The Reunion. Литагент HarperCollins USD

together again. That’s to say, Bart gripped my elbow, led me from the dance floor and we went outside. At the beginning of the evening he’d been a stranger and now we were walking with our arms around each other to a deserted corner of the bike stand. Then we were kissing, hard. He was a fantastic kisser. I barely knew what I was doing.

      ‘Open your mouth a bit more,’ he said. The sensation of his tongue slowly exploring my mouth was breathtaking. I was kissing the most popular boy in school!

      Just then it struck me that this might be a practical joke. I didn’t know in which way I was being teased but I opened my eyes and looked past Bart to check if the others were around. The bike shed was empty. Bart’s hand moved to my trouser zip, but I pulled it off. He didn’t mind.

      ‘No?’ he said. ‘Okay.’

      We kissed some more and then finally walked hand in hand back to the main entrance. I was in seventh heaven. The party was over. Most people had already left. The group had also gone, probably into town.

      It wouldn’t have surprised me if Bart had said goodbye and gone off to find them. But instead he asked me where my bike was. When I told him that my father had brought me, he got his bike, a rickety old rust bucket, and said, ‘Hop on the back.’

      He took me home. It was a ten-kilometre ride, and for him another lonely ten kilometres back. At the front door, we said goodbye so slowly that an hour passed before I finally slipped inside. I lay in my bed with a thumping head, in no fit state to sleep. Bart, Bart, Bart, the voice inside sang.

      I hoped that things would be different from now on. Bart would defend me, protect me and draw me into the group. Isabel would treat me with respect and we would be friends again. It would even be enough if she left me alone.

      I’d forgotten that the Christmas holidays had begun and that there’d be no school for two weeks. But Bart would call me and we’d meet over the holidays and spend them together.

      He didn’t call.

      For two weeks I moved between hope and despair. Christmas passed me by totally and on New Year’s Eve, I looked outside at the fireworks in the starry sky and made a half-hearted wish that he’d show up in the new year.