My Beauty Queen

Three words. Three simple words that make me come running every time she snaps her fingers.

No, it's not I love you. I wish.

Come get me

As I read the text, I know instantly what's happened. I quickly key in a reply as I grab the keys to the beat-up Renault I inherited off my dad.

Where are you?

The reply comes back almost instantly, as I strap myself in the driver's seat of my car.

St. George's church. I know it's far. But please xxx Steph

I'll be there x Robin

I'm not sure about the kiss at the end. It's not exactly a guy-ish thing to do, even though she does it all the time. We're not even dating. No matter how much I might wish otherwise.

Quit worrying, I order myself. It's not like she'd even notice.

Sighing, I turn the key in the ignition and, with a shudder of protest, the car starts. I flick on the radio; I drive better with music.

I grimace as a crappy R&B song plays; I think it's Beat Again by JLS. The radio is still tuned to Galaxy from when my sister was in the car. She's thirteen and I'm eighteen, and since I got my license, my parents have coerced me into giving her lifts everywhere. Not pleasant, especially when her stupid friends tag along. Grimacing at the memories, I flick to Kerrang.

I don't mind spending everyday
Out on your corner in the pouring rain
Look for the girl with the broken smile
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile
And she will be loved
She will be loved

I smile as the song plays. Every time I hear this song it reminds me of my best friend, Steph, because she loves it so much.

The smile vanishes. I resist the urge to bang my head on the dashboard, or, preferably, Steph’s. Actually, scratch that. Give me Ryan, her pathetic excuse for a boyfriend, any day. What I would do to him if I could get my hands on him-

That would be nothing, I remind myself. Because Steph would kill me.

I sigh, drumming my fingers on the dashboard, waiting for the red light to change. It's going to take me at least half an hour to get to St. George's, and traffic is only going to impede my progress. I don't want to think how Steph got all the way over there without her car - it's in the garage being fixed - but then I realise: Ryan. It's always Ryan.

---

I cruise down Church Road, craning my neck out of the window to try and get a glimpse of Steph. Worry settles in my gut as I realise she's not anywhere.

But then I see her, sitting on the steps of the church, hugging her knees into her chest. From just across the road, I can just about see her tear-streaked face, staring at the ground. I park the car and hurry over to her.

She must hear the sound of my Vans slapping against the concrete, but she doesn't look up. Crouching down, I sit on the steps beside her and pull her into a hug without a word. She wraps her arms around me and buries her head in my chest, sobbing her heart out.

I look up at the church. It's an old building, a Baptist church if I remember rightly. The only time I go to church is at Christmas, but the one I go to is a lot closer to home. And in considerably better condition. St. George's is a ruined echo of its former self; cracked fragments of glass teeter in window panes in place of stained glass windows; bricks are rotten with age, and many are missing; and the door hangs on its hinges, abandoned from a break in. But despite the decaying elements of the building, I can clearly see the glory of its former self in the remains, as if the decay was merely a layer of dust, just waiting to be wiped away.

Shaking my head as if to clear it, I look down at Steph. Her angular face is blotchy from crying but its usual paleness still lurks beneath. Her eyes are squeezed shut to stop the tears, but I have stared at them so much the memory of them is permanently burned onto my retinas. Two sapphire orbs, flecked with emerald green. Her hair is the same colour as the bricks of the church, a sort of reddish brown that falls in waves past her shaking shoulders. I reach out to touch it, to stroke it comfortingly. Slowly, the sobs start to subside and I take that as my cue.

"Come on," I say softly, gently prising her off me. "Let's get you home."

Gently, I wipe away her tears with the sleeve of my hoodie and help her to her feet with one hand on her shoulders and one hand on her waist. The closest we will ever be. She nods her thanks mutely and we walk back to my car. I open the door for her, close it behind her and walk around to my side. We sit there in silence for a few long seconds.

"What did he do this time?" I ask eventually.

Her response is automatic. "It wasn't his fault."

Snorting derisively, I start the car and put it in gear, pulling out into the road. "It never is," I mutter.

Steph draws her knees into her chest, staring out into the middle distance. I can tell she's thinking about Ryan. She has that look on her face, a mixture of sadness, pain and pleasure. An unusual mix, sure, but that's all I see when I look in her eyes.

I jab the button to turn the radio on, figuring she'll talk when she's ready. For a full five minutes, loud rock music drowns out the heavy silence in the car.

But then Steph speaks. "It was my fault." Her voice is quiet, convinced. "I shouldn't have been talking to him."

I frown, confused. "What? You've lost me. Start at the beginning."

She exhales slowly. "Ryan took me with him to meet his mates by the park. They were skateboarding by the ramps and he told me to stay and watch while he went over to them. This random boy came up and started talking to me because I was all on my own. But I wasn't. I was with Ryan." She nodded resolutely. "I shouldn't have talked to him. Ryan strode back over and he looked so, so angry. He started yelling at me for cheating on him and the boy tried to explain but he punched him." She gave a strangled sob. "Then he grabbed me and drove me to the church, saying he'd teach me a lesson for being a cheating slut."

My knuckles are white from gripping the steering wheel so tightly. I want to say something, do something, but I don't have a clue what. Steph just sits there, tears dripping off her face like rain on a snow-covered mountain.

"Why do you let him do this to you, Steph?" I ask quietly, trying in vain to keep the fury from my voice.

She hangs her head. "You don't know what it's like. You don't know what it's like to love someone that much. It doesn't matter what they do to you, you still love them. You'd still do anything for them."

I chuckle humourlessly. "Oh, Steph, you'd be surprised."

"I love him," she whispers, as if trying to convince herself. "I love him."

I pull over, amid protesting horns from other drivers. Reaching over, I take her hand in mine and squeeze it comfortingly.

"Oh Steph," I murmur, resisting the urge to pull her into my arms and never let go. "I'll always be here for you, you know that."

She nods tearfully. "I know. I don't know what I did to deserve you as a friend, Robin, but I'm glad you're my best mate. I don't know what I'd do without you."

She smiles weakly at me and I smile back.

"Look," I say softly, "you can come over to mine if you like. We can hang out like we used to, before-" Before Ryan came along. "We could watch TV or play video games or whatever."

She shakes her head and I droop. "Nah, it's okay. I just want to be alone." She takes a deep, shuddery breath. "I'm going to do it, you know. I'm going to end it for good," she says savagely.

I nod hollowly. She says this every time. Every bloody time he rips her heart out and tears it into shreds, she says she'll break up with him. She'll go round to his house with every intention of dumping him like he deserves, but then he'll spin her some story about being sorry for what he's done. Despite everything, she forgives him and they spend the evening making out. Or more.

I dredge up a smile. "'Course you will." Once again, I fail to keep the doubt from my voice.

"I will," she insists, her voice cracking.

Nodding, I pull out and we spend the rest of the drive in solemn silence.

---

Visibility is so poor I nearly run a red light on my way to Steph's house. My windscreen wipers working furiously through the pounding, pouring rain, I somehow make it there in one piece. Again, just three words.

I need you

I pull up outside her house and grab my jacket from the seat beside me. Grimacing, I jump out the car, putting on the jacket as I go. It's useless; the rain soaks easily through the thin material, drenching me. Within seconds, my hair is sodden and sticks to my forehead uncomfortably, and my teeth are chattering from the cold.

She's sitting on the wall in front of her house, the hood of her hoodie up to cover her hair. She's hugging herself, staring at the body of water forming on the road in front of her.

Trudging over, I sit down next to her, wrapping an arm around her. Her soaking wet body leans into me, and I can feel her shivering from the cold.

"What did he do to you, Steph?" I sigh helplessly.

At first, I think she hasn't heard me because of the pouring rain. But then she lifts her head slightly and looks at me with her beautiful, broken blue eyes, smiling her beautiful, broken smile. Her face is wet, though from crying or the rain I cannot tell.

"I'm fine," she whispers, and then drops her head, burying it in my chest.

"Like hell you are," I retort derisively. "What did he do to you?"

Without a word, Steph rolls up the sleeve of her hoodie. Gasping, I stare at her arm, transfixed by the purpling bruises. She lets her sleeve fall, folding her arms across her chest.

"What the hell?" I say quietly, my voice shaking from barely-controlled rage.

She bites her lip, and I can tell she's trying really hard not to cry. "It wasn't his fault."

"Steph, why do you insist on defending him for everything he does to you?" I spit. "He's a dirty, rotten scumbag who doesn't deserve anything from you."

She clings to me, her body shaking. "I went over to his place. I told him- I told him we were over."

"Bet he didn't take that well," I snort.

She shakes her head. "He-" She chokes. "He grabbed me and slammed me against the wall. He said I was his, only his, and he would never let me go." A shudder passes through her. "But then he let me go and apologised for hurting me. He didn't mean to hurt me. He just loves me so much he never wants us to be apart. It wasn't his fault. It was mine." She nods resolutely, firm in her beliefs.

"How can you believe that?" I whisper. "He hurts you all the time, and still you keep going back to him."

She pulls away, the tears brimming in her eyes. "You don't understand. I love him."

"But why? Why him?" I cry, my voice laden with frustration. "You could have any guy you want and you choose him?"

Steph shakes her head. "We both know that's not true. Guys don't like me. I'm not pretty like other girls."

"No, you're not," I say savagely. "Stephanie Rose Inverson, you are beautiful. And anyone who says any different is an idiot."

She looks up at me, smiling through her tears. "Oh, Robin. Why do you put up with me?"

Wiping her tears away with my thumb, I smile back at her. "Because, Steph, you're my best friend. No matter what."

She throws her arms around me, sobbing into my already soaking jacket. Her whole body is shaking, but from crying or the cold I don't know.

"Come on," I say gently. "We should get you inside. You're freezing. I'll make you a hot chocolate, just the way you like it, and we can watch a film."

She nods dumbly, letting me help her to her feet. Her hoodie drops as she gets up, but she makes no move to fix it. Together, we walk to her house. Steph stops short, and I turn around to face her. She's frowning at her reflection in the rain-spattered window.

"Look at me," she sighs. "Why would anyone want to date that?"

I fold her into my arms and she clings to me, shaking slightly.

"Oh Steph," I murmur into her hair. "You'll always be my beauty queen."