Free Asking for It by Louise O'Neill Page B

or you don’t remember what happened exactly, but it’s easier not to make a fuss—’
    ‘But that’s not how it happened.’ She stares up at me. ‘I told you what happened.’
    ‘But I wasn’t there with you, was I? How do I know what really—’
    ‘But I told you. I didn’t want . . . I didn’t want to.’
    ‘You didn’t say no.’ I crouch down in front of her, placing my hands on her shoulders. ‘You told me you didn’t say no.’
    ‘But –’ she shrugs my hands off her and looks at me with such despair that my skin crawls – ‘I didn’t say yes either.’
    A phone call last Halloween. Jamie. (I look at the screen in surprise. Jamie never calls me.) Do you want to go to Dylan’s party? Maggie had hockey training. Ali was in the Bahamas. Just the two of us. (It was never just the two of us. We were too competitive for that, always needing one of the other girls there to act as a buffer.) Drinking. Another shot, another one, another one. Jamie in her Sailor Moon costume. Getting a lot of attention. You’re so hot, Jamie , they kept saying. I didn’t like it. I stroked her hair, kissed her, my tongue in her mouth, the boys crowing. (Her skin was so soft against mine.) She fell. I laughed. Zach’s hands on my waist then, replacing hers, hot breath on my neck, and then we were kissing, and folding on to a bed, and clothes were coming off. The next morning, too many missed calls. (Come to my house, her voice message said in a trembling tone.) Keying in the passcode at the reinforced gates to Jamie’s home. Her mother calling me a bad influence. Jamie, sitting on the bed, crying and crying and crying. (I felt uncomfortable.) (I felt weirdly excited by the drama.) Be careful , I warned her. (Dylan is a dick, but he isn’t that , he wouldn’t do that .) You can’t just say stuff like that. When you say that word, you can’t take it back. She kept asking, What will I do? What will I do, what will I do, what will I do, what will I do, what will I do?
    It would change everything.
    I didn’t want anything to change.
    Let’s just pretend it didn’t happen , I told her. It’s easier that way. Easier for you.
    ‘Jamie, come on. We talked it through and we agreed, didn’t we? We agreed it would be easier not to make a big deal of it, especially when everyone there was underage and there’d be so much shit if it got out. It would just mean that people would be pissed off with you for getting them in trouble, and you’d miss out on all of the parties because Dylan’s friends wouldn’t want you there any more . . .’ I trail off. I hope no one outside can hear us. ‘Listen,’ I say after a few minutes, checking my phone, ‘I think you should go home.’ She doesn’t respond, just turns away from me, trying to get her breathing back under control. I text Danny the Taxi, asking him to come collect her as soon as he can.
    ‘Emmie? Is everything OK in there?’ It’s Conor, his voice concerned. ‘Ali said you might need some help.’
    ‘Grand,’ I say as I open the door to him. ‘J’s not feeling well. I’ve ordered a taxi to bring her home.’
    Conor helps me get Jamie to her feet, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.
    ‘What taxi is it?’ he asks, propping her up as her knees buckle.
    ‘Danny.’
    ‘I can’t afford a taxi,’ Jamie slurs up at Conor. ‘Me. Jamie Murphy. I can’t even afford a fucking taxi any more.’
    ‘We could ask Fitzy to drive her?’ Conor suggests, but I shake my head. I don’t want to have to ask Fitzy for a favour. I grab my clutch bag from the side of the bathtub and start scrambling through make-up and cotton buds and a tiny hip flask of vodka, looking for cash.
    ‘I’ll take care of it,’ Conor says.
    ‘Really?’ I ask, and he nods.
    ‘Oh, thank you.’ I lean in and kiss him on the cheek. ‘That is so great of you. I was going to bring her home myself, but if you’re going anyway . . .’ I walk away so I don’t have to see his face fall.