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

“What? Yeah, OK, of course.” My headache intensified, a sharp throbbing tapped itself against my left eye socket.

“Thank you for coming... There,” Hannah was back, the vibrant young thing, already jumping out of her chair to help me with my feedback sheet. “OK, so, I think I did well with my questions today, but I KNOW you saw me check the time. Sorry. I just panicked when you went quiet. Don’t you? God, it’s so hard, isn’t it? Your turn.” The pairs around us were also swapping places. I wiggled out of my chair and tried to shake the sticky mood off me so I’d be a good listener for Hannah. Last week she’d spoken about her housemate always eating her leftovers, making me grateful for Ben. Nobody tells you that the best thing about finding long-term love is not having to share a fridge and bathroom with four strangers anymore.

“I must say,” Hannah said, adjusting her chair. “It’s quite intriguing, isn’t it? Your friend turning up after all this time. I know I’m not supposed to comment, but I’d be a bit freaked out too.”

I laughed. Pleased that perfect Hannah had just broken the rules. “It’s the most dramatic thing that’s happened in a while, that’s for sure.”

“I wonder what she wants?” Hannah asked, before adding, “Shall we start?” And, as I settled into my listening posture, I realized Hannah had, without meaning to, asked the most perfect question of all.

14

november 2000

My shoulders slumped as I took in my appearance in the mirror. I was disgusting. I also felt this huge disconnect between myself and my reflection, a strange detachment from my body. There wasn’t enough black eye makeup in the world to truly portray how I felt inside. The pentagram necklace I’d found in the hippie shop helped things along a little bit, but I still had this painful knowledge that nobody really understood what I was going through.

“Fern,” my mother said, as I sloped into the kitchen before meeting Jessica to go shopping. “I love you dearly, but you look like you’ve been punched in both eyes.”

“Well you look like you’ve killed and skinned Laura Ashley herself, and are wearing her like a coat.”

“Fern!”

“What? I’m just saying, jogging bottoms exist. They are comfortable. You may want to relax sometimes.”

“It’s hard to relax when your daughter is slouching around looking like a deranged panda.” She laughed, to try and make it a joke, then attempted to hug me, but I shrugged it off. We both bristled and stung from the incident.

“Can I have some money? For town? We’re going shopping for Eric’s party tonight.”

“Have you already spent what I gave you last week?”