“Good idea,” Ryan agreed, doing the same. Beneath their letters was a CD of S Club 7. “That must have been yours,” he said quickly.
Fred laughed and batted his hand away. “No way, that was yours. Here, this was my choice.” She picked up a CD single of Nickelback’s “How You Remind Me.”
“That doesn’t make you cool or anything,” said Ryan.
“Cooler than you.” She smirked.
“Oh man!” Ryan gasped delightedly as he pulled out a Beyblade complete with its plastic launcher cord. “I loved Beyblades.”
“More than your shiny Pokémon cards?” she asked, holding up three cards with holographic pictures that glinted in the torchlight.
Ryan let out a whispered squeak of delight and took the cards from her. “I have regretted burying these for YEARS!”
While he busied himself with his treasure, Fred picked out her long-dead pink Tamagotchi. “RIP Tammy-Lou,” she said. “You were a good pet.” She noted she’d also seen fit to include one of her beloved Nancy Drew books and several handmade friendship bracelets. “How did I do that?” she wondered aloud, studying the neatly woven bands.
“You were obsessed with making those things. Yourpockets were always full of strings so you could make them wherever we were,” said Ryan.
“Oh yeah, I’d forgotten that. It was very satisfying.”
“Your hair was ridiculous,” Ryan sniggered, handing her a photograph from the top of a thick pile.
“It was crimped; I liked it that way.”
“Looks like crinkle-cut chips.”
“Oh, like yours was any better! What was that long greasy side fringe about? You can only see half of one eye.”
“That’s gel, not grease—and I’ll have you know, it was that hair that got me my first girlfriend.”
“Susannah Brindle.” Fred nodded, recalling the cool girl with the high ponytail and spiky fringe.
“Blimey, even I didn’t remember her surname. She dumped me when a boy in the year above brought her some sweets back from Spain.”
“It’s hard to compete with that,” Fred said, sympathetically.
She picked up a handful of the photographs and began leafing through them. They’d written on the back who was in each picture. There were some of her with the aunts and her mum. A couple of her and Ryan’s families together. And a lot of them with their friends from school; daft, often blurry photos taken on her old Polaroid camera. She was surprised to note that she remembered almost all of their names. But mostly the pictures were of Fred and Ryan, swiped from family photo albums—from embarrassing baby pics, through primary school and into secondary.
“I always thought I’d have my relationship shit togetherby now,” said Ryan, taking the photographs as Fred passed them to him.
“Don’t complain, at least you’ve got all your other shit together.”
“It sounds like yours is getting there.”
“Maybe.”
“But you’re over Tim?” he asked.
“God, yeah! I can’t believe I ever found any of his pretentious bullshit appealing. I was dazzled by him to begin with. He was very charming. And then after a while, when I’d realized he wasn’t…I guess I didn’t think anyone but him would want me.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, why was your bar set so low?” Ryan asked.
“It didn’t feel low at the time. If anything, when we first met, I felt as though I was punching above my weight, I couldn’t believe my luck…He was an absolute catch on paper.”
“And a complete dick in reality.”
She shoved him with her elbow, smiling.
“Why would you think no one else would want you?” Ryan asked.
