The Accidental Life of Jessie Jefferson by Paige Toon

thought it might’ve been Amanda,’ I reply, trying not to look like it bothers me.
    ‘Do you want to have a cuppa with us, Libs?’ Marilyn asks, the hope in her voice obvious.
    ‘Er, alright then,’ she says, pulling up a chair.
    I have no idea what we’re going to talk about.
    ‘Are you going out tonight?’ she asks me.
    ‘I don’t know,’ I reply. ‘I might catch up with Natalie.’ Libby’s face falls a little at the mention of Natalie. ‘What about you?’ I ask quickly.
    ‘Amanda and I are going to see a film.’
    ‘Are you?’ Marilyn chips in. ‘Jessie was just saying she hasn’t been to the cinema for ages. What are you going to see?’
    ‘ Two Things ,’ Libby replies, and I feel a bit gutted as I remember that Tom talked about going to see that with me. I hope I haven’t missed my chance with him. ‘Come, if you like,’ she says casually to me, and out of the blue I really, really want to. I just wish Amanda wasn’t going, too.
    ‘Thanks. Maybe.’ I follow Marilyn with my eyes as she wanders out of the room. I look back at Libby to see her studying her fingernails and I remember the last time I gave her a manicure. We were having a girls’ night in, the week before my fated birthday party. ‘Want me to paint them for you?’ I’m taken aback to hear the question come out of my mouth. Libby looks startled, too.
    ‘Um, OK,’ she says.
    My face breaks into a grin, and she instantly mirrors me.
    ‘Shall we go upstairs?’ she suggests.
    I kick off my shoes at the bottom of the stairs, and you’d think they were made out of lead, because I feel significantly lighter with every step up the stairs I take. We reach Libby’s tiny bedroom at the top of the landing, overlooking the road. Her brothers share the larger room at the back of the house. Libby’s room looks and smells the same: I’m pleased to see that in her world, at least, nothing much seems to have changed.
    ‘You still love Joseph Strike,’ I note, shutting the door and coming face to face with a poster of the actor in all his toned and tanned, bare-chested glory.
    ‘Always,’ she replies, bouncing on the bed as she sits down. Her room is tiny, just enough room for a bed under the window, small wardrobe to my left, plastered with pictures of One Direction and McFly, and overcrowded desk to my right. She reaches over and pulls a make-up bag off the desk. I sit down on the bed next to her and cross my legs. She digs around and brings out nail varnish remover and some cotton wool and we set about removing our polish.
    ‘You’ve been biting your nails again,’ she notices with a frown.
    ‘Yeah,’ I reply, and then I know that I’m going to tell her why.
    ‘What?’ she asks with widened eyes, seeing the look on my face.
    ‘I’ve found out who my real dad is.’
    ‘ What ?’ She grabs both of my hands in hers, her reaction the opposite to Natalie’s, the blood draining from her face because she knows what a big deal this is. ‘How? Who ?’
    ‘Stu told me,’ I breathe.
    ‘But I thought . . . I didn’t . . .’ she stutters.
    ‘No, I didn’t know he knew either. I never thought to ask him. But he does, and you won’t believe it . . .’
    ‘Why? What? Who is it?’ She’s dying to know. I’ve never heard so many who, what, whens, hows and whys before in my life.
    ‘You won’t believe me,’ I say again.
    ‘Yes, I will. You know I will.’ She grips my hands a little tighter.
    ‘You can’t tell anyone,’ I warn.
    ‘I won’t!’ she exclaims.
    My face falls, because she’s probably going to think that I’m taking the mick once I tell her, and I really don’t want that. Not with Libby.
    I take a deep breath. ‘It’s Johnny Jefferson.’
    She doesn’t seem to know what to say. I think she’s still trying to put two and two together. Then she looks away from me, hurt registering across her face. She does think I’m taking the mick and she’s not finding it funny. I can understand why – me