Noah Can't Even

by Simon James Green

  “And I wouldn’t mind, but at least give me a decent score! Five!”

  “Five’s good!”

  “FIVE!”

  “It’s a good, respectable score… It’s average…”

  “AVERAGE?!”

  “I’ve nothing to compare it to!” he pleaded, furious that Josh Lewis had clearly blabbed his mouth off at the nearest opportunity.

  “Well, thanks, Noah. Thanks a lot. It’s really nice that you’re going around, telling everyone about how we had sex!”

  “I haven’t been! Everyone’s been saying that anyway!”

  “You know, that makes me feel really special! I thought you were different, Noah! I thought you had respect for women! I thought you were intelligent and caring…”

  “I am all of those things, and so much more,” he assured her. “But the point is—”

  “I’ll tell you what the point is!” she said. “I’ve seen how things have changed for you. People being nice. No one’s bullying you about being a gay boy now, are they? Suddenly, you’re Mr Popular!”

  “Well – I mean, there is possibly some truth in that.”

  Jess nodded. “Isn’t there just? So, do you want all that to end?”

  Noah’s eyes nearly popped out. “No! Jess! I gave you the French homework! And there’s more where that came from. Think, Jess! I could up your grades tenfold!”

  “In return for what, exactly?”

  “Just … keep quiet about the fine details. Please.”

  She looked at him like the sad little loser he felt. “So, you’re asking me to say we had sex?”

  “No, just don’t necessarily deny it. Keep it … mysterious.” Just like Gran had advised.

  She stared at him for about ten fully awful seconds. “Whatever. Dick.”

  Noah suddenly saw Eric in the edge of his field of vision, waiting for his money, Noah’s rough book in his hand as his insurance policy. He wanted to get Eric over and done with, but he knew he needed answers. Noah cleared his throat. “Jess, I know you’re angry, and this probably isn’t the time…”

  Jess stared at him with cold eyes.

  Noah cleared his throat again. “Um … but here’s the thing… And what I’m wondering is, do you ever think that your dad might not really be your dad? At all? Do you ever think that?”

  “Are you fully serious right now?” she asked.

  Noah took a step back, eyes darting between Jess and an impatient Eric. “Yes, I know it’s—”

  “Why would you even ask me something like that? Are you actually trying to piss me off?”

  He stared at her, his pulse racing. “I … am … doing … a survey. A survey! Yes. It’s a thing for … maths? I’m going to make it into a graph, ultimately. Maybe a pie chart, I don’t know. This is one of the questions.”

  She stepped right up to him. “I don’t think my parents are my parents at all. I think I’m adopted. We have nothing in common, and I hate them. So shove that in your pie chart!”

  She flounced off, leaving him in the middle of the yard. Damn it. Asking her had not only failed to solve the mystery, it had made her more angry towards him. Miss Marple never got called a dick when she was making enquiries. Where was he going wrong?

  He took a deep breath, checked the coast was clear and Harry was nowhere to be seen, and walked over to the gate, towards Eric.

  Noah was sick of being a victim of other people’s actions. Whether it was his mum, his dad or Harry, why should he suffer just because someone else decided to do a Beyoncé tribute act, abandon their family, or kiss him? Noah had a right to buy that video if he wanted to, and he wanted it out of harm’s way.

  He barely glanced at Eric as he passed by. Just enough for Eric to know he should follow. Noah certainly wasn’t going to stroll down the street alongside him, like Eric wasn’t a total blackmailing little shit.

  “We’re attending to some business upstairs for a bit,” Noah said to his mum as they passed her in the hall on their way up the stairs.

  “What sort of business?”

  “It’s private, Mother. You have secrets. I have secrets.”

  “Hello, Mrs Grimes!” Eric chirped sweetly.

  “Hi, Eric,” his mother muttered.

  Noah showed Eric into his room and pulled the bottom drawer of his bedside cabinet out, revealing his secret stash in the cavity beneath.

  “Neat hiding place,” said Eric, eyeing the assorted contents.

  “Thanks.”

  “Sex and Growing up: A Guide for Kids,” Eric said, reading aloud the title of a book hidden in the space.

  “Er, don’t know how that got there, must have slipped down years ago…” Noah muttered, shrugging it off and grabbing the money.

  “Sure.” Eric smirked.

  “Here you go – twenty, forty, sixty, seventy, eighty,” he said, counting the notes out into Eric’s sweaty hand.

  “I like a man who sticks to his word,” Eric said, folding the notes and putting them into his pocket.

  “Sure,” Noah said, sliding the little drawer back on its runners. “So…” he continued, standing up and finding himself awkwardly close to Eric.

  “Nice doing business with you.” Eric grinned, seemingly finding some perverse pleasure in the closeness.

  “And you,” he lied.

  “So, here’s the memory stick,” Eric said, handing it over.

  Noah took it and placed it deep in his trouser pocket, wedged beneath his handkerchief. No one must know he had it. Especially not Harry. Later, he would have to find a suitable place to keep it.

  “And your rough book too,” Eric said, handing it to Noah. “Anything else I can do for you?”

  “No. What like?”

  “Like … anything.”

  Noah swallowed. What did he mean? “No.”

  “OK,” Eric grinned, “but if you change your mind…”

  “I’ll see you at school, Eric. I’ve gotta get on with homework,” Noah said.

  But Eric didn’t move. “So what’s the deal with you and Harry?”

  “There is no deal, and it’s not really any of your business,” Noah said. “Not that you’ve helped whatsoever.”

  “He’s angry you bought the memory stick? Maybe you shouldn’t have. I didn’t force you to buy it.”

  Noah laughed. “Oh, right. You’re serious. Yeah, you did.”

  “In a way, it’s a shame. The way you two kiss…”

  Noah glared at him. “Eric—”

  “What? You obviously like each other. You shouldn’t care what other people think. That’s a free bit of advice for you.”

  “Well, thanks for the tip.”

  Eric stepped closer again. Really close, his breath hot on Noah’s neck. “Moving forward, us two could help each other out in other ways,” he said.

  Noah swallowed. “What – what do you mean?”

  “I dunno,” Eric smiled. “Just saying.”

  The walls seemed to wobble. “Er, no thanks. But I appreciate the offer.”

  Eric gave a little smile and nodded. “OK, well, think about it.”

  Eric turned, headed out and straight down the stairs, letting himself out of the front door.

  Noah took a deep breath. That had been a truly horrible and weird experience. But at least it was over now. Noah had what he wanted. He didn’t need to speak to Eric ever again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  He put a new cartridge into his fountain pen and took up where he’d left off.

  Dad – nearly twenty-four hours have passed since my last sentence, and in that time I can tell you that I am now definitely not gay because I almost had sex with a girl whom I don’t even like and saw her real live boobs. But never mind all that, Mum’s told me I have some sort of half-brother or sister! I can’t believe no one ever thought to tell me! You and Mum owe me an explanation. People already think I’m weird thanks to you two – this will only make it worse. How could you do this?! Please write back within three working days and explain ever
ything. Kind regards, Noah.

  He didn’t put a kiss at the end. His dad didn’t deserve one. He folded the letter up, rammed it in an envelope, addressed it and shoved five first-class stamps on it. That should cover delivery to Spain. He would put it in the postbox on the way to school tomorrow.

  His phone pinged:

  Hi Noah! Have arrived in Milton Keynes. You OK? Soph x

  Damn it. With all his own drama he had been a selfish and bad potential boyfriend and hadn’t even bothered to ask her if she’d got there OK. He quickly hammered out a message back.

  So sorry, was just about to text you but you beat me to it! LOL! Ha ha! Glad you got to Milton Keynes OK and didn’t die in one of those multi-car pile-ups or anything, lol. Hope your new house is nice. I’m fine. Sophie? Do you ever wonder if your dad isn’t really your dad? (Doing a survey, that’s all.)

  She texted back: ?

  He replied: Yeah, it’s for maths. Just wondered. Do you?

  She texted back: Frequently.

  Noah grimaced. It was quite possible that everyone thought they weren’t related to the people claiming to be their parents. Come to think of it, how could Noah himself be the result of his mother’s hideous egg being fertilized by his father’s useless sperm? Would such a union really produce a boy as intelligent and sophisticated as him? Unlikely.

  She texted again: How’s everything with Harry?

  He wondered if she’d already heard things. What if Harry had already texted Sophie to say that he was really upset about Noah’s behaviour? He didn’t want Sophie thinking that he was an unfeeling cad, incapable of emotional sensitivity and stuff. He hit the caps lock. This text would all be in capitals, because it was VERY important.

  JUST TO CONFIRM, I’M BEING NICE TO HARRY BUT IT’S SOMETIMES DIFFICULT BECAUSE HE IS VERY EMOTIONALLY UNSTABLE EVEN THOUGH I AM TRYING REALLY HARD TO DO NICE THINGS THAT WILL HELP HIM, EVEN IF HE THINKS THEY WON’T.

  Yes. That was fine. It was true, after all. Noah’d just misjudged the memory stick situation. Catastrophically, as it turned out. Ping! She’d texted back: Really?!?

  Noah narrowed his eyes at the screen. She had replied with one word and an assortment of punctuation that implied she didn’t believe him one little bit. Aaargh! She had no idea how tricky Harry was being. Harry was the one being unreasonable! Harry was the one…

  He sighed. Oh God, Harry was furious with him. Noah had royally screwed up.

  He couldn’t leave things like this. He had to do something. Make amends. At least one aspect of his life had to be drama-free, surely? He made a list of things he needed to say. This time, he would be prepared. Preparation made everything better.

  Stuff I need to say to Harry

  I’m so sorry.

  It’s all my fault.

  I was a fool/plonker/coxcomb. (Decide on best word at the time.)

  We can’t end our friendship like this.

  We can’t end our friendship at all!

  Give me another chance; I’ll prove myself!

  You owe me three pounds from when I paid for your cheese puff and a Coke at lunch last week. (Only say this if it’s going well, otherwise mention at a later date.)

  He practised three times so it came out right, then grabbed a small toy guitar from his bedroom – he’d only ever managed to plonk out a piss-poor rendition of “Memory” from Cats on it – and headed out to Harry’s house.

  “Haaaaa-rrrryyyyy!” Noah sang tunelessly, as he strummed away on the lawn below Harry’s window. Thinking about it, it would have been easier to ring the doorbell, but maybe less dramatic. He needed to prove himself. Like those scenes in romcoms where someone stops the person they fancy from boarding a plane to New York by making a loud, inappropriately personal speech in front of everyone. “Haaaaa-rrrryyyy! Woo! Yeah, Haaarrrr-rryyy! Open ya windooow! So I can come see you!”

  He opened his window. “What the hell is this?”

  “Surprise! I’ve come to say it’s all your fault.”

  “What?!”

  “I mean, me! My fault! Sorry. Yes. I’m singing you a song.”

  “Why?”

  Noah shrugged. That was a good question. “Seemed like a nice thing to do?”

  Harry frowned and shut the window. “My fault, my fault,” Noah muttered. Damn it, he had over-rehearsed it now, hadn’t he? He had built it up into something important and big, and now nerves were taking over. He wished he had some water to sip. His mouth was bone dry.

  Harry came out the back door and looked at him. Noah needed to get it all out before Harry had chance to say anything. If Harry started first, he might say something unexpected, and then all Noah’s preparation would—

  “Is this all a joke to you?” Harry said. Damn it, too late! Arses!

  He wouldn’t be deterred. “Look, you’re sorry it was all my fault, plonker, but don’t end our friendship this way. I’m a coxcomb, and you need a chance to prove myself to you.” He nodded. That was certainly some words in a sequence that more or less summed matters up. “And you owe me three quid.”

  Harry ran his hand through his hair and sighed. He came closer, and Noah held his breath, unsure if Harry was about to kiss him or hit him. “Did you tell Eric what to do with his pathetic little video?”

  Noah gulped. In his pocket, right there, was the memory stick. If he came clean, he knew that would be it. Harry and him would be over. And that would be the worst thing that could happen. “Yeah, I told him what to do,” Noah said, his heart racing.

  “You told him you didn’t want it?”

  He felt like his knees were going to give way. “Uh-huh.”

  Harry nodded and stared at him for a long time. Noah shuffled from leg to leg, Harry’s eyes burning into him. “I mean,” Noah muttered, “that stupid video – not worth losing my best mate over, is it?” All he could feel was the memory stick, sitting in his pocket like a huge lump, really obviously there. He didn’t dare look down. He didn’t want to draw attention to his pockets. What if it was sticking out? It felt like it was sticking out. It felt like he was carrying a massive neon sign with a huge arrow, reading “MEMORY STICK RIGHT HERE!”

  Worse, he realized he didn’t want the damn thing at all. Harry was right. It didn’t matter. What really mattered was them, their friendship, the years they’d spent together. What mattered was Harry. The best person you could ever hope to be with. Harry. His Harry.

  In spite of himself, tears starting welling in Noah’s eyes. And, to his horror, Harry was crying too.

  “I know you’re lying,” Harry said.

  “What?”

  “I saw you walk home with Eric. I watched you, Noah. I hid and I watched you. I know what you did.”

  They both stared at each other, eyes wet. There was no recovery from this. There was nothing Noah could do to save himself. To save them.

  Harry smiled sadly, tears still streaming down his face. “See ya, Noah.”

  And he turned and went inside.

  Noah stood, motionless in the dark.

  Him and Harry were no more.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  “Cheer up, bro!” Josh Lewis said, striding over to Noah as he sat on a bench at the furthest corner of the yard, unable to eat his lunch.

  “Oh, hello, Josh,” he said, barely able to smile. He was engulfed in despair about Harry. “I’m just…”

  “Dealing with some guy stuff?”

  Noah nodded. “I’ve had a massive row with Harry. We’re not mates any more.”

  Josh sat next to him and put a matey arm across Noah’s shoulders. “Bro, here’s the deal. People change. Want to know what I think?”

  “OK,” Noah said, feeling the comforting warmth of Josh’s manly embrace.

  “You’ve both reached a crossroads. Harry’s realized he’s gay and got feelings for you.”

  Noah’s heart sank. Josh, too, it seemed, was aware of the hand-holding episode.

  “Now,” Josh continued, “based on how you bagged Jess, I’m guessing that
you don’t feel the same? Like, you like Harry, but you’re not necessarily gay for him? Am I right?”

  “OK.” Noah nodded.

  “So, you both want different things now. And that’s what happens. You were best mates, but now your paths have taken you in different directions. And yes, that’s sad, but it’s also a natural part of life. Everything moves and changes and turns. And you’ll meet new friends, like Jess. Like me. It’s life, man. It’s the whole crazy way of the universe. Life and death. Don’t be sad. Be glad for what you had, but be excited for new adventures. New people.”

  Noah managed a small smile. Josh was very good with words. Very philosophical. Noah liked that. And how refreshing to have someone want to be mates with him, but not want to snog him. A conversation that wasn’t about being gay. Josh got him. Right? Josh was ace. Right?

  “Josh, I am slightly cross,” Noah said, “about you telling everyone Jess Jackson’s sex score.”

  “Bro, I’m sorry, all right?”

  “That’s OK. I accept your apology.” Noah would just have to let this one go. He didn’t want to make Josh feel too bad.

  “Look, I mentioned it to Alfie Bell. Alfie’s normally cool, but suddenly he’s gone all dickhead on me. Blabbed it to everyone, little virgin that he is. Meant to be going to a festival with him at the weekend, but I’ve bailed on him now. I’m sorry, mate.”

  Noah smiled at him. Josh was so utterly lovely. “No, really, that – is – fine.”

  “Was she pissed?”

  “Pissed? As in … drunk?”

  “As in pissed off?”

  “Oh! Oh … yes. Yes, she was! She felt she deserved a higher score.”

  “In the future, we’ll keep the banter between ourselves, yeah?”

  “Oh, yes! Yeah! Banter! Just between us!” Noah nodded, pleased. He felt so cool, using words in a conversation like “banter” in a non-ironic way. He had arrived. He really was one of them. “So… Did you … do any sex last night?”

  Josh raised an eyebrow at him. “Bro, that is really not cool. You don’t ask that sort of thing. What bros do in private stays in private. If a bro wants to share, he shares. But you do not ask.”

  “But you asked about Jess! Yesterday!” Noah said.