Page 27 of The New Girl

Ruby shook her head. ‘No way. I am not curling your hair. Last time you made me do it I burnt my fingers on the wand.’

Orla rolled her eyes. ‘That’s because you’re an idiot. Anyway, Safa can do that and you can do my tan.’ She bent down to plug in her curling wand.

‘Why do you put all that tan on your body?’ Safa asked. ‘You have lovely smooth white skin; why do you cover it up with all that fake tan? And those crazy fake eyelashes that look like spiders?’

Orla looked at her as if she was mad. ‘Lovely white skin? It’s horrible pasty skin with freckles, urgh. At least with tan on you look better: thinner, healthier and hotter. And false lashes make your eyes look way bigger and nicer. Your eyes could do with some make-up. They’d look much better.’

‘But you don’t look better with all the stuff you wear. You look ... well ... a bit orange and silly.’

Ruby covered her mouth to stop a giggle escaping.

‘Silly? Silly would be going out with pasty white legs in a minidress. I’d scare boys away. Silly would be going out without my lashes on and small piggy eyes. Silly would be not making myself look better.’

‘Yes, but wouldn’t a little bit of make-up be better than so much that you can barely see your eyes or skin?’

Orla sighed. ‘You don’t get it because you have lovely skin and your eyes are quite big. You wake up looking OK. I wake up looking like crap. Pasty, small eyes and freckles. If I didn’t wear make-up, no boy would go near me. I need it. When I’m all made up I feel hot and it gives me confidence.’

Safa thought about that. If all the make-up made Orla feel stronger and more confident, then it was a good thing. But Safa still thought she would look much better without it.

An hour later, Orla came out of the bathroom and twirled. She was wearing a tight silver top with tiny straps, a very short black skirt and high-heeled sandals.

Safa looked out the bedroom window. It was pelting down with rain. How did Irish girls go out with so few clothes on in a cold, wet country? Did they not feel the cold? Were they just used to it? Did they not mind having wet toes?

‘Girls, dinner!’ Ruby’s mum called.

Safa had told Mama that she was going to stay at Ruby’s till about nine. Mama had got to know Ruby a bit in the yard at pick-up time, and she was happy that Safa had a friend, so she didn’t mind.

Orla put a long skirt over her mini and zipped up a jacket over her top. Then from her rucksack she pulled out a small bottle of beer. She opened the top and took a long drink.

‘Oh my God, Orla, Mum and Dad will go mad if they find out you’re drinking.’ Ruby’s eyes were wide.

‘Oh relax. You’re such a bore. Everyone drinks.’

‘No they don’t,’ Ruby said.

‘OK, well, lots of people do. It’s fun. I want to get a little buzzed up before I see Conor. You better not tell – I’ll kill you if you do.’ Orla hid the bottle inside her jacket.

‘As if I’m going to upset Mum and Dad with your drinking,’ Ruby snapped.

Safa didn’t understand the drinking either. Why did Irish teenagers drink? She was often awake at night after her nightmares and she’d seen some of the teenagers who lived in her estate coming home, stumbling in their gardens, trying to get their keys out of their bags, vomiting into hedges, falling down ... Safa thought it was dangerous. She’d seen people in the camps drinking. It was usually young men and it always led to trouble. Fights broke out when the men drank too much. Harsh words were said, and bones were broken. Baba said alcohol was bad for you. He said it caused many problems in families. He said everyone should stay away from it. Safa was worried about Orla drinking. She hoped she didn’t get into trouble.

They all headed downstairs. Safa whispered to Ruby, ‘Maybe you should tell your parents about Orla drinking.’

Ruby stopped dead on the stairs. ‘Are you mad? My parents are stressed out all the time over Robbie. The last thing they need is to worry about Orla.’

‘But what if she drinks too much?’

‘Then she’ll learn not to do it again,’ Ruby said, and continued down the stairs.

Fiona looked up as they came in. ‘You look very dressed up, love,’ she said to Orla.

‘I’m going out, Mum, remember I told you? A party at Lorraine’s.’

‘Oh yes, sorry, it slipped my mind. Well, you’d better have some dinner before you go.’

‘No, I’m good, there’ll be food there,’ Orla said.

‘Oh, all right, are you sure?’

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