Chapter One

Chapter One

Effie

B y my reckoning, there were four types of people: quiet people like me, normal people like Dex, louder people like my cousin Chantell, and the loudest people like my nan. I couldn't stand the loudest people. I needed quiet, otherwise it was just an overload in my head and I had enough overload going on with itchy clothes, stray hairs tickling at me, and every single time the bell went at sixth form. I didn't use noise cancelling headphones because, firstly, I needed to be able to hear my teachers and I suppose, technically, the bells, and secondly, they would have only made me stick out even more than I already did. I say Dex was normal, but in reality he might actually have been kind of quiet. He was my best friend, and he got it. It was one of the things I loved about him. He didn't act like I was weird. He was a good egg.

He had geography when I had biology so I was texting him under the table. Very much not allowed but I was sly enough about it to make it work. The trick was to keep your screen on low brightness so it didn't attract attention—and to put it on silent, obviously. You'd have thought more people would have known that but there was always at least one person per week getting their phone confiscated because it had gone off in class. Teachers were brutal. Even if you had to get it out of your bag to give to them, so you clearly weren't using it, they still took it off you. I'd had to learn to be evasive because if someone took my phone I'd be lost. It was my lifeline to my comfortable places when I was out in what I thought of as The Wild. To Dex, to my mum, to Tumblr. Yeah, I still used Tumblr. Don't judge me.

Mr Stainer was droning on about cells. Did you know that mitochondria are the powerhouse of the cell? Yes, of course you did because apparently that was the single most important part of biology and it came up at least three times a year. Even the lessons I'd chosen to take were a pain in the backside.

Dex: Wanna come over tonight?

We spent most of our time at Dexter's. Mum had decided to decorate the living room and she was driving me mad with it: the mess, the noise, the smell of the paint, all terrible. I hated it.

Effie: Yes, please.

Dex: Do we need to go home for anything?

A smile flickered across my face. He was always thinking ahead.

Effie: I've got my book with me. I'm good.

Dex: Awesome, meet me at the library.

Like I needed telling; we always met at the library. It was my favourite place on school grounds because you weren't allowed to talk there. I just had to survive another thirty minutes of this science crap and then I was free to go and be comfortable. I tried to stay still in my seat but I was a natural fidget. Grandad had called me a jitterbug when he was still alive. I missed him a lot. He was like me; he knew how it felt to be overwhelmed almost all the time. I didn't know how he'd survived with Nan for so long. The woman was a walking alarm.

"Effie, focus!" Mr Stainer's boring voice snapped me out of my daze and I flinched at the sound. I could hear snickers behind me and they itched at the back of my neck.

I nodded but didn't say anything. I was doing better, but there were still the odd days when I could only speak to Dexter. My teacher tried to mask his exasperation but we all knew it was there. Most of the teachers were very patient with me, but even the best of them had their moments, and unfortunately, Mr Stainer was painfully average.

I tried to focus on the lesson. My notes were woefully lacking so my chicken scratch became even messier as I tried to scrawl down everything on the board before the bell rang. I knew my exams were coming up and if the teachers were to be believed, they would set the trajectory of my whole life. They'd said that about GCSEs, too, but the exams just kept flipping coming, didn't they? Mum kept telling me not to worry about them but it was impossible not to. Every lesson began with that reminder that everything was important and ended with a reminder to be vigilant with our revision. How was I meant to not be worried? I even had this recurring dream that I turned up for one of my exams without my pen and no one would let me borrow one so I had to just sit in the exam hall and try not cry. I always woke up panicking and had to put on Bob's Burgers before I could get back to sleep. It was my comfort show and I was obsessed.

I just about finished my notes as the bell rang, signalling the end of the day. My shorthand was probably questionable and I doubted anyone else would be able to make sense of what I'd written but they were good enough for me to get by. I left the classroom quickly in the hopes of getting through the corridors before they became jam packed with other students eager to get home. I was lucky this time; the science labs were next to the stairs and there was a door just off from the bottom that led outside. I walked the long way around to the library and I still beat Dexter there by three minutes.

"Sorry," he said when he finally got there, just as I was getting tense. "Heeler kept us behind because someone spat chewing gum on the floor."

"Gross." I wrinkled my nose; people were disgusting sometimes. Like he did whenever we were together, Dex grabbed my hand and swung our arms between us as we walked. It wasn't that we were boyfriend and girlfriend but being touched by him kept me grounded. He got laughed at for it all the time. It was bad enough for him that he hung around with the weird girl, and this only made it worse. I'd tried to stop him. I hated seeing people be mean to him, but he was adamant that he didn't care. He did have other friends but we were different. We had been close since primary school and we knew each other better than we knew ourselves. Sometimes, I secretly thought that touching me was good for him, too. I liked the idea that I helped him a little bit. I never mentioned it to him, though, in case it wasn't true. He told me about his last lesson on the way home and I smiled and nodded as I listened. It was easy talking with him like that because I didn't really have to say much at all. He had a nice voice, too, soft spoken and gentle. Ideal for me and my delicate brain. We were nearly at Dexter's house when someone shoved past me with too much force to be an accident. I tripped and would have fallen flat on my face if he hadn't held me up.

"Watch it!" he snapped at the person who was ahead of us now. I glanced up and realised it was one of the snotty bitches from our year, Eva. They all hung around in this clique and thought they could be vile because they wore a lot of makeup and bleached their hair. Nicole even had a belly button piercing, which she thought made her incredibly mature and therefore better than everyone else. Although I had heard her crying in the toilets when she first got it done because it got infected.

Karma's a bitch but she sure works hard.

They didn't like me, and I didn't like them either. My version of not liking people was to be passive and avoid them as much as possible. Their version of not liking someone was to go out of their way to be rude and nasty.

The blonde girl turned at Dexter's words. "You watch it, dickhead." Then she laughed, flipped her hair as she turned away, and sauntered off. Her laugh made me cringe. So high pitched.

"I hate those girls," he muttered, shuffling a little closer to me on the pavement. I squeezed his hand that I was still holding tightly onto. "I wish they were nicer to you."

"It's okay. I have you." It was my usual response but one that was sincere every time I said it. He was the only friend I needed. He smiled at me in the sad way he always did when we had these conversations. He had his online friends, and other boys that he talked to in school. I knew he worried about me not really having anyone else. "Cheer up. I'll make nachos when we get in if you want?" I knew that would cheer him up and I was right.

"With cheese sauce?"

"I can't eat nachos without cheese sauce. You know that."

"I know. The cheese gods must be appeased."

Dexter had this way of accepting my eccentricities and making them sound more ridiculous than they were, but by doing so, making them seem much less overwhelming. For example, when I ate something that made my teeth feel wrong and I had to brush my teeth immediately, he called it having furry teeth. It was so stupid, but it made me feel better because it was funny.

We had to take our shoes off in Dexter's house. At first it had been awful for me, until Dexter's mum had bought me some slippers to keep there so my feet wouldn't have to touch the floor but her carpets would still be clean. Sandra was a saint; she had endless patience for my weird friendship with her son. I didn't know if she understood fully how much I relied on him, and I knew Dexter didn't.

I didn't just love him; I was in love with him. I knew it was ridiculous, because how could I even know if I was in love at sixteen? But it felt like they said it would in books. I thought he was the most handsome boy I'd ever seen and he treated me so nicely. I couldn't tell him, obviously, because if I did, he wouldn't say it back and I'd lose him. I wasn't stupid enough to think otherwise. I knew I was unlovable. It was why Dad had left. I'd heard him tell Mum I was too difficult one night when I was being nosy, sitting at the top of the stairs, and the next day he'd gone. At least this way I still got to be near him, and spend time with him. I just had to hold it in like I did everything else.

Wren was on me the moment I was over the threshold. Wren was Dexter's springer spaniel, and she was off her rocker. She was obsessed with me whenever I was there, following me around and sitting at my feet. I liked to think it was because she knew I needed comfort but I didn't know enough about dogs to confirm it.

She was a gorgeous little lady with soulful brown eyes and silky, floppy ears. She wasn't the best smelling thing in the world but something about her scent calmed me and made me feel at home.

"Wren, can we get our shoes off before you start?" Dexter sounded put out. I think he took it a little personally that his dog was so attached to me. I bent down to scratch under her little chin. She was only two, still a baby by my standards, but Dexter was convinced she should be more obedient. He wanted to take her to obedience classes but his mum refused to pay for them. Her logic was that he could learn how to train her online. Personally, I thought Wren was a certified good girl. She sat, stayed, and gave a paw when asked, and she had great recall. She just got a little excited sometimes.

"You're just the bestest girl in the whole world, aren't you?" I couldn't help myself. She had a face that deserved to be smothered in kisses. "Yes, you are. Yes you are."

"She wasn't the bestest girl this morning when she nicked my sock as I was putting it on."

"Maybe she had cold feet. You don't know her life." I did love winding him up about his dog. Apparently I treated her too much like a person and that wasn't good for her.

"She doesn't have feet Effie, she has paws."

"She has beautiful little feeties and you know it." Wren wandered off, presumably in search of food. Her little tummy never seemed full. "I wish Mum would let me have a pet."

That was unfair; it wasn't mum that wouldn't let me have one. It was the landlord. It had taken two years for him to let her redecorate as it was. Asking for a pet would probably have been pushing it a little too far.

"We'll get you a pet when we move out," he promised, like he did whenever I got mardy over something at home. He was convinced that when we moved out to go to uni, we would live together, and then after that we would keep on living together presumably until one of us died or got married. Given what we were like, it was unclear which would happen first. He wrapped his arms around my waist from behind—he was the only person who could do that to me without me wanting to slap him—and rested his chin on my shoulder. "I'll add it to the list,"

Yes, there was a list of requirements for our future house. It included huge bookshelves for me, a home cinema for him, and now pets.

I let myself relax into his hold and closed my eyes. I hadn't realised how tired I was until I stopped doing things. "Nap before nachos?"

I nodded and let him pull me to the living room. Sandra had the comfiest sofas known to man, huge things with fabric cushion covers. There were at least three blankets slung over the backs and arms of the suites. Add to that the throw pillows that were covered in faux fur and it was heaven. The seats were so big that Dexter and I had gotten into the habit of sharing one recliner and falling asleep together. Those were my favourite days, when I could just close my eyes, enjoy the feel of him next to me and pretend there was nothing else in the world but us and Wren.

Dexter grabbed the remote and I heard the introduction to The Simpsons . Usually, that meant that he was tired, too. I knew him well enough to know that The Simpsons meant he was settling in for a solid nap. He had been looking tired recently. There were dark circles under his eyes that I wasn't used to seeing. I was sure it was the exam pressure getting to him. He worked so hard, he was bound to get amazing grades. I didn't know anyone more determined than him and while I did want to do well and make my mum proud of me, I just couldn't commit to school work like Dexter did. That's why he was the smart one and I was the creative one. Not that he wasn't creative in his own way, but his creations were more practical, like turning a drill bit into an attachment for the electric whisk. I was better at making homely little things like blankets and cushion covers. That was why Sandra had a little crochet handbag hanging on her coat rack and why Dexter had a little pouch attached to his mouse mat so his hand didn't get cold when he was gaming. I was basically a little old housewife just waiting for a husband who would never arrive and retirement that seemed to get further away every time it was mentioned on the news.

I found crocheting a soothing activity. When I was feeling especially anxious, the repetitive motion calmed my mind and distracted me from whatever was stressing me out. I wished I could find an activity like that for Dexter.

"Are you comfortable?" I always worried that my boney elbows would dig into him.

"Always comfortable with you," he mumbled into my hair, crushing me a little bit closer to him. Wren shuffled herself closer, too. She was a velcro dog whenever I came over.

It was warm, and cosy under the blanket, like being inside a hot water bottle. Before I knew it, I'd fallen asleep in our little pile.