PHOEBE
‘You look amazing.’ She really did; I couldn’t stop staring at her. Liberty had really gone for it in the sexy cherub department. She was wearing kawaii-type frilly white knicker shorts, white over-the-knee socks, a white vest and giant white feathery wings. Unbelievably, she still seemed to have copious amounts of glitter left, and had lathered herself in it head to toe, giving her a slightly oily, celestial sheen. She had brought her GHDs into my room and was curling her white-blonde hair. Negin was meticulously drawing whiskers on to Frankie’s face and Becky was wrapping giant pieces of brown fur around her ankles.
‘I don’t think I look like a monkey.’ Becky jabbed a giant safety pin through some fur. ‘I look like a shire horse, if anything.’
‘No, but do the shy face,’ Frankie shouted. Becky put her brown furry hands over her monkey-painted eyes. Frankie burst out laughing. ‘Let me take another picture, honestly, it’s immense.’
Negin had threaded her corn through some string and was wearing it around her neck. ‘I look like someone from the Depression.’
‘They would have eaten their corn, not fashioned it into a necklace,’ I said.
‘I played Lennie in Of Mice and Men,’ Frankie screamed, putting her hand up like she was in a lesson. ‘Just saying.’ And she started shouting the word ‘alfalfa’ again and again in a strange American accent.
‘What is alfalfa?’ Negin asked.
‘No one knows, it’s one of the great mysteries of the book,’ Frankie replied, still in character.
I looked at myself in the mirror. Negin had done a good job of my whiskers – I just had to remember not to rub my face and smear them everywhere.
I was wearing jeans and a white vest top and I had threaded a Babybel on some of Negin’s string and hung it round my neck. I adjusted my ears. I wasn’t gonna stop traffic with a runway entrance, like Liberty, but I felt good.
‘My ears keep getting lost in my hair,’ I said.
‘I like it. You look like a Pre-Raphaelite mouse.’ Frankie started making the plastic turtle walk along the floor.
‘I was going to cut all my hair off before uni,’ I told her. ‘But the hairdresser said cutting it would make it lighter and it would spring out sideways.’
‘I think that would look cool,’ Negin said. ‘I cut mine the week before I came.’ She got out her phone and showed us a picture of her with poker-straight, waist-length black hair.
‘You look so different,’ we all chimed. She did.
‘Do you think Bowl-Cut Girl did all the colours right before she came here?’ I asked.
‘I think she was born like that.’ Frankie shrugged. ‘I think she came out of her mum with a multi-coloured bowl cut. I must find out her name.’
‘I heard it was Persephone.’ Liberty had still only curled one tiny bit of hair.
‘You said it was Ariel,’ Negin said to Frankie.
‘Yeah, but I think that’s just because she reminds me of a mermaid, and I got confused.’ Frankie was throwing the turtle in the air and catching it.
‘Persephone is a cool name. It probably is that.’ I gave up trying to flatten my hair around the ears.
Becky’s phone flashed, and she smiled at us apologetically. ‘Sorry, it’s Aaron. Won’t be a second.’
She picked up her monkey tail and walked out.
‘Becky and Aaron are one hundred per cent goals,’ Frankie sighed. ‘You know he sent her flowers on the first day. They were literally at reception when she arrived.’
‘Ah, that’s lovely,’ Liberty cooed. ‘The most romantic thing my ex ever did was piss my name in the snow.’
Frankie shrieked with laughter, then added: ‘That’s actually quite impressive, to be fair. You have got a long name.’
We trooped out into the kitchen, where the boys were all already assembled, drinking. All of them had painted their faces with thick yellow paint and Negin had drawn various emoji expressions on each of them with black eyeliner.
Connor was wearing a sombrero and a fake moustache and seemed even more excited than usual. When Liberty started rinsing the washing-up bowl to make the punch, he stopped her.
‘Got a better idea!’ he shouted. ‘To the bathroom!’ He picked up a bag of bottles and a tub of Nesquik and charged off.
We all squeezed in to see him perched with one foot on either side of the bath, simultaneously pouring out a bottle of wine and a bottle of tequila. ‘We can turn this into a giant punch bowl!’ he said.
I saw Negin wrinkle her nose slightly. The bath was absolutely disgusting. There was a dark-grey tidemark around the top and some long black hairs coming out of one of the taps. Even after Connor had poured in everyone else’s contributions, plus two litres of Coke, a bottle of Ribena and the Nesquik, the liquid inside barely covered the bottom of the tub. It looked like grainy, purple handwash with a weird shiny film across the top.
Connor scooped a glass into it and handed it to Negin.
‘I don’t drink,’ she reminded him, politely.
‘Oh, yeah, course,’ said Connor. ‘So is that, like, a religious thing, then?’
She shrugged. ‘In this case it’s more a not-wanting-to-get-gastroenteritis thing.’
Connor necked the glass himself. Then he leapt into the bath and lay down, knocking his sombrero off in the process. ‘Come on, team!’ he yelled. ‘Bath of booze!’
Josh came in wearing a donut rubber ring around his middle and his normal jeans and T-shirt. He looked at Connor. ‘That might not be totally cool with health and safety, but whatever. It’s the last night of Freshers’.’
‘Last night of Freshers’!’ Connor bellowed.
‘Right,’ said Josh, ‘quick round of I Have Never and then head to the bar.’
We all went back into the kitchen and started arranging the chairs into a massive circle around the table and I noticed Connor, still dripping with bath booze, position himself next to Liberty with one deft move.
‘Guys, before we start, I just want to say thanks so much for adopting me,’ Frankie announced. ‘Honestly, I actually feel emosh. I love the old people because obviously they share their pâté with me. But you guys actually saved me.’
‘You’re an honorary D-Blockite,’ Josh said. ‘So you can start the game.’
I looked around the table. I had been really lucky; everyone was so nice. Even people like Phillip and Nathan, who never got that involved, were here. We had formed a random but solid little group.
‘I have never felt attracted to anyone in this circle,’ Frankie said proudly.
A murmur rippled around. Connor, Liberty and Josh all drank.
‘Do you know by the time you leave uni there is an eighty per cent chance that the telephone number of the person you are going to marry is in your phone?’ Frankie nodded exaggeratedly as she said it.
‘Have you got Will’s number in your phone yet? That’s the question.’ As Liberty screamed it, everyone made cooing noises at me.
Will and me had somehow become a thing. I got nervous when I saw him walk into a room, and giddy when he smiled at me. So far, in the bloke stakes, uni was definitely delivering.
‘I read that too, about the phone numbers,’ Negin said. ‘I’d like to see the evidence.’
Frankie put her hand up again. ‘My parents met at uni.’
‘It’s just more stress,’ I said. ‘By third year we’ll all be scrolling through our phones hysterically.’
‘I have never vomited in the shower,’ Connor bellowed, and then stared at Liberty.
‘It wasn’t me,’ she wailed, and pulled her angel wings around to cover her face.
‘I have never had sex outside,’ Josh said, and took a big sip of beer.
You had to be so on your guard in these games; come across as grown-up and experienced and fun. They felt exposing. I didn’t really care, but for people who were really private – like Becky – they must feel like torture. I suddenly wondered if that was why she was still in her room.
Things progressed until there was no punch left in the bath, so Connor pulled a quarter-full bottle of vodka out of the cupboard.
‘We need to go soon,’ Josh said. ‘Last round.’
‘I have never wanked!’ Connor shouted, and burst out laughing.
All the boys drank. Every single one. Even Nathan and Phillip. They all did. None of them looked the remotest bit shy, not like they had done with some of the sex questions. I felt my face go ever-so-slightly red and I stared down at my glass. I glanced sideways to look at Frankie but she was just talking to Negin as if neither of them had really heard. Liberty giggled to herself but kept her glass in her hand. I felt like between the girls it was suddenly awkward, even if between the boys everything had got more jovial. Wanking. Even the word is a boy word. Boys wank. Maybe none of the girls drank because they didn’t even associate the word with themselves.
For a second I thought about drinking, but I wasn’t brave enough. Even Liberty the sexy cherub wasn’t brave enough. It’s weird how so many things in the world are unsaid.
Connor turned the empty bottle upside down. ‘Let’s go,’ he shouted.
LUKE
Arthur opened his wardrobe to pull out what appeared to be a large, puffy, brown dress, held up by brown braces. Then he twirled it round and I saw the dress had two big googly eyes painted on it.
‘It’s the pile of poo!’ he said, cheerfully.
‘Yeah, I can see that,’ I said. ‘Are you really wearing that?’
He downed the dregs of his lager and chucked the can at the bin, missing by a fair distance. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I wore it last year, too.’
‘I thought you said you got off with three girls at the emoji party last year?’
‘I did.’
‘What, dressed as a massive turd?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Impressive.’
‘Cheers. Who knows? I might even beat that this year.’
‘What, really?’ I said, genuinely surprised. ‘I thought you were . . . You know? You and Rita?’
Arthur laughed. ‘I wish.’ And then his grin dissolved for a second, and he blinked down at his shoes. ‘I mean, I do wish a bit.’ He caught himself and snapped straight back into banter mode. ‘But anyway . . . Come on, let’s get on it!’
We rounded up our corridor from the kitchen and headed down to the bar. Beth had glued a hockey stick emoji to her sweatshirt, Barney was wearing a wink-smiley beanie and the chemists all had specially made T-shirts featuring the cry-laughing emoji in protective science goggles.
The bar looked easily the maddest it had all week. Everywhere you turned there were ballerinas doing shots, giant bunches of grapes dancing and tons of people wearing those big ball-shaped lightshades on their heads, sloppily painted yellow with random emoji faces.
Arthur spotted his second-year mates, Dan and Hassan, at the bar, so we headed over. As I ordered some beers, I felt a damp plop on my right shoulder, and looked down to see that a clump of stringy spaghetti had fallen on me.
‘I’ll have a pint and a shot, Fresher,’ said Will, picking the pasta off my shoulder and putting it back into the plastic bowl he had strapped to the top of his head.
‘Pasta emoji,’ I said. ‘Like it. Very niche.’
‘Cheers, mate, I thought so.’ He thumped my shoulder and leant in. ‘Listen, we’re not officially sending emails till next week, but I might as well tell you now. You made the first team.’
PHOEBE
‘I feel like they are having a heart-to-heart.’ Frankie took a sip of her drink. ‘Will keeps touching Luke Taylor meaningfully.’ We were all just stood in a row on the dance floor, watching them. Frankie grabbed my cheese necklace, pulled me towards her and stared into my eyes.
‘“Touching him meaningfully,”’ Negin repeated, and shook her head.
‘I know, when he’s supposed to be doing that to Phoebe.’ Frankie burst out laughing at her own joke and sprayed me and Negin with blue WKD.
‘Stop staring. Can we all go and dance or just do something else?’ I pleaded.
Negin and Frankie ignored this and carried on looking at them, so I did too.
‘Your greatest love sprung from your greatest hate.’ Frankie put her arm around me.
‘Will hasn’t sprung from him,’ I said. ‘And I don’t hate Luke.’
‘Are you saying you love Will?’ Frankie took another sip with her arm still around me, putting me in a kind of headlock.
‘Will is obviously trying to pump Luke Taylor for information about you,’ she boomed.
‘Luke Taylor doesn’t know anything about me.’
Frankie ignored this completely. She put her hand to her ear like she was reporting live. ‘Now Luke is saying, “The biggest mistake I ever made in my life was bailing on quidditch. I just couldn’t face Phoebe’s beauty. I was intimidated. I was a pathetic excuse for a man. But now my heart burns for her. It yearns for her. I would literally die for her. She is my first, my last, my everything.”’
Negin frowned. ‘Bit creepy.’
Frankie squeezed my shoulder hard. ‘Oh my god, and that hand movement Luke’s doing now, see that? That means, “I will fight you to the death for her, Will.” That basically means, “Meet me by the vending machines at dawn, bring a pistol and the victor shall have Phoebe’s heart.”’
‘Are they going to eat her?’ Negin said.
‘Stop!’ I yelled. ‘They’re gonna see us looking.’ I was laughing so hard I could barely hold my drink.
Frankie was still in full flow. ‘Now Luke Taylor is saying that Phoebe makes him insane with love. He is saying he would eat his own face just to be close to her.’
‘Funny how he never indicated that all through school, and he probably still has a long-term girlfriend he is madly in love with.’
Frankie unwrapped her arm from my shoulder and looked at me. ‘If you had to marry Will or Luke Taylor Quidditch Bailer right here, right now, or you’d be put to death, who would you marry?’ She held her bottle up to my mouth like a microphone.
‘Will,’ I said. ‘Obviously Will. Because I really like him and he actually fancies me and he is actually really, really nice.’
LUKE
‘Honestly, mate, fucking good effort today,’ Will said. ‘Not that many freshers get straight into the Ones.’
He handed me a shot and we clinked glasses and drank.
‘Cheers,’ I gasped, just about managing to keep the minty vodka down.
I was having to concentrate fairly hard on not being sick, and my right shoulder was literally heaving with spaghetti, but I still felt amazing. Even Reece hadn’t managed to get straight into the Ones at Nottingham.
‘Oi, mate!’ Will called to the barman. ‘Two more, yeah?’
He passed me a pint, and I paid. ‘So, where are you from, then?’ he asked, taking a sip.
‘Kingston,’ I said. ‘What about you?’
‘London, mate. Fulham. I swear we’re pretty much the only Londoners in this whole uni. It’s fucking wall-to-wall northerners up here.’
‘Well, we are in the north, to be fair.’
He shrugged, like the idea had just occurred to him. ‘So, what you studying?’
‘English’.
‘Oh, mate!’ He took a big swig of his pint, landing a massive dollop of spaghetti on to the bar behind him. ‘Fucking good ratio. So many girls do English. You’ll be well outnumbered in the seminars, trust me.’
‘Oh, OK. Right. What are you doing?’
He frowned and wrinkled his brow. ‘PPE.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Philosophy, Politics and Economics. My dad’s choice. And he’s paying for all this, so . . .’ He swept his hands about grandly, as if ‘all this’ literally meant Jutland Bar. ‘Still,’ he carried on, ‘at least I’ll get a decent job after uni. Unlike you, who’ll be stuck in a skip, writing poems.’
‘That’s the dream,’ I sighed. ‘Although you don’t walk straight into a gig like that. I’d probably have to intern in the skip for a few months.’
He laughed and finished his pint just as Dempers came bustling over, looking even more sweaty and red-faced than usual. He was wearing a pretty horrendous gold T-shirt with a bright-green dollar sign scribbled on it; maybe the only person here who’d made less of an effort than me. A couple of the other third years from trials were with him, and he introduced them as ‘The Ox’ and ‘Geordie Al’. They were both dressed in tiny black leotards, which was particularly distressing in the case of Geordie Al, whose thick, wiry body hair was poking out from every available corner.
He laid a furry hand on Will’s shoulder. ‘Mate, when I said we need to find some freshers tonight, this wasn’t exactly who I had in mind.’
Will laughed. ‘Chill out, I was just telling Taylor he made the Ones.’
Al clinked his pint glass against mine. ‘Nice one, mate. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to locate some freshers of the opposite gender.’
‘As if you’re getting anything tonight dressed like that,’ Dempers smirked. Al shrugged and smoothed his leotard down. ‘It’s a conversation starter, innit?’
‘You shouldn’t need a conversation starter on the last night of Freshers’,’ Will murmured, scanning the dance floor. ‘It’s always carnage.’
Dempers nodded. ‘If you can’t get some on the last night of Freshers’, you might as well chop it off.’
‘Oh, really?’ Will nodded towards the dance floor. ‘On you go, then, Dempsey . . .’
Dempers rolled his eyes. ‘All right, watch.’ He huffed off, and as we watched him go I spotted Phoebe and her mates by the speakers, all three of them staring straight at us. They clocked me looking and suddenly spun round and started dancing really energetically. Phoebe’s tall blonde mate was doing a weird kind of robotic chicken move. I decided right then that at some point tonight, I’d finally go over and say sorry to Phoebe. End the awkwardness.
‘What you saying for this evening, then, Taylor?’ Will asked. ‘Any hotties on your corridor?’
‘Er . . . Not really, no.’
‘Well, come on, then,’ he said, scanning the bar again. ‘Who d’you want introducing to?’
Geordie Al whacked him on the back, spilling more pasta everywhere. ‘Barnes has got himself sorted, so now he’s trying to sort out everyone else. What a fucking legend. What a gent.’
Will shrugged, modestly. ‘I’m not definitely sorted . . .’
‘You’ve got with her pretty much every night this week,’ said The Ox, and I suddenly knew who they were talking about.
‘She’s fit.’ Al shrugged. ‘Hair’s a bit mad, but still. Fit.’ I wondered if I should tell them I knew her, too.
‘Yeah, well, we’ll see what happens,’ said Will. Then he turned back to me. ‘But come on, Taylor. You’re a fresher, for fuck’s sake. You can’t not get laid this week. That’s, like, illegal.’
‘Ah, yeah. Well, the thing is . . . I’ve sort of got a girlfriend.’
It came out of nowhere, like a reflex. I wasn’t even sure why I said it. But the thought of Abbey had the instant effect of sobering me up slightly.
Will nodded wisely. ‘“Sort of” being the operative phrase, there. Can’t see that lasting long in first term, mate, no offence. I had a bird when I started last year, too. That lasted all of about four hours.’ He laughed loudly, then finished his pint and slammed it back down on to the bar. ‘Cheers for the drinks, anyway. We’ll email about initiations and stuff next week.’
Geordie Al leant in to me and started a long monologue about some drinking game he’d just played, as I watched Will walk right on to the dance floor, right over to Phoebe.