Mum thought hard. ‘I think it refers to Rhett leaving at the end, as if he’s blown away by the wind,’ she signed seriously.
Dot shook her head, grinning from ear to ear. ‘It’s because the man poops before he leaves the town.’
That night I lay under my duvet, cross and miserable. Reaching out to my bedside table, I hit my phone one last time. It glowed green and blank. In the emerald light, I made shadow puppets on the wall. A dog barked near my bookshelf as a cat scrambled towards it, and even though dogs and cats don’t usually get on, the ones in my room defied all the odds to curl up together on top of a dictionary. I watched them for a moment before rolling over, yearning for Aaron so much it hurt to be in my own skin. The window rattled as the wind blustered and Stuart I got the strongest sense that he was being blown away.
Love from,
Zoe x
1 Fiction Road
Bath
January 22nd
Hey Stuart,
I’ve just heard the news. It was announced a couple of days ago but I only went on the computer this evening. Most times when I click on the Internet, I look up your name and today there was a brand new story in the Texas Online Chronicle which said your execution date has been set for May 1st.
May 1st, Stuart. I can’t believe it. Of all the days.
My hands are shaking so it’s difficult to write even though I’ve got a brand new deckchair that Dad must’ve bought in a garden centre sale or something. I can’t imagine how you must be feeling. By my calculation, you’re probably just waking up as Texas is six hours behind England, and I bet you anything you can’t eat your breakfast. Of course it goes without saying that I’ll do everything I can to help. Maybe I could get in touch with the nun who came into school to talk about capital punishment and we can organise something e.g. a protest or a petition, and don’t worry because I bet we’ll get one hundred names from the nuns in the convent.
The Texas government can’t put you to sleep. They just can’t. Only last week I read your poem Forgiveness and how you Regret taking a life With a carving knife Especially your wife. Honest truth I think you deserve a chance to redeem yourself. If I was the President of the United States, of course I would still have prisons, but they would help criminals rather than kill them as if there’s no hope left. If you ask me, no one can write off a human like that, as if they’ve looked inside their soul and decided it’s bad all bad without even the tiniest bit of good worth saving.
The least I can do is finish what I started. Now we’re running out of time, I have to be quick about it. I need to get to the end of my story before May 1st and I hope it takes your mind off the final preparations such as your last meal, which I imagine will be a cheeseburger with curly fries and a milkshake with two straws and of course a ketchup sachet to remind you of the good times. Anyway let’s get on because we’re working against the clock, so picture the big hand whizzing back twelve months to last January, and we’ll start with me and Lauren sitting on a step outside school, shivering in our coats at break time on the first day of term.
PART TEN
‘So how was the rest of the party?’ I asked.
Lauren locked her fingers together then blew into the hole. ‘Good. Brilliant, actually. Max missed you, though. He walked around with a face like a bear’s backside after you’d gone. Even said no when Marie tried to pull him.’
‘What?’ I said sharply.
‘Don’t worry, he didn’t do anything. She just tried it on. Honestly, she was a real mess. Stumbling about, no clue what she was doing. She was sick all over my drive and the next morning I saw a blackbird eat it.’
‘How did it happen?’
‘It just sort of flew down and started to peck at the corner of—’
‘No,’ I interrupted. ‘How did Max say no?’
Lauren explained how Marie had staggered up to him and gone in for the kiss but he’d turned his head away, probably thinking of me.
‘Either that or she stank of vomit,’ Lauren finished. ‘Either way. I think he likes you.’
My depression since the party lifted a bit. So what if Aaron had said those things? His brother was interested and I had to keep it that way, which is why I dashed out of French at the end of the day, running down some steps to the drama department where I knew Max had his last lesson. He was coming out of the studio shovelling crisps into his mouth. I waved to get his attention and he followed me round the corner.
‘You okay?’ Max asked.
‘Great. Very happy. Not to be back at school. But you know. To see you.’
Max grinned, wiping crisps off his chin. ‘Me too. Missed you at the party, Zo.’
‘Sorry I disappeared.’ I put my fingers on his belt. ‘Just when things were starting to get interesting . . .’ I fiddled with his buckle. ‘It’s a shame we didn’t find that empty room . . .’ I tugged the end of his tie feeling reckless, not like myself at all. ‘So – do you want to do something after school this week? I could come to yours?’
Max blinked in surprise and spoke in a strangled sort of voice. ‘Yeah, all right. If you like. . .’
‘I do like. Wednesday?’
‘I see my dad on Wednesdays. How about Thursday?’
Something Lauren said in November came back to me. ‘It’s a slippery slope’ and Stuart there I was choosing to plunge right down it. I stepped forward and kissed his cheek. ‘Sounds perfect.’
Mum dropped me off at Lauren’s on Thursday night because I told her we had to finish the project on rivers.
‘It’s dragging on a bit, isn’t it?’
‘The Nile’s long,’ I said coolly, before climbing out of the car.
Looking back on it now, I can’t believe I was so calm about it, turning away from Lauren’s house when Mum had driven off, striding across the zebra crossing and hurrying through the green glow of the dragon in the Chinese takeaway without even putting up a hood. Don’t get me wrong, doubt flickered in my stomach as I stood outside Max’s front door. Aaron’s front door. But it wasn’t enough to make me turn round. Aaron had told me I was free to see whoever I wanted. He’d said to have fun with his brother. Pulling myself up to my full height, my hand knocked twice on the wood.
Keys tinkled. Hinges creaked. I wetted my lips and fixed a smile on my face. A shaft of light spilled onto the garden path and I was standing in the middle of the beam, facing a blonde girl of about nine dressed in dungarees. A camera hung around her neck.
‘Who are you?’ she asked before I could speak.
‘I’m Zoe. Who are you?’
‘Fiona.’ I smiled but she ignored it. ‘Are you here to see Aaron or Max?’
Good question. ‘Max. If he’s in?’
The girl spun round and charged up the stairs, leaving the front door open. I hesitated, seeing two pairs of boys’ trainers on the mat, but forced myself to step over them into the warmth of the house. A TV blared in the kitchen, the smell of melted cheese and garlic in the air. Glasses clinked and plates banged. Someone was cooking.
‘Hello?’ I called, feeling awkward.
‘You must be Zoe,’ a voice said and a plump face appeared around the kitchen door. Her black and mahogany hair was tied back in a ponytail. Sandra smiled but then her eyes narrowed. ‘Have we met before?’
‘No,’ I said quickly, though with a jolt of alarm I realised she’d seen me outside the library. By the snowman. With Aaron.
‘You sure? You look familiar.’
‘Well, we sort of have,’ I said in a casual voice. ‘I came over in September but we never actually—’
‘That must be it! Come on through.’ I followed her into the kitchen. ‘Lemonade okay?’ she asked, pouring before I answered and shouting at the top of her voice. ‘Max! Take a seat, lovey. He’ll be down in a minute.’
I did as I was told, perching awkwardly at the small table in the corner of the kitchen, pretending to take an interest in the chat show on TV. The presenter had one of those cooked-sausage-skin faces, tanne
d and wrinkled, and he was announcing it was time for the lie detector test.
‘This is my favourite bit,’ Sandra muttered. ‘Pizza okay?’
‘Great.’
‘They’re in the oven. I’ve done some salad as well.’ She wiggled a plastic bag full of lettuce and shredded carrot and some purplish stuff that could have been beetroot. ‘Well, the shop’s done it for me. We’re eating à la supermarché this evening.’ It was supposed to be a joke so I forced a laugh as Sandra emptied the salad into a silver bowl and put it on the table. ‘That should be enough for five of us.’
Me. Sandra. Max. Fiona. And Aaron.
My legs tensed under the table, my knees squeezing together. This was going to happen. This was actually going to happen. I was going to go through with it.
‘. . . and Max only told me you were coming about two seconds ago so it’ll have to do I’m afraid. Still. Everyone likes pizza, don’t they?’
I tuned back into the conversation. ‘Yes. Yes they do.’
‘Max!’ Sandra shouted again, grabbing five sets of cutlery. ‘Fiona! Aaron! Dinner’s ready.’
Somewhere upstairs, a floorboard squeaked. Two brothers got off their beds. Two pairs of feet hit the carpet.
There was a sound behind me. I braced myself, but it was only Fiona. She poured herself some orange juice and stared at me across the table.
More footsteps in the hall. Heavier ones. Two pairs.
I turned round and there they were. There he was, because Stuart I only had eyes for Aaron, beautiful in a plain t-shirt and grey jeans, his toes long and straight on the carpet. Something throbbed in the air between us.
‘Kiss her,’ Fiona said, giggling suddenly as Max entered the kitchen.
‘Fiona,’ Sandra warned.
Max squeezed my shoulder and sat down on my right. There was still an empty space to my left. ‘I told Mum we didn’t want any food.’
‘It’s okay,’ I said as Aaron recovered from the shock.
‘It’s not,’ Max muttered. ‘So embarrassing.’
Touching his thigh, I breathed, ‘Don’t worry.’
‘Ooooh, whisper whisper,’ Fiona said. She picked a lettuce leaf out of the bowl and threw it in her mouth. ‘Lovey dovey. Kissy kissy.’
Aaron grabbed a glass out of a cupboard and turned on the tap too hard. Water splashed everywhere, drenching his t-shirt. Max laughed as Aaron flushed and dried himself with a tea towel. Almost in slow motion, he looked from the sink to the table, glancing from the seat next to me to the seat next to his sister. Rubbing his nose, he walked all the way round to the space by Fiona.
Sandra put the pizzas by the salad. The heat misted up the silver bowl. Fiona drew a heart in the steam and beamed in my direction.
‘Pepperoni. Ham and pineapple. Margherita. There’s half each,’ Sandra said.
‘Mine,’ Fiona said, snatching the cheese and tomato. Max picked up half the pepperoni. Sandra went for the ham and pineapple. I leaned forward as Aaron leaned forward. Both our hands reached for the Margherita and the pizza hung in the air between us.
‘You have it,’ he said, dropping the crust.
‘Do you want to share?’
Aaron stared straight into my eyes for the first time that evening. ‘No.’
Fiona fiddled with her camera as she ate, tilting the screen towards Sandra.
‘Here’s one I took yesterday. And here’s a picture of the grass that I took before school. Look,’ she said because Sandra was gawping at the chat show. ‘The drops of water are sparkling because of the sun.’
‘Lovely,’ Sandra said. ‘Christmas present,’ she explained to me. ‘She’s a budding photographer.’
‘CHEESE!’ Fiona shouted suddenly, pointing the camera at my face. The flash exploded before I had a chance to pose. ‘That’s really bad,’ she giggled, clicking a button and showing Aaron.
‘Really bad,’ he agreed.
‘Give her a chance to smile,’ Max said, picking up a piece of pepperoni and flinging it into his mouth. ‘Do another one.’ He put his arm around me and grinned at the camera. I had no choice but to grin too, my hands in a knot and my lips stiff as Aaron looked away.
Silence fell as everyone went back to eating. There was just the sound of teeth and hard crusts and squelchy cheese. It was a relief when the chat show host brought on the first guest to fail the lie detector test. The crowd were on their feet, booing.
‘Why are they doing that?’ Fiona asked.
‘He’s a cheat,’ Sandra explained, transfixed by the screen. ‘Like most bloody men.’
‘What did he cheat in?’
‘On,’ Aaron corrected her. ‘And it’s who . . . who did he cheat on?’
I swallowed my last mouthful of pizza with difficulty.
‘So, who did he cheat on?’ Fiona prompted, circling her finger around her plate to pick up crumbs.
‘His girlfriend,’ Aaron said.
‘What did he do?’ she asked.
Aaron put down his knife and fork and Stuart they were pointing directly at me. ‘Kissed someone else.’
‘Shagged her, more like,’ Max said.
Fiona started to giggle. ‘Shagged,’ she repeated.
‘Thank you, Max,’ Sandra sighed. ‘She’s only nine.’
Aaron stood up suddenly. He picked up his plate and Fiona’s plate and Sandra’s plate, taking them to the dishwasher. Sandra poured herself a large glass of wine.
‘Pudding, anyone? Cup of tea?’
Max patted his stomach to say he was full. ‘Me and Zoe are going upstairs.’
‘To sh—’ Fiona started.
‘That’s enough,’ Sandra snapped.
‘Thanks for dinner, Mum,’ Aaron said, marching out of the kitchen without looking back.
‘No worries, sweetheart,’ she called. ‘Good luck with your revision. He’s got an exam tomorrow,’ Sandra told me. ‘History. He’s a pretty smart boy.’
‘Yeah,’ Max said, a mix of pride and envy in his voice. ‘He got the big brains, but I got the big—’
‘Honestly!’ Sandra said, rolling her eyes. ‘I am sitting right here you know!’
‘I was going to say heart,’ Max joked, putting his hand on his chest.
Sandra snorted and turned up the TV as we walked into the hall.
There wasn’t much we could do in Max’s room with his mum in the house so we chatted awkwardly on his bed. After the third long silence, I looked around, searching desperately for another topic of conversation.
‘Is that your dad?’ I asked, spotting a large photo frame on the wall. Inside was a picture of a man with a moustache, a boy on his knee. ‘You look cute.’
‘Have you seen what I’m wearing though?’
I giggled at the pair of tiny yellow shorts. ‘How old were you there?’
Max stood up and gazed at the photo. ‘Dunno. Seven or something.’
‘Do you miss him?’
‘Nah,’ Max said too loudly.
‘He looks nice. Apart from the big tash.’
‘That’s gone now. Apparently his new girlfriend doesn’t like it.’
‘Can I ask you something?’ I said suddenly.
‘If you want.’
‘Was it awful when they split up?’ Max flinched so I muttered, ‘You don’t have to answer that. Sorry. It’s just that my mum and dad keep arguing and sometimes I think, you know, that they might actually . . . But anyway. They probably won’t.’ Reaching under his desk with his foot, Max back-heeled a ball and dribbled it around the room without meeting my eyes. ‘You’re good at that.’
‘Not good enough,’ he muttered, kicking the ball against the wardrobe, which rattled.
‘Come off it! You’re the best in the school, and you know it.’
‘Yeah, but how many schools are there in the country?’ he asked, moving the ball easily between his feet.
‘I dunno.’
‘Have a guess.’
‘Twenty thousand? Thirty?’
‘Say there
are twenty-five thousand. That’s twenty-five thousand lads just like me. The best in their school.’ He kicked the ball to me and surprisingly I managed to pass it back in a straight line. ‘Twenty-five thousand. And how many people do you think make it as a professional footballer?’
‘Absolutely no idea,’ I muttered, ‘but I get your point. The odds are stacked against you.’
‘Unlike my brother, who’s good at everything, football’s the only thing I can do, but I can’t do it well enough to make a living out of it.’
‘That sucks.’
‘Yep.’ He passed the ball to me but this time I missed it so it rolled under the bed. I leant down to grab it, but stopped short when I spotted something concealed in the shadows.
‘Is that a . . .’
‘No!’
‘It is!’ I exclaimed, pointing at a half-finished jigsaw hidden under his bed. Five hundred pieces, there must have been, spread out on a tray. The completed section showed a football stadium with thousands of fans.
‘Don’t get it out!’ he groaned, because I was lifting it onto his duvet.
‘This is completely brilliant.’
He stared at me uncertainly. ‘It is?’
‘Completely and totally brilliant.’
‘It’s just a jigsaw,’ he muttered, but he seemed pleased.
‘Oh no,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘This is not just a jigsaw. This is proof.’
‘Proof of what?’
I batted my eyelashes. ‘That The Mighty Max Morgan is a secret geek.’
‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ he said, but we smiled as we arranged the jigsaw between us and got down to work.
It was fun. And hard. There was a lot of pitch to do and all the pieces were the exact same colour of green. After an hour we’d finished the section by the corner flag and we surveyed it, feeling satisfied, before we made our way into the lounge. Sandra had fallen asleep on the sofa with her mouth wide open.
‘Must’ve dropped off,’ she muttered thickly when Max shook her awake.
‘Thanks for having me,’ I said, pulling on my coat. ‘And for the pizza.’
‘You’re welcome,’ she smiled sleepily. ‘How’re you getting home?’
‘Just going to walk it.’
Ketchup Clouds Page 13