Girls in Tears Read online

  It's been worse since we started secondary school. Nadine had the first period, the first kiss, the first serious boyfriend. Liam is a total jerk but he is good looking and he's eighteen. They broke up because Nadine found out all the bad things about him – but she still seems to think about him wistfully. Until today.

  'I've met this incredibly glorious super-cool guy! He's like my ideal dream man, Ellie, just so ultra-perfect I almost feel I've made him up.' She raises one eyebrow at me. She does it perfectly. She's insinuating that some people tend to fantasize about boyfriends and end up telling their friends whopping great lies. Some people – like me. I got a bit carried away before when Nadine announced she was going out with Liam. Plus my other best friend Magda's so drop-dead gorgeous she can always get any boy she wants. I felt so left out that I started spinning them this tale about Dan, an extremely irritating boy I met on holiday in Wales, making out he was Mr Perfect. Then, when I started, I couldn't stop. Oh, it's such a wondrous relief not to have to do that any more. I don't have to pretend about Russell. And now ... I look down at my hand. I spread my fingers wide.

  'Ellie? Are you listening to me?' Nadine asks. 'And why are you wearing that tacky freebie kids' ring?'

  My head jerks as if she's slapped me. I take a step backwards, unable to believe she's said it. Nadine's my friend. How can she hurt me so? I stare at her until her white face and long black hair start to blur.

  'Ellie? Ellie, what is it? Are you crying?' Nadine says.

  'No, of course not,' I insist, as a tear rolls down my cheek.

  'Oh, Ellie, what have I said?' says Nadine, putting her arm round me.

  I try to wriggle away but she hangs on. 'No, come on, tell me. I don't get it. Why are you suddenly acting like I've done something terrible? You can't be upset because I teased you about the ring.'

  'You said it was tacky,' I mumble pathetically.

  'It is tacky,' says Nadine. 'Natasha's worn hers for days and her finger's gone all green. I told her she'd get gangrene and that her whole arm would go bad unless she had her finger chopped off immediately. Natasha pretended to be scared and told Mum and cried. Well, she was just pretending, not real tears – not like you, Ellie.' Nadine reaches out and very gently wipes away the tear.

  'Natasha's got a ring like mine? Silver, with the little loveheart design?'

  'It's not real silver, dopey. You didn't buy it, did you? It was taped onto the front of this new kids' magazine, Lovehearts.'

  'No, I didn't buy it,' I whisper. 'Russell gave it to me.'

  It had been so romantic. Russell came round to my house last night. We're not really supposed to see each other on Thursday nights, just Friday and Saturday, because of boring old homework in the evenings, and Russell has to get up horribly early every morning to do his paper round.

  His paper round. So. He didn't go out and choose my ring specially. He saw it in the newsagent's when he was collecting the papers for his round and ripped the freebie ring off one of the kids' comics.

  'Russell gave you a Lovehearts comic ring?' says Nadine. She doesn't say any more. She doesn't need to.

  I don't like her tone one little bit. She's never really liked Russell. I can't help wondering if she's just a weeny bit jealous. Nadine always seems to get wild, weird boys who treat her like dirt. Russell is kind and artistic and intelligent. He treats me like a person, a real friend. He's never tried to talk me into going too far with him. Nadine has often implied that he's a bit wet, or even suggested that he can't really fancy me. It's not that at all! He can be ever so passionate. In fact, last night it was a real struggle not to get too carried away when we were up in my bedroom.

  Russell made out to Anna that he'd come round to lend me his oil pastels for my Art project. Well, he had, but then we slipped upstairs to my bedroom. Anna was so busy coping with Eggs and cooking supper and working on the new bunny series for her designer knitwear that she didn't even notice.

  Russell and I sat a little self-consciously on the edge of my bed. He demonstrated how to use his oil pastels, though I've actually had similar crayons since I was about seven. Then he sketched out suggestions for my vegetable still life – shiny red peppers next to yellow corn-on-the-cob with deep purple aubergines as contrast. It looked very artistic but I rather wanted to arrange the vegetables into a portrait. I could do a face out of tiny new potatoes with startling chilli pepper lips and mangetout eyes, and then have corn-blonde hair with a bow of baby carrots.

  I was pretty proud of this original idea but when I told Russell he was rather crushing. He told me about some ancient Italian artist who'd done this centuries before. Maybe I'd better stick to a straight still life after all. Anna hasn't got any mangetout or peppers anyway. All the vegetables she could find were some big baking potatoes, a very yellow cauliflower, forgotten at the back of the fridge, and a family size pack of frozen peas. I defy even old Archiwhatsit to feel inspired by this sad little selection.

  Anyway, I couldn't help feeling a little bit irritated with Russell when he showed me the way he thought I should arrange my composition – but I was also very aware of his warm body next to me. I loved the intent look on his face, the little furrow on his forehead, his two front teeth just resting on his full lower lip, the peachiness of his cheek ... I couldn't help stroking it and he turned to me and kissed me. The sketchbook fell to the floor, the oil pastels rolled right across my bedroom carpet, but we barely noticed.

  We soon stopped sitting upright. "We just naturally sank down on my pillow, so there we were, lying in each other's arms. We weren't technically in bed together, but definitely on the bed. It felt a little weird with my girly clutter all around and my old teddy lolling behind us on the pillow. I closed my eyes and concentrated on Russell.

  I couldn't close my ears, though. I heard the front door slam – Dad home at last, very late. Anna shouted something and Eggs started wailing – not exactly the most romantic of background noises. Then we heard Eggs clumping upstairs, thump thump in his little-boy lace-ups. We sprang apart in case he was about to come charging straight through the door.

  He didn't, thank goodness, but Dad might come rushing up if he found out I was in my bedroom alone with Russell.

  'Sorry! My family seem horribly in evidence,' I said, running my fingers through my wild hair.

  'It's OK, Ellie. I understand,' said Russell. He started playing with my hair too, teasing a strand out straight and then letting it spring back into a curl.

  'It's hopeless hair,' I said.

  'I love it,' said Russell. 'I love you, Ellie.' He looked at me, smiling. 'Which reminds me! I've got a little present for you.' He felt in his pocket and brought out a tiny round package of pink tissue. I thought ring right away. Then I thought, No, don't be so ridiculous, Ellie, of course it couldn't be anything as incredibly exciting and romantic as a ring when you haven't been going out with Russell that long and it isn't even your birthday or Christmas. It'll be something sweet but silly, like a chocolate in the shape of a heart or a tiny badge with I LOVE U or a minuscule teddy for a lucky mascot. But it wasn't any of these things. It was a ring, a beautiful delicate silver ring with a heart design.

  'Oh, Russell!' I said, stuck for further words.

  'Put it on, then.'

  I didn't know which finger to try. It looked pretty small, so maybe the little finger. Besides, if I tried my ring finger Russell might think I was taking it far too seriously, acting almost as if we were getting engaged.

  'You put it on for me,' I said.

  Russell reached out and slipped it straight on my ring finger.

  It meant so much to me. I vowed I would never take it off. But now, when I ease the ring up my finger towards the first joint, I see the skin underneath has turned a dirty shade of green.

  'Oh dear, you'll have to have your finger chopped off too,' says Nadine, very gently.

  'Oh well, I don't care even if it is a freebie ring. It still means all the world because Russell gave it to me,' I say stoutly.