She was frowning. ‘Look… I shouldn’t have told you that… I mean, if Blake hasn’t told you himself… It was wrong of me, to?—’
‘I’m not judging him,’ I jumped in. ‘Really, it’s not like I thought he was some sort of goody-two-shoes.’ I smiled reassuringly.
She nodded. ‘I get it. A girl wants the intel on her new man.’
I hesitated, then shrugged.
‘Okay, I’m not even supposed to know this, but… just before he left school, he got into serious trouble. This girl in his class made a complaint against him. She accused Blake of…’ She paused, and I suddenly didn’t want her to keep going. I didn’t want to hear it, think it, feel it: it was like she’d punched me in the face. Or reached directly into my mind, the words planting images there I didn’t want to see. ‘They tried to hide it from me, but I knew what was going on. Blake didn’t take any of it seriously, like usual. So Mum and Dad talked to her. I think they gave her money. And if she took it, that means it wasn’t true, right?’
It felt like she was telling me about a stranger. It couldn’t possibly behim. I’d sensed Blake was keeping secrets, dark secrets, but this… this was so awful I couldn’t square it with the person I knew. It couldn’t be. It mustn’t.
I forced a reassuring smile to my lips, which quivered traitorously. ‘Yeah, absolutely.’
Aspen grinned, relieved. ‘Well, either way, he was such a dick. And then he met Ashton and… I don’t know, ever since then he’s been a different person. He’s the best big brother in the world. Even though he lives really far away he’s always there when I need him. He’s… yeah, just different, I guess. A lot better.’
‘And you think that’s down to Ashton’s influence?’ I asked without giving away my scepticism. Nothing about the person I knew screamed good influence: that Ashton was conceited, spoilt, smug–that was all.
‘No idea. All I know is that Blake came home one morning with a cut on his face–where his scar is now.’ Aspen put a finger to her temple. ‘And from that moment on, he pretty much did a one-eighty. Sometimes I wonder if maybe he hit his head a bit too hard. But if he did, it was the best thing that ever happened to him.’
‘So, what’s your read on Ashton?’
Aspen wrinkled the tip of her nose. ‘I don’t see him much. Mum and Dad don’t like him. I don’t either, to be honest. He’s always nice to me, but he seems so… fake. I don’t know. And one time I heard Dad say that Ashton’s father came and talked to him because Ashton had changed since he started hanging round with Blake.’
‘He became a better person, too?’ I pulled an incredulous face. If this was the new and improved Ashton, then what the hell was he like before?
‘No, the opposite. His father said Blake was a bad influence. That he barely recognised his own son anymore. He wanted Dad to make Blake stop seeing Ashton. But I mean, how’s it possible that they influenced each other in the opposite direction? Like, Blake got nicer and Ashton got meaner the minute they became friends? It makes no sense, right?’
‘No, it doesn’t,’ I murmured, desperately trying to make something coherent out of all these details.This is madness, I thought again, but even that didn’t feel quite right anymore. Not if there was any truth to what Aspen had just told me.
‘Do you like my brother?’
I blinked, trying to focus on her. The answer came from the gut, not from my rattled mind. ‘Yes, I do.’
Aspen smiled, more frankly now. ‘He likes you too. You know, ever since Blake had his personality transplant, he’s looked so sad a lot of the time. But when he’s texting you or stalking your photos, it’s gone. That’s kind of nice, I think.’
It’s possible to be happy and to feel like you’re bleeding inside at the same time. I couldn’t tell where embarrassment ended and uncertainty began, I only knew that my emotions had bared their fangs and were consuming me, the good and the bad, because I wasn’t sure anymore which ones I was more ashamed of.
Before I could say anything else, the alarm rang on my phone. I switched it off and gave Aspen a weak smile. ‘I’ve got to go, but it was really nice to meet you.’
She grinned. ‘Good to meet you too, Pica.’
Not until I’d reached the hall downstairs did I check my phone. Blake had texted me a picture of a half-eaten pain aux raisins, but I could hardly bear to look. I clicked away from the thread and opened my chat with Davie. Although I’d texted him hours ago, my message was still unread.
Mabel
Talking to the professor today. Come meet me afterwards? I need to tell you something.
* * *
Lectures had started this term and hit the ground running, but Cambridge itself still felt a little sleepy. At least the sun was shining more often these days, gradually melting the thick carpet of snow that had fallen over Christmas. A few ridges of white still clung to the edges of the pavements, and the barren meadows glinted wetly.
At a few minutes to four o’clock, I entered the building where the professor’s office was located. As soon as I’d reached the college, I had decided to put what Aspen had told me out of my mind for the time being. Right now I needed to focus on the conversation ahead: over the last couple of weeks, I’d reread allthe professor’s articles in preparation. I knew he had answers– I just had to ask the right questions. But I also had to accept that I might not immediately understand them. Whatever it was he’d been trying to tell me at the Christmas party, I was at least willing to hear him out.
I checked the room number I’d been given, along with the confirmation of the appointment. As I put my phone away, I noticed I had several missed calls: not from Davie, as I’d expected, but from his friend Cody. I stared at the notification, brow furrowed, but then dismissed it and went upstairs to the second floor.First things first, I told myself.
The door to his office was unlocked. I knocked on the frame and pushed the door open far enough to see into the room. A blockish desk, positioned in front of a window with dark green velvet curtains. Behind it stood a petite woman, gathering pieces of paper into a pile.
I cleared my throat and stepped inside. ‘Hi, sorry. I’ve got a meeting with Professor Edwards.’
