I looked at Zoe for back-up. ‘That’s true,’ she said, with a little pout, inspecting her nails. ‘Kerry shouldn’t be going around spreading stupid stories like that.’
‘You’re lucky she didn’t tell anyone else, like a teacher or your mothers,’ Jodie said. ‘I talked her out of that. I said I’d make you get rid of the thing.’
Zoe stopped picking at the chipped varnish on her nails and looked Jodie in the eyes. ‘I’ve already got rid of it,’ she said. ‘That’s what I was doing in the first place.’
I looked from Zoe to Jodie. I haven’t got rid of it, though, I thought. I’m the one with the knife now.
Jodie raised her barely-there brows. ‘That’s good,’ she said. ‘You can still get into plenty of trouble, no matter what kind of knife it is.’ She stroked the scar on her face. ‘I hate knives.’
I was about to ask her about how she got the scar, when there was the sound of a key in the door and Dave came in with a clanking bag of beer bottles. He put it on the floor and said, ‘Hello again, girls.’
He had a way of looking at us, up and down, that made me feel hot and squirmy. As if I was doing something I shouldn’t. I couldn’t explain it. ‘We should go,’ I said.
‘What have I said?’ Dave pretended to be upset.
‘Nothing. It’s just –’
‘Are mummy and daddy waiting? Is it nearly bedtime?’
I pretended to laugh. But now, somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to get up and go straight away, even though I really wanted to. Dave was staring at the ladder Zoe always made sure was in her black school tights. At first, I didn’t think Zoe had noticed, but she crossed her legs and sort of tucked them back. She knew he was watching. That horrible shame-y feeling washed over me again.
Jodie came to the rescue. ‘Shut up, Dave, the girls were about to go anyway. You said we were going out tonight. Go and get changed.’
Dave leaned back in his chair. ‘You see the way she pushes me about? Bet you don’t treat your boyfriends like that.’
‘We haven’t got –’ I stopped. I didn’t want to have this conversation.
‘Two lovely girls like you? I don’t believe it.’ Dave was really leering at us.
I put a hand across my churning stomach.
‘Unless you don’t want a boyfriend. Are you –?’ Dave’s mobile burst into a loud blast of music and he pulled it out of his pocket and answered it. He walked out of the room to talk to whoever it was.
Zoe stood up. ‘Better get off,’ she said.
‘Thanks,’ I said, to Jodie, and we both scuttled as fast as we could out of the door. I pressed the lift button hard, again and again.
‘What were you thanking her for?’ Zoe nudged me with her elbow.
‘Making sure Kerry didn’t drop us in trouble,’ I said. ‘If she hadn’t talked to Jodie, she might have gone to your mum, or school, or anything.’
Zoe turned her lips downwards. ‘Jodie was just sticking her nose in. We don’t have to answer to her.’
‘I noticed you didn’t tell her that,’ I said as we got into the lift and put our hands across our noses and mouths because of the stench.
She smiled. ‘No, because we have to keep her on side. She’s the only person we know with her own place to stay. That might come in handy one day. And she’s mates with Geena from Dead Bouquet, remember.’
It felt great to get out into the evening air. We took big gulps of breath and I found myself flapping my arms to shake off the lingering smell from the flats. We laughed and linked arms.
‘I could kill Kerry, though,’ Zoe said, as we strode through The Cut with soft mud under our feet. ‘What did she think she was playing at?’
I shrugged and shivered. We walked fast to get back to the well-lit street. ‘I think she’s just easily scared.’
Zoe made a huffing sound. ‘You know what Kerry is? She’s sanctimonious.’
‘Big word for a school night,’ I said.
‘It was on a blog I was reading,’ said Zoe. ‘She thinks she can tell other people what they should do and how they should behave and she’s always being such a good little girl. It makes me sick.’
‘I don’t think she means it,’ I said.
‘Don’t you get all sanctimonious too,’ said Zoe.
‘I wouldn’t try to be anything I couldn’t spell,’ I said and we sniggered.
‘What’re you doing tonight?’ Zoe asked.
‘Not much, why?’
Under the white street lamp, Zoe’s face was pale and tiny strands of her hair, frizzed up in the cold, were lit up. ‘Tom’s band is playing in a bar in town.’
‘They’d never let us in. And my mum will never let me –’
‘I’m not talking about going to the gig.’ Zoe checked the time on her phone. ‘If we get changed and go now, we can catch him before it starts, when they’re setting up.’ She pulled back her hair into a ponytail, smoothed it down and shook it out again. ‘After all, he must be getting desperate by now, after losing my number. He might be pining for me.’
I grinned back at her. ‘Yeah, all right. We’d better catch him before he dies of a broken heart.’
On the pavement outside the bar, Zoe fished a pocket mirror from her bag and checked her make-up.
‘You look stunning,’ I tried to reassure her.
She turned to face me. ‘Should I do this? Am I crazy?’
‘Of course you should do it.’ I sounded more convincing than I felt inside. But I knew that was what she wanted to hear.
She put a head around the door of the bar, then ducked out. ‘Let’s go around the back. I think they’ll be bringing their gear in that way.’
In the pub car park, I recognised the battered old van from the first gig and a
