‘No.’ I shook my head, clearing some of the fog as I did it. ‘No!’
‘Yes, Amy. We can do this.’
‘No!’ I pulled my hand from his, tottered to my feet. ‘Ican do it.’
I found Nathan’s eyes. Held them for as long as it took me to send the ‘GO!’ message from my brain to my body and took off towards the finish, past the last man a millisecond before he crossed the line, Nathan two seconds ahead of me.
But I didn’t stop there, swerving around the jubilant mob of Larks, I sprinted on a lap of victory, past Joey and Sean, around Moira Vanderbeek, to the small stage put up at the far end of the field, where the winners were going to be presented with their prize.
‘You wanted an exclusive interview, Ms Vanderbeek, I believe?’ I panted, clambering up onto the stage as a circle of spectators formed in front. ‘Well, here it is. And where’s Antonio? Antonio? Can this microphone be turned on please? This is my speech. I’m doing it now.’
With skinned knees, hair all over the place, my only make-up smears of mud, sweat and tears, in shorts that put the hips in hippo, it was time.
‘Is it on? Hello? One two, one two. Right. So. Yes, I’ve put on some weight. What of it? I just swam, cycled 10K and ran five. I’m proud of my body and more than satisfied with what it can do. And yes, I had a mental breakdown. I’ve been battling with anxiety, panic disorder and agoraphobia for many years. And for most of that time it’s been beating me hands down. But its primary weapons were shame and isolation. I am not ashamed of being ill any more. The only thing I’m ashamed of is how ashamed I was. One in five young people suffer with some form of mental illness. I could blame it on my circumstances, the ridiculous pressure I was under thanks to journalists like you, having no balance in my life, no time to have fun or relax, my parents publicly disowning me on the back of a devastating mistake – at eighteen years old! But I won’t, because that’s irrelevant. If none of those things had happened and I had still been ill, that would not be my fault either. And I still wouldn’t be ashamed. I am not weak. I am not a coward. I am not pathetic. I am not broken. I am not a shirker. I am no less of a person than you. Or any less amazing.
‘Today I’m here, and I’m doing well. But that doesn’t mean all those people who aren’t here, who are watching this on YouTube later because they couldn’t quite get out of bed and face the world today, are any less worthwhile, valuable, precious human beings than I am. They, to me, are champions, because they face what most of you will never have to, they push on through it every single day.
‘And – I’m not finished, please wait and clap at the end – if you saw what happened today and consider it disastrous, or anything to be embarrassed about, you’re even more stupid than I thought. Not to mention a really quite unpleasant person.
‘Oh, and I had good reason to think you’re stupid, by the way, so let me correct a few mistakes you made. Sean Mansfield, the father of my child, is not the love of my life, or, as your article so nicely put it, the person who gave me a reason to get dressed in the morning. We are not, have not and will never be resuming any form of romantic relationship. He’s here in the UK to spend time with his son. I suggest you work a bit harder to get your facts straight before you lose the last shred of your professional credibility.’
I paused, took a deep breath, scanned the crowd, quickly searching to find Joey. He grinned at me, and gave a double thumbs up, an act so cheesy and uncool for a teenage boy, I knew I was doing okay and he wasn’t crushed by the public announcement that Sean and I were not happening. That gave me the rush of courage to say what popped out next:
‘If you’d bothered to do your research, you’d have realised that I’ve actually been spending time with somebody else, lately.’
Oh, crap, I couldn’t spot him. Bloody hell, Amelia, if you’re going to do this, you might as well do it with him listening.
A sky-blue and white cluster in one corner gave out a long, raucous whoop. And there he was, head and shoulders above the rest of them. Face in robot mode, shoulders braced as if prepared for the worst.
‘Someone who showed me that I was just fine as I was, and at the same time inspired and encouraged me to be the best that I could be. Who didn’t see a washed-up national disgrace, but a person who had got a bit lost and who needed a friend. As do we all. Even you, Moira. He’s one of the kindest, sweetest, loveliest people I know. And also happens to be staggeringly gorgeous. Anyway, Nathan, now seems as good a time as any to say that I don’t need you.’
There was a collective gasp of dismay from the onlookers. All of them except Nathan, who remained motionless.
‘But I would love to spend more time with you. In a mutual, dating, possible girlfriending type of way. If you would like to maybe go out with me sometime.’
The gasp morphed into an oooh.
I peered at Nathan. Had he even heard me? It appeared to no longer matter, as the Larks were now herding and jostling him through the crowd towards the front of the stage. And it looked very much like he was resisting.
To deepen my jitters, he forcibly removed Bronwyn and Dani’s arms and held out his hands like you would if fending off a wild animal, creating a circle of space around him. As everyone watched, and several hundred phones filmed, he completely changed direction, the crowd parting to let him move off to the side as if making for home, a hot shower and a cold beer, to help forget this whole debacle ever happened.
Except, once out of the crush, he didn’t head that way at all. Instead, he jogged towards the steps onto the stage. Something the Larks hadn’t considered when thrusting him towards the centre.
‘Hi,’ he said, bounding up to join me.
‘Hi.’
I held my breath for what seemed like far too long, waiting for him to say something. Was he waiting for me? I’d just asked him out in front of what would probably be millions of people once the videos went viral. Was he trying to find a way to gently let me down, in which case why not wait and do it later on, in private, except of course those interfering Larks hadn’t let him do that, so now he was trying to find a nice way to reject me in front of everyone.
I cursed myself for listening to Selena. This was going to be worse than the article. Worse than the Search for Amelia. Worse than my parents on breakfast television. Worse, because that had been about leaving the past behind, and this was about my future. One that with Nathan might have been lovely. And now I had probably messed up our friendship, too—
Nathan’s eyes crinkled.
I couldn’t keep the smile from bursting out across my face.
The crowd, sensing something had happened, gave a cheer.
Nathan flashed his eyes in their direction and then stepped forwards, wrapped his gorgeous arms around me and, without anyone having to push him from behind, pressed his lips against mine.
