Follow Me Back by Nicci Cloke Page B

okay, because I’ve already turned my music off to hear himbetter.
    ‘Oh yeah?’ he’s saying, and he stretches to look out of the window. ‘Cool, babe. Down in a sec.’
    He hangs up and stoops to pick up his towel and water bottle from the floor. As he makes his way out, he passes just that bit too close to my machine and makes a quick, almost imperceptible gesture with his hand, one that’s meant just for me.
Wanker
.
    I count to twenty, rushing throughmy stretches, and then I get up and head for the window. I look out just in time to see Deacon coming out of the Rec’s doors below me, the sweat on his back like a dark bird, its wings outstretched. He pauses to tip water into his mouth, a long, showy stream, like he thinks he’s on the pitch, and then he jogs over to a car that’s idling in a space at the front of the car park.
    If I’m expecting– okay, hoping – to see Cheska’s yellow convertible, then I’m disappointed. It’s a pale blue Beetle, and although the driver is blonde, it’s not Cheska. It’s Lauren. So they’re back together… if they ever split up in the first place.
    I go and collect my stuff, and I’m about to head back to the main room to do some core work, when I notice the girl from Year 13 smiling at me.
    ‘It’s Aiden, isn’tit?’ she says, and I tug one of my earphones out.
    ‘Yeah. Hi.’
    ‘I’m Emily. I’m in the year above you?’
    ‘Yeah, sure.’
    ‘I worked on
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
with you.’
    So that’s where I know her from. ‘I’m surprised you remember,’ I say. ‘I didn’t exactly have a big part.’
    She laughs. ‘Well, I did the set design so I wasn’t the star of the show either. I came to see you guys the nextyear though, you were great.’
    I feel like I’m sinking, slowly, my heart heavy. ‘Thanks.’
    ‘Do you still act?’
    I shake my head. No. I couldn’t. Not now.
    ‘That’s a shame. You’re really talented.’
    ‘I had a good co-star,’ I manage to say, and then I turn to go. ‘See you around.’
    I can feel her watching me all the way out.

B Y EIGHT THIRTY , Scobie’s room is filled with half-empty plates and greasy wrappers. Half a giant pizza sits sweating in its box on the floor, along with a load of shiny bones, which are all that’s left to show for the ribs and chicken wings we’ve also munched our way through. If I didn’t play football, I would be clinically obese; I’ve got no idea how Scobie stays the same skinny shape he’s alwaysbeen.
    Scobie has carefully selected and downloaded Shark Week’s highlights, and we’re halfway through a programme about tiger sharks in Hawaii, with his Mac’s screen swivelled round on the desk and a load of pillows lined up against the wall to turn his bed into a sofa. We’d usually be more than welcome to use the actual sofa downstairs, but Frank’s still awake and sharks make him cry. PlusLiam’s got a girl round, so Jodie, Scobes’s mum, is on hyper-hostess alert.
    ‘Tiger vs tiger shark,’ Scobes says, through a mouth full of samosa, ‘who wins?’
    ‘In water or on land?’
    He thinks while he swallows. ‘Shallow water.’
    ‘Tiger.’
    ‘Interesting.’ He slumps onto one side to look at me. ‘Why so?’
    ‘Tigers can swim. And in shallow water, the tiger shark’s gonna be all edgy and trapped.’
    He shakes his head. ‘Tiger sharks love the shallows.’ As he says it, the screen shows the silhouette of a tiger shark moving stealthily towards a beach. ‘See?’
    ‘Nah, I still say tiger. Cos it can attack from above, like jump out of the water. And it has claws
and
teeth. It’s got all bases covered.’
    He nods. ‘Good points, well made. I still say shark, though.’
    ‘Well, that’s up to you, Scobes.You’re wrong, but that’s up to you.’
    He picks up the plate next to him and offers it to me. ‘Last chicken skewer?’
    ‘Is it satay or tikka?’
    ‘Hard to tell.’
    I take it, even though I feel like at this point I’m at least