Free Girl Heart Boy: No Such Thing as Forever (Book 1) by Ali Cronin Page B

clothes, food!!
Later, dude. D xxx
     
     
    I groaned. Not only did I never get drunk, especially on a school night, but I also never bunked off, and this was my second sicky in a week.
Joe’s doing this to you
, said a little voice in my head.
You’re better off without him.
I ignored it. I was better off WITH him. That was the whole point. Duh.
    I stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom, which still stank of sick. I groaned again. I doubted I’d ever be able to look Donna’s dad in the eye again, although he was the most liberal of all our parents – he’d bought Donna an eighth of weed for her birthday – so maybe he wouldn’t care. I really hoped not. Parents liked me. I had a kind of head-screwed-on vibe that they went for.
    I carefully locked the bathroom door and fiddled with the shower dial. A jet of freezing cold water hit my arm. Shit shit shit. Whatever I did, the water wouldn’t heat up. In the end I took the shower head out of its holder and blasted the neediest parts of my anatomy as quickly as I could. At least it cleared my head a bit.
    Back in Donna’s room I kept my towel wrapped round myself with one hand and opened her knickerdrawer with the other. I grabbed a pair of plain black socks and the first boring-looking pair of high-legs I found (Donna had a strict pants hierarchy: plain high-legs at the bottom, thongs in the middle, shorts with matching bra at the top) and put on my own bra. Next I opened her wardrobe. She was a good size smaller than me, but I found a baggy sweatshirt and a pair of jeans that I could just about do up. They would look completely wrong with the ballet pumps I was wearing yesterday, but I told myself firmly that it was the price I paid for being such a dirty stop-out. Thus attired, I gathered up my own smelly clothes and went downstairs.
    My bag was leaning against the bottom step. I found my phone and felt a little stab of hope as I brought it to life. Three texts. My heart thumping, I opened my Messages box. One was from Mum, saying she’d see me tonight, one was from Donna, and one was from Ollie wanting to know how I was. I hadn’t really expected anything different, but still. I sighed and wandered into the kitchen. I wanted to eat something, but nothing appealed. There was a can of Diet Coke in the fridge, but it felt wrong taking the only one. I took a couple of Hobnobs from the biscuit jar, picked up my bag and opened the front door. I didn’t want to go to school and face everyone. I didn’t really want to do anything except sleep. I felt like shit, andnot just from the booze. I slapped my own face.
For God’s sake, woman, pull yourself together.
With a shake of my shoulders, which did nothing at all to make me feel better, I shut the door behind me and started trudging in the direction of school.
    I was concentrating so hard on not giving in to the nausea that was once again washing over me that I didn’t hear my phone ringing until it was almost too late. I grabbed it on the final ring and, without looking to see who it was, pressed the button to answer.
    ‘’lo?’
    ‘All right?’
    I almost dropped the phone. A wave of happiness, confusion and a fleetingly urgent need to be sick struck me dumb.
    ‘Er, Sarah, you there?’
    ‘Yeah. Sorry. Just dropped my phone.’ I waited for him to speak. I’d practised this moment enough times to know I had to let Joe do the talking.
    ‘So. How’s it going?’ He sounded completely normal. As if Sunday afternoon at the station had never happened.
    ‘Not bad, thanks. Bit of a hangover.’ I kept my voice even.
    ‘Bummer. Anyway. Me and the boys are coming to Brighton this weekend. Will’s having a house party at his parents’ house.’
    ‘Oh, right.’ (
Keep it slow, Sarah
, I told myself
. Don’t get excited
.)
    ‘So. D’you want to come?’ He lowered his voice. ‘I’ve been thinking about you.’
    My stomach flipped, this time not from the hangover. Every fibre of my being was screaming at me