Somebody Else’s Guy : Heard it Through the Grapevine

Libby discovers that love is a battlefield

Previously : Libby falls for Glenn, but he’s unaware. While he’s away she is warned to stay clear by his girlfriend.

Dina’s vitriolic visit shakes me. My hands tremble as I block your number and delete you from my phone.

It’s for my sanity. I know myself; there’ll be moments I’ll weaken, tempted to send a message or emoji. So — break ALL contact. In the tangle of covers on my bed I spy the Playstation controller. Reluctantly I lift it and scroll through my contact list. You’re blocked. I’ve snipped every thread between us, but that one guts me.

Later I cry but blame it on watching The Notebook. I’m properly howling, hot tears soaking my cheeks. Get a grip, Libby. Noah’s love for Allie is not the same as mine for you. Those characters recognise they are in love despite the barriers. Once love comes into his life, Noah fights to keep hold of Allie, removing every obstacle that gets in the way. You don’t even know how I feel. You’re safely in a bubble, unaware you’re the object of two people’s love.

At school I go through the motions, time is like porridge. Manda asks what’s wrong.

“It’s shark week,” I lie.

Back at home, Baz Luhrman’s Romeo & Juliette keeps me company. Or rather it fills me with desolation, the lovers get so close to having it all, but there is too much scheming, they end with worse than nothing. When Romeo misses the urgent missive from the priest, I’m pounding my fists into the pillow. Love is pain, and loving someone you shouldn’t hurts tenfold. Shakespeare says it can kill you.

Dina’s take on my crush has despoiled it. Now I wallow in chagrin, mortified by my lapse in principles. She’s filled me with shame for the longing I entertained. She’s right, I’m punching above my weight to consider you loving me back. Longing for you became my purpose, but Dina tossed that in the trash, poured on lighter fuel and set it ablaze.

After I clean my teeth and shrug into my pajamas I pick another favourite movie to watch until I fall asleep. I press play on 10 Things I Hate About You. I shouldn’t trust Shakespeare to steer me forward in the ways of love. But if the drama hurts too much, I can distract myself by gawping at Heath Ledger.

You’re coming home tomorrow. It’s still so raw; I’m contemplating pulling a sickie. What good is my determination to ignore you if you seek me out? Insisting on an explanation for ghosting you. I don’t trust myself to answer, plus I’m forbidden to speak with you.

I’ve wrestled with warning you about my sweatshirt lie, and inventing Dave on the team. But I’ve discarded it for the risk of worsening the situation. Better when Dina confronts you if you’ve had no intel from me — any attempt to build on my cover-up would stink of collaboration.

It’s water under the bridge, Libby. Dina never believed a word of it.

My mood is terrible. Manda thinks I’ve got the worst cramps ever. If she suspects I’m moping over your absence, I’ll be branded a sad sack.

The million-dollar question remains: What put my infatuation with somebody else’s guy on Dina’s radar?

It’s twisting my melon, driving me crazy. I examine it from every angle but come up blank. I push this thought aside, because she’s my best friend, but I keep wondering. Could Manda be the mole? The one who betrayed me.

“Don’t forget the party this weekend,” Manda says.

I’m stowing books in my locker and removing my sports kit. A noncommittal shrug. I’m in no mood for dancing or smuggled-in booze; plus I need to know who’s going.

“Aren’t you curious whose party it is?” Manda peers at me as if truths are written on my face.

Jeez, I hope not.

“Parties are for couples,” I sulk. “I’m not in a couple and neither are you.”

“Just get over him already!” She tosses her chestnut hair. “A party might be the way to meet someone new. Someone available.” We move to her locker. “Glenn isn’t the only boy worth looking at.”

I roll my eyes hard at that statement, but I shift the topic off me ASAP.

“Who’s in your crosshairs, Manda?”

Her eyes sparkle, and her cheeks dimple as she tells me about a boy in her Spanish class. I’ve barely noticed him, but I like blondes and she’s a fan of tall, dark, and handsome. I am a shit friend, so wrapped up with moping that this is the first I hear of her love interest.

“Maybe I can get out of this thing with my Dad,” I hedge.

Before I commit, I need to find out if you’ll be there. Nobody knows about my visit from Dina and I intend to keep it that way. Think fast Libby.

“I’m taking your advice girlfriend,” My finger snaps would make Ru Paul proud. “Keeping out of Glenn’s sphere. Can you find out if he’ll be there?”

Manda looks genuinely pleased with my mature approach.

“Leave it to me,” she says.

For the last night before you get home I’m watching, “Get Over It.” Based on another of the Bard’s plotlines, the hero in this starts off lovelorn then wakes to the realisation that he’s pining over the wrong girl. I swear I’m not thinking of you as the MC. Rather, I’m picturing myself as the lead who learns to move on and banish this pain from my life. The sooner my heart believes you aren’t the one, the better I’ll feel. Manifestation people!

Everybody from the Italian trip has been excused from school today, your flight was delayed and you got in late. I’m relieved we won’t cross paths, but it’s an anticlimax too. Perky hair and subtle make-up wasted. Damn if Manda isn’t still banging on about the party.

“Ruby’s parents are so cool. They know about the party, and aren’t coming home til midnight.” Manda’s eyes are alight with possibility. “Only people from our year going — mostly the music and drama gang.” She waggles her eyebrows at me significantly.

I am meant to conclude something … “Spanish class guy plays an instrument,” I guess.

“Saxophone,” she sighs, “and his name is Pete.”

My sigh is relieved; you don’t do music or drama, you’re in the sporty clique.

“So what are you wearing?” I ask. Manda describes options and I try to enthuse.

It’s easy to locate Ruby’s house, the thud of the bass can be heard down the street. Classmates are being dropped off and walking up the pavement. The buzz of anticipation is palpable. I’ve dressed like I care when I don’t. We’re swept towards the music. A plastic bag loaded with Diet Pepsi cans bangs against my calf.

Once inside we move to a back room that is dimly lit, with plenty of seating pushed against the walls and no carpet — great for easy clean-up. Several lava lamps throw weird shapes and colours against bare plaster. We add our cans to the tubs of ice and meltwater, keeping one back to drink. Beside me, Manda is scanning for Pete.

“There he is,” she says out of the side of her mouth. “He’s with Robbo, who’s been quizzing me about you.” Again with the eyebrow waggling. “Quick, pretend I said something funny, they’re coming over.”

I force a giggle, feeling awkward when the guys draw close. Pete looks alright, not quite how I envisaged, but he has a nice smile. He and Manda start to talk, I’m stuck with Robbo.

“So you didn’t go on the Italian trip?” he asks.

“Nope.”

“I study Spanish,” he supplies.

“With Pete.” I say.

It’s not really a question, but Robbo nods anyway.

“Also maths, and economics,” he tells me. Not my subjects, hence our paths haven’t crossed.

I don’t know what to say. I’ve never had any classes with Robbo, we’re strangers.

“Is there a Spanish trip planned?” I ask, to fill the silence.

“Yeah, next month. Four days in Barcelona.”

“Sounds exciting. I’ve never been.”

“My family went to Spain two years ago. It has really beautiful architecture.”

I’m nodding and smiling, awkward as Manda’s wingman. She seems engrossed in what Pete is describing when something Robbo says catches my attention. A story involving a restaurant serving lobsters in a tank and his sister Dina getting upset. My ears switch on.

“She did what?” I interrupt.

He looks at me startled. Now I’m noticing his blonde hair and cutting-edge clothes. He fixes me with familiar dark brown eyes, although not filled with scorn like hers were when she stood in my porch.

Robbo retells his anecdote. I smile, but I’m also calculating. Might his sister go to the all-girls school?

“Is your sister younger than you?” I want to get my facts straight.

“We’re twins,” he grins. His eyes flash with an expression that I recognise as triumph.

“Is she here tonight?” If she is, he won’t see me for dust.

“No,” he drawls, “her boyfriend just got back from the Italian trip. They have a lot of catching up to do.”

I know I’m not imagining the pointed look he’s giving me. Robbo is loyal to his twin sister; I read his message loud and clear.

Hands off. He’s somebody else’s guy.

But I’ve discovered the ‘mole’. All this time Robbo has been ideally placed to spy. You both take maths class. Have you been discreet, when you text me or come looking for me in the library? Robbo’s also been playing shotgun to his pal Pete, who is currently showing an interest in my best friend Manda. It’s very convenient. He’s had every excuse to keep an eye on you, plus he’s thrown me to the wolves.

Fight or flight is a powerful instinct. If I could dash off I would, but I can’t leave Manda in the lurch. I look at the floor instead of Robbo, who seems to have run out of steam having delivered his snide message.

“Libby, come with me to the bathroom.” Manda grabs my arm and hauls me away.

“What’s wrong?” she asks when we can hear ourselves over the music.

“I’m not really in the mood,” I shrug. “And Robbo’s pissing me off.”

“Yeah, he’s a knob-head,” she grimaces. “And I just found out his sister’s a real bitch.”

I make a noncommittal face.

“You’ll want to hear this Libby. Robbo’s sister Dina is Glenn’s girlfriend.”

Too late my friend, I already know. I keep these thoughts to myself.

“While Glenn was in Italy on the school trip, Dina started dating someone else. She broke up with him by text yesterday morning.”

Manda’s news hits me like a sucker punch.

How must you be feeling? Humiliated, betrayed, angry? Then confusion kicks in. Dina warned me off, WHILE she was cheating on you. She didn’t want you, but nobody else could have you either. My grandad would say she wants to have her cake and eat it.

Manda watches my face. I’m useless at hiding my emotions, so she sees everything.

“Let’s just go,” she says.

“What about Pete?”

“I’ll talk to him on Monday.”

Manda’s my rock. I think it’s high time I confide everything to her. A best friend’s wise counsel will serve me better than all these films I’ve been watching.

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