Page 73 of Vying Girls

My heart flips when I spot her reluctant smile. It feels like a win, one I want more of.

‘I’m gonna chuck on a couple of plasters,’ she says, getting up from the bath to fetch them.

‘Then I’ll do you.’

‘I’m good.’

‘There’s blood literally streaking all down your arm, Nic.’

‘I said I’m fucking good!’

‘Fine.Just—the big pieces then. You can deal with the rest.’

I take her lack of further argument as acquiescence.

When she’s done with me, she sinks onto the bath’s edge, face fixed forwards. She’s not pouting but she might as well be. I fight a smile as I scour her skin for glass.

‘Bet you’re like this with needles too.’

‘I don’t like pricks,’ she replies dryly.

I brush her lightly freckled shoulders with my fingertips, feeling a subtle reverence in the act. She’s right here. Under my hands. The girl I begged and raved and sobbed for. It only took a decade, and things might be more fucked up than ever, but she’s fucking here.

She seems completely unaware of my touch, not even a frown puckering her forehead. She looks drained, on a comedown from whatever that blue shit was. I’m way too clueless to even hazard a guess. Could be a Hazelhurst speciality. I doubt whatever they sell down there’s the cheap stuff.

Her injuries aren’t so bad once I’ve mopped them up. Her white top’s a mess though.

‘Hey. I’ll get that soaked if you want. Before it stains.’

Wordlessly, she pulls it over her head and drops it into my lap. I avert my eyes. I expected a refusal, an insistence on doing it herself. At least she’s wearing a bra tonight. It’s not often she does.

I cross to the sink and put in the plug. The rush of water is a shock after the almost suspended silence.

Nic disappears before returning with a dustpan and brush. The clear water turns pink as I saturate her t-shirt.

We work in silence, as in sync as we ever used to be. I smile as I remember just how untrue that was at the start. I’dalways wanted a sister—what lonely little girl doesn’t?—but to be faced with reality, that this also included amanwho would take my mum away, paired with my covetous nature towards my belongings, I hadn’t taken to the news of a new stepsister well.

For weeks I raged at mum. She was uncaring, on cloud fucking nine with what she’d just landed herself, and that pissed me off all the more. The day we were due to meet, I holed myself up in my garden den, ready to hiss and curse this girl who wanted in on my life.

But how could I turn away a fellow witch? It only took a split second, admiring that weird, raised mark on her leg, to suddenly see a different future, one where she was my helper, someone to ease the loneliness with. She made it so easy. She was eager to be my friend. It’s hard to imagine now. She keeps the whole world at arm’s length.

I glance over to where she’s crouched, noticing how she’s paused with her hand on her heart.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah. Just—palpitations.’

‘Shit.’ Dropping the t-shirt, I turn to face her. ‘From what you’ve taken tonight?’

Nic shakes her head, resuming with her brushing. ‘It’s fine. Happens all the time.’

‘When did it start?’

‘Dunno. When I was a teen.’

When I’m sure she’s not about to keel over, I turn back to the sink. The t-shirt’s practically clean now, even without a whizz around in the washing machine, but I don’t want to part from Nic just yet.

When I was a teen.