Free Remix by Non Pratt Page B

response I wanted.
    “Oh God, Kaz…” Tom still isn’t looking at me. “What have we done?”
    If I was feeling confident and clever, I would make a joke about the birds and the bees.
    I don’t.
    When Tom turns round, he isn’t looking at me the way I want him to.
    He’s looking at me as if he’s frightened.
RUBY
    I hope Kaz is OK…
KAZ
    No
.
    I pull my dress on too fast and I get stuck, plumbing the depths of indignity as Tom tugs it down over my bra-less breasts because I was trying to cover myself up as quickly as possible.
    I want to be sick.
    “Kaz, please, let’s just talk—”
    “No.” It’s the only word I’ve said since he told me the truth.
    “Let me explain.”
    “No.”
    “It’s you I want to be with, not her.”
    “No.”
    “Does that mean…?”
    I’m going to have to say something. “It means nothing, Tom. It means don’t talk to me. It means I can’t believe what you’ve done.”
    “So it does mean something?” Even when he’s this far in the wrong, Tom can’t help but try to be right.
    I put my face as close to his as I can, close enough that he can’t miss the tears I’m crying or the pain I feel when I say it again. “
No
.”
    Spying my bra under his sleeping bag, I grab it and back out of the tent, not even bothering to check whether the coast is clear. I hurry away from him, from what we’ve done, from what I have become.
    Even as I clear the circle of tents, I glance back, half hoping that I will see the boy I love running after me, begging me to forgive him, telling me that he loves me, that there is something he can do to make this right…
    That he didn’t just cheat on his girlfriend with me.
    There’s no one there. Tom zipped his tent shut the second I left.
    An ugly sob hiccups out of me and I nearly cannon into someone else on the path. For a horrifying second I recognize the pale pink hair, but Stella’s too preoccupied draping herself across whoever it is she’s walking with, and before either of them can see who’s knocked into them, I’ve hurried past into the shadow of a nearby gazebo.
    If there’s one thing that could make this worse, it’s
anyone
knowing what I’ve done.

SATURDAY

12 • HAMMERING IN MY HEAD
RUBY
    It hurts.
    There’s a steady pulse in my right temple and my eyelids are gummed together with mascara and reluctance to function. My fuzzed tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth and I feel like I’ve just exhaled gas that is one part rotten eggs to five parts processed alcohol.
    Injustice flickers in my thoughts, but when I try and add up how much I drank, I get a bit lost. My indignation lowers its head and edges away, allowing humiliation to step up to the plate as I think of all the terrible things I said to Kaz. Groaning, I roll over and knock into a MASSIVE bottle of water with a paper cup resting on the lid. There’s a message written on the cup:
    DRINK ME
    On the floor next to that, there’s a packet of paracetamol with EAT ME written on it and then, (BUT ONLY THE RECOMMENDED DOSE!) in tiny little letters underneath. Kaz’s sleeping bag has been neatly folded over, her pyjamas sitting on top like towels on a hotel pillow, but other than this there’s no sign of her. I can’t remember her coming in last night… Once medicated, I pull on Ed’s massive hoodie that I’ve been using as a pillow and shuffle out of the tent and into the sun, prepared to ride out whatever looks I get from the others about how weird I acted last night.
    Lee’s the only person here.
    “You look rough,” is the first thing he says. I’d stick my tongue out at him, but that feels like effort.
    “Where’s everyone else?” I croak.
    “Gone showering.”
    “
All
of them?” By which I mean
Kaz
?! It’s not like her to shower with relative strangers, although she
is
a bit of a clean freak.
    Lee can see I’m struggling with the thinking. “They’ve gone off-site to do it somewhere hot and private. And to pick up McDonald’s.”
    This