Page 87 of Little Miss Fortune

There is only one person in this house. And, fortunately, it is not my dad, who just found a stamp worth ten whole British pounds (good luck) and is meeting someone in a parking lot of a Big Tesco to exchange it for cash.

‘Yes?’ Hanako shouts out to my knock.

‘What do I wear to a date?’ I ask, opening the door.

‘You have a date?!’ She whips her head from the monitor, pausing some Chinese gambling game.

‘Don’t sound so surprised.’

‘Aren’t you, like, a nun?’

‘I’ll beat your ass.’

‘Does Dad know?’

‘No, it’s the first date. I’m not going to tell him anything.’

‘Oh, but I get grounded.’

‘Hanako, I’m 24.’

‘That old?’ she asks, genuinely surprised, and dodges the pillow I chuck at her head. ‘What’s the activity on the date?’

‘He said it’s a surprise,’ I say, and she grimaces. ‘What?’

‘Not very considerate, is he?’

‘He just said something covered. And a hat.’

‘Oh god, you’re meeting his parents.’

‘What?’

‘Why else would he ask you to cover?’

‘I thought it might be something to do with nature.’

‘That also would make sense. But that’s, like, two completely different outfits.’

‘That’s what I mean!’ I cover my face and drop onto her bed.

I wish Sashka and I were talking. She would have figured this out. She also has been on dates with him. My stomach sinks, my palms clam up, and my vision blurs. I have stalked Sashka’s socials almost every day since we last spoke. I could have reached out, but part of me is still hurt by her actions, and the other part of me is embarrassed that I’ve hurt her.

‘Maybe I’ll cancel,’ I mumble into the sister of the pillow I threw earlier.

‘Stop it. I am sure if it got far enough for him to ask you out, it really doesn’t matter what you wear. Be braver.’

I did promise Toby to not bail.

‘I hate it when you are right.’

When Saturday rolls onto my doorstep, I am ready. UV protective long-sleeved top and black jeans. Dad is out with his rounder’s team, their uniform got delivered to the wrong address (bad luck) and now they have to go and locate the parcel. The couch creaks every fifteen seconds, which is every time I nervously shuffle. I don’t know if I’ve ever been on a proper date. I used to sleep around, but that is different to getting to know a person. Like what do I even talk about? My dead mum? Oh my god, I haven’t told him about my dead mother. I can’t do it now, what if that’s too much baggage? I can’t talk about John or Sashka. I’ve already told him about Hannah getting into York and that Spriggy girl.

I am boring. There is nothing, absolutely nothing interesting about me. I’m going to fuck th—

The doorbell rings. I jump up and gallop across the room. Hannah appears, witnesses me running and turns around on her heels after my rapid go-away wave.

‘Hey.’ Toby’s confused smile flashes at me. ‘You opened the door very quickly.’