All the Little Things by Sarah Lawton (the best books to read txt) 📕

Molly is usually waiting for me by the back gate in our garden, but I sent her a message this morning telling her I was going in early so I didn’t have to see her straight away. I’m not particularly early but I’d rather walk on my own today. The air is buzzing with bugs and light is streaming through the trees, striping the air and making my eyes water. It feels damp already, like the inside of a lung or something, spongy. Humid. Horrid.

As I make my way through the trees I catch sight of a couple ahead of me through the leaves so I slow down enough to not catch up with them. I don’t want to speak to anyone, and I think it might be Molly, but I can’t see who she is with so I move off the path and behind the big bramble bushes that line the way so I can eavesdrop on her from the side. It’s fun creeping through the forest to spy, though I’m worried about getting snagged up in all the thorns.

I see a shaft of sunlight beam off a golden head. That is Molly, but I can’t make out who she’s with yet – is it Matthew? He’s on the other side of her but there are too many leaves here. Is she talking about Serena? Maybe she’s trying to fix things. Then I see him through a gap, his clear profile. It’s not Matthew. It’s Alex.

I hear her laugh, loudly, an incredulous laugh. I know all of Molly’s laughs and that one means that someone is telling her lies. I’m so caught up in trying to listen without being heard myself that I get caught on a bramble branch, and it whips around onto my face as I try and pull it off, leaving a scratch. I can feel spots of blood raising themselves along it like fire beacons. Fuck! It really stings. I’m lucky it didn’t go in my eye. That would have been karma, wouldn’t it? By the time I have extracted myself from the stupid blackberry bush I’ve lost them.

After a quick trip to the bathroom to wash the painful scratch on my cheek, I go and find the girls. I don’t want to act like there is anything wrong, but it’s difficult for me not to be stiff and uptight at the best of times, let alone when everything might be blowing up. This is all salvageable as long as Molly doesn’t keep being a freak. They are standing in a huddle in the hall, our usual spot. Serena looks angry, hissing at Molly, who is doing a remarkable job of looking bewildered. She’s trying to brazen it out, the liar.

Then everything goes into a painful slow motion as Matthew walks past me, towards them. I’ve never noticed before but he walks with a funny kind of bounce on his heels. With his springy hair, it makes him seem like a puppy. Serena spots him coming and goes rigid like a mannequin, Tilly’s knuckles turn white on the strap of her bag and she turns her face to let her hair fall between her and the scene that’s about to happen. She hates confrontation. Molly hasn’t seen him yet, and his hand reaches for her shoulder, to tap, stroke almost.

‘Hey, Molly!’ He sounds so happy. Idiot.

Molly just turns around to face him, raising an immaculately arched eyebrow, with what looks like a practised sneer on her perfectly made-up mouth. A pale pink dagger. I’ve never seen her look at someone like that before. I resolve to practise it in the mirror, because if a look could kill, it would be that one. I can almost see Matthew withering on the spot with embarrassment.

‘Can I help you with something?’ She tilts her head slightly, points her sharp chin.

Matt just stands there. I can’t see his face, but I see his hands: his fingers twitch and then compress and clamp together, make fists. A hot red flush creeps up the back of his neck above the white collar of his shirt. Molly is still looking at him like she’s just found him on the bottom of her shoe. Serena and Tilly don’t say anything; their eyes flick between the two of them like they are playing tennis and they are the spectators watching the ball ping back and forth.

Matthew doesn’t say anything else; he turns sharply on his heel and walks back toward me. His face is pale but there are high spots of colour on his cheeks and he looks like he’s going to be sick. His eyes meet mine for a moment but then slide away, ashamed. Did he see me on Saturday, watching them through the door? Watching him? He steps around me, leaving me with a citrusy scent to follow back to Molly, who has turned back to the girls with a flick of her hair.

‘See? I told you nothing happened. He was just trying it on with me, grabbing me and stuff. You didn’t see it right, Serena – if you hadn’t run off like a kid you would have seen it, too. Wouldn’t she, Viv?’

She looks at me now, blue eyes telling me to toe the line. I could break her right here, if I wanted to. For a second I taste domination, bittersweet, addictive, but then I spit it away. Not yet.

‘Yep. Nothing happened, Ser. He’s a dick.’

Serena looks at me for a long moment, like she’s making her mind up about something, then plasters on a thin smile, glossy but false, teeth behind it.

‘Yeah. He’s a dick. Come on, Tills, we’re going to be late.’ She grabs Tilly and drags her away to registration without waiting for us to follow. Molly is still looking at me with a small, pleased smile on her face. She doesn’t thank me for saving her slutty arse and I realise with a sinking feeling that I’m stuck. I can’t now tell anyone