I wake to an empty house. Again.
There’s a note on the kitchen table: Good luck today. See you for dinner. I crumple it up and throw it in the bin. My stomach growls. I stick two slices of bread in the toaster and take out a jar of chocolate spread. Then I stop myself, looking down at the strained waistband of my pyjama trousers. I’ve been over-indulging all summer, but I can’t afford to anymore. It’s time to get back to reality, starting today. Now.
I put the bread back in the packet and return the chocolate spread to the cupboard. I grab an apple from the fruit bowl instead and ignore the emptiness in my stomach that it doesn’t fill.
It takes me ten minutes to decide what to wear. I try on three different pairs of jeans before I find one that still fits. When I look in the mirror, I see excess flesh spilling out over the waistband and I feel sick. I quickly cover it with a loose top and a leather jacket. It’s still August, but it’s already getting cold again.
As I walk the short distance to school, I try not to think about Casey. I know I’ll have to at some point, but I’m not ready yet. Three months have passed, and I’m still not ready.
My phone buzzes in my pocket just as I’m coming up to the school gates. I check the Caller ID: it’s Dad.
“Hello?” I say.
“Hey, Holly,” he says. “Have you left for school yet?”
“Yeah, I’m just arriving now.”
“Oh, sorry, I should’ve called earlier. I just wanted to say good luck. I know it’ll be hard, but the first day’s always the worst.”
I don’t really know how to respond. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Have you heard from Jo?”
My chest tightens at the mention of her name. “No. I haven’t.”
“Oh.” There’s an awkward pause. A gaggle of thirteen-year-old girls walks past me, chattering about how they spent their summers. I don’t even know what I’d say if someone asked me that question. But who would? Out of my two best friends in the world, one is gone and one has pretty much ignored me all summer.
It started right after Casey’s funeral. I texted Jo, but she didn’t reply. I called her, but she didn’t pick up. I even went round to her house, but her mother told me she wasn’t home. She never responded to any of my attempts to contact her. It was like Jo had fallen off the face of the earth, and I’d lost two friends instead of one.
“Well, anyway,” Dad says, coughing. “I hope it goes okay today. Feel free to come over after school if you want.”
“Okay.”
“Hang in there, Hol,” he says, and hangs up. I slip my phone back into my pocket and keep walking. I let my hair swing forwards to hide my face; the more invisible I am, the better. The last thing I need to deal with right now is being stared at by people who know me as Casey’s best friend.
There’s a clump of bushes on either side of the school gates. It’s the perfect place to go when you don’t want to be seen. The view of anyone looking over here from the school is obstructed by the thick foliage. Right now, the bushes are full of people smoking. My eyes slide over them as I walk past, and I almost don’t see her.
She’s there, standing a little apart from the others, cigarette in hand. Her jet-black hair is now streaked with green and blue. It’s shorter too, just brushing her shoulders. Apart from that, she looks the same as she always has, but not the same somehow. Maybe it’s because I haven’t seen her in three months, but as I walk over to her, I feel like I’m approaching a stranger.
There was a time we were closer than sisters – Jo, Casey, and me. We knew each other’s secrets, we could read each other’s minds, and we couldn’t imagine ever not being close. Funny how quickly all of that can fall apart.
Jo doesn’t see me coming until I’m right in front of her. Then she blinks, staring at me. Her eyes flick up and down, and she looks stunned. It takes me a moment to realise that it’s not just me who hasn’t seen her all summer – she hasn’t seen me either. And in that time, my appearance has changed quite a bit.
My face warms as she takes me in. She must be thinking that I’ve gotten bigger. The thought makes my skin prickle, and I want to run and hide, or even better, to become invisible.
“Hey,” she says eventually. I haven’t heard her voice in so long, I almost forgot what it sounded like.
“Hi,” I say. “Long time no see.” As if we’re casual acquaintances, not two people who’ve been friends since the age of six.
“Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, it’s been a while.” She drops her cigarette stub to the ground and stamps on it.
“So –” we both start to say at the same time.
“Sorry,” she says quickly. “You go first.”
“I was just going to ask when you started.”
“Smoking?” she says. “I’m not sure. A couple months ago, maybe.”
“I’m guessing your mum doesn’t know.” Jo’s mother puts smoking on a level with kicking puppies. One time, Jo, Casey and I went to a party and came home with the smell of cigarette smoke clinging to our clothes. None of us had smoked, but that didn’t stop Jo’s mother from having a fit and ransacking Jo’s room in search of hidden cigarettes.
“No, she doesn’t,” Jo says. We lock eyes and suddenly I ache for what I’ve lost with her.
“You, uh –” I clear my throat. “You didn’t return my calls.”
Jo drops her gaze to her feet. “I know,” she says quietly. “I should have. I’m sorry.”
“Why didn’t you?” I ask.
She looks at me again, and I can see in her eyes that the apology is sincere. Still, I’m not ready to forgive her just yet. She really hurt me when she froze me out, and I want her to know that, but I don’t know how to say it without sounding pathetic and needy.
“Honestly?” she says. “I just thought it would be easier. To cut myself off from everyone. Even you, Holly.”
“Why?”
She shrugs, digging the toe of her boot into the ground. “I don’t know. I guess it was my way of dealing. I just needed to be alone for a while.”
“I get that,” I say. “But I don’t get why you didn’t just tell me that. I would’ve given you space, if you asked.”
“I know,” Jo says. “I know. And I’m so sorry, Hol. Really, I am.”
The knot of anger and resentment in my stomach loosens. I can’t stay mad at her. Especially when I know better than anyone how hard Jo finds it to apologise for anything.
“It’s okay,” I find myself saying.
“No, it’s not,” Jo says, shaking her head. “But I’ll try and make it up to you, I promise. I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” I say.
She steps forward, shattering the ice between us, and hugs me. Underneath the scent of smoke, she still smells like Jo. She’s still here, and I haven’t lost her. Warmth floods through my body, starting in my chest and working its way out along my limbs.
Inside the school, a bell rings, the sound faint from where we are. Everyone who’s been milling around outside starts flocking towards the door.
“We should go,” I say.
“Right. Do I smell smoky?”
“A little,” I admit.
She pulls a small bottle of perfume out of her bag and gives her clothes a few quick squirts. “Better?”
I sniff in her direction. “Much.”
“Great,” she says, linking her arm through mine. “Come on. Let’s try and survive the next six hours.”