Rachel dragged me into a cubicle and closed the door.
“Take your shirt off,” she said.
“What?”
I was fully aware that Catherine could hear every word.
“Don’t worry, Dumbo and her big ears won’t listen if I tell her not to,” Rachel replied. “Take it off.”
“Why?”
“Because I told you to.”
We had fooled around in our bedrooms and in the woods by then, but it was always dark. Although I had seen Rachel naked more times than I could remember, I still felt shy about her seeing my body. When I didn’t move or answer, she smiled and started to undo the buttons of my shirt for me. I let her, just like I’d been letting her do all the things she had wanted to. Even when they hurt.
As soon as my shirt was off, she slipped her hands behind my back and unclasped my bra. I tried to cover my breasts, but she pushed my fingers away, before reaching into her bag and producing a black lacy bra for me to wear instead. I had never worn anything like it—my mother still bought all my underwear, and it was inevitably white, cotton, and purchased in Marks & Spencer—this was something a woman would wear.
“It’s a Wonderbra! I never wear anything else now; you’re going to love it,” said Rachel, putting it on me like a child dressing their favorite doll.
To my horror, she took a picture on her disposable camera of my breasts in their new outfit, then opened the door and pushed me out of the cubicle. Catherine Kelly just stared at the floor, so I peered at my reflection in the mirror. It was like looking at someone else.
“Look how much bigger they are now!” Rachel said, then frowned at my face.
“What?” I asked.
“Your lips are all chapped. That’s no good.”
She took a tiny tin of strawberry-flavored lip balm out of her bag, and slowly applied some to my lips with her fingertip.
“Does that feel better?” she asked, and I nodded. “Let me see,” she said, and kissed me.
She had her back to Catherine, but I didn’t. And I was more than a little disturbed by the way the girl stared at us the entire time Rachel’s lips were on mine. I stood as still as a statue while she pushed her tongue inside my mouth, fully aware that someone was watching.
“Don’t worry about her,” said Rachel, glancing over her shoulder. “She won’t tell anyone, will you, skank?”
Catherine shook her head, and when Rachel kissed me again, I closed my eyes and kissed her back.
Him
Wednesday 08:45
“You need to come back,” I say, as soon as I find Anna in the woods.
It wasn’t hard. There is a place right at the basin of the valley, not far from the school, where all the naughty girls used to sneak off to after lessons, and sometimes during them. It was used for smoking, drinking, and other things. Each year, the new class of “cool” kids thought of it as their own secret outdoor den, but its existence was common knowledge—even boys like me knew—and its whereabouts were passed down from one teenage generation to the next. The small clearing is defined by three large fallen tree trunks, dragged together to form a triangular seating area. There is evidence of a recent fire in the middle, surrounded by stones.
Anna looks at me as though she has seen a ghost.
“How did you know where I was?” she asks.
“I remember you telling me about this place.”
“Did I?”
No.
“How else would I know?” I say.
She looks so confused. Her face wears what looks like a secondhand expression inherited from her mother. I almost feel bad not confessing that it was Rachel who told me that they used to come here together, not Anna.
“You look a bit like her, you know,” I tell her.
“Who?”
“Your mother.”
“Thanks.”
I can see her comparing herself to the forgetful old woman living in the cottage at the top of the hill, but that isn’t what I meant. Everyone in the village remembers how beautiful Anna’s mother used to be twenty years ago. I always thought of her as a suburban Audrey Hepburn. I might have had a bit of a crush on my future mother-in-law back then, when I was a teenager. The wild gray hair used to be long, dark, and shiny, and she was the best-dressed cleaner I ever saw. I think a hard life stole her looks. Funny how age can be kind to some and cruel to others when it comes to beauty.
“I mean when she was younger. It was meant to be a compliment,” I say, but Anna doesn’t respond. “Are you okay?” I ask, knowing it’s a stupid question.