before i die Jenny Downham

two

Zoey doesnt even knock, just comes in and plonks herself down on the end of the bed. She looks at me strangely, as if she hadnt expected to find me here.
Whatre you doing? she says. Why?
Dont you go downstairs any more? Did my dad phone you up?
Are you in pain?
No.
She gives me a suspicious look, then stands up and takes off her coat. Shes wearing a very short red dress. It matches the handbag shes dumped on my floor.
Are you going out? I ask her. Have you got a date?
She shrugs, goes over to the window and looks down at the garden. She circles a finger on the glass, then she says, Maybe you should try and believe in God.
Should I?
Yeah, maybe we all should. The whole human race.
I dont think so. I think he might be dead.
She turns round to look at me. Her face is pale, like winter. Behind her shoulder, an aeroplane winks its way across the sky.
She says, Whats that youve written on the wall?
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I dont know why I let her read it. I guess I want something to happen. Its in black ink. With Zoey looking, all the words writhe like spiders. She reads it over and over. I hate it how sorry she can be for me.
She speaks very softly. Its not exactly Disneyland, is it? Did I say it was?
I thought that was the idea.
Not mine.
I think your dads expecting you to ask for a pony, not a boyfriend.
Its amazing, the sound of us laughing. Even though it hurts, I love it. Laughing with Zoey is absolutely one of my favourite things, because I know weve both got the same stupid pictures in our heads. She only has to say, Maybe a stud farm might be the answer, and were both in hysterics.
Zoey says, Are you crying?
m not sure. I think I am. I sound like those women on the telly when their entire family gets wiped out. I sound like an animal gnawing its own foot off. Everything just floods in all at once – like how my fingers are just bones and my skin is practically see-through. Inside my left lung I can feel cells multiplying, stacking up, like ash slowly filling a vase. Soon I wont be able to breathe.
Its OK if youre afraid, Zoey says.
Its not.
Of course it is. Whatever you feel is fine. Imagine it, Zoey – being terrified all the time. I can.
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But she cant. How can she possibly, when she has her whole life left? I hide under my hat again, just for a bit, because Im going to miss breathing. And talking. And windows. Im going to miss cake. And fish. I like fish. I like their little mouths going, open, shut, open.
And where Im going, you cant take anything with you.
Zoey watches me wipe my eyes with the corner of the duvet.
Do it with me, I say.
She looks startled. Do what?
Its on bits of paper everywhere. Ill write it out properly and you can make me do it.
Make you do what? The thing you wrote on the wall?
Other stuff too, but the boy thing first. Youve had sex loads of times, Zoey, and Ive never even been kissed.
I watch my words fall into her. They land somewhere very deep.
Not loads of times, she says eventually.
Please, Zoey. Even if I beg you not to, even if Im horrible to you, you must make me do it. Ive got a whole long list of things I want to do.
When she says, OK, she makes it sound easy, as if I only asked her to visit me more often.
You mean it?
I said so, didnt I?
I wonder if she knows what shes letting herself in for.
I sit up in bed and watch her fiddle about in the back of my wardrobe. I think shes got a plan. Thats whats good about Zoey. Shed better hurry
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up though, because Im starting to think of things like carrots. And air. And ducks. And pear trees. Velvet and silk. Lakes. Im going to miss ice. And the sofa. And the lounge. And the way Cal loves magic tricks. And white things – milk, snow, swans.
From the back of the wardrobe, Zoey pulls out the wrap-dress Dad bought me last month. Its still got the price on.
ll wear this, she says. You can wear mine. She starts to unbutton her dress.
Are you taking me out?
Its Saturday night, Tess. Ever heard of it? Of course. Of course I have.
I havent been vertical for hours. It makes me feel a bit strange, sort of empty and ethereal. Zoey stands in her underwear and helps me put on the red dress. It smells of her. The material is soft and clings to me.
Why do you want me to wear this?
Its good to feel like youre somebody else sometimes. Someone like you?
She considers this. Maybe, she says. Maybe someone like me.
When I look at myself in the mirror, its great how different I look – big-eyed and dangerous. Its exciting, as if anything is possible. Even my hair looks good, dramatically shaved rather than only just growing. We look at ourselves, side by side, then she steers me away from the mirror and makes me sit down on the bed. She brings my make-up basket from the dressing table and sits next to me. I concentrate on her face as she smears foundation onto her finger and dabs at my cheeks. Shes very pale and very
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blonde and her acne makes her look kind of savage. Ive never had a spot in my life. Its the luck of the draw.
She lines my lips and fills in the space with lipstick. She finds some mascara and tells me to look right at her. I try to imagine what it might be like to be her. I often do this, but I can never really get my head round it. When she makes me stand up in front of the mirror again, I glitter. A little like her.
Where do you want to go? she says.
There are loads of places. The pub. A club. A party. I want a big dark room you can barely move in, with bodies grinding close together. I want to hear a thousand songs played incredibly loud. I want to dance so fast that my hair grows long enough to trample on. I want my voice to be thunderous above the throb of bass. I want to get so hot that I have to crunch ice in my mouth.
Lets go dancing, I say. Lets go and find some boys to have sex with.
All right. Zoey picks up her handbag and leads me from the bedroom.
Dad comes out of the lounge and halfway up the stairs. He pretends he was going to the loo, and acts all surprised to see us.
Youre up! he says. Its a miracle! And he nods grudging respect at Zoey. How did you manage it?
Zoey smiles at the floor. She just needed a little incentive.
Which is?
I lean on one hip and look him right in the eye. Zoeys taking me pole dancing.
Funny, he says.
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No, really.
He shakes his head, runs a hand in circles over his belly. I feel sorry for him, because he doesnt know what to do.
OK, I say. Were going clubbing.
He looks at his watch as if thatll tell him something new.
ll look after her, Zoey says. She sounds so sweet and wholesome I almost believe her.
No, he says. She needs to rest. A club will be smoky and loud. If she needs to rest, why did you phone me?
I wanted you to talk to her, not take her away!
Dont worry, she laughs. ll bring her back.
I can feel all the happiness sliding out of me because I know Dads right. Id have to sleep for a week if I went clubbing. If I use up too much energy, I always pay for it later.
Its OK, I say. It doesnt matter.
Zoey grabs my arm and pulls me behind her down the stairs. ve got my mums car, she says. ll bring her home by three.
My dad tells her no, its too late; he tells her to bring me back by midnight. He says it several times as Zoey gets my coat from the closet in the hall. As we go through the front door, I call goodbye, but he doesnt answer. Zoey shuts the door behind us.
Midnights OK, I tell her.
She turns to me on the step. Listen, girl, if youre going to do this properly, youre going to have to learn to break the rules.
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I dont mind being back by midnight. Hell only worry.
Let him – it doesnt matter. There are no consequences for someone like you!
ve never thought about it like that before.
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