by Cat Clarke
chapter thirty-two
Kai and I always used to sit three rows from the front. I try not to look at our usual seats as Lucas leads us up the stairs towards the back.
Somehow I end up sitting between Lucas and Stu. It doesn’t bother me at first, but as the film goes on (and on and on) I start to feel as if I’m in one of those films where the hero is trapped in a room and the walls start closing in from both sides. Suddenly I feel out of my depth, trapped between these boys who are bigger and stronger than me. Boys who could do anything to me and I would be powerless to stop them. I don’t know where this train of thought comes from, but once it starts, it’s impossible to stop. I make myself as small as I possibly can in my seat, pulling my elbows in tight. Luckily Lucas got us tickets in the posh seats, so it’s actually possible for me to avoid touching either of them. It’s not that I think they’re going to do anything. Not here anyway.
About halfway through the film, when yet another car has somersaulted through the air and burst into flames, Lucas leans over to me. I have to lean towards him so that he can whisper in my ear. His breath is warm and tickles my ear as he speaks. ‘Are you OK?’
I nod and turn my attention back to the film, like I can’t bear to tear my eyes away for one second in case I miss someone getting shot.
‘Are you sure?’
I need to do something. I can’t sit here on the verge of a panic attack. I have two options: get out of here and never look back. Forget about this stupid plan and go back to being Normal Jem who would never ever find herself sandwiched between two boys in the posh seats of the cinema. Or I need to forget about being scared, forget how intimidating and strong these boys are, and start doing the things they’d expect of New Jem. The things they’d expect of any girl, really.
I nod again, but this time I lean in very close, so our mouths are almost touching. ‘This film is terrible.’ He nods but he’s not thinking about the film any more. He’s not thinking about anything except kissing me. Just as he goes in for the kill, I lean back. He’s grinning now; this is some kind of game to him.
I lean in again and he does the same. This time I bite his bottom lip ever so gently before pulling away. I try my best to ignore the fact that Stu is sitting so close. I try not to think about him watching. Hopefully he’s too into the film or busy trying to get his hands down Nina’s pants to notice what Lucas and I are up to.
I let Lucas kiss me. And somehow I feel much calmer when we’re kissing. Like it’s OK and not scary because I made it happen. I am in control of this.
After a while Lucas’s hands start to wander. I knew they would. I resist the urge to grab his filthy hand and snap every one of his fingers. I have to be OK with this. I have to pretend to want this. My breath catches in my throat and a soft sound escapes from me. It’s the sort of noise you’d make if you were enjoying yourself – if you liked how you were being touched.
The sound is a lie.
The four of us go for milkshakes after the film. Stu decides to try and down three milkshakes in five minutes if Lucas will pay for them. Nobody dared him to do something this stupid – he came up with the idea all by himself. I wonder if he has a notebook at home to record all his ideas for Stupid Things I Can Do Involving Food and Drink. Or maybe he just comes up with them on the spot. Perhaps it’s a gift.
We chant, ‘Down it, down it,’ and thump our hands on the Formica table, much to the annoyance of every other customer. None of them ask us to pipe down though – not even the lady with the helmet hair who’s glaring at us every time I look over. I give her a little wave accompanied by a sugar-sweet smile and she looks away in disgust, muttering something to her husband/boyfriend, whose hair is equally disastrous. I would never have done something like this a few months ago. Strangers were to be ignored, or feared, or whispered about. They were not to be confronted or taunted or laughed at – at least not openly.
I turn my attention back to Stu – two milkshakes down and going strong. I try not to think about helmet-hair woman. I try not to think about the possibility that maybe she’s had a really crap day at work or maybe her dog’s just died or maybe she’s just really not in the mood to put up with a bunch of noisy, irritating teenagers. I try not to think about the possibility that maybe this is her first night out in ages because she’s been so busy looking after the kids. Maybe she was really looking forward to a burger and onion rings and a night of peace and quiet. I try not to think about her. People like me do not think about people like her. We don’t even give them a second thought. Why would we?
Stu completes the challenge and Lucas slaps him on the back – hard. I think he’s trying to make him spew. Stu’s looking massively proud of himself, and only a little nauseous. ‘Come on, mate, cough up!’ He holds out his hand and Lucas hands over a tenner. I’m starting to think that Lucas really does have a never-ending supply of cash. I wonder what that must be like.
Nina seems impressed by Stu’s antics. Milkshake-downing must be high up on her list of desirable qualities in a boy. They start kissing and it looks like she’s using her tongue to try and get every last drop of milkshakey goodness from Stu’s mouth. It’s about as revolting as you’d expect.
I excuse myself to go to the loo, ignoring the unimpressed look on Lucas’s face. He doesn’t want to witness this display of grossness any more than I do. He needn’t worry though, because Nina disengages herself from Stu’s mouth, grabs her bag and scoots out of the booth too. Fantastic. Just what I need. Girl talk with Miss Vapid.
Nina heads straight for one of the two stalls in the toilets, but I hesitate because a) I don’t really need the loo anyway, and b) there’s no way I could pee with her in the next stall. Nina’s totally cool with it though. She starts talking, but I find it really hard to concentrate while I can hear her peeing. I study myself in the mirror instead; you can tell I’ve been kissing.
Nina’s still going on about Stu as she washes her hands. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. Maybe it’s time to have a little fun – lay some groundwork for getting back at Stu. ‘I think it’s really great that he’s making such an effort, you know.’
Nina’s expression is even more confused than usual.
‘Well, it can’t be easy for him, can it? He’s not exactly a “one-woman man”, is he?’ I even do that annoying inverted-comma thing with my fingers, which I have never, ever done before.
She shrugs and says, ‘That was before,’ with a tiny yet unmistakable pout.
‘Oh yeah, I know. He really likes you. I mean, he didn’t even flirt with that girl at the cinema.’
It’s a real struggle not to laugh at Nina’s face in the mirror. ‘Which girl?’
‘The one at the pick ‘n’ mix counter. She was after him for sure. I kind of got the feeling that he’d . . . that they’d . . . Sometimes you can just tell, can’t you? But it’s so great that you can trust him.’
Nina looks thoughtful as she applies sticky pink gloss to her lips and smacks them together a couple of times before saying, ‘I do trust him.’ The emphasis betrays her true feelings.
I put my hand on her arm and give it a squeeze. ‘I think that’s great.’ Add a patronizing nod into the mix and that’s all it takes for the seeds of doubt to turn into full-blown paranoia.
‘Was she pretty?’
I run my fingers through my hair and pretend to think. ‘I dunno . . . I guess so. She looked a bit like you, now you mention it. Maybe a bit curvier?’
That went down about as well as expected. ‘I’m going to ask him about her.’
‘Okaaaaaay. If you really think that’s a good idea . . .’
‘Why wouldn’t it be?’ It’s too much for Nina to get her head around, all this thinking. Her poor brain just isn’t used to it.
I roll my eyes as if the answer couldn’t be more obvious. ‘He’ll think you don’t trust him, won’t he? And he’ll be so hurt and pissed off, he’ll probably head straight round to wotserface’s house for a rummage in her pick ‘n�
�� mix.’ I stop to let that sink in.
‘You’re right. I guess I’ll just have to keep an eye on him, won’t I? Just in case?’ She’s looking at me like I’m some kind of relationship guru. It’s hilarious.
I nod with all the (fake) sincerity I can muster. ‘That sounds like a good idea . . . We’d better be getting back – the boys will be wondering where we are!’
Now it’s Nina’s turn to put her hand on my arm. ‘Thanks for telling me, Jem. You’re a good friend.’ She hugs me and I watch myself grin in the mirror.
Lucas offers to walk me home and I say no. I can’t stand the idea that I’m a defenceless female in need of a chaperone. We go back and forth for a couple of minutes – him insisting and me refusing. He’s obviously used to getting his own way. It’s getting tiresome, so I relent and agree to him walking me halfway. At least that means he’s not going too far out of his way. Not that I care about him going out of his way – it’s the principle of the thing. He thinks I need looking after, protecting. It’s patronizing in the extreme. (Of course, there’s always the possibility that he’s just being nice. But I can’t allow myself to think things like that.)
He takes my hand and we meander through the streets. It’s a nice evening to be strolling hand in hand with a boy. It’s just a shame it has to be this particular boy. I wish with all my heart I could be doing this with my boy. Kai.
I let him walk me more than halfway – more like two-thirds. It’s not that I’m enjoying his company or anything; we’ve somehow ended up in the middle of a heated debate about films. I maintain that Halloween is the greatest horror movie ever made. Lucas is foolish enough to disagree with me. I stop in the middle of the pavement and reel off ten reasons why he couldn’t be more wrong.
He holds up his hands and laughs. ‘OK, OK, I give up! You win! I can’t compete with such in-depth – and frankly scary – knowledge.’ He gives me a sly look. ‘And if I’m being one hundred per cent honest . . . I’ve only seen the remake.’
‘Whaaaaat? Why the hell were you arguing with me if you haven’t even seen it?!’
‘That wasn’t arguing – that was discussing. There’s a difference. Arguing is stressful, discussing is fun. Plus it’s kind of funny watching you get all wound up about it.’
I narrow my eyes and plant my hands on his chest. His T-shirt is so thin that I can feel the heat of him underneath. I push him towards the side of the pavement. He backs up against a low wall and sits on it, his legs planted wide as usual. He looks up at me and grins. ‘You’re stronger than you look.’
‘Don’t patronize me, Lucas Mahoney. Don’t you dare.’ My voice is lower and throatier than normal. I can tell he likes it.
He grabs me round the waist and pulls me close. I feel trapped again, but I keep my smile in place. His hands feel huge and strong, even though I know full well they’re just normal boy-sized hands. In fact, his hands are rather dainty and refined if you really stop to look at them.
‘I wouldn’t dream of patronizing you. You are unpatronizable.’
‘That’s not a real word.’
‘I know. Can I kiss you now?’
Lucas Mahoney is staring at my mouth. He looks hungry. I shrug and say, ‘I suppose so . . .’ He lunges in and I duck my head out of the way. ‘On one condition . . .’
‘And what might that be?’
‘You have to promise you’ll watch Halloween with me.’ And as soon as the words are out of my mouth, it feels like the worst possible betrayal of Kai. Halloween was our thing. I won’t taint that by watching it with Lucas. I won’t.
Lucas slips his hand behind my neck and gently pulls my head towards his. ‘I think I can agree to those terms.’ After a few seconds of kissing, I forget about Halloween. After a couple of minutes, I forget about Kai.
We kiss until an angry bald man knocks on the bay window of his living room and follows it up with a gesture I can only interpret as Stop shoving your tongues down each other’s throats on my front wall.
Lucas and I run away laughing, hand in hand, like a couple of naughty kids. Then we stop in an alleyway and do more kissing. I have a feeling there’s going to have to be a lot more kissing before this is over. And maybe some other stuff too.
And maybe I don’t mind.
chapter thirty-three
Mum and Dad want to meet Lucas. I tried telling them it wasn’t going to happen – under any circumstances – but Dad’s coming over all Father-in-a-crap-American-sitcom. You know the ones . . . the daughter’s going to prom or whatever and her date arrives to pick her up. Dad answers the door and interrogates the poor boy while the daughter puts the finishing touches to her make-up upstairs. I have no idea whether this actually happens in real life.
I don’t like what I see in my parents’ eyes when they ask about Lucas. It’s worse with Mum, but I can see Dad feels it too, even though he’s making a show of being the gruff, over-protective father. It’s hope. I put hope in their eyes and soon I’m going to rip it away from them in the worst possible way.
They want me to invite him over for dinner next week. Mum gets all excited looking at recipe books and asking about his likes and dislikes. I don’t tell her that I have no clue what he likes to eat and really could not care less. Instead I make stuff up: he likes meat and pasta and Chinese food, but isn’t too keen on fish or sweetcorn. Mum looks up from her latest cookbook acquisition – with some voluptuous woman on the front, all pouty and ridiculous. ‘You two must be a match made in heaven – liking all the same things! Actually, thinking about it, he’s probably pretending to like what you like. I remember when your father and I met I said I liked that awful music of his, and he said he enjoyed going to the ballet! Ah, the things we do for love . . .’
She’s staring into space, all misty-eyed. I’m staring at her, wondering how we can possibly be related. Noah barrels into the kitchen, looks from me to Mum and back again, says, ‘You two look weird,’ grabs an apple from the fruit bowl and runs out again.
I call Lucas and he thinks it’s just about the funniest thing in the world that my parents are so keen to meet him.
‘Sasha wouldn’t let me anywhere near her parents till we’d been going out for three months!’
The implication of this statement is enough to stop me in my tracks.
‘Jem? Are you still there?’
I clear my throat. ‘I . . . yeah.’
‘Are you OK? You sound a bit . . . I dunno.’
‘I’m fine. I . . . just . . . Is that what we’re doing? Going out?’
He laughs like he doesn’t even know the meaning of awkward. ‘What exactly did you think we were doing?’
I shrug before I realize how pointless that is. ‘Um . . . I didn’t . . . I thought we were just hanging out, I guess.’
‘Hanging out, I guess? Huh. Well how about we make this more formal? Jemima Halliday, would you like to go out with me?’ His voice is slick as olive oil.
I leave him hanging for a second longer than is comfortable. ‘OK.’
‘OK?! All I get after laying my heart on the line like that is an OK?!’ His mock outrage makes me wince.
‘Sorry. Yes, Lucas Mahoney, I would like to go out with you.’
‘That’s more like it.’
We talk some more – making arrangements for him to come over for dinner. I can’t get off the phone quick enough. When I do I throw the phone on the bed like it’s the one to blame for my current situation.
I am officially going out with Lucas Mahoney.
Lucas Mahoney is my boyfriend. I’m disgusted with myself. And more than a little bit impressed.
I’ve been counting down the days till the July letter. There’s no way I’m opening another one late.
Jem,
I’ve been sitting here for God knows how many hours, slowly but surely losing the plot. I owe you yet another apology. What was I thinking? All these stupid challenges. You must be so fucking angry with me. I wouldn’t blame you if you’d torn up every last one of these
ridiculous letters and decided to forget all about me. Who the fuck do I think I am? Trying to change you from beyond the grave, like some kind of ghostly Gok Wan.
Anyway, what I’m trying to say is: I hope you’ve ignored everything I asked you to do. I hope you’ve stayed your glorious, lovely self. And if you haven’t, well, I hope you’re happy with the changes you’ve made and you don’t hate me too much. It’s too late for me to start again with the letters, I’m afraid. I’m so very tired. This isn’t quite going the way I planned it. It was all so clear in my mind. Everything made sense and I was so sure I was doing the right thing for everyone.
You know what I wish? I wish more than anything that I wasn’t gay. It’s not as easy as I made it look, you know. There are things I never told Everything’s so much easier for you straight people. The world is set up to work in your favour and you don’t even appreciate it. Before you get all righteously indignant, I’m not talking about YOU you, I’m talking about the GENERAL you.
Sometimes I used to imagine us two getting married, can you believe that? I used to imagine what life would be like if I didn’t like boys. Because you know what? If I didn’t like boys, I would be truly madly deeply in love with you. But I DO like fucking boys. Oops.
I’m not stupid, Jem. I know full well how you feel about me. I think I’ve known for longer than you’ve known yourself. You’re really not that good at hiding your feelings. You should work on that if you don’t want to get your heart tramped all over. There I go again – telling you how to live your life. . . I just can’t help myself, can I?! So anyway, all I can say is that I’m flattered. That you would spend all your time with me when you could have been off chasing boys who would actually want to do rude things with you. God, now I sound really up myself, don’t I? I can’t seem to say the right words no matter how hard I try. I just want you to know that I wish I could have felt the same way about you. I wish that more than anything. I think we could have been happy together, you and me. If only