by Anna Carey
‘No!’ I said. ‘I mean, I can’t play it at all.’
‘You could learn,’ said John. We had reached the corner now and it was freezing cold and the wind was crazy, but we both just stood there. ‘You can do anything you want.’
‘I’m not sure,’ I said, ‘that I actually want to learn.’
‘But wouldn’t you prefer to be out in front playing the guitar?’ he said. ‘Isn’t that more glamorous? And exciting?’ Without me really knowing how, he had moved quite close to me. He’s so much taller than me it was like he was protecting me from the wild wind.
‘Well yes,’ I said. ‘But I love drumming. It’s very satisfying hitting things with sticks.’
‘Oh, Rafferty,’ he said. We were very close together now. ‘You’re not like any girl I’ve ever met.’
And then he kissed me! And I didn’t pull away and go, ‘No, John Kowalski, you can’t kiss me for I love another, and he is far away in Canada.’ I didn’t even hesitate for a second. I just kissed him back. I couldn’t help myself.
And … it was really good. It wasn’t exactly the same as kissing Paperboy. He tasted of cigarettes but, after a moment, I didn’t mind. He was a bit more stubbly and scratchy, but that was kind of nice. He was a very good kisser too − not that I have anyone to compare him with but Paperboy. It all felt very passionate. Maybe that is because it is a forbidden love. Not that it is love, of course. Is it lust? That is a bit shocking.
Anyway, it went on for ages too. At least it felt like ages. It was like time wasn’t going at its normal speed. I could have stayed there all day but, after a while he pulled away and smiled at me and said, ‘God, Rafferty, I don’t know what came over me. Want to do that again?’
I couldn’t say anything. I just nodded. And then we were, well, kissing again. Until my phone rang.
‘Oh God,’ I said. ‘I bet that’s my mum. Um, I’d better go.’
‘If duty calls,’ drawled John Kowalski. He smiled at me. How could I have ever wondered whether he was good-looking or not? ‘See you on Monday, Rafferty.’ And he strode off down the road in his magnificent coat and I stared after him before remembering I’d better answer my phone or Mum would be convinced I’d been murdered and would send out some sort of search party.
But now Paperboy isn’t the last person I’ve kissed. Now he isn’t the only person I’ve kissed! It makes me feel like everything between us is really over. And that makes me feel sad.
But at the same time … when John Kowalski kissed me, it was like I was melting. I suddenly fancied him so much my legs went all wobbly. How can I be so fickle?!
It really was amazing though. Even with the cigarette taste. Oh God.
I am going to have a lie down and a think.
LATER
I have thought. And I think I might be a bit in love with John Kowalski. But how can I love two boys at once?
Maybe I am not. Maybe I am really over Paperboy at last.
SATURDAY
I told Rachel what happened last night. I couldn’t help it, I needed to tell someone, and I couldn’t bring myself to tell Cass and Alice. I know Rachel is annoying, but it’s true that when it comes to the ways of love, she knows more about the world than I do. And for someone who seems to spend a lot of her time yelling at me for no real reason, she has been surprisingly nice about my romantic problems in the past.
So this morning I went into her room. She was lying on her bed, scribbling away in a notebook. Can she have a diary too? I can’t believe she’s been writing one and I don’t know about it. I mean, you’d think I’d have found it by now; it’s not like I don’t have a quick look around her room every so often just to check out (and, okay, sometimes borrow) her make-up and CDs and stuff.
‘God, what do you want?’ she said, stuffing the notebook under her pillow. (It has to be a diary. If it was homework or something she wouldn’t have bothered hiding it from my observant gaze.)
‘Um, nothing,’ I said. ‘Except …’ Oh, it pained me to say this. I ended up mumbling it. ‘I sort of want your advice.’
Rachel looked a lot more cheerful.
‘Oh, you do, do you?’ she said. ‘About what?’
‘Well,’ I said, sitting down on the edge of her bed. (She has a much nicer duvet cover than I do. My parents STILL won’t redecorate my room so my sheets and stuff are still all stupid babyish pinks and purples.) ‘You know that boy John Kowalski who’s doing the musical?’
‘Who, the one who looks like a First World War solider?’ she said. I can’t believe she thought that too. ‘The same one you’ve been hanging around street corners with?’
‘Hardly hanging around street corners,’ I said. ‘That sounds like we’re in a gang or something!’
‘Well, you’ve been hanging around at the corner of Gracepark Road often enough,’ said Rachel. ‘I’ve seen you from the other side of the road on my way home from Jenny’s house.’
Sometimes I don’t know why I bother talking to her, it’s like she can’t stop herself from tormenting me.
‘God, that’s just because we walk out of the rehearsals together sometimes and that junction is the point where I go one way and he goes another,’ I said. ‘We’re just talking!’
‘Yeah, right,’ said Rachel, annoyingly. ‘Anyway, yes, I do know him. Or at least I know who he is. What about him?’
‘Well,’ I said. ‘Um. The thing is …’
‘Oh my God,’ said Rachel. ‘You snogged him, didn’t you?’
‘What?’ I said. ‘No! Well, yes.’
‘Well, well, well,’ said Rachel, and she looked so smug that I wished I hadn’t said anything at all. ‘I knew it. So, what happened?’
So I told her.
‘And then he kissed me,’ I said.
‘Not like any girl I’ve ever met?’ said Rachel. ‘Well, I bet he’s right about that. I’m joking! I’m joking! That’s quite a romantic thing to say.’
It is, isn’t it?
‘So,’ said Rachel. ‘Do you like him?’
‘Well, yes,’ I said. ‘Obviously. Or, y’know, I wouldn’t have, like, gone along with the whole kissing thing. But I still feel terrible.’
‘What?’ said Rachel. ‘Why?’
I couldn’t believe I even had to tell her.
‘Because of Paperboy!’ I said.
Rachel sighed and suddenly went all grown up.
‘Bex,’ she said. ‘I know you really miss him. But you know, in your heart of hearts that you weren’t ever going to, like, stay going out with him forever, don’t you? I mean, it’s been months and months! And he’s not coming back here! You don’t have anything to feel guilty about!’
And I suppose I know that she is right. I don’t know when I’m going to see Paperboy again. He told me to move on. And he’s on the other side of the world (almost). And John Kowalski is right here, and he’s not as obviously gorgeous as Paperboy, and he’s not as friendly and cheerful, but he’s so intelligent and interesting and intense and I know he’s a bit arrogant, but he knows exactly what he wants to do and he’s absolutely sure he can do it. And I can’t help it, I really, really fancy him.
There! I’ve said it.
And it doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten about Paperboy. Because of course I haven’t. But I know we’re not really going out anymore, and the longer he’s away, the less … real he seems. And John Kowalski is real.
Anyway, Rachel was full of old lady wisdom about living in the moment (just like Alice and John Kowalski himself; it’s like everyone is in league) and, yes, embracing life.
‘Do you honestly, in your heart of hearts, think you are still properly going out with Paperboy?’ she said. ‘Do you think you can keep going out on either side of the world forever?’
And I said, ‘Well … no.’
‘And do you like John?’ she said. ‘Like, do you think about him when he’s not there, and are you all excited to see him, and does the thought of him being with someone else make you want to die?’
> ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Well yes. Sort of. Maybe not die, exactly.’
‘And do you fancy him? Do you think he’s actually attractive in a hot-boy sort of way?’
‘I usen’t to,’ I said. ‘I mean, I wasn’t sure whether he was good-looking or not. But now I definitely do.’
‘And is he, like, a decent human being?’
‘God, did you ask yourself all this rubbish when you started going out with Tom?’ I said.
‘No,’ said Rachel. ‘But then, I wasn’t torturing myself and making myself feel guilty for absolutely no reason.’
‘Okay, okay,’ I said. ‘I do like him. I do!’
‘Well then,’ said Rachel. ‘There’s no problem. Go off and enjoy him.’
Can it really be that easy?
Maybe it can.
SUNDAY
Went over to Cass’s this afternoon and told her about the JK incident.
‘I knew it!’ she said gleefully, ‘I told you this would happen.’
Usually I hate it when Cass is right about something and I am wrong. But I didn’t really care today. Cass, like Rachel, thinks I have no need to be guilty.
‘Paperboy actually told you he didn’t want you to, you know, live in the past!’ she said. ‘He WANTED you to move on! You know, I think you’re so used to feeling miserable and sorry for yourself that you can’t get used to being properly happy about something.’
I wouldn’t have put it quite like that, but she had a point.
LATER
Rang Alice and told her all. She was all excited, at first, and she didn’t think there was any, you know, adultery problems, but then she got a bit serious.
‘You do like him as a person, don’t you?’ she said. ‘Richard said he can be a bit moody. And he’s, like, his friend.’
‘Of course I like him!’ I said. ‘And he’s not moody. He’s just … serious, some of the time. But he’s really cool when you get to know him.’
Which he is.
‘Well, as long as you’re sure,’ said Alice. ‘You have to be careful.’
So one minute I have to stop moping over Paperboy and move on and the next I have to be careful of John Kowalski! I just can’t win!
Oh, all this romantic drama is very tiring. I feel very old and sophisticated now. I am going to lie on my bed and think about LIFE.
LATER
Got bored thinking about life and went down to watch telly.
MONDAY
I think I am sort of going out with John Kowalski, but I am not quite sure. There’s something going on, anyway. I have to admit that when I arrived at rehearsal today I had a horrible fear that he was going to (a) ignore me or (b) be friendly but pretend nothing romantic had happened. It was soon pretty obvious that he wasn’t going to ignore me because he nodded at me from across the hall as soon as he saw me, but he always does that anyway now, so that doesn’t really mean anything. It meant that I was quite distracted for a lot of the rehearsal because I was wondering about him. On the plus side, this meant that Vanessa and Karen didn’t annoy me too much. But, on the downside, I sort of forgot what song we were singing and got given out to by Ms Byrne. I still haven’t forgotten when she threatened to kick messers out of the chorus so I tried not to think about John after that.
Anyway, I didn’t really know what to do, but during the break I went out to the loo and there he was in the corridor, presumably on his way back from SMOKING. Even that isn’t enough to turn me off him. I really must fancy him.
‘Ah,’ he said, and for a moment my heart sank. But then he grinned and said, ‘Hello, Rafferty. I’ve been thinking about you all weekend.’
‘Oh?’ I said in a sort of wobbly voice. ‘Good things, I hope.’
‘Oh yeah,’ he said. And then he kissed me again! Just quickly but quite passionately. Then he turned to go back into the hall and said, ‘Feel like walking down the road together after this is over?’
And I just nodded.
Anyway, when rehearsal was over I told Cass and Alice that I was walking out with John. I didn’t want to just go off on them. That would be breaking my rules and I am still determined to stick to them in all this drama. But Cass and Alice are very understanding. Well, sort of. Cass said she was just relieved I wasn’t still moping (my least favourite word). ‘Go forth,’ she said dramatically, ‘with that strange play-writing boy.’
‘He’s not strange,’ I said crossly.
‘He is a bit,’ said Cass. ‘But there’s nothing wrong with that.’
So off we went. I felt a bit awkward as we went down the road. I don’t think he did. He always looks very confident, even when he looks all moody and serious. Eventually he said, ‘So, Rafferty, this whole kissing thing that keeps happening between us. You want to keep doing it? Because I do.’
‘Oh!’ I said. ‘Um, well. Yes.’
‘Good,’ he said. And kissed me again. The wind was blowing and it was dark and it all felt very dramatic, not like my normal life at all. We stayed talking for a while afterwards.
‘You know,’ said John. ‘I think you and I are kindred spirits. We’re not like everyone else. We care more about things. We have artistic temperaments.’
And then he kissed me again and then I went home.
Actually now I am home and thinking about it away from John’s intense gaze, I have to admit that I am quite like some other people. I am quite like Cass and Alice, for example, otherwise they wouldn’t be my best friends. But still, in a way, I think John could be right. Maybe I do have a unique artistic temperament. That would explain why I love drumming so much and why I can’t help myself acting while I am singing in the musical. And even why I can’t settle down in Mrs O’Reilly’s class and I keep drawing pictures of Cass dressed as a peasant or Christopher Columbus or something. I am a free spirit! An artist who can’t be tamed by society’s conventions!
I think John Kowalski is opening my mind.
TUESDAY
Why can’t my parents just act like everyone else’s parents? I was playing my drums this evening IN MY OWN ROOM and my mum stuck her head in the door.
‘I’m not making too much noise!’ I said. ‘And besides, it’s only half six. You can’t stop me practising my drums! I need to play them! I’m … a free spirit!’
My mum looked quite offended.
‘I wasn’t going to give out to you,’ she said. ‘I was just thinking that drumming reminded me of a drum solo in The Pirates of Penzance. Ed! Come here!’
And a moment later my dad appeared.
‘Go on, Bex,’ said my mum. ‘Play that beat again.’
I knew if I didn’t, I’d be there all night with them nagging at me, so I did.
‘Doesn’t that sound like the extra drumming bit Joe added in the policemen’s song to make it a bit more up to date?’
‘Oh yeah!’ said my dad. ‘That was great. And then they both started marching around singing ‘Taran-ta-ra, taran-ta-ra!’ until I booted them out. And even then I could hear them laughing and singing downstairs.
God, they’re such enormous freaks. Why can’t they just be normal? It is very hard being a free spirit with them around.
WEDNESDAY
It is quite exhausting going out with John Kowalski. If we are actually going out. I am not quite sure. We are definitely kissing on a regular basis. And talking. It is all very intense. It is also quite different from me and Paperboy. We used to just sit around and laugh a lot. But John is not really into sitting around and laughing. After rehearsal today (which went very well – Ms Byrne actually PRAISED me and Alice for our acting-singing in ‘I Love To Laugh’) we went to a café on Drumcondra Road and talked about our visions for the world (I texted my mum and told her I was going for post-rehearsal tea in the café but I didn’t tell her who I was going with).
‘The country shouldn’t be run by dull politicians, the way it is now!’ John said, taking a drink of his pitch-black espresso. ‘It should be run by artists and writers and dreamers!’
I expect
that would be more exciting. Although a few of my parents’ friends are artists and writers (and possibly dreamers) and I don’t think they should be in charge of anything. Also, as I pointed out to him, my own tyrannical, embarrassing mother is a writer.
‘She’s bad enough when she’s ruling my life,’ I said. ‘I don’t think I’d like her ruling the entire country.’
‘Oh, I don’t mean writers like her,’ he said. ‘I mean proper writers.’
‘She is a proper writer,’ I said. ‘I mean, she writes novels. She makes a living out of it!’
‘A living!’ he said scornfully, and laughed a hollow sort of laugh. ‘As if making money from writing makes you a true artist.’ According to him, a true artist doesn’t care about something as mundane as money. I suppose that is true. I am quite glad my mother isn’t that sort of writer, though. As she is so fond of reminding me and Rachel, we wouldn’t have a house or an iPod each if she didn’t earn money from her books. Dad certainly doesn’t earn enough teaching students about history to pay for all that on his own.
Anyway, I like that John Kowalski is very passionate about everything. I can imagine us sitting in some sort of romantic place (I am not sure where. Definitely not my room − it’s the most unromantic place on earth with its baby-ish decor), reading each other poetry. No one has ever read poetry to me before, but if anyone would do it, it would be him. I felt all wobbly when he kissed me goodbye at the corner of Gracepark Road. Who knew those traffic lights could look so romantic in the evening light?
THURSDAY
I have been working on my story this evening and, you know, I can see why Mum became a writer now. It really is fun making stuff up. Mum has always said it’s hard work, but I never really believed her. How hard can a job be if you can do it in your pyjamas? I know for a fact that there are days when she doesn’t get dressed properly until after eleven! Anyway, the only problem is that I am still trying to write a serious story, but whenever I read back over it, it doesn’t feel serious at all. It’s like I keep thinking of funny things to put in and then it’s hard to make it serious again. It is very frustrating.