Page 36 of Going Solo

“Why does it have to be something I’ve done?”

“Why would Orla Kennedy say ‘After what Toby’s done, I think it’s best if I get my hair done elsewhere’ if you ain’t done something?”

The salon was so quiet you could hear the steam coming off the towels. I put them down on the sink. Every pair of eyes was on me.

“Has he got a bird pregnant, then?” Mrs Fitz said.

Aunty Cheryl laughed, swallowed it, and pretended to clear her throat.

My phone started vibrating in my pocket. It was a withheld number. I had a dreadful feeling that whatever I’d done, I was about to find out about it. I answered it.

“I can’t believe you would do that to me.” Cole’s voice was cold, angry.

“Do what? I don’t know what I’m supposed?—”

“Argh! Shut up, Toby! I don’t even want to hear it. I don’t want to hear your excuses. You know what you did.”

“I genuinely don’t.” I stepped through the curtain and into the back room. It offered no soundproofing, but at least I was out of sight.

“You’re so full of shit,” Cole said. “Our private text messages are all over today’sBulletin. No one else had them. I know it was you.”

Injustice does something primal to the body. It boils up inside you in an incensed rage, the unfairness searing every cell as it radiates outwards from the pit of your stomach. But when you’re already angry at the person accusing you of something you know you didn’t do, it feeds that rage with contempt and fuels it with self-righteousness.

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you’re petty? Because you want to hurt me? You tell me, Toby, you’re the one who did it!”

“Oh, is the media being mean to you, Cole?” I said. “Now you know how it feels. I hope it hurts.”

“So, itwasyou. Everyone said it had to be you, but I didn’t want to believe it.”

“Believe what you like,” I said. “But this had nothing to do with me.”

I ended the call.

When I stepped back into the salon, everyone was still looking at me.

“Did you do it, though, Tobes?” Mum asked. “I don’t care what you told him, but you gotta be honest with me.”

I shook my head. “It had nothing to do with me.”

“So, who did it?”

It was a good question. Who had access to my phone? Did Elsa know my code? Had Aunty Cheryl decided to get revenge on Cole on my behalf? The whole situation was off.

“I have no idea. It wasn’t me, I promise you.”

Mrs Fitz stamped her walking stick against the floor, then waggled it at me.

“You need to step up and accept your responsibilities, young man,” she said. “You’re going to be a father!”

PartTwo

AUNTY CHERYL’S SCRAPBOOK

British invasion!

Screaming fans greet Go Tos as U.S. tour kicks off

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