by Will Davis
Jon's like, You're just a fucking kid!
I'm like, Get a clutch.
But he clearly has like, the issue of issues over this because there's no talking to him. All of a sudden he jumps up, spins round and punches the shelter, which I think hurts but he doesn't say anything about it. Instead he's like, I can't believe I gave ecstasy to a seventeen-year-old. I can't believe I almost screwed a seventeen-year-old.
I'm like, What are you, statistically challenged or something?
He just shakes his head, and meanwhile I'm starting to think this is boring and that I just need to get back home and hug Mum and Dad or something. Then everything'll be OK. I wish I felt like this about them normally.
Anyway, at this point the night bus comes and I kind of leave Jon glowering at the stop and ride off into the night. I feel bad about this later, since I figure I've kind of killed off our relationship before it's even begun. I suppose it is pretty mean of me, but he did give me the E, even if he wishes he hadn't. Anyway, I'm like, totally dazed from that euphoric experience, and I've got to admit that now I see what all the fuss is about. Nice, man.
Back at home, no sooner do I get in the door than I'm falling all over the place. I can't seem to function properly, and pretty soon Mum and Dad have heard the noise and are like, surrounding me, and I guess it's pretty obvious that I'm not on my bestest, most normal behaviour.
Mum's like, Oh my God!
Dad's like, Jarold, do you understand what I'm saying?
I like, slur back at him, Yes, Dad, but it comes out sounding more like 'shag'.
Mum's like, We need to take him to the hospital right away. What if his blood starts boiling or his brain overheats! which is exactly the sort of thing I don't need to be hearing. But I don't really care. I'm so glad to be home and to see them. I'm in full-on la-la land.
Dad stays quite sane while Mum goes to the side of the room to freak out big time. He holds me up and peers into my eyes like a doctor, at which point I throw my arms around him and tell him I'm sorry, and then Mum comes over and I give her the same treatment, and she goes all mushy too, and then we're in tears and hugging, and then Dad's the one backing to the side of the room, totally freaked by it. Mum like, carries me in her arms to the living room and tells me what a wonderful thing life is and how she loves me and she doesn't care about who I am or anything so long as I stay her little boy.
I'm like, Of course, I'll always be your little boy, which is totally the E talking because there's no way I would ever say something as barfable as that if I wasn't utterly spasticated.
And that's the last thing I remember. I must have fallen asleep in Mum's arms. When I wake up she's sitting on my bed and leaning over me like Florence Nightingale, asking me how I feel in this tender voice, so I can tell instantly she remembers what I said. It takes a minute for the rest of it to come flooding back, and then I groan inwardly, because I know I can just kiss goodbye to fun from now on. Mum obviously thinks I've learned a Big Lesson from the incident, which is like, so not the case.
The Nun comes in to see me a bit later with a plate of cookies and a cup of tea. She acts like I'm a total invalid, but at least she doesn't try to pray over me or anything because I can't even be bothered with her right now. Later on in the day, by the time I'm feeling perfectly fine but am pretending not to be and wondering how long I can make this last for, Grandma hobbles up to see me.
She's like, Your mother says you've got flu.
I'm like, Yeah but it's OK, I'm feeling much better now.
Grandma smiles and nods. She sits there for a few minutes, still smiling and looking kind of daft, and it suddenly occurs to me that she really hasn't been the same since her stroke, and that maybe she's never going to be the same. This thought just strikes me as so awful that tears come to my eyes. Like I said, I don't cry, so it must just be an after-effect from the E. Grandma looks down at me and goes, What's the matter, Jaz?
I'm like, I don't know, Grandma.
She nods as if this were just the answer she'd expected and starts looking around the room.
Why do you have all those posters up of that young man? she goes, for like, the hundredth time.
13
So like, just because I can, I'm zooming this thing forward to what's going to seem like this completely random scene where me and Al are standing in the dark and freezing cold on a platform in Brighton station.
Al's going, I can't fucking believe this.
She's talking about our rations, which I'm supposed to be in charge of, which I have just left on the train, which is now long gone, and which we're staring down the track after like a couple of spastics.
I didn't mean to, I forgot! I'm whining, like that somehow means it wasn't my fault.
Al's yelling, How could you forget? That was our food!!!
I'm like, So we'll just get a burger somewhere.
Al's like, We're supposed to be on a budget! We're meant to be cooking noodles in the hostel. We can't afford burgers!
She chews me up for a bit longer until I finally lose it and go, Shit happens, Sister!
Not on my watch! cries Al.
The next shit thing to happen is that Al realises she's forgotten to book the hostel, which is now closed for the night (it's nearly two). We start yanking out the contents of our rucksacks, trying to find our guidebook for other hostels. But Saint Bastard is watching over us and so it's nowhere to be found.
You fucking idiot! I scream at her, You fucking get in a strop with me about the fucking food and then forget the fucking book!
Al puts her hands on her ears and sobs. I go on quite a bit, lots of fuckings, and I start getting quite emotional about it, and then Al suddenly starts screaming back, Fuck you, Jarold! You only ever think of yourself! I'm only here because of you! Because you wanted to run away so you can suck dick for the rest of your life without ever giving a shit about anything or anyone but yourself!
I'm like, thinking, Where did this come from? but I just start walking off towards the other end of the platform, which is a totally stupid place to walk to because it's like, where am I gonna go next?
I remember that I've got the cigarettes so I light one up, even though it means taking my hands out of my pockets and exposing them to potential frostbite. I'm trying to think of the best course of action, but the only thing I can come up with is throwing myself in front of the next train, which I've heard is a really gory way to go.
After ten minutes of standing at opposite ends of the platform, both stewing, Al finally walks over to me. We look at each other warily, kind of like WWF wrestlers assessing each other's stats.
She's like, Look, I'm sorry, OK.
I'm like, Yeah, me too.
We go and sit on the bench, balancing each other's heads on our shoulders and shivering in like, harmony.
Station's closing! calls this guy in a uniform. Everyone off the platform!
Al's like, We're gonna die, aren't we, Jaz? and just as I'm about to agree how we're well and truly fucked my hand touches upon this little piece of card in my coat pocket. I take it out and look at it, and see that it's a business card with a pair of flippers decorated around the address. Al sees it and immediately understands. She can be pretty sharp sometimes, and if she doesn't become a politician I wouldn't be very surprised if she becomes like, a hostage negotiator instead.
She's like, Just do it. Call him and get it over with.
I'm like, Oh shit.
Since on our phones between us we've now got about enough credit for one text message (we both got new SIMS in case our parents decided to, like, trace us, but then kind of forgot about the other important thing), we go to look for a payphone. The one in the station looks like someone's kicked it to pieces, plus the guy in the uniform gives us this look like he wants to have us arrested or something so we have to go outside.
It's like one of those comedy disaster films where just when you think things can't possibly get any worse, they do. Somebody somewhere must actually have
this hobby where they go round all the phones in town and wedge gum in the slots, probably hoping cold, hungry kids like me and Al will be the ones who suffer because of it, and end up getting sold into slavery or something.
We walk around screaming for a while, which is probably a good thing because it warms us up a little bit, though not much, considering it's like, the ice age or something, but after a bit we find ourselves out of phone boxes and walking down this totally deserted street.
After about five minutes of walking I look back and get the shock of my life because there's this figure in a long coat walking quickly towards us. It looks like Death is coming for us. I'm like, Oh fuck, and Al looks round and lets out a little shriek.
We pick up pace, which isn't easy considering the circulation has practically stopped in our legs, and turn the corner hoping to lose him. We find ourselves facing the cruellest wind known to man. Seriously, it's like, blinding and you literally have to run into it to get anywhere. But when I look back I get the second shock of my life. I see that the figure in the coat is now like, ten steps away from us. His face is hidden by this big hood and it's the scariest thing ever, like Scream or some horror film. At this point there doesn't seem to be any sense in trying to avoid him so we stop dead in the hope that he'll go on past us. He doesn't.
In this super-deep voice, like Sauron, the figure goes, Good evening.
Al's arm tightens around mine like a metal clamp.
I'm like, Hi, in this tiny trembling little voice that's hardly even there.
Are you lost? Do you need somewhere to stay for the night? says the voice. I'll tell you what. There's some space back at my place.
I'm like, That's OK, thanks. We're all right, literally shaking like a train.
Come on now, goes the voice, Why don't you let me help you out? It's very warm and comfortable.
He takes a step towards us. I whisper in Al's ear one word: Run. We throw ourselves into the wind and battle for our lives. Seriously, we're like, swimming against it here. And it's terrifying because neither of us can even bear to look behind and see if he's running after us, so we don't stop until we've reached the end of the road, which is like, the source of the wind and is like standing on top of a mountain. But when I dare to peek the figure's gone - thank Fuck.
We turn the corner before our faces get blown off, and find ourselves on yet another deserted street. It's like, where is everybody?
We need to get back to the station, Al goes.
I'm like, OK, though I don't really see why, unless she figures they'll have the most comfortable benches outside for us to sleep on.
She's like, Hey, I recognise this road, in this voice that's more like, hopeful than believable. I'm pretty sure I know how to get back and it's not how she thinks, but my mouth's too frozen to argue so I let her lead the way. Next thing we know there's this police car which has just materialised out of nowhere and is driving straight down the road towards us. Al's all for waving our arms and surrendering to them, but I tell her I haven't come this far only to be packaged up and sent back home all gift-wrapped for Mum to tear into pieces.
I'm like, You want to do that you go right ahead and do it. I'd rather freeze.
Al wavers for a second but then she walks with me into this alley which I figure the cops won't be able to follow us down. I figure it'll probably take us back to the main road where we started. But when we come out on the other side we're on a different road completely, and instead of turning back I keep going, and then pretty soon I realise that I'm totally lost. Al's like, We're going round in circles! You've got us lost! like she seriously had a clue.
This backstreet we're on is totally dark and dodgy, and the buildings along it are all messed up and falling to pieces. Al has the bright idea of trying to read her map, but she fumbles with it for ages since neither of us can hold it because we've lost all sensation. While she's getting her bearings I suddenly see this movement in the distance, and that's when I get the third shock of my life. It's The Figure again, and this time it looks like he's running straight at us. Like, fast.
I'm, like, the definition of Oh fuck.
Al looks up and sees him. She's like, Oh my God, he wants our kidneys!
We take off like crazy people, and then just keep running for the hell of it. I can't understand where all the people are, since I thought Brighton was supposed to be party central or something. It's deader than a graveyard, and totally eerie. We finally stop to breath and let our insides catch up and Al bursts into tears.
She's like, I just want to go home! like this complete baby.
I expected better from her. But to be honest I'm starting to feel the same way. It's like we've got two choices: either freeze to death or get murdered and have our organs sold by The Ripper, who's probably on our trail this very second. I can feel the urge to start crying too and I'm not the sort who cries. Like ever.
Then, just as we're about to lie down and like, die of hopelessness, the police car magically re-materialises. Even I'm glad to see it now. It draws up right beside us and the window rolls down. There's this middle-aged copper with cross eyes who looks like he seriously shouldn't be driving. He peers between me and Al and says, You kids all right?
I'm like, Yeah, in this thin little voice that's hardly even there.
His partner, who's obviously this hard-as-nails, by-the-book bitch, looks across at us like we're filth of the earth. What are you kids doing out so late? she goes, like she thinks we're prostitutes or something.
I'm like, trying to think fast, which isn't easy considering my brain's become this lump of ice inside my head.
We're trying to get to my uncle's house, I wail, But I can't remember the way.
Thankfully the policeman is one of those none-too-bright types, which might explain the cross eyes. Either that or he's just one of those people destined for a life of being taken advantage of, because I read him the address on the card all tearful like I can't believe this is happening to me, and just like I was hoping he goes, Ach! Just hop in the back and we'll run you over, it's only up the road.
We claw our way into the car. I give Al a nudge so she knows I'm watching her in case she was thinking of blowing my story. While we sit there thawing, Cross Eyes starts telling us about what a slow night they're having and how he's having trouble keeping awake. The Bitch beside him doesn't say anything at first, but I can see the reflection of her face in the window. She looks like the sort who thinks fun is something that happens to other people. After listening to her partner for a few minutes she brutally interrupts him midway through telling us about the contents of his lunchbox today by turning round and going, So what are your names then? like she doesn't believe we'll have any.
I'm like, super-fast, Richard and Judy (oh shit).
She's like, That's a TV show.
I'm like, Yeah, I know, we get it really bad at school.
It's just as well that Al sounds like a cross between a dying horse and a dying dog when she laughs 'cos otherwise we'd have been totally rumbled. Alarmed, the bitch looks at her and goes, Are you all right? and Al nods and tries to turn her head one hundred and eighty degrees to hide her smirk. The bitch looks totally suspicious now. I can see her thinking of more questions to ask and I just know that what with my frozen brain cells there's no way I'm gonna be able to keep this up.
Here we are, chirps Cross Eyes, drawing up next to this swanky-looking place. It's got those modern sliding windows and a little patio balcony thing that's sort of a garden as well. I'm thinking that there must be some mistake but I see the number on the door and sure enough, this is it.
I'm like, Thanks so much, trying to get out of there as fast as possible. We'd better go 'cos he's gonna be worried sick.
The Bitch looks pretty sceptical and points out that all the lights are off. I pretend not to hear her and bundle Al out of the car. We climb the steps to the door and stand there debating. Because even after all this hassle I'm not sure if I can face just turning up out of the b
lue at this guy's place in the middle of the night.
They're waiting, Al hisses in my ear.
I'm like, Shit.
I reach out and press the buzzer, and hold it down for, like, twenty seconds. There are all these sounds from inside the flat and lights are switched on. The door opens a crack and this bleary-eyed face which just about resembles Jon appears in it. He takes in the sight of us with our backpacks and the police car behind us. His whole face like, lengthens.
I'm like, Surprise.
14
So I bet you think you can guess where all this is going, and if you happen to be right, just remember one thing, which is LIC GAS. But just in case you're confused, don't worry, it's all going to come together. Somehow. Maybe.
Anyway, this chapter is going to be dedicated to The Nun, aka my sister Mother Teresa. There's, like, this whole history between us as siblings, like you'd probably expect us to have, and also it kind of seems a bit unfair that I haven't really included her much so far, since she's always around - more's the pity. But there's also this thing that I go and do too, which you kind of need to make sense of.
Being only a year older, I can't remember when I first became aware of her or anything like that, 'cos it's like she's always been there. And 'cos she's only a year younger she doesn't really get treated differently to me, apart from being a girl, which for some reason qualifies her for more allowance and more sympathy (though like, I could care less about the sympathy).
But we didn't always hate each other either. Back when we were tots we actually used to get on. We even used to play together - we even used to take baths together, if you can believe it. I remember once devising this really cool game where I'd lie down on the living-room carpet with my legs up in the air with my feet together like this sort of platform. She'd sit on them and then I'd bend my knees and launch her into the air. I was always trying to get her to go splat against the far wall of the living room like a cartoon character, but I never quite managed to launch her far enough, and one time she landed on her ankle instead of her foot and started bawling. Mum put a stop to it right away, as she always did with anything the second she suspected it of becoming even remotely enjoyable.