Kerry giggled and took a huge slurp of whatever Jodie had put in her plastic glass. She coughed and wiped her eyes. ‘What’s that?’
‘It’s only cider,’ Jodie told her. Zoe gulped her drink down fast.
I took a sip and tried not to wince. ‘Kerry,’ I said. ‘Don’t have any more of that, eh? If you don’t want to get into trouble, then it’s probably not a good idea to go home drunk.’
‘We’re not her childminders,’ said Zoe, pouring herself another drink from the huge bottle on the kitchen bench.
It was like something very bad had got into Zoe. I poured Kerry some of the coke she’d brought along with the crisps.
‘Are you not drinking that?’ Zoe asked, nodding at my cider.
‘Sorry,’ I said, making sure Jodie didn’t hear. ‘It tastes like apple-flavoured wee to me.’
Zoe took my glass and drank that too.
We wandered into the smoky living room and danced to a few tracks, Zoe looking like a kind of wild, bad fairy and Kerry like someone who couldn’t hear the music at all.
Gulping at another glass of something –- wine, maybe – Zoe pushed at a window, although it wouldn’t open very far because of some sort of lock contraption.
‘You know why that’s there?’ said Dave’s voice, behind us. ‘To stop people chucking themselves out.’
‘What, killing themselves?’ Kerry was goggle-eyed.
‘Well, that would probably be the result if you fell nine storeys,’ said Zoe. She gave Kerry a little push. ‘Why don’t you give it a go and see?’
‘These flats have the worst suicide rate in the city,’ said Dave, like it was something to be proud of.
‘I can’t believe you have to move,’ Zoe said, gazing out at the view, which still gave me vertigo. ‘This fantastic cityscape. I could look at it all night.’
‘Yeah, it’s a really desirable residence. Damp, mould, asbestos. We’ve got it all.’ Dave grinned at us. ‘Don’t you girls look nice tonight?’
Kerry went all stupid and giggly again. Zoe cast around the room. ‘Are those paint cans?’
‘Certainly are. The place is about to be flattened. We thought some people might want to write some last words on the walls.’
Zoe picked up a spray can and shook it. She started spray painting ‘Zoe’ on the living room wall, in vampire red.
‘Go for it, babe,’ said Dave, a leer on his face.
Zoe picked up another can and started embellishing the letters in a vivid turquoise blue. Spatters went in every direction and the chemical smell of the paint mingled with the booze and the cigarette smoke. She started on ‘Anna’.
Kerry watched with a stupid grin on her face, clutching her drink. ‘Do Kerry,’ she said.
‘Write your own things,’ said Zoe.
I looked at Kerry, who was still smiling, just not quite as widely. I picked up a can too. ‘Come on,’ I said, ‘I can do “Kerry”. Just underneath the “Anna”. That’ll look good.’ I started spraying. Meanwhile Zoe was already turning her painting into a work of art. She had cider in one hand and spray paint in the other. Some of the cider slopped onto the floor. ‘Whoops,’ Zoe said.
I tried to make the painting look as good as Zoe’s, but it was shaky and the shape of the letters wasn’t right. By now, a few others were joining in, spraying paint on the floor and the windows as well as the walls. Kerry was just watching, an anxious smile on her face. The music got louder.
Zoe turned to me. She had the black spray can in her hand. ‘Nope,’ she said, looking the lettering up and down. ‘We are Zoe and Anna. Not Kerry. That name doesn’t belong with ours.’
She shook the can hard up and down. Then she started spraying black lines all over Kerry’s name. She kept going until the can ran out of paint. She picked up another can and carried on.
‘Why are you doing this?’ I asked, trying to keep a little distance between myself and the paint can. ‘Why does it matter?’
‘If you don’t know,’ Zoe said, her teeth clenched, still aiming the can like a weapon, ‘then I can’t tell you.’
I suddenly thought: I hate it here. I hate the smell and the mess and the way Zoe is being. Someone turned the music up again and it felt like it was going through my brain and into my bones and skin. I turned around to see that Kerry was sitting on the floor, deep in conversation with Dave.
‘Hey,’ I said to Zoe. ‘That man seriously gives me the creeps.’ She ignored me.
I went over and sat beside them. ‘Kerry, I’m thinking we should get going now.’
‘School tomorrow, is it, little girls?’ Dave poured some of his drink into Kerry’s glass. ‘Got homework to do?’
Kerry giggled helplessly. Why did she find him so funny? I looked back at Zoe, who’d turned my paintwork into a huge blob of dripping black. She’d stopped spraying and was taking big, desperate gulps from her glass.
Just then Jodie turned up. She gave Dave a look I didn’t understand, but it made me feel like I shouldn’t be there. I held out my hand to Kerry and hauled her up.
‘Come on,’ I told her. ‘We honestly need to go.’
I tapped Zoe on the shoulder. She was shaking an empty paint can up and down and saying: ‘It’s stopped working. It’s stopped working.’
‘It’s empty, you idiot.’
Kerry was still doing that silly giggle and Zoe looked at her murderously.
I linked both their arms and started trying to frog-march them both towards the open door. More people were just arriving, clanking carrier bags full of drink. One horrible bloke stroked my hair on the way out and said: ‘Hey, beautiful, don’t go so soon.’ I shuddered and tried to hurry the others up, which wasn’t easy – Kerry was in no hurry and Zoe kept bumping into things.
Outside, the air was still warm. Pink clouds sat, unmoving, in the sky. Zoe was pale and sweaty. She’d got my T-shirt covered in
