Part 14 (1/2)

”Schadenfreude,” Lee and Kaz say at the same time because they are equally gifted in the brain department.

”I just don't think it's cool to laugh at someone getting caught out.” I can see Kaz is about to point out how the story started. ”Even if they've asked for it.”

Lee and Kaz exchange a smile that makes me feel stupid and I bite my lips together to stop anything more coming out. They don't get it. My brother's a gossip and my best friend thinks anyone entering the fame game is playing with fire and has no right to complain when they get burned. Nothing I say will change their minds about Megan Mallory bringing this on herself.

I so never want to be famous.

KAZ.

I leave Ruby to her thirty-second sulk. For someone who likes to argue every point possible, she's never been very good at accepting she might be wrong. Instead I fall into Anna and Parvati's conversation about gender politics. Ever since we went to the gym, I've felt more comfortable around them and when they laugh at something I say, it feels less like I'm talking to my best friend's brother's boyfriend's friends and more like I'm talking to people who are a lot like me.

Without Ruby in the conversation, I feel as if I'm someone people can be interested in.

I guess there'll be a lot of that next year...

Banis.h.i.+ng the thought, I reach over to give Ruby's hand a squeeze just as my phone buzzes a text.

Instead of reaching for Ruby, I reach for my phone.

RUBY.

”You coming?” I nudge Kaz with the toe of my boot and she looks up from her phone as if confused.

”What?”

”It's ten to one and time to rock.” I do a lame little dance in an attempt to lighten my own mood. That Festblog thing has dampened my enthusiasm a bit. I don't like the idea of people roving around, taking unkind pictures of unsuspecting/unconsenting folk and posting them up there for all to see.

Kaz still seems confused by whatever's on her phone. She stands up and brushes bits of dried gra.s.s from the skirt of her dress. It's not as eye-catchingly stunning as the one she had on yesterday, but that doesn't mean she doesn't look good, and when a surprise breeze wafts the material above her knees, one of the boys on the rug near by checks out her legs.

Kaz is oblivious. I'm always highlighting guys scoping her out, but she never believes me. The same boy glances up again as we walk past to where Owen's waiting for us a little further up the hill.

”He was cute,” I say.

”Who was what?”

”That boy back there.” I nod. ”The one who ogled you.” I love that word. ”Ogle”. It's ridiculous.

”No one ogles me, Ruby. He was probably looking at you.”

I give up and change the subject. ”You know me and Owen are off to see Grundiiz, right?” Because, if I'm honest, I didn't expect Kaz to come with us. She once described Grundiiz as ”tedious double-ba.s.s pedalling with vocals less tuneful than Morag hoiking out a furball”.

”Hm? Oh. I'm not doing that.”

Thought not.

”Well, what are you doing, then?”

”Calling my mum.” Kaz waves her phone. ”To catch up on the gossip from her date last night. Shall I meet you and Owen by the stalls in about half an hour?”

I'm nodding, but Kaz is already wandering away, dialling her mum. ”Tell Afua I say h.e.l.lo!” I call, but Kaz doesn't even look up.

KAZ.

I feel bad about lying to Ruby, but I can't possibly tell her who I'm really calling.

Taking a deep breath, I dial Tom's number.

16 * THNKS FR TH MMRS

RUBY.

I have more in common with Owen when it comes to music than he does with my brother, whose excuse for missing out on Grundiiz is some plinky-plonky lute-playing drivel over in the Mellow Tent. Owen must despair sometimes. I do and I'm only Lee's sister I don't have to sit in a car/van with him, or hang out in his room beyond my tolerance-for-c.r.a.p-music threshold.

Stu had awesome taste in bands.

”You know Stu will be in there,” Owen says, as if reading my mind.

It's the first time Owen's mentioned him since yesterday's s.h.i.+t storm.

”Kaz told me you knew he'd be here. Don't worry about it,” I say, b.u.mping Owen's arm as we walk across the gra.s.s, my boots kicking up dust.

”I'm sorry. I should have told you,” Owen says quietly.

”Doesn't really bother me.” I shrug.