Faking it by Gabrielle Tozer

Author:Gabrielle Tozer
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2015-07-26T16:00:00+00:00

Sunday began as a blur. After a fitful sleep, I dragged myself out of bed midmorning to the sound of bacon sizzling in the kitchen and rain pelting down outside. Before I had a chance to load up my plate, Kat had already pecked me on the cheek and rushed out the door to spend the day at a friend’s place — shooting me a cheeky ‘Say hi to James from me’ before slamming the door behind her. So much for spending more time together. Not that it really mattered. Faster than you could have said, ‘There’s no place like home’, it was time to say goodbye and get the train back to the city.

Mum’s eyes were red as she drove me to the station, but by the time we’d pulled into the car park she’d composed herself. I felt the familiar pangs of guilt, loneliness and sadness charge through my body, settling in my stomach to taunt me all the way home. Little white lies such as ‘Yeah, I can totally afford to buy groceries this week’, ‘Don’t worry, James is meeting me at the train station’ and ‘Working at indi’s not stressful at all’ were still scalding my lips as I boarded the train and waved goodbye. It was like déja vu from my first solo trip to the city and, once again, I was fighting back tears. Things were changing, and I was being left behind.

I lumped my suitcase onto the seat next to me and stared out the window as we passed paddock after paddock, the gumtrees slanting on the hills like hobbling old men. I checked my phone. Still nothing. James sure was good at going off the radar. I considered calling him, then decided the risk of me stuttering something absurd was too great. It didn’t take long before staring progressed into glaring out the window. Irritation at an all-time high, I caved, texting him to tell him not to worry about messaging or calling me back ever ’cos I didn’t want to hear from him. Half an hour later there was still no reply, which was a total headache because I couldn’t tell if he hadn’t replied because he didn’t want to or because I’d told him not to. I was in the middle of my first real relationship crisis.

Two more texts and no replies later, as I was on the verge of a mini meltdown, someone tapped on my shoulder. I spun around, hoping it wasn’t the creepy guy who’d commented on my ‘enchanting legs’ when I got on the train. It wasn’t him, or the scrawny woman from a few seats back clipping her toenails, or even the little kids who’d been fighting over a set of colourful blocks. Instead, Kat was on the seat behind me, a small suitcase on one side of her and a colourful tote on the other.

I was so stunned I forgot to blast her about why this was: (a) a terrible mistake; (b) going to

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