Edenham Comprehensive

It's Thursday, and Casey and Reuben are walking home together, swapping stories about their day. She's all but forgotten about the disco until Reuben brings it up.

"So for tonight," he says, "do you want to meet up at the disco or beforehand?"

"Uh, beforehand," she decides, not sounding particularly fussed either way. "My flat or yours?"

"Yours. We could get the bus instead of walking," he suggests.

"Sounds good," she nods.

"You looking forward to it?" he asks, biting back a grin.

She glares at him. "You know full well I'm not. School discos are not my scene, by any stretch of the imagination."

He chuckles. "Come on, lighten up. It'll be fun."

"I'm sure," she mutters darkly. "I'll see you later, then."

"Is sevenish okay?" he suggests.

She nods, standing on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around him and kiss him goodbye in case anyone's watching, which is not entirely unlikely. She's surprised at how easily she's slipped into this facade, and how little discomfort there is between them. They're just mature about it, she thinks, but there's more to it than that. It's almost like they're meant to be like this.

But that’s ridiculous. She doesn’t believe in fate and all that. Life’s what you make it, and you better make the best of it before something comes along and screws it all up for you.

Detaching herself from him, she returns his wave casually and plods up the stairs to her flat, her hand skimming the handrail as she goes. Her keys jingle as she takes them out of her blazer pocket to unlock the door.

“Hey Casey,” her mum greets her as she walks in. she’s sitting on the sofa, half-watching the television, and as her daughter walks in, she clicks it off and rises to her feet.

“Hi,” Casey replies, smiling a little. “I thought you were working today.”

Her mum waves a hand. “I took the afternoon off. I remembered you had that dance thing tonight. I thought I could help you get ready.”

“Uh, sure,” Casey says uncertainly. “That would be nice.”

Her mum strolls into Casey’s room and she has no choice but to follow. She plonks herself down on the bed and looks up at her daughter excitedly. She looks for all the world like the teenage girl she wishes she still was, all bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked.

“So,” she says conspiratorially, “what are you wearing?”

Casey rummages in her wardrobe for her Morticia outfit and holds it up to show her mum. She wrinkles her nose, her opinion clear.

“You don’t like it,” Casey assumes automatically, her face falling.

“No, no, it’s not that,” her mum says hastily. “It’s just… it’s very black, isn’t it?”

She resists the urge to roll her eyes. “Mum, it’s Halloween, not Valentine’s Day. I’m supposed to be Morticia.”

“Addams? Oh. Well, it’s very, uh, interesting.” Her mum doesn’t sound convinced. “Why don’t you try it on, let me see how it looks on you.”

She turns away as Casey strips off her uniform and slips into the costume. She waits expectantly as her mum eyes the outfit appreciatively.

“It’s better than I thought,” she admits, scrutinising it closely. “I like it. You look very grown up. Beautiful too, of course.”

Casey grimaces, suddenly uncomfortable. “Thanks.”

“You aren’t wearing a wig, are you?” She shakes her head. “Good, your hair is lovely the way it is. Though it could do with being straightened, and maybe clipping back that awful fringe.”

“But I like my fringe,” Casey protests.

“You can’t see your pretty face, though.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah. Okay.”

“I’ll just go get my straighteners, shall I? And some make-up, because I’m guessing you don’t have any.”

She disappears without another word, only to magically reappear a few minutes later, armed with GHD straighteners and a bag overflowing with various cosmetic products. Ignoring her daughter’s half-hearted protests, she proceeds to empty its contents onto the bed.

“Let me see,” she mutters. “You’ll need pale foundation, black eye-liner and mascara and blood red lippy for that Gothic look.”

Casey eyes the make-up warily. “Couldn’t I just have a bit of eye-liner?” Her mum gives her a look. “Suppose not, then,” she mutters.

“I’ll start with your hair,” her mum says decisively. “And for God’s sake, sit still or I’ll burn your scalp off, like the last time we tried this.”

Casey chuckles, remembering the first and last time her mum straightened her hair, back when she was about ten or eleven. Suffice to say it did not end well, and she vowed never to do it again. It doesn’t matter too much; her hair is straight enough as it is.

Her mum teases her hair into separate sections as they wait for the straighteners to heat up. They lapse into a conversation about school and work and life in general. She asks her about Reuben and in return, she begrudgingly enquires after the- Ian.

It’s only then that Casey realises just how much she misses this easy relationship with her mum. The absolute ease at which they can talk about nothing whatsoever floods her with a sense of utter contentment, and she wishes it would last.

But she knows it won’t. It never does.

She pushes this thought hurriedly out of her mind as her mum moves onto her make-up She doesn’t want to think about that right now. Just for once, for one night only, she wants to be able to enjoy today without worrying about tomorrow.

***

“There,” her mum finally announces, after what seems like an eternity of crimping and styling and all manner of grooming methods Casey’s sure she’ll never use again. “I’m done.”

“Thank the lord,” she mutters. “I mean, thank you,” she says hastily, at her mum’s crestfallen face.

She smiles hesitantly. “Do you want to see yourself? You look so beautiful, Casey.”

She accepts the mirror and the compliment with a pinch of salt, bracing herself internally before holding up the mirror and peering at her reflection.

It shocks her. She doesn’t look anything like her former self. Instead, she looks like some kind of pseudo-Gothic-emo-kid. Her hair’s been straightened to within an inch of it’s life and falls down her back in long, dark waves. Her face is paler than ever, not just because of the white face paint, but also because of the thick black kohl lining the outside of her eyes and the crimson red lipstick applied so neatly to her lips.

“Wow,” she says eventually. “I look very Morticia-esque.”

Her mum grins, and straightens up with pride. “So you like it?”

“I love it,” she replies honestly. “Thanks, Mum. Seriously.”

The doorbell gives a cheerful ping, and Casey immediately springs to her feet.

Her mum waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t you worry about that. I’ll get it, you finish getting yourself sorted.” She waggles her eyebrows suggestively. “It’s probably that boyfriend of yours, anyway, and I want to meet him.”

Casey rolls her eyes, but says nothing as her mum bounces out of the room. Shaking her head, she turns to her desk, littered with items, and starts sifting through to find the things she needs.

Her mum opens the door, a wide grin set on her lips. Reuben turns as it opens, expecting to see Casey, but frowns when he’s greeted instead by what appears to be an older version of her.

“Hi,” he says uncertainly. “Is Casey there?”

“Yeah, she’s just getting ready,” her mum replies. “You can come in and wait for her if you want.”

She steps aside far enough to let him in, and ushers him onto the sofa. Shutting the door, she plonks herself down and scoots over so she’s right next to him.

“So,” she says conspiratorially, “you must be Reuben. Casey’s told me all about you.”

He forces a smile, squashing as far back into the sofa as he can manage. “Did she, now? She didn’t tell me she had a big sister.”

Her mum throws her head back and laughs like he’s said the most hilarious thing in the world. “Oh, you flatter me. I’m her mum, but you can call me Diana. Or Di, if you prefer.”

His face blanches. She doesn’t look old enough to be Casey’s mum. But now he looks at her, really looks at her, he can see the wrinkles set in her face, squeezed around her eyes and mouth. He’s guessing she’s in her late thirties, but she dresses like she thinks she’s at least ten years younger, judging by the skin-tight miniskirt she’s wearing.

“Well, Mrs. Rutherford-” he begins, as politely as he can manage.

“Oh, please,” she giggles. “I’m not married, not any more.”

“Okay,” he mutters. “Is Casey going to be long because we really need to get-”

“I’m right here, Reuben,” she informs him patiently, appearing in front of him from seemingly nowhere. His jaw slackens and his eyes go wide as he looks her up and down, but she barely notices; she’s too busy glaring at her mother.

“Mum, leave the poor boy alone,” she scolds her. “He’s not even been here five minutes and you’re already flirting with him.”

“I was not flirting with him!” her mum protests, getting up slowly. “Honestly, you. I’ll leave you two in peace then, shall I?”

Muttering something under her breath about teenagers, she sashays out of the room, offering her daughter a supportive smile and a suggestive wink as she leaves. Casey grimaces, then turns back to Reuben.

“Sorry about that,” she mutters, hitching up the straps of her dress, embarrassed. “She can be a bit… full-on.”

The corner of his lips hitches upwards in a grin. “Yeah, I got that impression. You look great, by the way,” he says honestly. “Really pretty.”

A reddish tinge creeps into her cheeks at his words and she casts her eyes to the floor. It’s different when he says it, somehow. She can’t explain why, but it gives her an inexplicable surge of pleasure to hear him say she's pretty.

“You look great too.” She means it. He scrubs up well, and his black and white suit makes him look much older than he is. “We should go,” she says awkwardly, playing with her hands.

“Yeah,” he echoes, but neither of them moves.

After what seems like hours, Reuben grabs her hand in his and winks at her. Offering her a bright smile, he prances off towards the door. Giggling, Casey allows herself to be dragged along with him.

***

All of Casey’s confidence drains away as they approach the school building. Black streamers and plastic skulls are draped around the entrance, above which hangs an enormous banner, declaring to the ignorant that this is the annual Halloween Disco.

“Do you think they have enough decorations?” Reuben mutters to her as they pass a giant, grinning pumpkin.

Casey wrinkles her nose. “I think they missed a few in that tiny corner over there.”

He stifles a guffaw as they head for the table, behind which is the same bored-looking guy who works on the tuck shop at lunch. He sits up, stifling a yawn, as they hand over their tickets for inspection. Without a word to them, he waves them in, before resuming his texting under the table.

The interior of the gym isn’t much of an improvement on the outside. Virtually every available surface is covered in varying shades of green and orange, though black by far is the most popular colour. Streamers and skulls and skeletons and pumpkins of every shape and size litter the area; it looks for all the world like someone’s dumped the contents of a dress-up box over the place.

“They've really gone for it, haven't they?” Reuben chuckles, shaking his head.

“This is nothing,” she informs him. “You should see what it's like for Valentine's Day.”

On the other side of the room, Georgia straightens her Xena outfit as she strides into the gym, a scowl painted on her face. She doesn’t want to be here, especially not without a date. It’s not that she couldn’t get one, it’s just that the only person she’d like to go with has someone else he’d much rather spend his night with.

Her eyes trawl the crowds of people in the room until they lock onto Tyler and Nicole on the other side of the room. Her scowl deepens as she watches him laughing at something the other girl’s said, and her hands clench into fists as he leans over and whispers something in her ear. She giggles, hiding her mouth behind her hand, and it takes everything Georgia’s got to keep her from storming over there and wiping that stupid, contented grin off her face.

Her teeth gritted, she marches over to the refreshments table where others in a similar situation to her have already stationed themselves. She pours herself a drink and gulps it down, her eyes closed as the liquid rushes down her throat to calm her frazzled nerves.

Her eyes flicker back to Tyler and Nicole. This is going to be a long evening.

***

"Come on," Casey mutters, dragging Reuben onto the dance floor. "We might as well dance while we're here."

"I thought you hated dancing," he says knowingly.

Her only response is to fold herself into his arms, positioning them so they're wrapped around her waist and her own are wrapped around her neck. She tries to avoid the discomfort of the situation by looking away from him. Her eyes find Tyler's, dancing with Nicole a few feet away, and instantly she glances back at Reuben.

"Tyler looks jealous," he notes. "I don't blame him. I'm with easily the most attractive girl in the room."

"Shut up. It's just make-up, you know. I look like a hag without it."

He opens his mouth to argue with her, but apparently decides against it and adopts a resigned look. He steals a glance at her as she looks down at the floor, concentrating on her feet, and promptly looks away.

He catches sight of Georgia on the other side of the room, her eyes narrowed with burning intensity towards a point on the dance floor. Surprisingly enough, it’s not them. He follows her line of sight and finds, to his shock, Nicole and Tyler. He glances back at her, then at them, and shrugs.

“I think Georgia has a thing about Tyler,” he comments.

Casey looks up, confused. “Really? Why?”

“Look at her.” She cranes her neck, angling for a better look at the other girl’s face. “She’s staring right at Tyler and Nicole, and she looks like she wants to throttle them.”

She stifles a smile. “She does, you know.”

“What do people see in him?” Reuben muses. “I mean, I get that he’s the king and everything, and I admit he’s not exactly ugly, but he’s a complete dickhead. Why would people want him?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. There’s just something about him. I can’t explain it. Like he sees right through you and has the power to break you in two with a single look, with a single…” she trails off, aware that Reuben isn’t listening any more.

"Tyler's coming," he barks in a clipped tone.

Sure enough, a few seconds later there's a tap on Casey’s shoulder and when she turns around, he's standing right behind her.

"Mind if I cut in?" Tyler asks Reuben scathingly.

"Would it matter if I did?" the other boy retorts.

"Not particularly much," Tyler says breezily.

Reuben sends Casey a questioning look, as if letting her know it's her choice.

She shrugs. "Why not?"

She doesn’t notice his face fall. Mouthing good luck, he steps back and heads for the refreshments table. He greets Georgia on the way, but she barely acknowledges him before returning the full force of her glare to Tyler.

Casey tears her eyes away from Reuben's receding back to the boy in front of her. With a smirk, Tyler pulls her closer to him than she's comfortable with and starts spinning her around. Something flutters in her brain, something a lot like dizziness.

"So who are you supposed to be, then?" he asks curiously.

"Morticia Addams," she replies, her tone clipped.

He laughs softly. "So that would make Reuben Gomez, then. Funny, I thought he'd be better as Lurch."

She narrows her eyes. "So who are you supposed to be, then?" she demands.

Tyler grins, flicking his blonde hair out of his eyes, and straightens his tux. “Can’t you tell? The name’s Bond. James Bond.”

“Which would make Nicole one of the many Bond girls,” she mutters. “You gotta love the irony.”

His smirk’s back. “Jealous?”

Her tone is neutral as she replies, “I could ask you the same thing.”

He looks away, and when he looks back, his face is more serious than she’s seen it in a long time. “You shouldn’t trust him, you know,” he says. “Reuben, I mean.”

Her eyebrows rise, almost of their own accord. “Oh really? Pray tell why, exactly?”

“He’s not what you think he is.”

Casey frowns. “Could you be any more cryptic?”

“He’s not…” He flounders for the right word. “Good.”

“Last time I looked,” she says evenly, “neither were you.”

“Casey, he’s deep in the brown and smelly stuff and it doesn’t look like he’s getting out of it any time soon,” Tyler says seriously. “Gang wars, drug smuggling, theft... you name it, he’s connected to it.”

“Like I said,” she says, her voice ice, “you’re hardly angelic. It’s a bit hypocritical for you to go on about this when you’re even worse.”

“So none of this bothers you?” He’s incredulous.

“No, because I already knew about it. He told me.” This isn’t entirely true, but he doesn’t need to know that. “So you can take your fake concern and shove it up your arse because unless I hadn’t made it clear enough for you, I don’t care what you think. You have no right to tell me who I can and can’t trust and who I can and can’t go out with and I, Tyler Westwood, I think you’re just jealous.”

She’s panting heavily from her outburst, her blood is burning in her veins and her mind is spinning with white-hot fury. Tyler opens his mouth to reply, but before he can formulate a comprehensible response she turns on her heel and stomps away, slamming the door to the gym behind her.

From across the room, Reuben narrows his eyes. The music was too loud for him to hear what they were saying, but he saw the look on Casey’s face before she stormed out. She was pissed. By God, she was pissed.

He watches Tyler stride towards the table and pour something into a plastic cup. It looks like juice, but something tells Reuben that it’s nothing of the sort. Tyler’s back is to him, so he doesn’t notice Reuben’s approach until the sound of his shoes slapping against the floor registers. Tyler turns around slowly, fixing the other boy with an apathetic stare.

“What did you say to Casey?” Reuben demands, refusing to be intimidated.

Tyler laughs softly, and raises his cup to his lips to take a sip. “So quick to jump to her rescue. You like playing the hero, don’t you?”

Reuben shrugs. “You like hurting people. I figure one of us has to have the moral high ground.”

Tyler downs the rest of his drink in one gulp and looks him square in the eye. “Do you love her?”

Reuben’s so shocked his mouth moves before his brain can take control. “No,” he blurts out.

Tyler’s eyebrow hitches upwards.

“I mean, she’s a great girl and everything,” Reuben says hastily, “but we haven’t even been going out for a week. It’s a bit soon for that.”

Tyler smirks. “How far have you been with her?”

“That’s none of your goddamn business,” Reuben growls.

“Guessing that’s a sore subject,” Tyler says condescendingly. “Has she even let you kiss her yet?”

Reuben smiles sadistically. “I’m sure you know the answer to that question.”

“Well. Let me know if she’s good in bed, yeah? I can’t remember.”

The only thing stopping Reuben from strangling the cocky, conceited boy is the knowledge that that’s exactly what he wants. And he’d rather die than give Tyler an ounce of satisfaction.

It would be easy, though, a little voice at the back of his head pipes up. Close your hands around his scrawny little neck and squeeze and squeeze until his face turns puce and you can feel him choking and heaving and gasping for the breath that won’t come-

Reuben shudders, forcing himself back. “Shut up,” he murmurs, his voice dangerously low.

“Why, am I bothering you?” Tyler’s grin lets him know he’s enjoying this. “How much do you know about her, Reuben? I mean really.”

“I know her a hell of a lot better than you do,” he snarls, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

“Oh yeah?” Tyler replies, bored. “I doubt that very much. Do you even know why she became a Grade 3?” Reuben stiffens, and a smile spreads slowly across his face. “I knew it. She doesn’t even trust you that much.”

Reuben’s mouth opens and closes slowly like a fish out of water searching for oxygen. He’s angry, angrier than he’s ever been in his life, and it’s all the worse because he can’t think of a single thing to say.

“Go after her,” Tyler suggests, half-pitying, half-condescending. “Jeez, you can’t even do that, can you?”

In his mind’s eye, Reuben sees it happening. His fist smashes into the other boy’s face. He hears the gratifying crunch that signals breaking bone. He feels the soft tissue beneath his fist. The blood spurts out all over his hand, all over everything, hot crimson blood that stains everything it touches-

And with that, the anger slowly drains from Reuben’s body. With one last, contemptuous glare tossed in Tyler’s direction, he strides out of the room with the little dignity he has left and sets off looking for Casey.

Tyler turns back to the table, shaking his head, and pours himself another drink. When he lowers the plastic cup after gulping down half its contents, Georgia's standing in front of him, a curious expression on her face.

He belches, and grins. “Hey.”

Georgia wrinkles her nose distastefully. “Hi. Shouldn't you be with your girlfriend?”

“Shouldn't you be with your date? Oh wait, sorry, I forgot. You don't have one, do you?”

She merely shrugs. “None of these losers are good enough for me.”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that,” he mutters.

She surveys his slightly swaying frame, glancing quickly at something on the other side of the room. “What happened with you and Casey?”

“Oh not you too,” Tyler groans, pouring the rest of the cup down his throat. “Why is it any of your business?”

“It isn't,” Georgia replies evenly. “But I reckon your girlfriend's going to be wondering the same thing right about now.”

He glances up and follows her line of sight to Nicole, standing all by herself on the other side of the room.

“I don't have to explain myself to you,” he says flippantly. “I'm king. I don't have to explain myself to anyone.”

Georgia snorts. “Right. Sure. See you around, Tyler.”

She turns to leave, but his wrist clamped around her bare arm stops her. His body's too close to hers; she can smell the alcohol he's been drinking, and that ridiculous aftershave he's always wearing. Lynx, or something like that.

But she's almost forgotten how good he looks from this angle; they haven't been this close in weeks. The stubble lining his jaw is testament to the fact that he hasn't shaved in days, and his hair is tousled just enough to make her want to run her hands through it until she gets friction burns from doing it so much. And of course, his eyes. But when doesn't she want to just stare at them so much she loses herself in them, like a prepubescent girl with her first crush?

“You look great tonight, you know,” he says, smirking a little. “I could probably get away pretty easily...”

She wants to slap him, but at the same time she wants to grab him and run like they're never coming back. She hates him for it. For having this effect on her. For making her weak.

“Go back to your girlfriend,” she says softly, tearing her eyes away from him. “She'll be wondering what you're up to.”

Wrenching herself out of his grip, she stalks off, slamming the gym door behind her. Tyler watches her go, a look of almost regret on his face, before turning back to where Nicole is waiting for him.

***

Reuben finds Casey leaning against the wall in their spot on the playground. He never expected her to be anywhere else. Without a word, he joins her, jamming his hands in his pockets and resting his foot against the wall as he leans up against it. Neither of them says anything for what could have been aeons.

“You’re not okay, are you?” he says eventually, looking up from the ground at her.

She only shakes her head. He nods.

“Me neither,” he confesses with a wry smile. “Tyler knows exactly which buttons to press, doesn’t he?”

An almost smile crosses her lips for a nanosecond, but then it’s gone as quickly as it came. Reuben notices her shivering and almost immediately, he sheds the jacket of his suit and drapes it around her shoulders before she can protest. Her grateful smile is enough for him to know she appreciates it.

They slide down the wall simultaneously and sit on the concrete without making a spoken agreement to do so. Casey’s head drops to his shoulder and they stay like that for a few timeless seconds, his arm around her to pull her close to him.

“What did he say to you?” Reuben asks curiously.

Casey doesn’t look up. “Just that I shouldn’t trust you. He mentioned the gang stuff. I said I already knew. He didn’t seem to be expecting that.” He smiles uneasily, drumming his fingers absent-mindedly on her arm. “What did he say to you?”

“Same, really. That I didn’t know you, that I shouldn’t trust you.” He licks his lips, readying himself, and looks up hesitantly. “He told me to ask you… he told me to ask you why you became a Grade 3.”

Her mouth opens, but no sound escapes. The shock starts there and splinters off to cover her entire face.

“What?” Her voice is gravelly, hoarse.

“Did he hurt you?” he asks softly. “Casey, did he hurt you? Is that why you changed?”

She makes a sort of whimpering sound, and it’s so pitiful he wants to gather her in his arms and never let her go.

“It’s fine, I shouldn’t have asked,” he says desperately. “You don’t have to tell me. It doesn’t matter.”

She looks up at him then, her eyes glazed with memories. “I got pregnant,” she says quietly. “That’s why I changed.”

Reuben’s eyes look like they’re about to pop out of his skull. “What?”

“It was last year. Around March or so. Everything was great. Me and Tyler had been going out since Year Seven. Things… happened. Well. You can guess. The long and short of it is, I woke up one day and I was pregnant. I took six tests. Six bloody tests.” She gives a bitter laugh. “They were all positive. All of them. I kept hoping… but it didn’t change. I was pregnant. The first person I told was my best friend at the time. Nicole.”

“Nicole?” Reuben’s taken aback. “You and her were friends?”

Casey nods. “Best friends. Me, her and Tyler were like the three musketeers. We’d known each other since nursery.” There’s the bitter smile again. “It didn’t stop her betraying me. The next day, when I came into school, everyone knew. Everyone.”

She takes a deep breath, as if trying to muster up the courage to go on. She closes her eyes, exhales, and then opens them again.

I was avoiding everyone. I wouldn't even look up from the floor. I couldn’t. Every time I did, I locked eyes with someone who'd instantly look away, as if they couldn't stand the sight of me. That’s when the whispers would start, hissing verbal poison that spewed from their mouths in a constant, ceaseless stream.

I was hardly the first girl at Edenham to get pregnant, and I wouldn't be the last. But you know what it’s like. When something bad happens to someone else, you rip into them out of sheer relief that it isn’t you.

I couldn't handle it. At lunch, I resorted to hiding in a cubicle in the girls' loos, trying desperately not to cry. I must’ve been in there for ages. But I couldn’t hide in there forever.

There was a tap on the door, soft, tentative.

"I'm sorry," Nicole whispered, her voice shaking with guilt and remorse. "I didn't mean for everyone to find out. I was talking to Georgia, and it just sort of slipped out..."

I squeezed my eyes shut and bit down on my lip hard to keep the tears at bay. The metallic taste of blood pooling in my mouth made everything seem clearer, somehow.

"Casey, say something," Nicole pleaded.

"Go away." My voice was muffled by the door, but I knew she heard.

"I can't," she murmured, and this time the guilt in her voice threatened to break it in two. "Tyler wants to see you. Urgently. He's waiting outside."

I gave a harsh, bitter laugh. "He can humiliate a Grade 3 for looking at him funny but he can't even go into the girls' toilets? Some leader."

"Casey, please. You know what he'll do if you don't."

I sighed. I did know. I was just putting it off as long as I could. Facing him would be worse than the rest of the school put together.

I stood up, my head held high with the little dignity I had left. My face set into stone, I unlocked the door and stepped out, to be met with my former best friend's stricken face, glistening with fresh tears.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out. "Really I am."

“Don’t. I don’t want to hear your false apologies,” I spat. “I trusted you. I fucking trusted you and you threw it back in my face. Some best friend you are.”

“Casey, please-”

I cut her off mid-sentence with a cold look that she cowered from, as if I'd slapped her. Without another word to her, I flounced out of the toilets, my arms folded across my chest. Tyler was leaning against the wall opposite, waiting for me, his face an unreadable mix of emotions.

"Casey," he said levelly.

"Tyler," I replied in the same tone.

"So I hear you're up the duff."

I laughed again, surprising even myself with its coldness. "Don't beat around the bush or anything."

"Don't change the subject." He stood up straight suddenly, his eyes flashing. "Are you or aren't you?"

"What do you think?" I asked acidly. "Surely you've heard by now."

"So who's the father, then?" he demanded.

"I think you know the answer to that question."

He frowned. "But we used protection. We always used protection."

"Let me take you back to last month, when I stayed over at yours. Do you recall what happened?" The sarcasm was practically dripping from my voice but I was shaking so hard it felt like I could snap at any second. "We were drunk out of our minds on your dad's Irish whiskey. You wanted to do it. You didn't have a condom. Coming back to you now?"

His face was as white as a blank sheet of paper. "But I thought you were on the pill."

"Did you ever actually ask? No." I shot him a contemptuous glare. "Accept it, Ty. I'm pregnant and you're the father."

When he next spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. "So what are you going to do about it?"

"What am I going to do about it?" I hoped the incredulity showed in my voice. "We're going to have a baby and we're going to bring it up together."

It was Tyler's turn to laugh, a low, bitter chuckle that growled from his throat. "Casey, you only turned fifteen a few months ago. We're teenagers. How the hell are we supposed to look after a baby?"

"I don't know," I replied honestly. "But what would you have me do?"

"Get rid of it," he said calmly, as casually as if he were commenting on the weather.

I gaped at him, hardly able to believe what I was hearing. "This is a baby you're talking about. Our baby."

"It's not a baby," he retorted. "It's just a ball of cells."

"It’s still our baby," I whispered, horrified. "How can you not care?"

"It's a mistake, Casey," he said firmly, gripping my shoulders tight. "It's a mistake and I order you to get rid of it!"

"What if I said no?" I said defiantly. "What would you do then?"

His eyes registered shock. "You can't. You can't say no to me."

"Oh yeah?" I smiled sadistically. "No, Tyler. I refuse to obey you."

"But you can't." His voice trembled with righteous indignation.

"Says who?" I retorted. "You? Well I've got news for you, Tyler. You're a selfish, sadistic little bastard and you disgust me. Sod your rules, sod your laws, I don't care any more."

"Oh yeah?" he snarled. "You seemed pretty happy with the way things were when things were going your way."

"I've never been happy with the way things are," I spat vehemently. "You disgust me, Tyler. Your obsession with power, with money, with hurting people weaker than you... it makes me retch."

"I don't know why you're on your high horse all of a sudden. You're hardly innocent in all this."

I stepped back, shaking my head. "I don't have to take this. I'm leaving."

He snorted. "Fine. Go. See if I care."

My eyes narrowed, I plunged my fingers into my pocket and plucked out the shiny green card, the unmistakable '1' printed on the back.

"Have it back," I whispered, tossing it carelessly to him. "I couldn't care less about your shitty system right now."

Horror flooded his eyes, but he stood firm. "If that's what you want," he said levelly. "You can be a Grade 3 like the rest of the scum."

"Fine." I didn't care enough to argue, not then. I stormed away from him, refusing to turn my head despite my desperate desire to see his face one last time. "Consider us, whatever we were, finished."

Casey breathes in deeply, drawing herself back out of her memories. She hates revisiting the past. Hindsight always picks out a million things she could’ve and should’ve done differently.

"After that," she continues, sweeping her fringe out of her eyes, "I went home. Me and Mum were closer then, and she noticed I wasn't myself. I told her. Stupidly, I thought she’d be sympathetic. I thought she’d understand.

“She didn’t. She told me I had to get rid of it or find somewhere else to live.”

Reuben sucks in a breath. “You’re kidding.”

She shakes her head. “Nope. We’d never had an argument before then, not really. But that night we had a blazing row which burned our bridges forever. We said so many things. Stupid things. Things we shouldn’t have said. She said it was because she didn't want me turning out like her, but I couldn't believe her.” She clears her throat, and carries on. “She made me get an abortion and things have never been the same between us ever since.”

A part of him is appalled. Another is simply shocked. Another wants to hold Casey in his arms until he wipes away all the hurt and all the betrayal and all the goddamn sadness in those pearly grey eyes until she’s whole again.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” he whispers.

She shrugs, pointedly avoiding looking him in the eye. “It’s hardly something you can just slip into casual conversation, is it?”

“Come here,” he murmurs, and envelopes her in a hug. She doesn’t even try to resist; she just wraps her arms around him and nestles her head on his shoulder. “Listen to me, Casey,” he says, the soft murmur of his voice tickling her ear. “We’re going to destroy Tyler Westwood, do you understand? We are going to decimate him, one piece at a time.”

She pulls away and smiles weakly. “We’re really going to do it, aren’t we?”

“Yep,” he replies, grinning from ear to ear. “We are really going to do this. Now come on, let’s get you home.”

She sighs softly, and allows him to pull her to her feet. They stay like that, her nose pressed into his chest so it’s almost uncomfortable, but neither of them wants to move. Reuben’s outstretched fingers reach for her head but then she looks up and he withdraws them sharply.

“Let’s go,” she says softly, smiling at him.

He nods, swallowing hard. They take each others’ hand and thread their fingers together before braving the long, long walk home.