It Sounded Better in My Head - Nina Kenwood Page 0,3

back, my shoulders, they all ached. If someone bumped me, I would flinch away. If I accidentally knocked a pimple on my face, involuntary tears would pop into my eyes. I had to slink and manoeuvre my way through the world, trying not to be seen, touched or noticed at all.

Somewhere around the age of thirteen, a new personality appeared along with my pimples. Reluctant Natalie. Anxious Natalie. Bitter Natalie. Neurotic Natalie. I was never these things before, and I wasn’t them, not really, but that’s how people saw me, and so that’s who I became.

I’m eighteen now, and sometimes I still want to stand up and scream, This isn’t really me.

This is all a roundabout way of saying I became something of a shut-in during high school. I mean, I’m still something of a shut-in now, but I was a pathological shut-in for a long time.

And until my face was fixed, until I met Zach and Lucy, until I got a bit tougher, my parents were all I had.

3

Something Obscene on a Park Bench

The day after the Christmas bombshell, I go to Zach’s house and walk in through the back door without knocking. I’ve been friends with Zach for a few years now, and I still get a secret thrill out of being allowed to walk into his house unannounced. It feels like I’ve unlocked the highest friendship level.

‘Hello,’ I call out.

‘Natalie.’ Lucy appears at the end of the hall. Lucy and Zach have been officially together for nine months, which is a very long time at our age, practically a marriage, but it’s a situation I am still adjusting to. We were once a friendship group of three individuals—three equals, three devoted but platonic points of a triangle—and now we’re a breathlessly in love couple (them) and a person who spends her Saturday night taking photos of the back of her head in a mirror so she can understand what it’s like to see herself from behind (me).

I am forced to second-guess everything. Is it movie night like always, or am I crashing their date? If I tell one of them a secret, will they automatically tell the other? If they have a fight, do I have to pick a side straight away, and can I change my side halfway through? How often, exactly, do they talk about me when I’m not there? (I hate the thought that they might, but I also hate the thought that they might not. I would like to be one of their top three conversation topics, but only if they are spending a significant amount of time reflecting on my sparkling personality.)

Zach appears behind Lucy, sliding in his socks. Zach is the yardstick that I measure every other guy against. Zach’s mannerisms, Zach’s way of doing things, Zach’s voice, Zach’s tallness, Zach’s lankiness—he’s just how boys should be, because he’s the only boy I’ve ever really been friends with, and the best one I’ve met.

Lucy hurries down the hall to hug me.

‘It sucks,’ she says. I told her about my parents last night.

Lucy is a good hugger. She’s my favourite person in the world, so even just seeing her face makes me feel better.

‘I’m sorry,’ Zach says.

‘Thanks,’ I say. I would like to say I don’t want anyone’s sympathy, but I generally quite enjoy my friends feeling sorry for me, especially about this. Firstly, it means I actually have friends who care about me, which, when you know what it’s like not to have any friends at all, means a lot. Secondly, ‘my parents are splitting up’ is a refreshingly normal and acceptable problem to have, and it’s far less embarrassing than an I-have-an-infected-pimple-that’s-so-huge-and-disfiguring-that-it-has-sent-me-into-a-spiral-of-depression-so-I-won’t-begetting-out-of-bed-today kind of issue.

I follow Zach and Lucy into the house, and Zach’s mother, Mariella, rushes out of the kitchen to hug me.

‘Darling, how are you? Zach told me about your parents. Don’t you worry for a second. Everything’s going to be fine. And don’t go blaming anyone. Relationships are hard. Sal and I have almost separated at least four times over the years. It’s actually a miracle we’re still together.’

Mariella is an oversharer.

‘Mum! Please.’ Zach puts his arm between us, as if this can stop his mother’s words.

‘Run, Natalie,’ Zach’s younger brother Anthony says as he walks past stirring an almost overflowing glass of Milo. Zach has three brothers, and I only truly understood the necessity of jumbo tins of Milo after my first visit to his house.

I laugh, and push Zach aside for another hug from Mariella.