Read Online The Boy I Loved Before by Jenny Colgan - Free Book Online Page A

Oh shit. This couldn’t be right.
    I went and sat down in front of my old dressing table. Yes. Still incomprehensible, still from the eighties, still there. My old face. Right. This time, I was wearing sunscreen every day. Not a wrinkle to be found.
    So. I tried to put it together in a brain that was dealing with sudden shocks equivalent to six bonfire nights and a bowlful of LSD. My parents were younger. And still together. But Darius was looking older than me.
    I didn’t want to come over all Dr Who, but, unbelievably, I was actually going to have to ask someone what year this was.
    To postpone the inevitable, and try to calm my breathing, I tried to think about clothes. What age was I? The tits suggested nothing much under fifteen, anyway. Oh God.
    I opened my wardrobe door tentatively. Yes, there it was, as if I’d never been away. That bottle-green skirt. The pale green shirt. The thick tights. Tashy and I had sworn blind we would never ever, ever put this damn school uniform on again. But what were my options at this point?
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    My dad, stroking his still-thick sideburns. I’d forgotten about those.
    â€˜Hey, love,’ he said. ‘Sleep well?’
    I was too petrified to say anything, judging that this wouldn’t exactly be an unusual response at the breakfast table from a teenager. Finally, ‘Can I borrow your paper?’ I stammered out.

    â€˜Nice to finally see you,’ said my mother, and I suddenly felt a residual sense of annoyance that she was pleased at something I was doing.
    â€˜Tcch,’ I tutted.
    â€˜Why do you want to see the paper?’ asked my dad. ‘I’ll read you your stars, if you like. Oh, here we are: Virgo. “Today you are going to be late for school and are going out dressed like a bin bag.” Gosh, they’re spot on, aren’t they, love?’
    I fumbled my badly tied tie, hands shaking.
    â€˜Don’t tease her,’ said my mum crossly. ‘For God’s sake, give her the bloody paper.’
    â€˜All right, all right,’ said my dad. ‘Here.’ He handed it to me. ‘Happy now?’ he said to my mother.
    â€˜I don’t know. What time are you coming home tonight?’
    He blew air out of his mouth. ‘Well, I’ve got a few things to drop off.’
    My mother turned back to the kettle and said something under her breath.
    â€˜What was that?’ said my dad.
    I buried my head in the paper. Oh my God. I’d forgotten they’d been like this.
    â€˜If you’ve got something to say, just say it.’
    My mother’s thin ankles shook in their American tan tights inside her horrid old carpet slippers that I could have sworn I threw out years ago.
    Fourth of September 2003, it said. Definitely. Completely. The twenty-first century. Not the eighties. In fact, it was about a month before the day I’d had yesterday, and Tashy’s wedding. WHAT? So – hang on. Me, Mum and Dad had gone back in time, but they seemed completely fine with it?

    Had I been in a coma? Had the rest of my life after now been a dream? Was I in an insane asylum and this was a brief moment of lucidity? Had I taken a dodgy pill and rendered the last sixteen years of my life a bad trip? Hang on, how many bad trips have you ever heard of that involved a regular visit to blood donors and a Nectar card?
    â€˜I’ve got to go,’ I said suddenly.
    â€˜Walking are you, love?’ said my dad, taking back the paper. ‘Wonders will never cease. Might get some fresh air in those cheeks.’ I stared at him in disbelief and dashed out the front door, pulling it shut behind me.
    I stood outside and fumbled into my bag.
    In real life, whatever the hell that is, my mobile is small silver and rather elegant-looking. This thing was pink, fluffy and had leopard skin on it. On the display there was a pixel-lated picture of a badger.
    Chuffing hell.
    There were fourteen text messages waiting for