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crazy theories about his past. She thought she was being funny, that
it was all a game and that I was, as usual, creating a drama out of nothing, and so the more I questioned, the wilder her fantasies became: maybe Jack’s family were in a witness protection
programme; maybe he killed his dad; maybe his dad was a famous Hollywood actor because, well, Jack did look a teeny bit like Matt Damon, didn’t he? I’d laugh along with Katie, but a
little part of me would wonder if there really was something dark or dodgy in Jack’s past.
    Whenever you hear about serial killers on the news, there are always interviews with neighbours and friends who say, ‘But he seemed like such a nice guy’ or, ‘He was perfectly
ordinary’ and, ‘Nobody would have guessed’. Some of them have jobs and girlfriends whom they go home to every night, and they’ll do the washing up and watch soaps together.
A person can be charming and have perfect manners and still be a monster.
    Now, I’m not saying that I ever thought Jack might have been a serial killer, because that would be crazy, stupid and totally ridiculous, but it makes you think, doesn’t it?

 
Chapter 6

    I did it for both of us. For me and for Jack. I thought that if I knew everything about him, if I didn’t have any more unanswered questions, then we could be properly
happy. Not knowing was stopping me from falling absolutely in love with him. If he hadn’t been so secretive, I wouldn’t have needed to involve Alex, would I?
    Sometimes I wonder if I wasn’t the only one who created a new identity to get what I wanted. I only changed my name and a couple of little details, but Jack totally reinvented himself,
packing up all the memories he didn’t want to share in sealed boxes and then putting them in storage somewhere. He hardly kept in touch with any of his old friends, and he sure as hell
didn’t want me to meet them. He steered me away from his mum – I’d only met her to say hello or goodbye to – and when I asked to see photos of him as a child, or with his
dad, he said he didn’t have any. Who doesn’t keep pictures of their dead dad?
    How could I believe him when he said how much he liked me, when his own dad meant so little to him? How could I be sure he felt anything at all?
    It was almost two whole weeks after I’d sent my message that I heard back from Alex. Scrub that. What I really mean is that it was nearly two whole weeks before Laura
heard back from Alex. Being two people can get quite confusing – sometimes even I couldn’t remember who I was at a given moment. During that icy, bleak January fortnight, when it was
too cold and too dark to do anything else, I went on Topfriendz more than I ever had before, every morning before school and the second I arrived home, after dinner and before bed. I rarely
bothered checking my own profile, only Laura’s. Each time I logged in, I hoped for a ‘You’ve got a new friend’ confirmation and, if I was lucky, even a message from Alex.
Instead, what I received were several friend requests (ironically, Laura seemed to be far more popular than Lily ever was), a ‘Hello lovely laydee’ from Igor, and an invitation to a gig
by some band called The Wonderfulls. The lead singer was quite cute, but their angsty Emo music wasn’t my – or Laura’s – thing at all. I like music you can dance to, not
music that makes you want to slit your wrists.
    I began to convince myself that Alex wasn’t going to get in touch, doubting myself for ever coming up with such a stupid scheme. Why, I asked myself, would she be interested in becoming my
‘friend’, when she already had loads of friends – real friends? And even if she did accept my friend request, it was likely nothing more would come of it. Laura would just take
her place as another name in a long list of names, there to make up the numbers. There was no reason why Alex should reply, she probably had a very busy life, what with her A-levels