end they got together?’
Joanne’s lip curled. ‘OMG, excuse me while I barf? No
I said, ‘So that means she wasn’t the one meeting him. Right? Or…?’
The looks strobing again. ‘Well,’ Joanne said. ‘Not for
‘For what, then?’
Titters. Orla sucking in her bottom lip. They weren’t going to say it unless I did first.
That meteor, howling closer. All I had to do was get in the right place, hold out my hands.
That morning. Smell of chalk and grass; me tying myself in knots like a balloon animal, trying to make myself into whatever eight different girls and Conway wanted – lot of good that had done me. Joanne, lip pulled up:
I said, ‘Drugs.’
A change. I felt them tense up, waiting while I fumbled my way into place.
‘Rebecca was on drugs.’
A hysterical giggle burst out of Orla. Joanne smiled at me, teacher at a good boy. Ordered, ‘Tell him.’
After a moment Gemma sat up. Folded her legs under her, picked bits of grass off her tights. She said, ‘You’re not recording this or anything, are you?’
‘No.’
‘Good, because this is totally off the record. Like, if you ever tell anyone I said any of this, I’m going to say it’s all bullshit and you made it up to get back in Detective Dildo’s good books.’
Like I was a journalist. I was halfway through thinking
Not so naïve. I said, ‘Not a problem.’
Joanne said, ‘Go on. Tell him.’
‘Well,’ Gemma said. Touched her tongue to her top lip, but it was autopilot, buying time while she got her head straight. ‘OK. You know about Ro, right? Ronan, who used to be a groundskeeper here?’
‘You guys arrested him,’ Orla put in helpfully. She was bright-eyed, loving it. ‘For selling drugs.’
I said, ‘I know the story, yeah.’
Gemma said, ‘He dealt a
Still messing with bits of grass snagged in her tights. I couldn’t tell for sure in the flexing light, but it looked like she’d gone red.
Joanne said, ‘Gems’s diet wasn’t exactly working.’ Gave Gemma’s waist a malicious little pinch.
‘I just wanted to lose like a couple more pounds. Big deal; doesn’t everyone? So I asked Ronan if he could get me something to help.’
Flicker of a glance, Gemma looking for something from me, badly scared of not getting it. I said, hoping, ‘Must’ve worked. You definitely don’t need to be losing any weight now.’
Relief curving her mouth. This was a whole other world: admitting you had hassle getting thin was scarier than telling a cop you’d bought speed. ‘Yeah, well. Whatever. Anyway. How you bought stuff from Ronan was, right, Wednesday and Friday afternoons he was the only groundskeeper on shift, so you went down to the shed after school and you hung around outside till you saw him. Then you went in and he got the stuff out of this cupboard. You totally weren’t supposed to go into the shed unless you saw him there; he said he’d bar you if he caught you inside on your own. I guess in case someone robbed his stash.’
Joanne and Orla were wiggling themselves along the grass, in closer to me. Open-mouthed, starry-eyed.