Page 38 of The Reunion

‘Why are you always acting like I’m the villain here? What, like you’re the model of perfection the rest of us should set our standards by? Newsflash, Easton, but you’re not.’

‘What part of “piss off” can you not understand?’ she yells back and her voice definitely cracks this time. I swear I hear her stomp her foot, and part of me is gripped by the entire argument as if it’s a soap opera on the telly.

‘Steph!’ Shaun hisses, gesturing through the open door.

But my heart is in my throat. For all I laughed at him earlier for saying it, now I really do expect someone to come and tell us off. What if the caretaker is still around, or one of the teachers has stayed behind to do some marking, and they heard?

I crowd closer like I can vanish into the shadows, or even behind him. ‘We can’t! Bryony said—’

‘She said not to go off exploring the school and graffitiing the whiteboards. Technically, we’ll be outside the school, so …’

‘That’s – yes, but …’ I squirm, arms wrapping around my waist as if I can hold this new wave of nerves back before they spill out everywhere. ‘It’s locked for a reason! We can’t just … We can’t. What if somebody breaks in?’

‘It’s fine. We’ll put the deadbolt back on when we go back in. And besides, we’ll be right outside the door – it’s not as if a burglar will just stroll past us, is it?’

I chew my lower lip, only stopping when Shaun’s eyes flit down to catch the gesture. I know it’s instinctive rather than a conscious look on his part, but I don’t want him to think I’m trying to flirt. I’m not. That’s not what this is.

He gives me that perpetual easy smile, the one that’s so wholly him and which everybody has always loved, and his eyebrows tick up mischievously.

‘Come on, Steph. When was the last time you broke the rules?’

He knows the answer to that: never.

It’s not changed in ten years.

A sense of daring, unfamiliar and intoxicating, dances through me, egged on by the adrenaline of almost being caught by Ashleigh and Ryan. It fizzes in my stomach and tickles at the tips of my fingers, making me uncross my arms from around myself and stand up a little bit straighter.

I ascend the two steps to be next to Shaun and reach past him to push open the door, a rush of cool air pouring in. The corners of his mouth stretch wider, and my body grazes against his as I take the first step outside.

Chapter Nineteen

Hayden

‘Most Likely to Succeed’

Backstage is dark enough that I need to navigate by the torchlight off my phone. The stark white beam falls on stacks of battered wooden chairs and an old projector set, some tables, a couple of wonky metal music stands. I stumble around them, all those glasses of punch leaving me tipsy and uncoordinated – I’m more buzzed than I thought. There’s a box of props, some random pieces of costume I guess must be from the last school play. There are some folded printouts of a programme on top, a bit crumpled and written in a basic Times New Roman font – Tisdale Comprehensive presents MARY POPPINS. I take a spot on one particularly wobbly chair that’s off alone to one side, then click to FaceTime my ex, Lucy.

She answers on the fourth ring.

‘Hayden! I think your camera’s off, love, it’s all dark. Everything’s fine here, you worry wart, if you were calling to check in. Where are you? I thought you were at the reunion for another couple of hours yet?’

‘Oh, um, no. I’m still at the party.’ If only because every time I try to leave, someone accosts me with a gleeful friendliness I can’t wiggle out of and drags me back into the fold. I squirm, wondering if I could wait out the rest of the night here instead. It’s probably a good thing that she can’t see me – Lucy has always been able to read me like a book. ‘I thought I’d just call and say goodnight to the girls, if that’s okay? I mean, if you haven’t put them to bed yet.’

Lucy laughs. ‘If you didn’t let these girls walk all over you, I’d worry about you being such a helicopter dad. Hang on, I’m just in the kitchen …’

The camera angle shifts sharply to an unflattering shot underneath her chin as she starts walking, and the spotlights of the kitchen ceiling vanish as she goes into the living room to call, ‘Girls! Girls, your dad’s on the phone. Skye, darling, come say goodnight to Daddy.’

Lucy’s phone judders and the image on the screen blurs, and I’m met with the sound of toys being thrown down and a Disney film being put on mute just as Gaston starts singing to rile up a mob to go kill Beast. My gaze drifts to the lost-property box next to me and I absently pick through a tie, a single trainer, a couple of books and a shiny silver pencil case while I wait. The chair wobbles violently underneath me and I fight to regain my balance.

Then everything jerks to a halt and Margot’s face appears on screen. She’s scowling, huffy, and makes a dramatic gesture throwing her butterfly-clipped hair out of her face. ‘Dad, you’re spoiling girls’ night. We’ve been playing hairdresser with Mum.’

‘I can see that.’

‘I did Go’s hair!’ Skye shouts, butting her face into view. Margot shoves her aside and Lucy moves into view just behind the sofa, pulling the girls gently apart before they start fighting. ‘Dad, I’ve decided, I’m going to be a boot-shun.’

‘Beautician,’ Lucy translates.

‘And Mum did my nails, look.’ Margot waves a purple-tipped hand in front of the camera, then admires it. Her scowl sets back in. ‘This hand’s a bit smudged. Skye helped with that one,’ she mutters with a long-suffering air of martyrdom she perfected about five minutes after Skye was born.

---