Don't Ask by Hilary Freeman

that? ‘Massively,’ I lied, although it was perfectly true to say I hadn’t recognised her, because it really was the very first time I’d seen her.
‘I mean you look so different.’ I paused and then embellished my lie with flattery. ‘You’re much prettier now.’
    ‘Thanks, Laura. So are you. I guess we’ve both grown up and changed a lot.’
    ‘Yes, it’s a long time ago. A whole world away.’
    I didn’t want to dwell on this subject, it was too uncomfortable. ‘You were telling me about the holiday you’d planned for the summer,’ I said, sounding like a
hairdresser making smalltalk. ‘Tell me more . . .’
    We chatted for a while about nothing in particular – music we’d bought, books we’d read, films we’d been to see. Alex laughed a lot; she seemed to find me, or Laura, very
amusing. It felt much like being with any new friend in a café, the only difference being that this one kept calling me Laura. I imagined that this was what it must be like to be in a
witness protection programme, with a new identity and a new history (if you ignore the fact that I was still in the process of committing the crime). It surprised me how quickly I was starting to
get used to my new name, how it was beginning to feel like it belonged to me, the way a new nickname does when people use it often enough. It wasn’t just the name: I was starting to inhabit
Laura too. In just one day, she had fleshed out considerably. She wasn’t just a user name on the internet any more, or the label at the top of a message; she had individual characteristics
which were distinct from mine, and most of which had been acquired by accident. She dressed differently from me, was clumsy and short-sighted and she even spoke more slowly and precisely, mainly
because I had to think so carefully about every word she said. If I lived as Laura for a few weeks or a few months, I wondered, would I actually become her? Was I being myself when I talked to
Alex, or Laura? Or was I a mix of the two? Had inventing Laura changed me?
    My thoughts were interrupted by a loud bleeping from my phone. Why hadn’t I remembered to put it on silent?
    ‘You’ve got a text,’ said Alex, who either thought I was a bit deaf or just liked stating the obvious. I fumbled my bag and pulled out the badly behaved device, making sure
that Alex couldn’t see the screen. Horror of horrors, it was a message from Jack.
    U still wth KT? Cnt w8 2 c u 2nite. xxxx
    Should I ignore it? Or would that make it more obvious that I had something to hide?
    ‘Ah, it’s from Jared,’ I said. ‘He wants to know if I enjoyed the match. And he says hi to you.’ God, I was getting good. Or should that be evil?
    ‘Tell him hi back,’ she said. ‘I’d love to meet him some time.’
    Over my dead body, I thought. ‘Definitely,’ I said. ‘We’ll have to arrange it. Do you mind if I just text him back?’
    She shook her head.
    I quickly texted.
Y. Me 2. Cll u l8tr xxxx
And then, pretending that I was still labouring over my message, I modified my address book so that ‘Jack’ became simply
‘J’.
    J for Jack. J for Jared. And, it now strikes me, J for Judas.
    ‘Hey,’ said Alex, as I started to turn my phone off. ‘I’ve just twigged: we don’t have each other’s numbers. Now that we’ve met it would be nice to be
able to talk to you, as well as message each other.’
    ‘That’s right, we don’t,’ I said, as if I was surprised. It hadn’t been an oversight; I deliberately hadn’t asked Alex for her number or offered her mine. My
reason was simple: what if Alex rang or texted me while I was with Jack?
    ‘Here, take mine,’ she said.
    I couldn’t say no. Thinking quickly, I opened a new entry in my address book and typed in
Jared.
That way, there would be no trace of Alex’s name on my phone. The name would
also serve as an alert: either to switch off my phone altogether, or, if I was alone, to become Laura. When, later, I told Katie what