Page 3 of The Guilty Girl

He was supposed to be babysitting. How was he ever going to make something of himself with Shaz and Mam holding him back? Stop. None of this was Shaz’s fault. He really should stay home, but he couldn’t miss tonight’s adventure. Time to be nice to the most annoying person in the world.

‘Tell you what, Shaz, I’ll bring you back a bag of chips, but you have to listen to me. It’s on condition you go to bed and stay there. You can’t tell Mam I went out. Promise?’

With a strand of her dark hair in her mouth, she squinted at him. ‘Maybe I won’t tell if you get me chicken nuggets too.’

‘Deal.’

‘Yes!’ She ran over and hugged him before scooting out the door and into her bedroom.

In the kitchen, he noticed the key to his mother’s old Fiat Punto on the table. She had walked to work that afternoon, complaining that she couldn’t afford to waste money on parking fees.

He reached out his hand and paused.

No, Jake, don’t.

But why not?

He imagined the gobsmacked expressions on the faces of his friends if he showed up in the small blue car. Didn’t matter that it was a crock of shit, it could still move.

Biting his lip, he glanced behind him. Shaz was up in her room. He’d have the car back before Mam got home. No one would know, and it’d be so exciting with four wheels under him!

‘Don’t open the door for anyone, Shaz. See you later.’

He scooped up the key, closing his fist around it. Tonight he’d be king of his world. The fact that he had only driven the car once, out by the lake when his mother had given in to him, didn’t faze him. He was a quick learner. Still, he hoped he could remember which pedals to press.

‘Don’t forget the chicken nuggets,’ Sharon shouted, her voice muffled from behind her door.

‘I won’t forget,’ he shouted, and banged the door on his way out.

3

The last extension was a bitch to clip into her hair, but Hannah Byrne wanted to add an extra burst of volume. She didn’t need the length, as her blonde mane caressed the dip in her spine just above the belt on her tight black mini skirt.

Lucy was hosting the party to celebrate end-of-school exams and Hannah knew she was lucky to be invited. Lucy McAllister’s parties were legendary in Ragmullin. Getting an invite meant you were someone. That worried Hannah. She felt she was a nobody.

She’d arrived at Lucy’s house full of excitement and jittery with nerves. Lucy had welcomed her with a hug, albeit without touching cheeks. Hannah immediately felt a glow of happiness. She was being accepted into a new world.

Lucy’s best friend, Ivy, had mimicked the hug. ‘Ooh, what is that perfume you’re wearing?’ She made a ‘yuck’ sound.

‘It’s my mother’s. A little white bottle. Don’t know what it’s called.’ It was cheap, and Hannah felt a wobble in her stomach at being reminded how shitty it smelled. She glanced at Lucy, who smiled back sweetly.

‘Probably Anaïs whatsitsname,’ she said.

‘That’s ancient.’ Ivy twirled a lock of black hair around her finger.

‘We’re upstairs,’ Lucy said, flicking her long dark hair over her shoulder, leading the way. ‘Don’t worry about your clothes not being suitable for the party. I can lend you something to wear.’

‘It’s okay, I brought other stuff to change into,’ Hannah said, looking down at her grubby jeans and old shirt. Even her trainers were ‘yuck’.

‘If your stuff is anything like your perfume, sweetie, you’ll have to wear something of mine. Come on, you can use one of the guest rooms to change.’

While Hannah was undressing, Lucy and Ivy had burst in.

Ivy turned up her nose. ‘Unmatched underwear? Gross, hun. Have you got a bra to fit her, Lucy?’

‘Are you mad? Those fried-egg boobs are not going in any of my Wonderbras,’ Lucy snorted, swallowing a laugh.

‘I’m fine.’ Hannah was close to tears. ‘My underwear won’t be seen.’ How could they be so cruel?

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