Page 5 of Only When It Breaks

So, I stand awkwardly on the sideline with them, feeling like the third wheel as they discuss the rules.Like Mum actually cares.

The final whistle blows, and I watch Kai jog over to grab the water bottle by his dad’s feet. He runs a hand through his damp hair, flashing a grin at my mum before his eyes land on me and his smile falters. “You,” he mutters, his voice flat.

I, on the other hand, smile wide. “Tragically, yes. It’s me.”

“You two know each other?” Joel asks.

“We go to the same college,” Kai explains, not taking his eyes off me.

Mum’s face lights up. “That’s perfect,” she says a little too enthusiastically. “I was going to make something nice for lunch. Why don’t you both come over.”

“No,” I blurt out, soon realising it actually came out of my mouth when they all turn to stare at me.

“Emmie,” Mum hisses with embarrassment.

“I mean . . . no, I can’t. I have plans.”

“It sounds great,” says Joel, pulling Mum’s attention away from me. “Kai?”

Kai arches a brow in my direction, “Definitely.”

I blink, my breath catching in my throat. What game is he playing?

Mum claps her hands together like she’s solved world peace. “Wonderful. And Emmie, cancel your plans, we have guests.”

Wonderful.

Fan-bloody-tastic.

Because spending my Saturday afternoon sitting across from the guy whose phone I’m holding low-key hostage, the same guy who makes fun of me daily, is ideal.

What could possibly go wrong?

Kai

Of all the people to run into, it had to be her. And typically, I’m drenched in sweat while she looks weird. Standing there like a sore thumb in her massive hoodie, looking like she’s been dragged out of bed and is hating on the world for it. Her hair is doing its own thing like it often does, and as usual, she’s gone makeup-free, which plays a hand in that unimpressed expression she has, like she’s too good for all of us.

And lunch; I was fully ready to get out of that one, but when Emmie’s face dropped like someone was about to read her diary out loud, I had to say yes. Partly to mess with her. It’s one of my pastimes. But also, because I’m curious about what the inside of her weird world looks like.

So, as we head to their house, Dad is chatting away with Maxine, chucking out smooth lines like he’s Casanova, whilst I’m stuck beside Wednesday Adams,a less dramatic version.

She glances around like she’s looking for an escape. It’s irritating. “I don’t bite,” I mutter.

“I do,” she snipes.

What does that even mean?

I roll my eyes, resisting the urge to walk with Romeo and Juliette. At this point, I’m not sure which is worse.

The wind blows gently, and her scent surrounds me. She smells like coconut or something vanilla like, which I didn’t expect. I had her down as more of a dry shampoo and second-hand book pages kind of girl. “What are your plans then?” I ask.“You know, the ones you conveniently remembered when your mum invited us?”

She side-eyes me. “Important nerd duties. You wouldn’t understand.”

God, she’s so weird.But also, quick. Quicker than most people I talk to. I’m used to girls giggling and hair flicking, but Emmie insults herself before I can do it. She does it without blinking and adds a little dig in there for good measure. I almost smile. And now, I’m going to spend the next hour eating quiche or whatever Maxine thinks counts as ‘a nice lunch’ while Emmie silently plots my death.

Maxine turns up the path to a house just opposite the park. It’s standard for this area, a two-bedroom terrace, neighbours both sides and the smallest garden known to man. The council call it affordable housing, and I brace myself for what lies beneath the front door. But as I step inside, I’m surprised. I expected clutter and flowered wallpaper, but it’s modern and clean.

“Don’t act so surprised,” hisses Emmie from beside me.

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