BooksBarbecue
Back When We Were Friends
Chapters (52)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. Dedication
  4. About the Author
  5. 31
  6. 14
  7. 31
  8. 14
  9. 31
  10. 14
  11. 31
  12. 14
  13. 31
  14. 15
  15. 31
  16. 16
  17. 32
  18. 16
  19. 32
  20. 17
  21. 32
  22. 17
  23. 32
  24. 17
  25. 32
  26. 17
  27. 32
  28. 18
  29. 32
  30. 18
  31. 32
  32. 18
  33. 32
  34. 18
  35. 32
  36. 18
  37. 32
  38. 18
  39. 32
  40. 18
  41. 32
  42. 18
  43. 32
  44. 18
  45. 32
  46. 32
  47. 33
  48. 33
  49. 33
  50. Acknowledgments
  51. Discussion Questions
  52. Booklist

I ran so fast through the village I was probably a cartoon ball of dust to the sunburned groups drinking Aperol Spritzs on the pub tables outside. My feet hurt as they hit the hot pavement. My lungs were already at capacity from the unexpected cardio.

I got to the park, and the full force of the heartbreak hit me then. Ben... I loved him and I couldn’t believe he’d...she’d... I knew it. I knew this was going to happen...

I stumbled onto the grass, weaving my way through circles of hipsters drinking and playing Mölkky. Then I came to a small overgrown area and bent over on the edge of it, thinking I was going to puke. My chest heaved, back arched, tears fell into the dust. I hacked up spit and phlegm and pieces of my broken heart as this new reality sank into my bones.

I was so stupid. So stupid to let Jessica back in. The rage arrived. The rage I’d worked so many years to push down. The rage I’d ignored when Jessica turned up all those months ago. I let out a groan of emotion, fists clenched. Tears streaming down my face. Incapable of anything other than bending over in the vortex of feeling. I spit again. Cried again. Then I heard...

“Fern?”

My body was allergic to her voice. I rippled at my name. Wiped my mouth. Stood up. She’d caught me up. I turned around. Jessica’s eyes were the widest they’d ever been.

“Fern, please, just listen to me.”

18

december 2004

Jessica, as usual, looked a million times better than me. She wore a silk cami top, piled with loads of pearls and eye makeup, paired with this perfect pair of tight pedal pushers and some great heels. I felt basic and dumpy in my dropped-waist miniskirt and thick-strapped top.

“Ta-da!” Jessica turned around to reveal her finished face, makeup brush still in hand.

“Oh piss off, you’re too pretty.”

She laughed and didn’t deny it. “I just wish we had coke,” she sighed. “Imagine how much fun we’d be having with coke right now.”

I blinked blearily. This was the third time she’d brought this up since we’d finished the wine. She’d complained so much about the night being “too tame” that I’d even run down to the halls bar and brought up another bottle. I was already exhausted and vexed by her. More friends had tried to come in and say hi, but seemed taken aback by how drunk we were. Jessica hardly acknowledged them. There had been more than one weird look, and I panicked that my carefully curated new life would crumble if Jessica carried on being like this.

We eventually congregated downstairs, and I introduced Jessica to everyone else. She only brought out her dazzle when some of the boys arrived, asking them about their courses, sticking her chest out.