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

It wasn’t technically just that. It was actually dated 2000–2005, but those were my Jessica years, and, as I took the lid off it may as well be dedicated to her. A harsh smell hit my nostrils, and I winced, searching through the wads of paper and other junk, until I found the source right in the bottom corner. A withered old spliff, with the words “in case of emergency” written in Jessica’s handwriting. As I picked it up, it unraveled and erupted ancient cannabis dust onto my hand, making me swear and dash to the toilet to flush it all. I laughed out loud on my return, shaking my head at her. I started rifling through properly, past stacks of old photographs of Amy and me, with Kim lurking at the side, replaced with photos of Jessica and me, and the years we discovered baggy jeans and eyeliner. I traced her face with my finger. God, she really had been beautiful. But, as I held a photo at arm’s length, I realized for the first time that so had I. The girl smiling anxiously next to her wasn’t an ugly friend. She certainly didn’t match the way I remembered looking, which was pudgy and plain. I was never going to get model scouted outside the Oxford Street Topshop, but I was pretty. How hadn’t I seen it at the time? I dropped the photographs and started rifling around the box with more urgency, not even sure what I was looking for. I found Jessica’s old breakfast bowl. I found the azure friendship bracelet. I found the chopped plastic strip of the Reading musical festival wristband. Then I found a stack of papers, all with Jessica’s handwriting. Notes she’d passed me in lessons, “spells” she had created for us to do at the weekend, and, at the bottom, a letter I’d completely forgotten about. My mouth fell open as I unfolded the A4 sheet of paper. I’d found it the morning after our psychic sleepover. The night I’d finally opened up to Jessica and told her all about my mental health struggles.

Fern’s Reasons To Live

Hi Fern,

I’m going to leave this under your pillow like a CREEP but I really hope you read it. Thank you for being so honest with me last night. I’ve decided to write a list of ten reasons why you should NOT DIE, just in case you ever feel like that again.