Page 37 of Save Me

I feel my face go red. “It’s not a date, Dad. It’s school stuff.”

He just growls. But Ember is staring at me wide-eyed. “That’s amazing.” She drops back onto the sofa and crosses her arms over her chest. “That’s so…Oh, wow. You don’t know what an opportunity this is, Ruby.”

“I’ll take photos for you,” I say placatingly, but Ember’s still staring hard at the TV.

“So, is it OK if I go?” I ask Mum. She seems the only sane person in this room.

“Of course,” she says at once, giving Dad a warning look when he opens his mouth again. “You’re old enough to decide for yourself who you want to do things with.”

Inexplicably, her words make my cheeks flush even redder. But without paying much attention, I type a reply:

OK.

Oh and I prefer Ben & Jerry’s to champagne. RJB.

P.S. If you add another initial, I’ll freak.

I hesitate a moment, wondering if I can really send that. James and I aren’t the kind of people to joke around by WhatsApp. Or are we?

See you tomorrow, Ruby.

No, I guess we’re not those kind of people.

12

Ruby

The next morning, I’m on the verge of panic because I have no idea what to wear for this trip to Beaufort’s. I don’t know if there’s a dress code or how nicely I should dress. I’m also wondering if James will wear a suit. We’ve never set eyes on each other outside school, so we’ve almost always seen each other in uniform.

In the end, I decide on a black skirt, over-the-knee socks, and an ochre jumper with a white crocheted collar. The black brogues I scored in Gormsey’s charity shop a couple of months ago are the finishing touch.

I’m not as brave with fashion as Ember is. I prefer to buy things that make me feel safe and that I know will last. Even so, I like getting dressed up and taking time to look put together—probably another aspect of my love for organization.

Once I’m dressed, I pop into my sister’s room, just to be on the safe side. She’s awake and sitting at her little desk by the window when I stick my head around the door.

“What?” she asks, without turning around.

“What d’you think?” She turns on her chair, and I open the door fully so she can see my outfit.

“Cute,” she says, once she’s scanned me over from top to toes.

“Really?” I ask, doing a twirl. When I look back at Ember, she narrows her eyes slightly.

“Not a date, uh-huh?” There’s a teasing tone in her voice.

I roll my eyes. “Ember, I can’t stand the guy.”

“Yeah, right,” she replies, standing up. She goes to her tiny built-in wardrobe and opens the door. Then she crouches down until she’s half vanished inside it and starts to dig around. I come to stand behind her cautiously and peer over her shoulder. Thirty seconds later, she reemerges and hands me a little burgundy bag.

“My bag!”

“Don’t act so shocked. You only ever use your backpack anyway,” she says defensively. “But it goes really well with that look.”

“I should charge you interest, seeing how long you kept it.” I dust off the faux leather. This was another thrift store find. I loved it and used it proudly for a full fortnight before our neighbor, Mrs. Felton, spotted me with it in Mum’s bakery and blurted out, loudly, that she’d bought it new fifty years ago. So I was only too happy to lend it to Ember and didn’t even want it back at first. But now I’m glad to have it in my hands again.

“I’m not paying interest on something you didn’t even know I had,” she retorts.

The doorbell rings, and I freeze. I glance at the clock. It’s quarter to ten. “He’s early,” I groan, running back to my room to grab my phone and purse and switch them from one bag to the other.

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