Page 83 of Vying Girls
I snort when Nic only rolls over, muttering a long-sufferingfuckunder her breath.
I lie awake for a while, listening to the violent splatter of rain on glass and Nic’s occasional sighs.
I feel oddly sorry for her alone on the sofa, despite it being her choice. I can’t help but think that was how her life was after me. Lonely, self-defeating. She wouldn’t have thought twice about hopping into bed with me back then. She preferred it that way.
I think of the mask on her door, taking comfort in the fact that wherever she went afterwards, she still chose to take me with her.
CHAPTER 13
Tilda
Heart already hammering, I mapped out a quick path in my head before launching myself off the wall of our new living room. After a couple of steps, I stopped short, the freshly waxed floorboards sending me sailing the rest of the way. I shrieked as I impacted with a box labelled ‘kitchen’, giggling as I bent over it.
On the other side of the room, Nic chuckled, her eyes bright as she executed her own skids. Unlike me, she made sure to keep her distance from Mum, whose stress had been mounting all day.
Now Nic’s dad was out of sight, back at their old house sorting the last of it, she let that stress boil over.
It was already evening, not late, but dark enough for the sky to be gloomy. The recessed lighting of the room was bright, bouncing off the pure white walls. It was all white in here, apart from the floors which were some kind of dark wood. Definitely different from the threadbare carpet of our old place, and a hell of a lot more fun.
As soon as Jack was out of sight, Mum was lecturing us about all the white.
Not our fault. They were the ones who chose the place.
Anyway, the floors were more exciting than the walls. Especially in my fluffy slipper socks.
It was echoey in there too, something Jack said would be sorted as soon as they laid down some big rugs.
Tipping my head back, I let out a loudahhhhhhh, enjoying the sound of it bouncing off the walls. Nic stopped her skidding and watched. I let out some more—sharper, louder. That seemed to give a better effect.
‘Tilda,’ Mum snapped. ‘Stop being fucking weird, would you.’ She made an impatient gesture with her hand, turning back to the open box at her feet. ‘Go on. Get out of here or I won’t be getting that pizza.’
I huffed as I swooped up the small globe I’d found in an upstairs bedroom, as well as the butterfly book Nic found in another. As ifshe’dbe the one buying the pizza later.
‘Come on,’ I said to Nic. ‘Let’s go out there.’
At the rear end of the house was a large conservatory. We’d never had anything but boxy kitchens at the back of ours, so this vast room with all its glass was pretty cool.
The garden beyond was darkening. There were trees at the back, all in shadow, with fancy little bushes and paving stones. I’d already picked where I was going to make my new hut. There would even be room for Nic.
I fell to my knees before the middle windowpane, eyes high on the wooden mask hanging there.
‘Why didn’t they take it?’ Nic asked.
I ran my eyes over the painted designs. ‘Maybe this is its land. Can’t be moved in case…’
‘Curse,’ Nic supplied.
I nodded firmly, carefully placing down the globe and butterfly book. ‘It wants to be worshipped.’
Still standing, Nic eyed me. She did this. I’d say something weird, and she’d size me up before deciding whether or not she wanted to go along with it. In the early days, that was always.
‘Like, prayed to?’
‘Yep.’
Nic began to put her hands together.
‘No!’ I shot out an arm. ‘It’s notthatkind. Like this.’
