Undone by Cat Clarke Page A

that explained some of the weirdness. Kai and caffeine never did mix well.
    When he finally let me go, he put his hands on my shoulders and it couldn’t have felt more different from that little scene with Stu in the corridor. ‘I love you, Jem. If I was one of those horrible heteros, I wouldravish you this instant!’ He buried his face in my neck and pretended to ravish, whatever that meant.
    I squirmed and jumped away. ‘Get off me, you big idiot! And don’t lie – if you were straight you would
totally
end up with someone like Sasha Evans.’
    He tilted his head to the side and considered this for a moment. ‘Yeah, you’re probably right. I’m, like, waaaaay out of your league.’ I tried to hit him but he danced out of the way. ‘But if you sorted out that hair . . . I totally
would
.’
    I shook my head and turned to walk down the garden path. ‘You know I’m kidding, right? You’re beautiful.’ His voice was different then, more serious. I turned back and looked at him. His face was serious too.
    ‘You are a big fat liar, Kai McBride.’ I stuck my tongue out at him.
    Then I walked away. Without a backwards glance.
    I never saw him again.

chapter thirteen
    I called him a liar. That was the last thing I ever said to him. Sure, we texted loads the next day, but that’s not the same, is it?
You are a big fat liar, Kai McBride
. I was joking, and he
knew
I was joking. But that doesn’t make me feel any better.
    I knew something wasn’t quite right. I knew I shouldn’t have let him shoo me out of the house. My excuse? I was so bloody relieved he wasn’t in the state he’d been in the night before. I wanted to believe that he really
was
feeling better about everything. I thought he was trying to talk himself into it, and if he needed me to play along, then that’s exactly what I’d do.
    It was only later that night that I realized he hadn’t asked me about school. Which was the first thing I’d have done as soon as he’d walked through the door, if the situation had been reversed. I might not have
wanted
to know how bad it was, but I would have
needed
to know. I’d have needed to know what I was up against, how I was going to get through the next few days and weeks and months.
    That’s what should have set every single alarm bell ringing – if I had half a brain. But I shrugged it off, blaming his overly caffeinated state. And when he still didn’t ask during the flurry of text messages the next day? I was glad. Relieved I didn’t have to explain that everyone was still talking about him. People were
still
coming up to me and asking questions or saying horrible, ugly things or smirking from a distance like Stu.
    Friday night was a family night out – something I usually enjoyed, despite moaning and whinging about it every time. Without even planning to, I seemed to have made it my mission to never ever show any enthusiasm for anything arranged by my parents. Still, despite my best efforts, I think they secretly knew that I sort of liked spending time with them. I liked it when we were all sitting at a table together. There was something appealing about the ritual of it. Dad would pour Mum a glass of wine, Noah would crunch his ice cubes before drinking his Coke. Mum would tell him he’d break his teeth if he wasn’t careful. I would sit and observe. It was nice.
    The venue for this particular family night out was Mr Chow’s. Dad and I loved Chinese food, while Mum and Noah weren’t all that fussed about it. But it was OK, because they’d get their choice (Mexican) next week. We had the best table in the whole place – the one in the bay window.
    I was sitting with my back to the restaurant, so I didn’t see them come in. Mum did though. ‘Oh look, there’s Louise! And who’s that she’s with? He’s rather good-looking, isn’t he?’ My grip tightened on my glass of water. I half turned in what was hopefully a subtle way, but Mum had to go and ruin it by waving and calling out,