Stalker much? “Or we could talk about it now…”
Chrissie stood, arms crossed, expression expectant.
“I’m…going away for a few weeks.” I rushed the words out. Winced, as if I’d just told my mum I’d had sex for the first time. I waited for the opposition, for the warnings and the lectures, all the while conjuring decent comebacks in my head.
“Oh…my…God. It’s Hugo, isn’t it? You’re going with him?” Chrissie’s hands clapped together, praying in front of her lips. Her reaction surprised me, so much so that I didn’t have a reply ready. All the words tumbling in my mind were defensive.
I nodded.
“Who’s Hugo?” Zac asked.
Chrissie gaped at her brother. “Do you even open your Instagram?”
Zac shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“Check my latest story! Bro, you will not believe where Hel and I were Saturday night, or who Helen’s BFF is. Seriously, you’ll legit die.” And just like that, Chrissie had turned thirteen years old again.
Zac looked confused, probably because his sister had started talking like a pre-pubescent fangirl. “My phone’s in my locker. Who’s Hugo?”
“An old friend of mine,” I said at the same time Chrissie shouted, “Hugo Hayes! The singer!”
“People are looking, Chris,” I warned, noticing an older dude throw a disgruntled glance our way. I gave him a small, apologetic smile and hoped Chrissie reined in the enthusiasm.
“Wait, that kid who won that TV show?”
“He’s not a kid,” I snapped, unsure why that had offended me. “He’s my age. We went to school together.”
“Oh. Cool.” Zac couldn’t have sounded more unbothered if he’d tried. I liked that.
Chrissie didn’t. “Cool? Is that all you’ve got?”
“What do you want me to do? Cry? Put up his poster on my bedroom wall?”
Chrissie scoffed. “I slept with a member of his band.”
Ohh. I shrank back a step. “You did what?” Zac said, though I had a feeling he hadn’t actually misheard.
“His name’s Liam. Plays piano.” Technically, it was a keyboard, but I wasn’t brave enough to argue semantics during a war between siblings.
Zac shook his head, blinked a lot. “I don’t need to know this shit, Chris. I’m guessing today’s session is over?” he added, turning to me.
Despite my mouth opening, Chrissie answered for me. “Yep. Helen and I have things to discuss, and I only get an hour for lunch.”
“I’ll call you when I’m back,” I told Zac.
He nodded, started walking away. “Don’t use this as an excuse, Hel,” he called over his shoulder. “You’ve come too far. Back on it!”
I didn’t reply because that would’ve made my answer a lie if I failed. He was right and I knew it but, right now, my mind was full of excitement and wonder. Weighing food and counting steps were the last things I wanted to focus on, though I knew, somewhere in the far corners of my head, that I’d come to regret not taking his advice. Dammit. Being fat sucked big hairy bollocks.
Chrissie grabbed a sandwich from a vending machine and she and I spent the rest of her lunch hour in my car. I received nothing but encouragement as I divulged my plan for the next few weeks. It wasn’t even a plan, as such. I had no idea where I was going, what to expect. The plan, if I could call it that, was to pack a couple of bags and follow Hugo. My mum would’ve told me the idea was crazy. Rash. Immature. I’d have probably listened, too. But she wasn’t here now. I had to learn for myself.
Sorry, Mum.
We met up again once Chrissie had finished work and she came back to mine to help me pack. I’d already bundled what I considered essentials into a suitcase, but Chrissie, naturally, had differing opinions. At first, I sat back and let her stuff the sexier items from my underwear drawer into the purple case, figuring I could simply pull them out last minute. When she started removing the knickers I’d already packed, though, I had to step in.
“You did hear the part about Hugo and I being friends, right?”
“And your friend is a flipping rock star, Hel. With other rock star friends. You can’t mingle with rock stars wearing these.” She held up one of my favourite pairs of knickers. They were pink, comfy, and smoothed out my belly. What wasn’t to love? “You might as well staple a sign to your forehead that says, ‘My vagina is dead. Do not resuscitate’.”
I snatched the knickers from her hand, stuffed them back in my case. “I’m not going to shag about with rock stars. I’m going to reconnect with my friend.”
“And if the opportunity presents itself?” Chrissie wiggled an eyebrow, chewed on her bottom lip.
I couldn’t imagine a scenario in any universe where that would happen. I only wanted to spend time with Hugo. But, if it did, “I’ll go commando. Problem solved.”
“That’s my girl!”