The Other Me

Chapter Seven

Chapter 7

The doorbell rang at about 8am the next day.

Regretfully, I went to answer the door. My parents were out- my dad was out doing something for his work and my mum had decided that we desperately needed baking powder, so she had gone out to get some. That left me to take care of visitors.

“Nat!” I cried in surprise when I had wrenched open the door, my heart sinking. “What are you doing here?”

“What the hell Rose?” Nat said, confused. She was wearing yet another black dress which was studded with silver stars. “I come here every Saturday at this time, which I have been doing for years. What is up with you? You’ve been acting so weird lately.”

“Oh crap.”

I couldn’t believe I forgot. I mean really? I had to get her to leave though. Rosaline and I were supposed to go and watch Barratt’s house. We were hoping he was going to follow his itinerary; which would make this a lot easier for us. We were going to get there at 10:30, just in case he left early and we hoped that his wife would go with him. Rosaline had already found out where he lived, which was unfortunately quite far from here; in the nicest part of town where the rich snobs live.

“What’s crap? It’s okay, you know you can tell me anything,” Nat took my arm and patted it gently and reassuringly. A lump rose in my throat and I stared longingly at her kind face.

How I wished I could tell her everything. I usually told her about every minute of my sorry life. I could hardly sleep at night because I spent hours thinking about and agonising over what was going to happen on Tuesday. I knew I would feel so much better, if I leaked out everything to her. She was like my therapist.

But I couldn’t. What can I say to her? That I was worried I wasn’t going to save her life in time from a freak ‘accident’, that I knew was going to happen? That the murdering bastard was her indeed her high-school principal? That a future version of myself is upstairs in my bedroom, currently wearing my clothes and trying to find ones that didn’t make her look fat (and failing)? She would freak. No, worse. She would laugh and totally not believe me. And Rosaline would kill me.

“Nothing is wrong,” I choked. “I think I’m not well. Maybe I should go back to bed or something…”

“Oh no you don’t.” Nat pushed me aside and strode into my house. “We haven’t spoken properly in ages. And I seriously don’t believe you.” She turned to face me.  “There is something wrong; you know you can’t hide these things from me. I’m your best friend? Remember?”

I eyed the floor dubiously, avoiding Nat’s gaze. This girl knew me well. Too well in fact.

“Nat,” I tried one more time. “I really am ill. Look at me! Look how pale I am! And my voice is… funny. I’m really sick. Now please can I go back to bed, I swear we can talk later…”

“You don’t look pale at all,” interrupted Nat. “And your voice is funny ‘cause you’re lying to me. Tell me what is up or I’ll slap you!” Trust Nat to make this conversation violent.

“Okay! I’ll tell you,” I told her in a clipped voice. Great, now I had to make up more lies.

“Finally!” Nat sighed. I stomped my way up the stairs, Nat at my heels; furiously trying to think of a good story. I expected Rosaline to have hidden away in my room somewhere; since I knew she had been listening to our conversation. But to my astonishment when we stepped into my bedroom; she hadn’t hidden away at all. ‘Ronny’ was waiting for us there. Baggy clothes, awful stubble and all.

“Hey,” Rosaline said in her deep old man’s voice, but I could detect a smirk creeping up on her pale face. My cheeks burned red and I glowered at her with pure hatred. That bitch! Of course she wanted to make things more difficult for me.