Don't Ask (14 page)

Topfriendz

Inbox: 2 messages

Message One

From: Igor

Subject: Hello

Hello lovely ladee,

You no likey make talk? Write me please soon. I mees you much.

Love and kisez

Igor x

Message Two

From: Alex

Subject: Parteeee!!!

Hi Laura,

Hope you can still come to my birthday party next weekend. I’ve got this awesome new top – can’t wait for you to see it! And I meant to say, you are bringing Jared,
aren’t you – obviously he’s invited too and I’m dying to meet him. Give me a call so we can sort all the arrangements.

Love Alex xxx

Alex’s party: I’d put it to the back of my mind for as long as I could, but now it was only days away and I could no longer avoid thinking about it. I was sure
Alex’s top was lovely, but I had far bigger worries than what to wear. The prospect of taking Laura out in public again was bad enough; worse was the matter of how I’d deal with the
Jared situation (or rather, my lack of a Jared situation). In my opinion, Jared’s non-existence made him the very worst kind of party pooper. Why had Alex decided to invite him too? Why did
she always have to do the right thing, the polite thing? Still, I could see that not extending the invite to my ‘boyfriend’ would have been a bit weird, especially when she asked about
him all the time, and when I seemed so devoted to him. I’d even told her I saw Jared every weekend, so she probably thought I’d expected he could come.

If only she’d suggested that he was invited when she’d first mentioned the party, I could have said he had something important planned, like a holiday. Now, it was too late,
I’d have to think of another excuse. It would be unconvincing to invent a last-minute bargain so tempting that his parents would think, what the hell, and take him out of college in the
middle of term.

In soaps, when they want to get rid of a character quickly, unseen, they generally either kill them off in a tragic, off-stage accident or they make the doomed character win the lottery and
decide to leave the country. Neither of those options would work for me. If Jared ‘died’ I’d hardly be in the mood for partying, while, if he won the lottery, all he’d want
to do was party. In fact, he’d be up for the biggest celebration of his life, with me, Alex and the world. That’s if he actually existed, obviously.

One thing was clear: Jared wouldn’t be coming with me to the party. Not unless I could persuade Katie to dress in drag and talk in a deep voice all evening, which I doubted. She’d
make a rubbish bloke: she was too pretty and her boobs were too big. More to the point, she couldn’t come with me; I needed her to be my alibi. She’d agreed, reluctantly, to let me tell
my parents and Jack that I was staying at hers for the night. How else could I get away with it?

I felt like kicking myself (which I’ve always thought was a stupid expression. I’ve never seen anybody do it, literally. Wouldn’t they just fall over?). Why couldn’t I
have told Alex I was single? Jared was a liability, I’d been thinking that for weeks. My lies about him were stacking up precariously; sometimes I couldn’t remember what I’d told
Alex, and I’m sure I contradicted myself frequently. I also didn’t like having to keep lying to her about his exploits, his gigs and his injuries. I know that sounds ridiculous and
hypocritical because my entire relationship with Alex was built on a huge lie, but most of what I told her day-to-day was the truth. The truth, with names changed and a few vital omissions.

I thought about ringing Katie to ask her advice, but decided against it. Ever since the night when I’d chosen not to break off contact with Alex, I’d felt awkward talking to Katie
about her. Maybe I was being oversensitive, but I got the impression she was judging me and that she’d say any subsequent problem or issue I had was of my own making. I was aware that
I’d stopped telling her every last detail of Alex’s emails and calls. Partly, it was because I didn’t think they’d interest her, but it was also because I didn’t like
Katie’s negativity, the way she always seemed to want to put Alex down. Most of what Alex and I chatted about would have bored her senseless. Why did it matter to Katie if Alex had bought a
new CD, or that she’d decided to go to a music festival in the summer? And why would Katie have been interested in the fact that Alex was really starting to like a guy called Ben in her
economics class? So, whenever she asked if I’d heard from Alex, I’d say, yes, she messaged me, or she emailed me, and we’d leave it at that.

Still, I wasn’t used to making big decisions without Katie’s help. What could I do about Jared? How could I make him go away? Perhaps I could tell Alex I’d dumped him. It
seemed highly unlikely that in twenty-four hours I could go from being super loved-up to over him, for no reason. Could he have dumped me? That was a better option: it was feasible I might not have
seen it coming and I’d be entitled to be so upset that I didn’t want to talk about it in too much depth. Lying about being dumped seemed to work for Jack, I thought, bitterly, so why
not for me too?

Hi Alex,
I typed. I know she’d asked me to call but, despite all the practice I’d had, making up tall tales was still much easier – and somehow felt less wrong –
on screen.

I’m really looking forward to coming to your party but I won’t be bringing Jared. I’m crying while I write this because the skank dumped me last night. I
was going to tell you but I really haven’t felt like talking about it. He said he didn’t think things were working out and we were getting too serious. I don’t think he’s
going to change his mind – there’s this other girl . . . I don’t want to think about it. I miss him so much.

I promise I’ll call you when I feel a bit better.

Love Laura xx

Didn’t that sound authentic? Especially the ‘crying while I write this’ bit. Technically, I reasoned, this wasn’t a lie at all. You can’t lie
about something that was untrue in the first place, can you? Jared had never been my boyfriend, so it wasn’t physically possible to be dumped by him. Isn’t there a rule about two
negatives making a positive? Maybe if you tell two lies they cancel each other out. Maybe telling two lies creates a truth . . . I’m not entirely sure where I was going with this train of
thought, but it made me feel better about things.

Alex’s reply, which arrived almost instantly, was as sweet as I anticipated:

Hi Laura,

Really sorry to hear about Jared. I know how much you liked him. Whenever you want to talk about it, let me know. I’ll understand if you don’t want to come to my party anymore,
but if you do, and I really hope you will, I promise all my friends will cheer you up and you’ll have an ace time.

Love Alex xxxxx

There was no way I was missing the party, not when I’d done so much planning to be there. I know that only a week before I’d have done practically anything to get
out of going, but now I was almost looking forward to it. My curiosity was pulling me there, like a magnet. I’d just have to show Alex how strong and how brave I could be. Goodness, I was
practically over Jared already.

Hi Alex,

Thanks for being so understanding.

I’ll be OK. I keep telling myself he was only a guy – I’m not going to let him get me down. He was way too skinny anyway. And I’m definitely still coming to your
party. I’m really looking forward to it. I promise I won’t sit in the corner looking miserable.

I’ve just had a double chocolate muffin and I’m feeling better already. I’ll call you about arrangements.

Love Laura xxx

P.S. Jared who?

So there it was: Jared was no more.

In the moment after I’d pressed send, it struck me that I was really going to miss having a boyfriend who played in a band, even if it was an imaginary one.

Have you ever climbed on a bicycle and set off happily down the road, only to find that the brakes don’t work, and you’re at the top of a hill? As you career
down, faster and faster, you grip on to the handlebars for dear life, waiting for a soft patch of grass or sand pit to present itself so you can leap to safety. But you hesitate because you know
jumping off will really hurt and you’re going so fast that everything is a blur, and so you keep holding on hoping that, maybe, when you reach the bottom of the hill, you’ll come to a
natural stop and everything will be all right.

And then you crash.

Alex’s house is right on the other side of London, where there isn’t even a tube. She lives in a place that shouldn’t really be called London at all; the city
has sprawled out towards it and it clings on by its fingernails. To reach it, I had to get a bus, a proper train and then another bus, and door-to-door it took me almost two hours. I’d never
travelled so far or for so long on my own before and I felt quite proud that I made all my connections and didn’t have to ask anyone for directions. Of course, I’d never be able to tell
anyone about my journey; only Katie knew where I was that day. It would serve me right, I thought, if there was an accident or if a terrorist blew up the train, and nobody worried about me. I
didn’t even have any ID on me, so if Alex reported me missing first, the police would look for someone called Laura Thompson. There wouldn’t be any records and Alex would have to
identify me. What if my parents never found out the truth? I might be buried as Laura Thompson and there’d be no one to visit my grave . . .

‘You’re taking a lot of stuff to stay at Katie’s,’ Mum had commented, before I left. ‘Doesn’t she already have a sleeping bag?’

‘It’s in the wash,’ I’d said, without pause for breath. I’d predicted this line of questioning. ‘It got mud on it from camping. And I’m taking a load of
clothes for Katie and some of our other friends to try on – she’s having a clothes swapping party.’

The truth was that I had packed half my wardrobe because I couldn’t decide what Laura should wear to Alex’s party. Tracky bums wouldn’t do this time, that was certain, but
beyond that, I was clueless. Laura needed an image overhaul. Maybe I’d ask Alex for a makeover before the party. That was a good idea: I could see what her party clothes were like and then
borrow one of her dresses, and beg her to do my hair and make-up, just like hers. Not that she seemed like the type of girl to worry about her hair and make-up – she might be hopeless at it.
Still, I’d ask her anyway. If nothing else, she’d be flattered. My final appearance mattered far less than retaining some element of disguise. If I looked and felt too much like myself,
I might slip back into being Lily.

There was one element of Laura’s persona that I had prepared for in advance: her short-sightedness. If she knew she would be staying over at Alex’s, Laura would have brought her
glasses. I really couldn’t ‘forget’ them again. On my way to the station, I’d stopped off at a trendy shop on the high street where I knew they sold fashion glasses (the
type that are clear glass and meant purely for posing), and bought the cheapest pair I could find. They were purple, too large and totally the wrong shape for my face, giving me the look of Elton
John in the seventies. He was doing a lot of drugs at the time, so at least he had an excuse.

‘They look cool,’ said the shop assistant in a ‘can’t be bothered’ manner, when I asked for his opinion. He had looked me up and down and dismissed me the moment I
walked through the door. ‘The colour matches your eyes.’

For the record, I don’t have purple eyes. I’d call them brown, with a few hazel flecks. You could even get away with caramel, if you were trying to be descriptive. Maybe he was
colour blind, as well as pretentious.

‘Thanks,’ I said, brightly. ‘I’ll take them.’ I made a mental note never to return to that shop. I don’t like people who lie through their teeth.

Yes, alright, I know.

Alex’s house was only about a hundred metres from the bus stop, which was a relief, given the amount I was carrying. I stood outside for few minutes, breathing deeply and trying to compose
myself. Laura is just a name, I told myself. You’ve pulled it off once, you can do it again. A man on the other side of the street stared at me, suspiciously. I waved at him and he turned
away, pretending he hadn’t noticed.

Alex had invited me to come early, so I could settle in and feel at home before the party, and not feel overwhelmed by her friends. ‘It’s easier to meet new people one at a time,
rather than walking into a room full of strangers,’ she’d said, thoughtfully. ‘Plus,’ she’d added, ‘it would be useful to have another pair of hands to help set
up.’ It had seemed like a good idea when she suggested it, but now I realised it meant more time being Laura, and under the scrutiny of her parents too, and I felt anxious. I wondered if I
should put the glasses on right away, but I didn’t want to frighten anyone. Instead, I pulled my hair back into Laura’s customary ponytail, took a deep breath, stood up straight (sporty
Laura had much better posture than me, I’d decided) and rang the doorbell.