me@you.com Page 7

  Joey: That looks like Edinburgh in your pic. Is it?

  Barnaby Rudge: Yeah. Near the castle.

  I suddenly heard my parents come in the front door downstairs and looked at the yellow clock on my wall. It was nearly midnight.

  Barnaby Rudge: I better go, Joe. Parents just came home, so I ought to go speak to them.

  Joey: K, chick.

  Barnaby Rudge: You’ve been brilliant. Thank you so much for listening to me!

  Joey: Any time. You know that. And thanks for the picture!!

  I grinned to myself as I watched Joey change her status to “Busy”, evidently heading back to the message board to argue some more with HoBo, whoever he or she was. I logged off the computer and sat a while at my desk, eyes closed tightly, thinking about everything Joey had just said to me. When I opened my eyes again, everything seemed just that little bit clearer. I suddenly knew exactly what I had to do, and I knew Matt wasn’t going to take it well.

  Chapter Seven

  I spent the whole of the next day, Sunday, lost in my thoughts, knowing what I had to do, but dreading having to do it. My worry about what I was going to do was not helped one little bit by at least a dozen texts from Matt telling me how much he’d “enjoyed” last night. I think I answered about three of them.

  Lunchtime, as it turned out, was an absolute nightmare. Dad’s sister, my fragrant and forthright Aunty Julia, came to eat with us, and although she was a welcome distraction from my thoughts, as usual Sophie and I had to run the gauntlet of questions about our love lives.

  “Are you still with Mark?” Aunty Julia was now saying through a mouthful of roast potatoes.

  “Matt,” I replied, probably more sharply than I should have done.

  “Matt, that’s right. Are you still together?”

  “Yup,” I nodded, trying not to add, “For now.”

  “They seem very smitten, don’t you, Immy?” Mum offered a bowl of potatoes to Aunty Julia and I watched, amused, as she stabbed up three in quick succession with her fork and plopped them down onto her plate.

  “Mmm,” I grunted, concentrating on my food.

  “And really, Immy couldn’t ask for a nicer boy,” Mum was now saying.

  “She’s in love with him, Aunty Julia.” Sophie leaned conspiratorially towards Aunty Julia. “She wouldn’t ever say it, but she is. Who’d have thought it? My sweet sister in love.”

  Sophie looked at me and grinned sarcastically, shoving a piece of carrot into her mouth and chewing it noisily.

  “Well, I think it’s lovely.” Aunty Julia smiled across the table. “I remember how it felt, only too well.” She sighed and looked down at her potatoes again.

  “But she gets dreadfully embarrassed talking about him, don’t you?” Mum was pouring gravy over her dinner and I watched, suddenly feeling sick, as the thick, brown goo spread across her plate.

  “Immy and Matt sitting up a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g,” Sophie sang, poking her tongue out at me.

  I glared, mouthing “piss off” to her as I heard my phone beep out at me from somewhere in my pockets.

  “That’ll be Matt,” Sophie said matter-of-factly to Aunty Julia, who smiled a twee smile at me, making her eyes crinkle alarmingly at the corners.

  I fished out my phone from my pocket and flipped the lid. It was from Fickle.

  Where are ya? it said. I’m lonely. Come and play with me.

  I snapped the phone shut again and put it back in my pocket.

  “And what about little Sophie?” Aunty Julia was now saying. “Are you courting?”

  “Courting?” Sophie snorted, making a small piece of carrot she was chewing shoot across the table from her mouth and earning her a look from Dad.

  I put my knife and fork together and wiped my mouth with my napkin, turning to look at Mum.

  “Can I be excused? I’ve had enough to eat, thanks,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t make me stay at the table and endure further agony of small talk with Aunty Julia.

  “Do you have college work to do?” Mum frowned.

  “Yeah,” I lied. “I just wanna tweak an assignment I gotta hand in next week.”

  “Okay, off you go.” Mum jerked her head in the direction of the door.

  I smiled at Aunty Julia and bumped my chair into Sophie’s as I rose from the table, catching the side of her head with my elbow for good measure as I brushed past her on my way out of the room.

  Out in the hall I flipped open my phone and read Fickle’s message again.

  I’m lonely. Come and play with me.

  I took the stairs two at a time, levering myself into my computer chair with a contented sigh, grateful to have a bit of peace and quiet away from everyone else downstairs.

  I switched my computer on and watched as it booted itself up, feeling a shiver of excitement as I logged onto MSN and saw that Fickle was there waiting for me.

  Fickle: ’Bout bloody time! Where ya been?

  Barnaby Rudge: Lunch with the family.

  Fickle: Nice!

  Barnaby Rudge: It wasn’t, trust me!

  Fickle: Me mum’s having a bad day today so I’ve decided to keep out of her way.

  Barnaby Rudge: Oh! Is she okay?

  Fickle: Yeah, just not so good, is all. She’s downstairs watching the TV so I thought I’d just leave her to it.

  Barnaby Rudge: So how was your night last night?

  Fickle: Nothing special. We just went for a drink but like I say, it was nothing special. The ex is still very much an ex and I’m still single!!

  My mind was racing and I suddenly grinned, but I didn’t know why I was grinning like that. Her ex was still an ex. I liked that. It put a new edge on things again, I supposed. Made her more available.

  What? I leant back in my chair, aware of what it was that I was thinking.

  Fickle available? Who was I kidding? I knew nothing about her. All I knew was what she looked like, that she was eighteen and went to school somewhere. I didn’t know who she lived with other than her mum, if she had brothers or sisters. Nothing. Yet here I was grinning like the cat that got the cream because Fickle had told me she was single.

  I wanted to change the subject—and fast.

  Barnaby Rudge: You see the football yesterday?

  Fickle: Yeah, it was all right. Nothing special, was it? Anyway, how was your Saturday night?

  Barnaby Rudge: Not bad. My boyfriend came over.

  I have no idea what made me mention Matt to her at that precise moment. Maybe it was because we’d just been talking about Fickle’s ex, maybe it was a surreptitious way of seeing what her reaction would be. Maybe it was something deeper. Who knows?

  Fickle: You have a boyfriend?

  I’d told her I had a boyfriend practically the first time we ever spoke to each other. Why hadn’t she remembered that?

  Fickle: You never said.

  I had said! I had!

  Why was I so pissed off that she hadn’t remembered that I had a boyfriend? Wasn’t it important enough for her to remember?

  Barnaby Rudge: Yes I did. I told you before, Gemma! His name’s Matt. He sings in a band.

  Fickle: Did you? Kewl. What sort of music?

  Barnaby Rudge: Grunge, Emo, that sorta stuff.

  Fickle: Niiiiiiiiiice.

  I wanted to tell her that he wasn’t that special, that other people were keener on him than I was, and that I’d been trying to figure out the best way to finish with him all day. I wanted to tell her all these things but something kept stopping me. Instead, I wrote:

  Barnaby Rudge: Sorry, I did tell you about him before, you know.

  Fickle: You know what I love about you, Immy?

  Barnaby Rudge: Hit me.

  Fickle: You’re always apologising. It’s cute, but you kinda gotta stop it!

  She put a winking sign, which sent shivers down my spine. She said I was cute. Well, fine, she said it was cute, but that’s the same thing, isn’t it?

  Barnaby Rudge: I know. It’s a bad habit of mine.

/>   Fickle: I can think of worse!

  Barnaby Rudge: Such as?

  Fickle: Having a boyfriend!

  Barnaby Rudge: You got a point there! BRB, Fickle!

  I heard footsteps on the stairs outside my room and immediately minimised the page I was talking to Fickle on and brought up a website on Vietnam, in the hope that it would look like I had actually been doing some work in the time I’d been up in my room.

  A soft knock on my door was followed by Mum’s face peering round into my room at me.

  “You doing fine?” she asked, looking over my shoulder at the website.

  I hastily picked up a pen and made to write out some notes on a piece of paper that was on my desk.

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “Trying to make head and tail of Vietnam—as you do!” I tapped my biro on the computer screen.

  “We’re eating chocolate pudding downstairs if you want some?” Mum was now asking.

  “Nah, I’m not hungry,” I replied, itching to get back to Fickle.

  “I’ll keep some back in case you want it later.” Mum’s head disappeared from sight again. “Don’t work too hard,” I heard her call as she went back downstairs again.

  I opened up MSN and felt a ripple of pleasure as I saw Fickle’s messages to me.

  Fickle: Where are yoooooo? Bored, bored BORED without yooooo.

  Barnaby Rudge: Okay, okay, keep your hair on! I’m here.

  Fickle: Missed ya!

  Barnaby Rudge: You really are bored, aren’t you?!

  Fickle: No, I really did miss you.

  Barnaby Rudge: Yeah, right!

  Fickle: So tell me about this boyfriend of yours, Immy. How long have you been with him?

  Why did I have to talk about Matt? I wanted to talk about Fickle’s ex, not my boyfriend.

  Barnaby Rudge: Uh, dunno, ’bout six weeks or so.

  Fickle: Sweet! You in love?

  Barnaby Rudge: Next question. LOL.

  Fickle: Oh right. Soz.

  Barnaby Rudge: No worries. How long were you with your ex, then?

  Fickle: Not long.

  Barnaby Rudge: Right.

  Fickle: It all ended pretty nastily, to be honest.

  Barnaby Rudge: So you on the lookout for someone else?

  Fickle: Sure am. And I’ve got my eye on someone already.

  She put that damn winking sign up after that and yet again my heart fluttered at the sight of it. We chatted on for ages after that, flirting and generally teasing each other and, without even me realising it, I suddenly discovered I’d been chatting to Fickle for nearly two hours. Time flies when you’re having fun, huh? I thought about everyone downstairs and, reluctantly, thought I’d better show my face to them again.

  Barnaby Rudge: Gemma, I’d better go. I’ve been up in my room for ages.

  Fickle: Do you really have to?

  Barnaby Rudge: I should. The ’rents’ll wonder what’s happened to me.

  Fickle: Get your ’rents up here on the computer! I’ll tell ’em I’ve abducted you!

  Barnaby Rudge: If it meant I didn’t have to go downstairs and make small talk with my Aunty Julia, I’d say go for it!

  Fickle: I’d happily abduct you, Immy. Whisk you away from it all!!! Anything has to be better than having to make polite conversation with a visiting relative!!

  I looked at my watch again. Everything was urging me to stay talking to Fickle, but the polite and guilty girl inside me was telling me to go down and say hi to them.

  Barnaby Rudge: Are you going to be here all afternoon?

  Fickle: Probs. Shit all else to do.

  Barnaby Rudge: I’ll be half an hour. Will you wait?

  Fickle: For you, Immy, forever!!

  Was that sarcasm or flirting? I was darned if I knew, but what I did know was that the sooner I got myself downstairs and made a show of speaking to everyone, the sooner I could come back upstairs. Back to Fickle.

  I logged off and wandered down to the lounge where Mum, Dad, and Aunty Julia were deep in conversation about the state of the health service or something, whilst Sophie was slumped on the sofa, furiously texting away on her mobile, totally oblivious to the chatter going on around her.

  “All done?” Mum looked up at me and smiled as I perched on the edge of the sofa.

  “Not quite,” I replied, leaning over to grab a biscuit from a plate on the coffee table.

  “Immy’s got assignments up to her ears at the moment, haven’t you?” Mum looked across to Aunty Julia then back at me.

  “Mmm,” I half grunted, reaching for another biscuit.

  “What are you doing up there at the moment?” Aunty Julia smiled over at me, her eyebrows raised questioningly.

  Of course, what I wanted to tell her was that I was up there talking to someone who I barely knew, but who I kinda wanted to get to know a whole lot better, and that because she, Aunty Julia, was visiting, I didn’t feel like I could, and could she, Aunty Julia, please go home so that I didn’t have to feel guilty about secreting myself away in my room talking to someone who I just happened to fancy the very arse off, thank you very much.

  Instead I smiled back at Aunty Julia and said, “Oh just an essay on Vietnam and Sino-U.S. Rapprochement 1968–72.” That seemed to stop her in her tracks. I was secretly pleased that I’d come back at her with such a stunning reply, and even more pleased that I’d actually remembered what work it was I was supposed to be doing, and it really did seem to work because Aunty Julia reached for another biscuit and simply said, “Well, if you have to get on, my love, don’t let me stop you.”

  I immediately thought of Fickle waiting for me online and looked to Mum for confirmation, receiving it in the form of a nod and warm smile, which was enough for me to leave the room and take the stairs back up to my room, two at a time, heart thumping wildly in my chest, hoping that Fickle had kept her word and would still be there.

  She was.

  Barnaby Rudge: I’m back!

  I leant back in my chair and grinned at the screen, waiting for Fickle to reply, watching and waiting for the flashing message to appear on screen, telling me she had written back. I waited for around five minutes, wondering where she’d gone, when suddenly I saw her name appear.

  Fickle: There you are! I was just texting you!

  Barnaby Rudge: You were? To say what?

  Fickle: Just that I was waiting for you and I missed you!

  Barnaby Rudge: I was only gone two minutes!

  Fickle: Two minutes too long.

  Barnaby Rudge: Blimey, you must be bored!

  Fickle: Something like that. So how’s your Aunty Julia? LOL.

  Barnaby Rudge: Okay.

  Fickle: Just okay?

  Barnaby Rudge: Yeah. At least she didn’t start quizzing me about my bloody love life again like she did over lunch!

  Fickle: About boyfriends and shit? I hate that! Why do they all do that? My relatives are just the same. Drives me crazy.

  Barnaby Rudge: They don’t know you’re gay?

  Fickle: Nooooo! And that’s the way I like it. It’s no one else’s business anyway.

  Barnaby Rudge: And all the questions wouldn’t be so bad if I was enthusiastic about my boyfriend, but, y’know!

  Why did I write that? Why did I have to let Fickle know that? This wasn’t Joey I was talking to now. Fickle would seize on it, I knew. And she did.

  Fickle: You’re not so hot on him, then? I do remember you saying something to me about him now, but it was a while ago, I think.

  Barnaby Rudge: See? I told you I had! Yeah, I’m kinda lukewarm on him, I guess!

  Fickle: Aaaaaand yet you’re still going out with him?

  Barnaby Rudge: Yeah, yeah I know.

  Fickle: You shouldn’t be with him if you’re not hot on him, Immy! Life’s too short. Get out there and have fun!

  Barnaby Rudge: That’s what someone else told me today as well!

  I knew they were both right, of course, both Fickle and Joey. But it’s not easy dumping someone, i
s it? I knew darn well I had to finish with Matt, but every time I thought about ringing him, my blood ran cold. I’d even thought about texting him, but that would just be too cruel.

  I might be totally pickled with confusion, and as miserable as sin, but I’m not that much of a bitch.

  Chapter Eight

  I eventually finished talking to Fickle around nine that night, missing dinner with my parents with the excuse that I wanted to get my assignment finished and printed before the next day. Aunty Julia had long gone by then, allowing me to indulge in stupid but wonderful Fickle chatter, totally uninterrupted. Brilliant.

  Twiggy had logged on shortly after six, so I’d had the pleasure of her company for a few hours too, something I was grateful for, having not spoken to her in what seemed like ages. Despite my obsession with Fickle, I was still extremely fond of Twiggy, with her silly jokes and funny ways. After all, I reasoned, if it hadn’t have been for Twiggy first contacting me on the board and introducing me to the wonderful world of MSN, I might never have hung around long enough to ever meet Fickle. For that alone, I was incredibly grateful.