She cradles her coffee cup in her bruised hands and takes a sip of her drink, and quickly swallows, sticking out her tongue and wrinkling up her face. “Oh sh!t, that’s boiling-” she murmurs, and smiles. “Tell me about you.” She repeats. It’s not a question, she’s not asking me to tell her about myself, she’s demanding it. I touch my tongue to my lips rather nervously. I don’t know what to say.
“I’m really boring-”
“Why do you think I’m here. You’re more interesting than maths-”
“Huge compliment-”
“You know what I mean. You’re new. You used to live in...” she squints slightly, thinking. “...Bradford?”
“Yeah-” how does she know? Had I told her? No...my mind flicks back to 24 hours previously, and the teacher saying in her nervous voices, tainted by her strangely southern accent. “This is Kimberley, she’s new, she’s come up here from Bradford.”
She remembered. Cheryl remembered.
“Tell me about it. Where did you live? With your parents, your mam?”
“My mam, and my little sister Amy, and-” I look down at the table, inspecting the coffee stains and feeling stupid because I can’t stop my voice from shaking. “My dad.” Cheryl looks at me, and on the table her hand twitches once again. She taps her fingers nervously.
“He doesn’t live with you anymore?” She tilts her head to one side.
“They broke up, my parents. We came up here, and my dad went to London.”
“That’s cool, so you can spend your weekends down in the city?” she smiles.
I laugh grimly. “Hardly likely. Not going to happen.” I say flatly, shrugging and taking a long gulp of my scalding drink.
“Why?” she touches her fingertips together and looks at me. I open my mouth. I close it. I open it once again. I touch my tongue to my lips.
“Not going to happen” I repeat, tracing circles on the table with my fingernails. I don’t want to look at her.
“Why?” she repeats. I shrug again.
“You know London, houses are expensive. He’s just got a teeny scummy flat.”
“Kim, I know Newcastle too, and no offence, but you’ve got a teeny scummy flat too. It doesn’t mean you can’t go see him.”
“Trains are expensive.”
“Sixteen quid if you get the coach and book early.”
“I don’t want to see him.” I say flatly. She glances at me, but doesn’t push me.
“Okay” she says simply. There’s a pause. I don’t like the silence. It screams all the things I’m never going to be brave enough to say.
“So...what about you? You live with, you live with your boyfriend?” I ask quietly.
“Ashley” she breathes his name softly. Lovingly. She watches me, moving her head a fraction. “No. Well, yes, but not really.”
“Complicated?”
“A little bit” she smiles quietly, grimly, and takes a long sip of her coffee. I watch as she swallows it and blinks at me. “It always is, isn’t it?” she laughs, looking down into her drink and shaking her head, making her chocolate curls pour over her shoulders.
“You have a mam?” I ask
“Yeah-” Cheryl’s dimples crease into her cheeks as she grins “me mam’s great. I’ve got me brothers too, I’ve got three brothers, and me big sister. And me dad.”
