Noah Can't Even

by Simon James Green

  The words hung in the air. “What…” Noah swallowed hard, his mouth dry. “What do you mean? How? Moved on, how?”

  “Oh, come on, I think you’ve guessed, right? Connor. We like each other. We’re kinda seeing each other.”

  Noah stared at him. “You and Connor? But I thought … you were just mates?”

  “Well, we were. That’s how it started. That’s how this sort of thing usually starts, isn’t it? Being friends? Having stuff in common, making each other laugh.”

  “He makes you laugh?” Noah said, feeling his chest tighten.

  “He’s funny, yeah. We got chatting at Melissa’s party, before I freaked out, and then … things went from there.”

  Noah nodded and took a couple of shallow breaths. “OK, right. And so … have you kissed?”

  Harry snorted. “Noah, come on! Seriously?”

  “No, I just wondered. Just wondered if you’d…” He felt his heart beating hard, his throat tight, strained. “Was it good? Good kiss?”

  Harry took a step towards him. “If there’s anything you feel like you want to say to me, Noah, anything at all, now would be a good time.”

  Noah stared down hard at the floor. Focus, he told himself. Don’t lose it.

  “Noah? Tell me.”

  He looked up. “Nothing to tell,” he said. “I’m pleased for you. I’m happy. It’s a surprise, but I hope… I hope it all works out well and everything.”

  Harry tried to touch his arm, but Noah backed away.

  “I really gotta go… You know, my dad and everything, and … it was nice to chat, Harry. Nice to… I’m glad we’re friends again because I … I really like you. Right? I really, really do. OK? There’s no one else like you, and I like you the best. OK. Bye, then.”

  Out the room.

  Clattered down the stairs.

  Grabbed shoes.

  Out the front door.

  Ran down street in socks.

  Right turn into alleyway.

  Crumpled down against fence.

  “Oh, fucking hell,” Noah sobbed, head in hands.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  He didn’t want to go home.

  He didn’t want to be anywhere near this whole shit town.

  What was the point? What was really here for him? A father who owed everyone money and was basically in hiding (great role model, way to go, Dad); a mother who was engaged in the most inappropriate of relations with the dumbest – albeit most beautiful – lad in school; a girl who claimed she was having Noah’s baby; and a best friend who…

  Well, whatever Harry’d actually done. It was awful, anyway. Now Harry wouldn’t have time for him any more. Sure, he’d said they would be friends, but in reality he would be busy doing boyfriend things with Connor from now on. They would be looking through catalogues and choosing curtains together, staring at each other over Caramel Macchiatos in Starbucks, running through meadows of flowers or taking autumnal walks and kicking the leaves with their feet and not caring that it was a bit nippy because the warm embrace of young gay love was keeping them warm.

  He’d managed to catch the last bus to Grimsby, then spent the night walking the streets, trying to keep a low profile, waiting for the first train of the morning, but now, here he was, speeding along the West Coast Main Line, eyes glazed, staring forward.

  It was all fine because he wasn’t gay anyway and he was going to see Sophie and maybe even propose that she should be his girlfriend and then he would be choosing curtains and enjoying the warm embrace of young straight love and everything would be BLOODY WONDERFUL.

  Unless she said no, of course. Which she probably would. Because that was exactly his luck.

  He glanced across the carriage, where a young man was sitting, watching videos on his mobile without headphones, legs stretched out under the table and muddy shoes resting on the seats opposite. It was everything that was wrong with society in one single human being, but Noah just turned the other way and looked blankly out of the window instead. What did it even matter? Who even cared?

  He got a cab to Sophie’s house. He remembered her telling him that she wasn’t starting her new school until next week, but still, he should probably have phoned. It’s just he hadn’t been able to. He didn’t know how to explain things, where to even start. And he didn’t want to bring all that baggage with him. This could be a fresh start. This could be him and her picking up where they left off, and he wanted it to be perfect and fun and easy and light. So he would act like he’d deliberately set out to surprise her. And she would be happy and glad to see him and then … well, only think about now. It’s only now that matters, he told himself.

  “Noah!” she said, a smile creeping across her face after the initial shock of seeing him on opening the door. “What a lovely surprise!”

  “Surprise!”

  “Yes.”

  “If you’ve got a boyfriend or anything, it doesn’t matter!” He hadn’t meant to say that. Not right then, anyway. He had all these things he wanted to say, but the sequence he had planned so carefully on the train had vanished.

  She gave him a wry smile. “I haven’t. Thanks for asking.”

  Awesome. “Me neither,” he assured her. He wanted her to know they were both very much still single.

  “Come in, then.”

  He grinned and followed her inside. Just seeing her, just exchanging a few words with her – it was the best thing that had happened to him in ages. Sophie.

  The house smelt brand new, even though Sophie’s mum had been living there for a few years. The carpets were an immaculate cream. It was all very minimalist and trendy – definitely the sort of place you would see in Ideal Home magazine. Harry would like it here. It was just his sort of style. He’d often talked about interior design with Harry (like he was sure plenty of lads their age regularly did), and this was right up Harry’s street. If they had an integrated coffee machine in the kitchen, Harry would totally go crazy.

  But, of course, Harry wasn’t here and this was nothing, nothing, to do with him.

  Noah pulled his trainers off by reflex. “Nice place.”

  “It’s starting to feel like home,” she said. “Why didn’t you call to let me know?”

  “Sorry. Are you busy?”

  “No…”

  “Will your mum mind?”

  “She’s out with friends till tonight…”

  Noah nodded. “Cool.”

  “So, what’s the matter?”

  Noah looked at her. “Nothing! Just came to see you! Just thought I’d hang out in Milton Keynes for a bit!” He did a completely unnecessary yawn and stretch. “It’s nice here. Very relaxing.”

  Sophie crossed her arms. “Any news?”

  Noah blew his cheeks out, trying to think of something that wasn’t going to tip him over the edge into uncontrollable tears. “News? News, you say? Let me think … news, news, news … er, well! Here’s a thing! I thought my mum was dating Mr Baxter.”

  Sophie’s eyebrows rose. “Why?”

  “Because she was dating a mysterious stranger and he started acting all concerned about me, like he cared and was my stepdad or something.”

  “He probably does care. You know he’s gay, right?”

  Noah gawped at her. “No way! Gay? Mr Baxter? So he…” Noah gasped. “He likes me? He’s got a thing for teenage boys?”

  Sophie rolled her eyes. “No! He obviously saw the bullying and wanted to offer support. A sympathetic ear. Someone to talk to. Now, what’s the matter?”

  “But how did Mr Baxter know I like Agatha Christie so much?”

  “Noah, everyone knows that. The presentation you gave in Year Ten, in English? An entire hour of Agatha Christie, including PowerPoint slides and staged scenes from ten of the books. I’m sure he heard about it.”

  Noah nodded, pleased. “You think Mrs West told the rest of the staff about how impressive it was?”

  “I’m sure she told all the staff, yes,” Sophie said, trying not to smile.

>   “You know, I made the costumes myself.”

  “Yes. Now, what’s the matter?”

  He attempted a look of mild confusion. “Matter? Nothing’s the matter!”

  “Only you look wrecked and your eyes are all red, like you’ve been crying.” She moved towards him and gently touched his upper arm. “What’s up?”

  He panicked as he felt his defences start melting away with her tenderness. Why did she have to be so sensitive and intuitive? He had spent the journey shutting everything terrible away behind lead-lined walls and steel doors with a billion locks. “Nothing’s up!” he whimpered, his throat tightening as the tears welled up inside him. “Everything’s fine… Everything’s great… Life couldn’t be… It…”

  He collapsed into her in a wet, snotty mess of uncontrollable sobbing. Damn it. In spite of his best efforts to be a confident and capable man, of the type a typical girl or woman might find attractive, he had once again revealed himself to be a snivelling little boy. When would he learn? Now she would undoubtedly treat him like the child he clearly was and—

  “Do you want a biscuit, Noah? Choccy biccy?”

  …Yep! There it was!

  Although, in point of fact, he was quite peckish and this sounded like a promising offer. “What sort?” He sniffed back the tears and wiped his eyes.

  “KitKat?”

  Yes! Not just a biscuit, but technically a full-on chocolate bar! “OK, then.”

  “And a nice cup of tea?”

  “Have you got squash?”

  “Fine. We’ll have a KitKat and some squash and you can tell me all about it, OK?”

  That sounded nice. He had always known it, but this just confirmed it. Sophie would clearly make an excellent girlfriend. “OK, then,” he smiled. “Thanks.”

  By the time he’d finished the story, they had got through two KitKats and three glasses of tropical fruit squash each. He had told her everything. In a quest to get everything out in the open and just tell it like it was for once, he had omitted no detail, however gruesome. The money from his absent father, Eric’s secret video, Jess Jackson’s pregnancy accusation, the revelation about his secret sibling, Eric going missing, possibly murdered. His dad coming back but having to lie low. Josh and his mum. Kirk not being the father of the baby. It was all there. Every horrible, vile little detail.

  “And you know what makes it all the worse?” He was keen to wrap it up because he needed a wee now. “That it’s Little Fobbing. If I lived in London, all of this would be perfectly normal. Happens all the time in London because everyone there is into debauchery and general deviancy, and no one would have the energy to care about every little bit of it. But it’s the fact that everyone in Little Fobbing just loves gossip so much. They can’t wait to chat about it all and stare and point and I’ve just had enough, Soph. I’ve had enough now.”

  Her face was a picture of flabbergasted incomprehension. “Oh my God…” she muttered.

  “Yeah,” he said, glad she appreciated the appalling horror of his plight, “I’ve had it pretty tough, you’ve no idea.”

  “You have somehow managed to get yourself into the mother of all pickles,” she said.

  “Huh, yeah,” he said, shifting uncomfortably on the sofa because he REALLY NEEDED A WEE. “Sophie? Is it OK if I just go to the—”

  “And you’ve had no one to fight your corner, have you?” she interrupted him.

  “Not really. Actually, not at all. Thing is, we can definitely keep talking about this, but first I need to—”

  “But what about Harry? He fought for you – literally.”

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “The black eye? Apparently some stupid jerks were saying stuff about you…” Sophie looked away, shaking her head.

  “Oh. I see.” Harry had got into that fistfight to defend Noah’s honour? Why didn’t he say anything? Noah felt his heart sink even further. “Well … we stopped talking for a bit, but now we’re talking again and he’s seeing Connor in an about-to-do-bow-chicka-wah-wah sort of way.”

  “What? Why?”

  Noah shrugged. “I don’t know. I think Connor’s a poor choice too. He’s got stupid hair. Must require an inordinate amount of product to keep it up. It’s fake, fake, fake.”

  “I don’t mean that. I mean, you and Harry are so right for each other.”

  Noah laughed and wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers. “Yeah, well, about that. I’m… This whole gay thing… I mean, am I gay? That’s the question, right?”

  Sophie narrowed her eyes at him. “And what’s the answer?”

  “Ha! What indeed!” Noah said, crossing his legs so he didn’t wet himself. “Anyway, more of this in a moment, after I’ve—”

  “But you fancy him, don’t you?”

  “Look, I like him, yes I do. But I could like girls too.” He looked at her, hoping she might take the hint. “I mean, I’ll be honest, I’ve only ever kissed Harry. I’ve never even kissed a girl. So how do I know if I like kissing girls or not? Maybe I’ll love it.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I could … for example, this is just an example, but what if I … kissed you, for example, say? What if I did?”

  Sophie gave a cautious smile. “Uh-huh?”

  “So, say we had a kiss, and I was like, wow, yeah, I really liked that! You know, that could happen.”

  Sophie gave a frustrated little sigh. “Right, we’ve had enough of this nonsense, so let’s get it over and done with. You can kiss me if you want.”

  “Say what?”

  “Kiss me. You can kiss me. I don’t mind.”

  Noah cleared his throat. “Huh? What? Kiss? Me and you? A kiss? What?”

  “This is so that you realize, idiot. I bet you ten pounds you won’t enjoy it. Not really. Up to you. Offer’s there.”

  “Right. OK.” He geared himself up for it. This was it, then. This was the moment. He wanted it to be a good kiss, so he could compare it to the one with Harry. He moistened his lips a little, since the cold winter air had chafed them somewhat.

  “Why are you licking your lips?”

  “Um—”

  “That’s not an appealing thing to do before kissing someone, just FYI.”

  “OK, sure. Sorry. Um – what if your mum comes back?”

  “She’s not due back until tonight.”

  “What if she comes back early? And she finds us kissing and thinks I’m taking advantage of you and hits me?”

  “If you don’t want to kiss me, you don’t have to.”

  “No, I do! I certainly do! Shall I start doing it now?”

  “If you want.”

  “OK. Initiating kissing sequence!” he said, in a jokey computer voice.

  “Shut up and kiss me.”

  “You can start,” he told her. That would be better. She would know what to do.

  God, he needed a wee. He sort of hoped she would back out of it, so he could go and have one. As it was, she just smiled and leaned in towards him until their lips gently touched. This was actually happening … to him! She was kissing him! He was kissing her! They were kissing.

  And it was just typical. The first time he was kissing a girl, the first ever time, and he couldn’t properly enjoy it because he was having to concentrate more on not wetting himself. Bloody brilliant. This was how he was going to remember his first kiss – bladder agony.

  “See?” she said, breaking off. “You didn’t feel anything, did you?”

  “Er—”

  “I knew it! Now you owe me a tenner.”

  “Now, you hang on a second!” Noah said. “We were just getting into it. I demand a rematch! You can’t just do an experiment once and then say here are the results! You’ve got to test a theory!”

  “Fine!” she muttered, going in again. It wasn’t like electricity, as he’d been led to believe it would be, but it wasn’t awful. As such. The kissing was OK. It was going quite well, wasn’t it? It wasn’t amazing… Should it be amazing? Wasn’t it meant to be am
azing? Or was that just a lie? Another media lie? It had been pretty amazing when it had been Harry he was kissing. But that didn’t mean he was gay. That must have just been … the alcohol! Drunk kissing was different. Maybe he should suggest they down several shots of Baileys to liven things up a bit? He liked Baileys. Gran used to always give him a little to drink at Christmas. It was smooth, silky, sweet and luxurious … a nice sort of drink … oh, the kissing was still happening; it was not going well… Did her mum have any Baileys? No! Stop thinking of liquids when you need to pee. Think of … desert and sand…

  “OK?” She broke away again and crossed her arms. “What did you think?”

  He badly needed to pee, that was his only thought. Literally no other thoughts were possible right now because all his brainpower was taken up with instructions to not piss himself. The experiment would have to be done again once he’d—

  “Look, you don’t have to work it all out now. That’s what growing up is all about. Don’t pressure yourself if you don’t feel ready…”

  Oh my God, she was making him out to be an immature little kid. She probably thought he didn’t have pubes or something. “Ready?!” His voice did the range-of-octaves thing. On one word! Sometimes he wanted to take puberty by the throat and throttle the living daylights out of it. “Sophie, I am sixteen in just a few weeks and I am absolutely, I can assure you, mature and everything, it’s just … I am literally going to wet my pants any second now because I really need the toilet.”

  She burst out laughing. “Oh, Noah! You’re so funny!”

  “Yes, but I’m serious, though.”

  “Top of the stairs and it’s right in front of you.”

  “Cool.”

  He left her giggling in the lounge and flew up the stairs. It wasn’t ideal, and it had broken the moment somewhat, but it was better than him ending up weeing all over her.

  He stood at the toilet, noisily peeing into the bowl. After this it would be better because he would be able to properly concentrate on the kissing. He hadn’t been able to before and that must have been why he wasn’t enjoying it much. Kissing Sophie should be the best thing ever. It should be all his dreams coming true, and it should be awesome and sexy. It must have been because of needing to pee. A normal boy would find kissing Sophie to be an act of staggering sexiness. It would make a normal boy really damn horny. He zipped up, moved to the sink, gently turned on the tap and water burst forth with extraordinary pressure, splashing absolutely everywhere. He glanced down.