Page 33 of The Book Swap

He scanned the title and smiled. “I couldn’t agree more. It’s a fantastic portrayal of the awkwardness of adolescence.”

“It’s so much more than that,” I blurted out. “In finding people who understand him for who he is, Charlie is able to grow.” I glanced across at Erin, hoping she knew what I was saying. That the reason I loved the book so much was because it reminded me of what I’d found with her and with Bonnie. Erin was watching me, her eyes wide. Lips slightly parted. “That’s what I got from it anyway.”

“But what about the love story?” Erin replied. “It’s loving Sam the way he does that opens him up. That’s why he grows. It’s more than just acceptance and understanding. It’s love.”

Mr. Carter looked between us, and his face broke into a smile. “That’s the great thing about books. They’re there to teach you whatever you want to learn. They’re for all of us.”

We ended up spending the whole of those two days together. She started calling me “Wallflower” and I started calling her “Nothing”—both in-jokes from the book we were so obsessed with. We scanned the lunch hall, locking eyes and waving when we found each other. Racing to fit all the words we could into the hour we had before our next class. She could quote The Hunger Games from memory. Didn’t care about anything except English class.

Erin wasn’t sure if she’d ever leave Frome, because she never wanted to be far from her mum. I told her all I thought about was leaving. That my mum had walked out of the house naked that morning and my dad had to whip off his dressing gown to cover her up and bring her back inside. She reached across and squeezed my hand and all I could do was stare down at her slender fingers on top of mine and wish for the world to stop. We walked home together, laughing and shoving each other. Sometimes our shoulders would touch and we’d look at each other, something passing between us. Even though I loved Bonnie, I hated the day she came back to school and those moments became memories.

Now, as I write, Carmen’s touching Arthur. He’s braver than me. He does what I could never do. He takes her hand and pulls her toward him. The scene moves to the present day. Arthur’s trying to apologize to Carmen for the mistakes he made. Until this moment, you think my book is about the strength of love. That it’s purely romance. Then it changes. Sometimes redemption isn’t just about saying sorry, it’s about how you recover from the mistakes you make. Bettering yourself is the best kind of apology you can make.

I think about the message sitting on my phone from Helena, awaiting a reply. She’s asked why she wasn’t enough—and I can’t think of the right answer. She sent it yesterday.

As I pick up my phone to try to write back, it lights up with a message from Joel.

Joel: Any chance of a beer tonight?

I haven’t seen him since our run, but it isn’t really like him to ask to see me on the day. My plan was to go home and keep writing. I’ve written nearly half the book. I can’t seem to stop. Might do me good to actually see another person though.

Sure, mate, I reply.

I get to the pub first, ordering us each a pint and using the time to think about what my character Carmen can do to shock the reader and Arthur in the next chapter. The problem is that Carmen is merging with the girl from the margins, so thinking about my protagonist leads me straight to what Margins Girl might be doing. Hopefully answering some questions in the back of a book.

I know so much about her even though I’ve never met her. I know her sense of humor based on what she laughs at in the books. I know her opinions on wealth. Her morals and values. That she seems both terrified of, and ready for, an all-consuming type of love. I know what kind of man she’s looking for. Kind and wise—but firm when he has to be. Someone who stands up for people who deserve it. The type of man I hope I am.

I’m so lost in thought that I don’t notice Joel until he’s standing right in front of me. He looks completely different to when he’s jogging toward me with a giant grin on his face. Today he’s pale, except for the dark bags under his eyes. He runs his hand through his hair as he sits.

“Thanks for coming,” he says, downing some of his pint. “Needed to see a friendly face.”

“No worries.” I smile. “Everything okay?”

“Not really, mate, no.” Despite his appearance, it isn’t the answer I’m expecting, because Joel always says he’s fine. He always has. “The guy who’s sat opposite me for four years took his own life yesterday.” Joel stares straight at me. “I knew something was going on, but all we ever did was smile at each other. Talk about our weekends. He jumped from the roof of his building.”

“Mate, I’m so sorry.” I don’t know what he needs from me, so I treat him the same way I do Mum. I listen.

“I should have asked him, just once, if he was okay. If he’d spoken about it, it might have helped. I might have been able to help him.”

“You can’t blame yourself. You didn’t know.”

Joel shakes his head. “But my point is, I should have.” He looks around the room, licking his lips. “What is it with us men? Why don’t we talk to each other? There shouldn’t be any shame in it. Ask me.” He nods. “Ask me how I am. Properly. And I’ll answer. Then you do the same. Let’s just try it.”

He sits back and waits. “How are you doing, Joel?”

“I’m shit, thanks. Someone I should have made way more effort with just died and I blame myself. I was so focused on my job, I didn’t notice a human being beside me was struggling.”

I let out a breath, my forehead hurting from how long I’ve been frowning as I listen.

“That felt really good,” he says. “Your turn. How are you doing?”

I look around me, sighing. “I think I’ve got feelings for someone I’ve never met, and I feel like my job is suffocating me.” I’m shocked by the words that come out. Joel leans back on his chair and laughs, gently.

“I’ve been waiting years for you to say that.”

“What?”

“About your job.”

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