Sunburn

It was a Thursday.

I was lying on my bed, trying to write a particularly difficult essay when I was interrupted by my door being slammed open.

Well. It was flung open, but it bounced off a box of God-only-knows-what and slammed itself back into the frame before whoever had caused the commotion and the huge pen line down the middle of my otherwise very neat page could get inside.

Whoever it was began hitting my door and growling. Not growling anything in particular, mind, just growling.

The door finally opened to reveal an extremely red-faced Emma-Lyn.

“Are you okay?” I asked, knowing it was a stupid thing to ask but not knowing what else I could say.

“Do I look like I’m okay you fucking retard?” she spat in return.

I looked at her again. Her face was even redder, and she was tearing up and snivelling.

I decided the question was rhetorical, and swiftly switched the focus back to why she came banging into my room at nine forty six p.m. on a school night.

“What happened?” I asked, guiding her through the labyrinth of boxes to my bed.

“I had an argument with Caroline. She was being incredibly stubborn so I left. And came here.”

“Okay. What were you arguing about?” I asked, pulling my swivel chair round so I could sit opposite her.

“Nothing. Just something small, and Caroline was just blowing it out of proportion.”

I raised an eyebrow at her and she looked away, instead kicking one of the boxes. “We’re going to have to do something about this mess,” she said, obviously changing the subject. “I foresee myself spending a lot of time here, and I’d rather not be worrying about tripping over and dying every time I stand up.”



What I learnt that night was that when Emma-Lyn said ‘we’ in the context of doing anything that amounted to hard work, what she actually meant was ‘you’.

She languished imperiously on my bed, giving orders.

But I’ll say this for her method: I got more than a third of my boxes unpacked in about half an hour.

“Well I’m beat,” she said finally, after I flopped down in my swivel chair, exhausted. “We’ll have to finish tomorrow.”

I said nothing.

She sat up and stretched, yawning, before announcing that she was going home.

She accepted my offer to walk with her, and soon we were waiting at the bus stop with our hands in our pockets and our noses beginning to sting.

“I just can’t believe she would be so unfair!” Emma-Lyn exploded suddenly. She saw the blank look on my face and clarified; “Caroline, that is. I didn’t even do anything wrong! It’s not my fault she’s too damn shy to behave like a normal human being!”

Personally, I’d never thought of Caroline as shy or awkward or anything, but I figured that interrupting the vicious tirade now pouring forth from Emma-Lyn’s lips would be like sticking my hand into a vat of hot oil, and so I remained silent.

She stopped shortly before her bus arrived, and apologised.

“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t quite mean to offload on you like that.”

“It’s fine. I barely understood any of what you were saying anyway,” I chuckled, and she laughed a little too.

“Well, thanks for looking like you were listening.”

Her bus appeared in the distance, creeping over the hill.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to get on with you?” I asked, not wanting to leave her to go home alone so late.

“I’m sure. I’m a big girl, Matthew, I’ll be fine.”

“Alright then Emma. Text me when you get home. Otherwise, I won’t sleep.”

Emma rolled her eyes, assured me that she would text, and then hopped onto the bus.



I got her text at around half past twelve.

Oh, home by the way. Sleep well, see you tomorrow! X

The next morning, I woke up late. Not very late, but late enough that I had to hurry.

I was halfway down the road when I heard the shouting.

“…and don’t think you’re getting away with this because you’re not. You walk out of that door and you’re grounded for a month-”

A door slammed.

I reached Jessica’s gate as she did.

“Oh, “ she said, stepping onto the street, her skin flushed. “Hi.”

“Morning,” I replied, readjusting the strap of my backpack.

There was a fairly long and very awkward silence. Strangely enough, the silence was broken by Jessica, not me.

“I guess you heard that then.”

I nodded. She didn’t have to clarify, we both knew she was talking about the shouting.

She shivered, and I took not of what she was wearing; a thin top that billowed with the slightest gust of wind.

“Here, take my jacket. You’re cold,” I said, stopping to take it off.

And then I stopped some more, momentarily frozen by what I saw.

Two snakes, twined around each other on Jessica’s very bare back, tongues tasting the skin of her shoulders.

“Thanks,” she said, turning to take the jacket, and the moment ended, and I could breathe again. “This shirt is great to wear when making a statement but it does nothing to keep me warm.”

The snakes were gone once again, and I was left with even more for Jessica.

“The tattoo,” I said, wanting to know more about it, but not knowing where I should begin.

“It’s pretty sweet, right?” she asked, her tone light but her eyes serious.

“Yeah. It’s awesome. Does it mean anything?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think it does, most of the time I think it doesn’t. It depends how I feel, really.”

I chuckled a little. “I don’t really get that.”

“Okay. When you say it, what did you think the snakes were doing; fighting or making love?”

I replied immediately: “making love.”

“Today, I think they’re fighting. And the day I drew it, I thought they were fighting. But other times I wonder how I could have ever thought they were fighting when they are so clearly making love. Similarly, sometimes I think I must have been thinking about some sort of deception or betrayal or something when I drew them. But the rest of the time I just think I did it because it looks good. You get it now?”

I didn’t, not fully, but I just nodded. I didn’t think I’d ever properly understand.

“So you drew it yourself then?” I asked instead.

“Yeah. It’s the only one I designed myself, but I’m working on another.”

“How many others do you have?”

“Just the two. Do you have the time? Are we late?”

I checked my watch. It was twenty past eight. Fifteen minutes was more than enough time for us to get to school in.

I reassured Jessica, who was far more worried than she should have been, and we continued on.



We reached school in good time, as I had predicted, and Jessica dithered around by the entrance as though unsure what to do with herself.

“We have art first,” she said finally, although I distinctly got the feeling that she was talking to herself. “I guess I could go and set up…”

“Okay. Well, I’m going to the playground so I’ll see you in Art,” I said, waving. I was stopped by her calling e.

“Aren’t you going to take your jacket?”

“You can keep it. It’s cold today, and you’re not exactly dressed for the weather. Give it to me tomorrow.”

“But what if you need it tomorrow?” she asked, worry etched all over her face.

“Fine,” I was interrupted by the warning bell ringing. We had five minutes to get to our form classes. “We can walk home together, and you can give it to me then. Fair?”

She gave in and nodded, and we went our separate ways.



“Can we go out to lunch today?”

That was Emma.

She’d practically run up to me as soon as English had finished.

“Sure. Care to say why?”

She rolled her eyes and we began walking. “Caroline again. Probably I’ll tell you later. Can I come round?” she asked, fixing me with an intense stare.

“Would you listen if I said no?”

“Not at all.”

“Then by all means, you are welcome to my house, and to the many boxes of my room. In fact, please do come round. My mum saw my room this morning: she now thinks that you are some sort of goddess.”

“Damn, that was meant to stay a secret till I was eighteen. My mum will be furious.”

I laughed. “You’re an idiot, Emma.”

“I’ve been told before. Apparently it’s my one redeeming feature.”

I shook my head and placed my hands in the small of her back, propelling her past the Lunch Pass Doberman and through the school gates.



We ended up in this nice little café called Hot Pepper Jelly.

“She was just being really snide, you know? I couldn’t take it anymore,” Emma said, cradling her hot chocolate.

I nodded dutifully. “So, are you going to tell me what this argument is about yet or am I still not allowed to know?”

“You’re still not allowed to know. In fact I don’t think you’ll ever be allowed to know. Sorry.”

“I’ll refuse to listen to you,” I said, without any conviction behind my words.

Emma snorted. “I’d talk anyway. Speaking of talking, I saw you talking to Jessica Priestly again in English. I take it you’re back on that wagon again.”

I shrugged. “I guess. I ran into her this morning and we started talking.”

“Wow. You must have a lot to talk about for conversation to start spilling over into English.”

“Actually she was helping me with that stupid essay that you stopped me from doing yesterday. Did you know that she’s a literature genius?”

“Of course. Jessica Priestly is amazing at everything except for being a human being,” Emma sneered.

“Oh, yes, I remember why we don’t talk about Jessica anymore. Change the subject, please,” I said angrily.

Emma huffed. “You’re so sensitive. I’m just telling the truth.”

“Emma,” I begun, but she cut me off.

“Okay, okay! I’ll stop talking about her! Christ!”

We sat in silence for a good few minutes.

Than: “I’m sorry,” Emma sighed. “I know you hate me talking about her like that. It’s just that I really don’t like her.”

I was about to ask why, but then I remembered my promise to myself. Anything I heard about Jessica, I had to hear from her mouth first.



“I’m not walking home with her.”

Emma-Lyn had pulled me out of the Art room where I’d arranged to meet Jessica to hiss this message to me.

I rolled my eyes.

“Matt, don’t look at me like that! I promised I won’t bitch about her to you, but I really can’t walk home with her.”

“Fine then. Don’t.” I turned to go back into the classroom.

“Are you angry at me?” she asked, stopping me.

I shrugged. “I don’t know, Emma. I think so. Or maybe I’m just disappointed.”

“Don’t be. I have my reasons for not liking her, and I’ve known her for a lot longer than you. I won’t talk badly about her. I won’t even comment on her, but I won’t walk with her. I can’t do it.”

“I’m not forcing you to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I don’t want you to be angry with me Matt. I don’t want you to think any less of me. Please try and understand. You’ve disliked people before,” she said, almost begging.

“Yes, I have, but I always let it go.”

“What about your dad? You hate him-”

“I’m not having this conversation with you right now, Emma. Goodbye.”

I didn’t give her a chance to reply. That mention of my father had me livid.

When I got into the classroom, Jessica had her sketchbook open, and was hunched over it, working on a pen and ink drawing.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” she said, not looking up. “Argue with Emma-Lyn. You didn’t have to do it. I know she doesn’t like me. I’m over it.”

“It just irritates me,” I replied. “Are you ready to go?”

She stayed bent over her sketchbook for a few seconds more before shutting her book and nodding.

“Yeah, I’m ready. Just let me pack up.”

I watched as she cleaned the pen nibs she’d been using and placed them into their holder before putting them into her folder with her sketchbook. Her thoroughness calmed me down.

“What if she was right?” she asked as we were leaving. It took me a while to realise that she was talking about Emma again. “What if I was a horrible person, not worthy of human contact?”

“If that were the case, I’d still rather find that out for myself,” I said. “Besides, I don’t think you are.”

“Thanks,” she said, a little dryly. “Your trust in me is flattering, if perhaps a little misplaced.”

“It’s the gentleman in me coming out,” I said, and Jessica cracked a smile, although she rolled her eyes.

“If you say so.” We walked through the school gates. Everyone else had already left, it seemed. “But you should talk to Emma-Lyn. I’d rather not have you two break up because of me.”

“Oh, but we’re not going out!” I said, shocked.

Jessica smiled again, although this time her smile was the same one a mother gives to a naïve child. “Still. I wouldn’t want to ruin your friendship. You should call her.”

“We’re really not going out. But okay. I’ll call her.”



When I got home, I took my cuppa upstairs, pausing only to give my mum a quick kiss and to reassure her that my day was fine.

I worked for three solid hours, hauling boxes around and putting my stuff away.

Then I spent another hour and a half finishing off that English essay and doing my Science and Maths homework.

And then there as nothing left for me to do except pick up the phone and call Emma.