Free Read Me Like a Book by Liz Kessler Page B

almost like a second skin at times, but when it comes to talking about emotions, well, it’s just not her thing. “Can’t be doing with hearts and flowers,” is what she says. Which suits me just fine, right now, when it comes to talking about life at home. But not about this.
    I sit down next to her on the bed. “I want to ask you something.”
    Cat puts the magazine down. “OK. Shoot. What’s it all about?”
    “Dylan.”
    Cat groans. “Really? I never would have guessed,” she says sarcastically.
    I’m not sure if she’s joking. There’s a kind of edge in her voice. I open my mouth to ask, but she carries on. “I mean, I’m not being funny or anything, but have you noticed that you haven’t talked about much else other than Boy Wonder since you got together? ‘Dylan’s in a band,’ ‘Dylan kissed me,’ ‘Dylan hasn’t phoned for three minutes.’”
    “Ha, ha,” I say, trying to smile. “I get it.”
    But Cat hasn’t finished. “‘Dylan’s broken up with his girlfriend for me,’ ‘Dylan turned up to see me out of the blue,’ ‘Dylan’s got yellow undies, green socks and —’”
    “OK, enough! I said I get it.” I jump up from the bed and turn the music off. Why can’t she ever be serious about things that matter to me? “Why are you being like this?”
    “Oh, come on, Ash, can’t you take a bit of gentle teasing?”
    Good question. Can’t I? Maybe on this occasion I just wanted her to be serious. For once. Is that too much to ask of your best friend? “Since when is insulting me
and
my boyfriend ‘gentle teasing’?” I ask.
    Cat stares at me. “Since always, mate. That’s me. You’ve known me long enough. You ought to know what I’m like by now.”
    She’s right. I don’t know why I’m getting so angry. Maybe because of the atmosphere in this house. Maybe because of all the stuff I’m
not
talking about. Maybe because I’ve worked myself up so much about Friday. Or maybe because it would just be nice if she could do something other than joke around for once. Either way, she’s wound me up and my insides are coiled tight.
    “You’re right,” I say before I can stop myself. “I
should
know you by now. And to be honest with you, I don’t even know why I thought I could talk to you in the first place.”
    Cat pulls herself up from the bed, her voice harsher to match mine. “Well, if that’s how you feel, then why the hell did you?”
    “Good question. Maybe because I thought you were my
friend.
My
best
friend. Isn’t that what best friends are meant to do? Listen to each other, help each other out with problems, basically be there for each other?”
    Cat looks at me for a moment, as if she’s weighing something up in her mind. “Yeah, well, if you thought about other people half as much as you think about yourself, they might
want
to listen to you. And if you opened your eyes and looked around for two seconds, you might realize you’ve actually got more important things to worry about than your own relationship!”
    We’re practically shouting now, and I try to lower my voice. I don’t want Mum to hear all this. “I know that! Don’t you think I know that?”
    “I don’t know
what
you know,” Cat says. “We don’t seem to talk properly anymore. Has it crossed your mind that
you
might be the one who’s not been much of a best friend lately? You cancel arrangements, you don’t ring when you say you will. All you care about is yourself and your new boyfriend. If you’ve had enough of me, that’s fine because, to be honest, I’ve had enough of you too!”
    The shock of her words instantly deflates my anger and my eyes start to sting. Is it true? Have I been
that
bad? I try to stop her as she grabs her jacket. “Cat, this is ridiculous.”
    “No, you’re the one who’s ridiculous. And you’re boring. When you’re not going on about Dylan, you’re staying in reading books or planning lessons with your new friends. To be perfectly honest, I’m