Joanne Sefton - The Guilty Friend

She flicked the card open then shut it immediately. But not quick enough to stop the rush of blood in her cheeks. There had been some printed writing – she’d not had the card open for long enough to read it – then, at the bottom, just one word ‘Stanno’ and one crossed kiss.

Tasha had fancied him since Year 8. Thinking about it, she probably would have had more chance with him then, because ever since then he’d just got more fit and more popular whereas she’d, well, not. But they did still get on. He only lived a street away from her and sometimes they would walk home together off the bus. Maybe she’d made more of an impression than she’d thought.

‘Oh my God.’ She turned to her friends. ‘It’s Dylan Stanton. It’s actually him. He likes me. OM-fucking-G. What the fuck am I going to do?’

And the girls were hyped, because they knew she liked Stanno, although she would never have told them quite how much. Claire’s face lit with excitement and happiness for her, and then, just as suddenly, it crumpled.

Tash’s stomach turned to ice. She turned, following Claire’s gaze, to look over her shoulder. Lola Shirini swooped like a vampire bat, her glossy Kate Middleton hair swinging and her phone thrusting into Tash’s face as her laughter ripped through the quad.

‘She actually fell for it. Look at her! Little Miss Boffin-Head is in luurve with Dylan Stanton. Can you imagine it? Like he’d send a card to her – as if!’

The three or four worker bees she’d brought along for the ride swayed around laughing, making out like they were pissing themselves or unable to stay upright. The blood that had rushed to Tash’s cheeks a few moments earlier was now joined by what felt like the rest of the blood in her entire body and an army of fire ants. Her face was blazing like an exploding oil tanker.

She stood up and shoved the card into Lola’s free hand.

‘Take it back then – it’s not like I care.’ She choked out the last couple of words in a sob, aware even as she said it that it was a pretty pathetic effort at a comeback.

Of course, when she was stewing at home that evening, she came up with about seventeen razor-sharp ripostes that would have left Lola for dead. But none of those were featured on the video that was instantly being shared all over WhatsApp and Snapchat. Tasha knew that even kids in other years who wouldn’t have had a clue who she was that morning would be pointing and laughing when she went back into school the next day.

She wondered if it was true that Saint Valentine lived in Italy a zillion years ago and they made him a saint because he married couples so the husbands wouldn’t have to go to war. Woot woot for them. She would bet he didn’t realise the depths of misery he was storing up for generations of innocent schoolgirls, did he? Wanker.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.