Black Heart Blue Read Online Free PDF Page B

like this. I’ve seen the state of my father when he’s been drinking, his red face and eyes, his lurching, swaying body, but when Daisy gave me the fizzy drink it tasted good, sweet and sticky, and I didn’t imagine I’d actually feel so wasted so fast.
    Daisy tells me to sober up on the bus and I try my best but when we get off at the next village I have to be sick into a hedge. I hope no one from college sees. This is seriously embarrassing. My stomach churns and I heave again but all that comes up is burning liquid and thengreen bile. I lean against the bus shelter shaking, a film of sweat beading on my forehead and upper lip and Daisy looks at her watch.
    ‘Come on. Everyone else’ll be there by now.’
    There’s a DJ at this pub tonight, apparently he’s good. I wouldn’t know but Daisy doesn’t want to miss a second more so I totter after her, feeling stupid and kind of wanting to go home. I don’t tell her that, she’s pissed off with me enough as it is. We walk up to the pub, doing our best to look indubitably eighteen. A crowd of smokers is gathered outside and I flick my eyes quickly over them, not wanting to make eye contact but curious. Craig’s lounging on one of the tables, sprawled like a resting cat in the late evening sun. My heart booms and skips and there’s that merry-go-round feeling again and I’m almost taking off with excitement. Daisy calls out to him in her flirty voice – I’ve known her two minutes and can already tell when she’s playing that part – and he lifts a languid hand in our direction, cigarette dangling from his mouth, eyebrow coolly
raised.
    I go straight to the loos when we get inside and try to fix my make-up with the little bits I have in my bag. I’ve nicked a lip gloss from the chemist and found an eyeshadow at the bottom of one of my mother’s drawers. I can’t imagine her ever wearing make-up, it must be an antique. Women who put make-up on are harlots, that’s what Mother says, so maybe it was never even hers. Or maybe she puts it on sometimes, when it’s just her andRoderick. I know he likes things like that, even though he’d never admit it. I’ve seen his secret pictures. Samara comes to find me in the loo. She lends me some perfume and gives me a hug. Daisy told her what had happened.
    ‘Poor you. I’m always sick.’ She laughs. ‘Part of the fun. At least you got it over with early.’
    She tells me her parents don’t know she drinks at all and that’s how she’s got to keep it or she’ll be grounded forever, and I nod, deciding I have a lot more in common with Samara than with the others. Her mum and dad sound pretty strict, not in my parents’ league but bad enough.
    We buy Cokes and find somewhere to sit. Daisy’s talking to Craig but I don’t go over. Instead Samara and I perch on stools in a corner and gossip and she whispers to me that Daisy’s fancied Craig since Year Ten. My heart sinks at the news. Daisy’s easily the prettiest girl in the pub, her lovely long blonde hair falls round her shoulders and she flicks it back as she laughs and flirts. We watch her for a bit in silence and I sigh and stare at my Coke. I’ll have to make it last. After the bus fare and the drink there’s only sixty pence left in my purse. I’ve been scraping this money together over the past week, taking a bit here, a bit there, and on Thursday I found a pound coin on the common-room floor. I hope no one saw me pick it up. People are dancing and it’s quite dark in the pub and Samara nudges me to get me to look up. Daisy and Craig are on the dance floor. She’s
giving it her all and it looks like he’s enjoying the bump and grind.
    ‘Daisy’s a total slag,’ Samara confides and I nod. I’m on what my Maths teacher calls a steep learning curve here.
    A couple of other kids from the college sit down with us and we laugh and chat for a while but my heart is so not in it. At ten o’clock I say I have to go and wander off to the bus stop.