She giggles. “You sounded suspiciously calm on the phone. I knew it was too good to be true.”
“Hey, at least we can joke about this.” I decide not to let her know that I had to call my mum when I arrived because I had no idea what to do. She gave me a pep talk, then a lecture about being nice to Kath, thencongratulated me on being a good friend. And then asked me loads of detailed questions that I had no clear answers to. I could feel myself flushing redder and redder as she said words like ‘flow’. Thank god Kath wasn’t around.
“Yep. At least we have a funny story,” Kath mumbles.
“Do you need anything else?” I ask through the door, not quite sure what to do with myself.
“Nope,” she tells me. “Stop loitering, I’ll be out in a bit. Can you distract Tom or something?”
Soon we’re back on the coast path and I’m subjecting Tom to an inquisition about his A level courses to keep the conversation going. Luckily, he’s replying in great detail. As he launches into another thrilling story about his geography field trip and the way they were measuring river depth, I shoot Kath an anxious look. She’s strangely quiet. I pull a KitKat out of my bag, offering it to her, and she accepts it with a small smile. A few minutes later she starts teasing Tom again and I let out a sigh of relief.
That evening I’m in bed waiting for Kath to finish in the bathroom when Tom turns to me.
“You’re a good guy,” he tells me. I look at him in confusion over the top of my book.
“What?”
“You’re a good friend to Kath,” he says. “I can’t think of that many fourteen-year-olds who would run to a shop to buy their friend period stuff and also remember to buy paracetamol and chocolate at the same time.”
“Oh right.” I scratch my ear. “Well, she’s my best friend, and I know she’d do the same for me.”
“She would,” he says quietly. “I obviously don’t tell her it often enough, but she’s a pretty great sister. And you’re good for her. She likes your drive.”
“She’s good for me too.” This feels a bit too profound for a Thursday night.
“Well, don’t do anything to fuck it up,” he says. “I mean it.”
I gulp.What does he know?“I don’t plan on it,” I hedge instead.
“What are you guys talking about?” Kath asks as she walks in.
“Nothing,” I say quickly. “Is that my T-shirt? Again?”
Somehow most of my swimming T-shirts have become Kath’s pyjamas over the years.
“It suits me more,” she twirls, and I grin as Tom turns out the light. She’s right. It really does.
Chapter 5
Fifteen years old
Sam
Ithink I’m about to die from embarrassment. The only consolation is that Kath also looks like she wants the ground to swallow her whole. This may be the only time when I regret that we chose to share a desk even though we aren’t required to sit in alphabetical order anymore. Mr Lee is obviously trying very, very hard not to make this awkward. But teaching a sex education class to a co-ed group of fourteen- and fifteen-year-olds cannot be what he envisioned himself doing when he signed up to be a maths teacher. This is no one’s idea of an ideal Monday morning. But he’s our form tutor, and apparently this is what all the form tutors are scheduled to do this morning.
“Who can tell me about different types of contraception?” he asks.
The room goes completely silent.
Kath glances at me with wide eyes, but I shake my head. She’s the one who usually helps the teacher out, not me. Eventually Claire saves the day, putting her hand up with confidence that I frankly rather admire.
“Well, there’s the pill,” she says. “And condoms.”
“Exactly, Claire.” Mr Lee’s visibly relieved someone appears willing to speak. “And can anyone tell me why people might use different types of contraception?”
Another painful pause.
As Mr Lee ploughs on with heroic determination, I stare straight ahead, pretending I’m invisible. Silently, I beg the desk gods not to be called on.
