Page 39 of Star Struck

‘Yes, but I want to know. Not just album loads of shots of faces I can’t remember, but to know about who I am, do you see, Fe? A year’s worth of memory loss is one hell of a lot of things just gone “poof”.’

‘Existential angst. It’s a bastard.’ Fe kept his head turned away but his tone was light. ‘You know who you are, Skye, you know what you’re like. Why does that year matter so much?’

I stared at his back. ‘Shouldn’t it?’

He turned around then and his face had changed. He looked older, that childish playfulness had gone and been replaced by a pulled-down, almost feral, expression and his yellow-diamond eyes were chilly. ‘Yeah. You could be right.’ Even his voice was different, deeper and hoarser. ‘Maybe we should talk about that.’

His intensity scared me. It meant there was something to know, something I didn’t suspect and had never seen, despite all those endless frames I’d scoured through, still desperately hoping that some memory had been left to me. ‘Is it . . . is it something I should tell Jack?’

There was a momentary wavering, as though Felix hovered between breaking down or running away, but his mood settled out at manic once again. ‘Hey, you’re very concerned about him all of a sudden! Just how far have you got with Mr Moody Stare Whitaker? How many bases have you collectively touched? And no lying to your uncle Felix, because he’ll know.’

‘He held my hand. Patted my back when I threw up.’

Felix affected disgusted disbelief. ‘And that’s all? Darling, the guy is burning for you, his loins throb in your direction, and you’re telling me that all you’ve done is a little maiden-aunting?’

I lifted the edge of my T-shirt to where the scars criss-crossing my body began. ‘How do you think he’d react to this, if we got any further?’

Fe raised his eyebrows. ‘But I reckon, if he really likes you, why should he worry? It’s only a bit of scarring, like your face. Doesn’t stop you doing the dirty, does it?’

‘It affects who I am.’ I dropped the shirt and stood up. ‘The accident made me into a different person, Fe.’

A pause. He cleared his throat and drew down his eyebrows until they nearly touched his lashes. I wondered what he was going to say. ‘Yeah, I know,’ he said softly. ‘I know.’

My heart slid and skidded in my chest. What was going on?

Chapter Seventeen

Jack forced himself to smile. It wasn’t natural, this level of hero-worship. He was just a writer. He had ideas and wrote them down; it wasn’t like he turned those words into actions, or directed the show or anything. He was just the ideas-man and this constant call for his attention felt wrong.

‘Jay! Jay, over here!’ Another girl, jumping up and down and waving an arm to catch his eye. ‘Will you sign this?’

‘Sure.’ Slipping into his writerly persona, approachable but withdrawn, he pushed the glasses up tight to his eyes like a mask. ‘Who to?’

‘Candy.’ Breasts jostled his arm as she bent low beside him. He tried to smile again.

‘Lovely name.’

‘Yeah. I’m gonna break into writing, y’know. Next year, when I finish college.’

Jack scribbled his name. ‘Good luck with that,’ he muttered, knowing he sounded sarcastic. Inside he was aching in a way he hadn’t for a decade, hating himself for the performance he was putting on. Hating who he was, what he was, just about everything about himself.

‘Yeah. Perhaps you could, y’know, give me some tips?’

He looked up at her face now. Tight pink lips in a knowing smile, perfect teeth, perfect skin. Perfect hair, loose and blonde across narrow shoulders, swinging aside now and again to show glimpses of a bustier top and hints of a bra strap. He should be turned on, he knew that. Should be wriggling in his seat, adjusting himself under the table, so as not to let his body’s eagerness show. But all he could think of was Skye and the look in her eyes when she’d asked if she could help him. Even without knowing what he’d done, what he might need help with, she’d cared enough to offer. More than Lissa ever had. More than anyone ever had, come to that. All they saw were the scars, the superficial damage to his body. Skye had been the first one to look underneath, to see that so much more had been ripped apart than skin and flesh; the first one to see how cut up his soul was. Maybe it was because she had suffered too, or maybe it was just an innate desire to reach out and heal, he didn’t know.

‘You going to the ball, Jay?’

It took him a second to pull back, to realise that the girl, Candy, was still talking to him. ‘Maybe.’

‘I’ll see you there then.’ A knowing wink. ‘I’m going as a Thulos. You can’t get a lot of underwear under that costume, know what I’m saying, Jay?’ The breast nudged his arm again and this time he was slightly relieved to feel himself stiffening. At least his autonomic nervous system was still online, whatever else might have packed up.

‘Maybe,’ he repeated, and watched Candy slither off into the crowd, giving him a tiny wave over her shoulder as she went. Well, if Skye doesn’t want me . . . he thought. At least I’ll get a dance.

Chapter Eighteen

The velvet clung to me like a removable pelt. Its dark crimson shone against my skin, making my features glow and my hair look a deep, untouchable colour. As I clasped the wristbands around my arms and the collar around my neck, I felt very alien.

‘Wow. No, really. Wow.’ Felix stood back to let me out of the bathroom. ‘That is incredible.’

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