Page 6 of My Heart to Find

MY ROOMMATE IS DRUNKand in a mood with me when I return. It’s 2 A.M., I’ve just walked Cara back to her house, and River’s glaring at me.

“I still can’t believe that bitch didn’t invite me,” she says, her Devon-farmer accent thicker than normal.

River and Anastacia are always falling out. They have been ever since we were at school together. Many a morning would be spent with me going between their groups in the playground, trying to be both their friends on the days when the two of them weren’t speaking.

“It wasn’t even that great anyway,” I tell her.

River shrugs and grabs another can. There are already several empty ones on the coffee table. She pushes back her dark hair—it’s braided in two long plaits—and then flings her free hand out in a dramatic motion. “And I can’t believe you went out with her.”

“I wasn’t just with her,” I say. “Cara was there too. And some others.”

“Lizzy and Phia?” River asks.

I shake my head. They’d both cancelled. Lizzy because she was behind with her studies and Phia because her sister wasn’t well and she wanted to stay and look after her.

River grunts. “So, Cara goes out clubbing with you now, but doesn’t come to our girly nights?”

“I had to beg her,” I say.

River grunts again. “I don’t think she likes me.”

“Oh, come on, everyone likes you!”

“Not everyone—Anastacia, for example.”

“Yeah but she falls out with everyone. And she got with Max tonight.”

“Max as in your ex?” River nearly drops her can.

I nod. “I still can’t believe it.”

She swears. “Girl, you need to get revenge.”

“Girl, I know,” I say.

“Girl, what you going to do?”

“Girl, I don’t know.”

Starting each sentence with ‘Girl’ is something that dates back from our school days. We thought it was hilarious—Cara, Lizzy, Phia, and our other friends too. It was our thing, something that cemented our friendship. Now, it almost feels tacky when we do it—but we still say it. Me and River. Just every now and again.

“Come on, let’s just get to bed,” I say.

“You working tomorrow?” River asks.

“Afternoon shift,” I say. And just thinking about work makes my stomach curdle and all its contents feel way too heavy. Lizzy and Phia are both on-shift in the morning too tomorrow. It used to be the three of us working the same shifts all the time, when Mr. Richards still ran his café,The Red Panda,on part-time hours. But last week he decided it would be full-time hours and instead of getting in more staff, he redid the rota. Sure, we all get more hours now—and more pay—but I don’t like the thought of Lizzy and Phia being there alone with him. He’s a greedy, racist, sexist shark. And there’s safety in numbers.

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