“I don’t want to know about any more body parts you haven’t washed, Mother.”
I look round, my hand on the door handle. She’s standing in the middle of the hallway, her eyebrows high and her arms folded.
“Have a wonderful time,” she says, gently.But,I know there’s a but coming. “But when you get back, it’s decision time.”
See.
“Fine,” I say, turning from her.
“Sorry, hun, but you’ve had enough time.”
“OK,” I snap, opening the door. I take a deep breath. “Sorry. OK.”
She nods at me, then her face breaks into a wide smile; she’s back in bon voyage mode.
“Go. You and Roxy have the best time, but please be sensible or I’ll regret letting you go on your own,” she says, “and don’t forget to tell Damon Van—”
“Goodbye!” I shout, drowning out her voice as I trundle through the door and down the steps.
Roxy’s waiting in her car, theVampire Fallstheme blasting through the open window.
“Ready for Damon Van Schwartz?” she shouts over the music.
“Yes!” I squeal as I run to her car, my suitcase clonking into my heels – but I feel no pain, for this is the greatest day of the year. “Ready for SFX magazine’s eleventh greatest TV actress of all time, Amber Anderson?”
“The real question is,” says Roxy, getting out, “is she ready for me?”
I launch myself at her and we do a jumpy dance, squeezing and squeeing. We walk to the back of her car, still doing springy steps of joy, and Roxy opens the boot. Her suitcase is tucked into the boot among bags filled with crisps and chocolate and rosé and vodka.
Air whistles out of the inflated balloon that is my soul as the sight of the vodka reminds me of the heinous events of the party. I can still taste the vodka jelly travelling up my nose.
“Hey?” says Roxy.
I look at her. “Hmm?”
“No frowning. There’s no place for frowning on convention day, Eliza Gellar.” She points at my face, her finger so close to my nose I have to lean back. “What’s that about?”
“Sorry, it’s that,” I say, nodding at the vodka and suppressing the urge to gag.
“Oh. Poor hungover Eliza.” Roxy smirks. “Sucks for you.”
“I’m not hungover. I’m just . . . tired.”
“Right, OK.Tired,” she says, squeezing my stuff in the boot. “But do not dwell, because even if you throw up all over yourself and fart the national anthem this weekend, nobody will care. Our people won’t care.”
“Our people.” I smile, then look down at my outfit. I turn toRoxy and tug the bottom of my white T-shirt. “Can you totally see my bra through this top?”
“No, Eliza, I cannot see your bra through that top,” she sighs, pushing on my suitcase and not even lookingat me or my T-shirt. “I couldn’t see it when you FaceTimed me while I was eating my Coco Pops, and I couldn’t see it in the wide variety of angles you sent on WhatsApp either. Nobody can see your bra.”
“But if I stand . . .”
“No more. Do not say bra.” She holds her hand up to me and looks at her watch. “We need to go if you want to stop for coffee?”
“Of course I want to stop for coffee,” I say, pulling the boot down. “We always stop for coffee.”
“Get your arse in the car then, and let the fun commence!” she says, clapping her hands. “My brother borrowed the car for a uni trip last weekend. Sorry if it still smells of boy.”
I don’t care if the car smells of boy. I wouldn’t care if it smelt of rancid old cheese. I race round to the passenger door and climb in; theVampire Fallstheme embracing me by my ears.
