Читать книгу All That Glitters - Holly Smale, Холли Смейл - Страница 30

eriously.

I have got to start checking rooms before I walk into them. Apparently chameleons and dragonflies have 360-degree vision, and I am clearly neither. If I were a small animal, I’d definitely have been eaten by now.

“Nat, what are you doing here?”

She hops on top of one of the machines. “Finding you, obviously. I’ve got a selfie with Vivienne Westwood – she was nowhere near as difficult to pin down.”

I jump with considerably less nimbleness on to the machine next to her. “I’m sorry.”

“What’s going on? I’m so worried, I’ve just spent an hour sitting in a laundry basket, covered in old-lady clothes. I may never fully recover.”

I take a deep breath and decide to confront the metaphorical elephant in the room head-on. “I’m fine, Nat. Honestly. Nick quit modelling and went back to Australia, and we both decided together that a long-distance relationship was too painful. I know we made the right decision, I just don’t want to talk about it, that’s all.”

“Really?”

“Really really.”

“Really really really?”

“All of the reallies.”

“So you’re OK?”

“Yes,” I say as confidently as I can.

Nat studies my face carefully, then her shoulders relax very slightly. “Thank God, because I need to tell you something and if I don’t I’m going to explode all over my second-best dress and then we really will need a launderette.”

Suddenly I notice again how perfectly curly her hair is.

In fact – now I’m not hiding in a bush fifteen metres away, being attacked by spiders – I can see a general shininess about Nat, as if her insides have just been dipped in something twinkly. Her eyes are sparkling and her cheeks are pink; there are little dimples in the corners of her mouth and her skin looks like it could glow in the dark.

I look down: the varnish has been chewed off every single one of her nails.

Then I remember her on my doorstep yesterday.

I really need to talk to her.

Oh my God, why did I automatically assume it was about me? Ugh. Maybe Jasper has a point after all.

“Is it François? Are you back with him?”

“Who?” Nat frowns. “Oh, the French dude. Ugh: no. He won’t stop sending me postcards with rabbits cuddling in front of the Eiffel Tower. This one is called Theo. He’s studying photography at college, and we kissed on Friday night for the first time. He’s all right, I guess. For a boy.”

My best friend is playing it cool, but her entire face is luminous as if something has been set on fire behind it.

I stare at Nat in confusion. She has left literally fifty-six messages on my phone over the last few days, and not a single one of them mentioned this.

“But … why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because you’re my best friend and you’ve just had your heart broken and this is terrible timing and I didn’t want to make you sadder.”

I suddenly love my Best Friend so much it’s hard to swallow.

“Nat,” I say finally, “do you know what happens to metal when it touches another piece of metal in outer space?”

“It makes a really loud screeching sound and the universe goes aaaaaargggh stop it?”

I grin at her. “There’s no sound in space, so no. What happens is that those two bits of metal weld together permanently. Nothing that makes you happy could possibly make me sad, Nat. We’re welded.”

She considers this briefly and then pulls a face. “Remind me never to go into space with Toby, in that case.”

We both laugh, then sit in comfortable silence for a few seconds with one shoulder touching.

“So how did you know I’d be here, anyway?”

Nat stretches and yawns. “I tagged you with an electronic chipping device while you were sleeping. Like a cat.”

My hand automatically goes up to my neck.

“Plonker. As soon as I got that last text I knew where you’d be, Harriet. You never use exclamation marks in a text unless you’re lying. So I figured your first day back had blown, and you’d be heading straight here.”

I blink at her in amazement.

See what I mean? Nat had known I was coming to the launderette before I even knew it myself.

Now, that’s a best friend.

“Well,” I start, ready to tell her everything: about Toby and Alexa and Jasper, and how nobody likes me. About how lonely I am without her already, and how I want her to come back to school so it can be just us again, the way it always has been.

Then I stop.

If we’re welded, it works both ways, right? My sadness will make her sad too, and I don’t want that. It’s her turn to be happy now. I’ve had my big, amazing romance. My best friend deserves to have the world light up for her too.

“Au contraire, Natalie,” I say as airily as I can, with a quick hand flourish. “In fact, I’ll have you know I won the class quiz in my very first hour.”

This doesn’t have the impact I’m hoping for.

“Oh my God,” Nat sighs, putting her hand over her eyes. “How bad? Post-it on the back of T-shirt bad or head-down-the-toilet bad?”

Just once I’d like Nat not to see straight through me.

“The former,” I admit. There was a Post-it saying I AM A KNOW-IT-ALL on my satchel at breaktime. “But don’t worry: it’s just a brief hiccup. I’m sure they’ll forget about it eventually.”

“Of course they will.” Nat puts her arm round me and leans her head against mine. “Lots of people make a slightly bumpy first impression and nobody ever remembers.”

We’re both lying, by the way: scientists have found that first impressions are very difficult to undo and can often be permanent.

“Exactly!” I drop off the machine with as much enthusiasm as I can muster. “And a school year is only 190 days, right? 1,330 hours will be over before I know it.”

There’s a short silence.

“That’s a really long time, Harriet.”

“Actually, it’s only three days on Mercury. Plus I’ve got you and Toby – as soon as his project is over, anyway – so what else does a sensible girl really need?”

“But Harriet, I’m not—”

“So do you want to come to mine tonight? I’ve designed a game of fashion Monopoly for us to play and it has a doll’s house sewing machine you can use as your little placer.”

Let’s just say that last free period was really boring.

There’s another short, uncomfortable silence.

Then Nat frowns and hops off the machine, landing on a half-open detergent box with a little puff of white powder like a dragon.

She stares at the floor for a few seconds.

“I … can’t tonight. I mean, it sounds great. But if you … If we … Some other time?”

“Oh.” I feel slightly popped. “I guess you’re busy with Theo tonight, right?”

“Huh? Oh. Mm-hmm.”

I nod as another memory flashes: a seagull, a swing, a fur hat.

A kiss.

Then I swallow and push it away as fast as I can.

“Excellent!” I try and grin. “Can’t wait to meet him! Have fun!”

Nat gets to the door then bites her lip, runs back and abruptly throws her arms around me so hard she almost knocks me over.

“Don’t give up, Harriet. They’ll love you as much as I do, I promise. Just give them a bit of time, OK?”

She kisses my cheek, hard.

Then my best friend bursts back out of the laundry doors into the dark, leaving a white fog of soap behind her.