by Holly Bourne
He had caught the change in my face though. Dammit. I was going to need a cover story.
“Poppy, you know you can tell me anything. It’s a safe environment here. I’m not here to judge you.”
I knew he was right. I wanted to tell him. I wanted to make Mum’s money worthwhile. But how could I? How could I honestly tell him I think I’m going crazy because I fancy a boy. It was laughable. Stupid.
So I took a deep breath and let the lie fall out of my mouth effortlessly.
“…Well…” I stammered, thinking of Noah and letting the tears come. “It’s my mum…I just worry about her so much. I think we’re in an emotionally exploitative relationship…”
He handed me the box of tissues and the session went on as normal.
The days passed, as they have a habit of doing. Weeks passed without anything of real note happening. Summer became autumn. It got cold. Only the most determined show-offs (Ruth) were still parading around in a skirt, showing off their blue legs. We finished Romeo and Juliet in English and moved onto World War I poetry. My panic attacks stopped. Whether they were Noah-related or not, I had no idea. All in all, life returned to normal. Whatever that was, anyway.
I still thought about him. Far more than was appropriate. During the daytime I was okay. I filled my days with seeing friends, doing coursework, helping Mum cook dinner – normal boring teenage stuff. But at night-time my body physically ached for him. I would climb into bed, determinedly telling myself I wouldn’t think about him, and yet the moment I turned out the light, he was there. I replayed every moment I’d spent with him, analysed every word he’d said. I trembled with humiliation when I remembered my behaviour.
I knew it was just a crush. I knew it would pass. Well, I hoped it was just a crush. I hoped it would pass.
On one not particularly special day, Ruth dropped the bombshell.
The four of us were sitting round our favourite table in the canteen. It was next to the windows and radiators so we could keep toasty while perving on the footballers outside. Prime college real estate. It was pretty dismal outside, the usual English crappy day. The drizzle was constant, mixed with the sort of wind that immediately blows your hair onto your lip gloss. I was snuggled in my favourite hoodie and we were playing Cheat.
I was doing quite well, with only five cards left, when I heard Ruth speak.
“Growing Pains are playing Band Night tonight,” she said, putting two cards face down on the table. “Two sixes,” she added.
Noah’s band was playing tonight. I was too stunned to call Cheat. “What?” I said.
The other two looked up in vague interest.
“They’re on at nine.” Ruth ruffled her hair with her hands. “They’ve made it a Friday because someone’s renting out the place tomorrow for a Super Sweet Sixteenth. Will told me you should all come along.”
Ruth and Will had been “seeing each other” since the infamous night at the Lock and Key. God knows exactly what that meant in Ruth terms, but we knew she had slept with him numerous times as she had bored us with all the disgusting details afterwards. She didn’t seem to realize, a), how uninterested we were in her sex life, and b), how intimidating it was to hear about when the rest of us hadn’t slept with anyone yet.
I’d been using their developing relationship to spy third-hand on Noah, but it seemed Ruth spent most of her time “alone” with Will rather than hanging out with the band.
“I’m up for going,” Amanda said, surprising us all. We looked at her, shocked. “Well, Johnno is going,” she muttered, before retreating back behind her cards.
I turned, open-mouthed, to Lizzie. I didn’t want to go. Surely Lizzie wouldn’t want to go?
Well, okay, of course she would want to go.
“I’m in,” Lizzie said, confirming my fears. She put down a card rather sheepishly. “One six.”
I looked at my hand and saw I had two sixes, meaning either Ruth or Lizzie was cheating. But I was still too shell-shocked to call it. I couldn’t go. I couldn’t see Noah.
“Well, I’m going,” Ruth said. “Will’s always on such a sexual high after playing a gig. It’s amazing.”
She didn’t say it with the slightest bit of irony, and I wondered for the millionth time why we were friends.
They were all now looking at me, so I returned my eyes to my hand.
“Poppy?” Lizzie asked.
“Mmm?” I peeled off two random cards and slapped them down. “Two sevens. Amanda, your turn.”
But she didn’t play. I could feel all their eyes on me.
“Poppy, are you coming?”
Quick, brain. Think of an excuse. Anything.
“I can’t, guys,” I said. “Tonight I’m making a cherry pie from scratch.”
What the hell? That was the worst lie I’d ever heard.
“You’re what?” Ruth looked mildly entertained. She leaned forward over the table. “I didn’t know you baked, Poppy.”
I nodded manically. Well, I might as well run with the lie now I’d started it. Anything to get me out of going. “Yeah, I love baking, you know that. I’m really excited about trying out this new recipe I got in a newspaper supplement.”
“You’re lying,” Lizzie declared.
I switched from furious nodding to furious head shaking. “No I’m not, honest,” I said, wide-eyed. “I just really enjoy baking. You guys don’t know every little thing about me. There’s loads you don’t know.” I thought of Noah and all the feelings I’d carefully secreted from them. I wasn’t lying there. Not entirely.
“Poppy, I’ve seen you burn a frozen pizza,” Lizzie said. “You hate cooking! Why don’t you want to come to Band Night? You’re usually really up for it.”
I needed more lies. “I just don’t feel like it, that’s all.”
“But it’s Friday night. It’s live music. It’s the only half decent thing to do in this stupid town.”
“Yeah but…” I was out.
Ruth was watching me critically. “Are you sure it’s not because you’re scared to see a certain someone?” she asked, flicking her cards out one by one.
I felt myself flush. “What?” I said, feigning ignorance. “What are you talking about?”
“Noah,” Ruth replied. “It’s obvious you had a little thing for him a while back.”
God, I hated her. “Huh?”
“You don’t want to go because he didn’t fancy you and it broke your heart.”
I pushed my chair back to give myself enough personal space for a rant.
“What. The. Hell?” I said. “I never fancied bloody Noah. He’s a complete loser and if you don’t believe me I’ll go to this crappy Band Night. You’re COMPLETELY wrong about me fancying him—”
“CHEAT,” Lizzie yelled triumphantly.
Seriously? There was no fooling that girl.
“I’m not lying, Lizzie. I don’t fancy Noah.”
She shook her head. “No, cheat as in Cheat,” she said, pointing at the cards. “You don’t have two sevens.” She flicked over my fraudster pair. “Ha ha. Now you have to pick up the whole pile.”
I sighed and scooped them up.
I agonized over my appearance that evening. I tried on outfit after outfit, discarding them one after the other. I really didn’t want to go and wished I’d thought of a legitimate excuse. After a painstaking hour, I finally decided on dark blue skinny jeans, a black strappy top and lashings of silver jewellery. I spent another half-hour attempting to create something exotic with my hair, before giving up and wearing it down around my shoulders.
Dad was at the bottom of the stairs when I left my bedroom.
“You look nice, dear,” he said, shuffling past with the newspaper. “You going anywhere special?”
I shrugged. “Only Band Night…again.”
“Well, you’re very dressed up. Are you trying to impress a certain someone?” He looked at me with genuine intrigue.
“Eww,” I said, making my way down the stairs. “No way. You know
all the boys here are uber-losers. They’re either posh grammar-school rugby snobs or whingey immature acne-ridden idiots.”
“Of course, of course, how could I forget?” He began to shuffle towards the living room to scout out his favourite armchair. “Well, you look lovely.”
I chewed a piece of hair. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Be back by twelve or your mother will worry.”
“Yeah yeah.”
I grabbed my bag and let myself out.
I wrapped my leather jacket tightly around myself as I walked to meet Lizzie at the corner. It was darkish already and the wind was cold. Summer was definitely over. It was that twilight time when it’s dark enough to see inside people’s houses, but they haven’t thought to close the curtains yet. The road I met Lizzie on was called Park Drive – a private road where only the wealthiest could afford to live. I walked slowly, dawdling outside the particularly massive houses, trying to get a look at the people living inside them.
Lizzie was waiting for me impatiently, tapping her toe with annoyance. It was just us two walking tonight. Ruth was “going with the band” – she’d been boasting about it the whole afternoon. And Amanda had stunned us all by saying her and Johnno were walking there together.
“You’re late, fellow spinster,” Lizzie yelled, her arms tightly crossed against her chest to keep the cold out.
I jogged up to her. “I think we’re a bit too young to be calling ourselves spinsters.” I gave her a quick hello hug. “Sorry for being late. I was rich-people perving again.”
Lizzie shook her head. “Again? We need a new meeting spot so you might be on time for once.”
I hooked my arm through Lizzie’s. She looked pretty. She’d kinked her blonde hair and was wearing electric blue eyeliner, the sort I couldn’t pull off in a million years. “You look nice.”
“Cheers, m’dears. I nicked the eyeliner off my sister.”
As we walked, I thought about Lizzie calling us spinsters. She’d never really showed any interest in boys, though she got plenty of attention.
I wondered. “Lizzie?”
We stopped to cross a road.
“Yes?”
“Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”
I wasn’t sure why I’d asked. We didn’t often have in-depth talks about guys. Weird, I know, but Lizzie seemed to be as picky as me, so neither of us had ever really had a boyfriend. Boys were a topic we laughed about, discussing who was and who wasn’t fit, but we’d never really deeply discussed our shared single-status.
Lizzie watched the road, which was jam-packed with traffic. She looked a little shocked at my directness and I regretted asking her.
“That’s a question and a half,” she answered, looking left and right.
“I was just wondering. Well, you never seem particularly interested in guys but they like you. And it occurred to me you’ve never done anything about it.”
The sun had almost completely set. All the cars’ headlights were on, creating two hazy lanes of red and white lights blurring past. It was too busy to cross and we were going to have to walk to the pedestrian crossing. But I waited for Lizzie to answer first. She was switching her weight from one foot to another, contemplating her response.
“I dunno,” she said finally. “It’s not like I don’t want a boyfriend. It’s just…and don’t you dare bloody laugh at me…I haven’t felt that thing…”
Now I was really shocked. Lizzie? A romantic?
“What exactly is that thing?” I asked.
She looked bewildered. “I dunno. I’m not some sappy romcom-loving girl, but I believe in…it…you know? The One. And I really believe that one day I’ll just be going about my day-to-day life, probably looking like a turd, and then I’ll just meet this guy – completely by coincidence. And I’ll know straight away he’s it, and we’re going to live happily ever after and grow old and wrinkly together.”
I opened my mouth in astonishment.
“And it may sound stupid, but I honestly don’t see the point in going out with someone if you don’t feel like that about them. And I know we’re only seventeen, and we’re supposed to be kissing the frogs before we get to the prince and all that bollocks, but boys are just such…hard work that I really don’t see the point unless it’s it, you know?”
I was silenced by her words. She certainly had a way with them. I remembered the night I met Noah and found myself agreeing with her.
The cars were still rushing past us, blindly ignoring the 30 mph speed limit. I decided humour was the best way out of this situation.
“So who would have thought?” I said, nudging her in the ribs. “You? A hard-nosed, cynical, wannabe journo with such a…romantic side?”
She hit me. “Shut up, you. I know you’ve also got some stupid little princess trapped inside, dying to be rescued by some fit bloke with floppy hair who tells you he wants to marry you.”
I did shut up. She didn’t realize how close I was to becoming that soppy.
We were late so didn’t have to queue and the bouncers ushered us past the red rope immediately. The moment we pushed our way through the double doors, we were greeted by steam rolling off the packed dance floor. The place was heaving. Word had obviously got out that Growing Pains were good – despite having one of the most stupid names in teen band history.
Lizzie and I scanned the crowd for friendly faces. Most people were already milling round the stage, staking out a front row spot.
With last time’s panic attack still a raw memory, I leaned over to shout in Lizzie’s ear. “Is it okay if we stay near the back?”
“Are you kidding? Of course! I don’t want a repeat performance of your joyful fainting fits.”
I realized then that Lizzie was my best friend in the world. “Thanks.”
It was impossible to find anyone, so Lizzie and I gave up and fought our way to the bar.
As she ordered, I tried to mentally prep myself for seeing Noah again. I really didn’t want to be near him. But at the same time I wanted time to hurry up so I could look at his perfect face once more.
Lizzie handed me a rum and Coke and we drank them while looking for our friends. Some of the gothy people from college were dancing to the background music, casting their elaborately decorated bodies into interesting shapes. Some guy was pointing and laughing at them. He was clutching two beers and wearing a polo shirt with the collar deliberately pulled up – looking completely out of place for Band Night. The bloke was now imitating the goths’ dancing while miming slitting his wrists. His two accompanying mates shrieked with laughter.
“What an arse,” Lizzie commented, spotting them.
“I know.” I nodded. “I mean, why bother coming if it’s not your sort of thing?”
The main piss-taker bloke had, thankfully, gone unnoticed by the goth group, who were mainly dancing with their eyes closed and waving their hands in the air. Okay, they did look a little ridiculous. But they were goths. That was the point!
The guy turned round, imitating someone who was spinning repeatedly to the soundtrack of Megadeth.
My mouth fell open. I grabbed Lizzie’s hand. “Oh my God, it’s Frank.”
Lizzie looked at him, confused. “Who the hell is Frank?”
“My friend from English.”
She looked over and wrinkled her nose. “You’re friends with that guy?”
Frank saw me. I raised my hand in a half wave. He raised his bottle, then whispered to his friends. The three of them began making their way over, Frank half-jogging, a smile on his face.
“Oh great,” Lizzie said. “They’re coming over.”
“Sorry.”
“You should be.”
Frank was the first to reach us. “So, Poppy Lawson – this is your world?” He raised one unimpressed eyebrow.
“What are you doing here, Frank?”
He gestured towards the group of goths with his beer-holding hand. “Just checking out the local…talent. Seriously, this place is better than a circus
freak show.”
He really could be an arse sometimes.
His friends caught up and put their arms around Frank’s shoulders in that cheery we’re-all-blokes-us way that I hated.
“Alright, mate? Who have we got here then?” They quickly did a blatant full body scan of us both. Lizzie shuddered.
“This is Poppy. I do English with her.” I didn’t offer my hand to shake. “And this is…” He gestured towards Lizzie.
I finished his sentence. “This is my friend Elizabeth.”
She didn’t offer her hand either. The boys just nodded.
Frank took a sip of his beer. “This is Simon and Jedd,” he said, clapping them on the back.
“Let me guess,” I said dryly. “You all play rugby together?”
Frank looked surprised. “How did you know?”
“Seriously. Why are you here?”
Simon and Jedd had already turned their backs on us. Obviously Lizzie and I didn’t have enough cleavage out to pass the full-body-scan test.
“Well,” Frank said. “You’re always going on about how I should experience real music. So I thought I may as well come along and prove to myself how crap it really is.”
I crossed my arms. “You honestly didn’t have anything better to do?”
“I’m thinking of it as an educational experience. Who knows? I might like it.”
I shook my head.
“Anyway,” he continued, “as I’ve made the effort, you should educate yourself too. Come to this rave Jedd is having, it’s going to be awesome. His parents are super-loaded and we’re setting up decks in his garden.”
I pushed him friendlily, spilling a bit of his beer. “Frank. I can honestly say I would rather die than go to a rave.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“I don’t need to know.”
“But how do you know you won’t like it?”
“I just know.”
“You’re stubborn.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Shh,” Lizzie interrupted, as the club was plunged into darkness. “The band’s starting.”
The stage was cast into a vibrant white light as the band walked on. Everyone in the room started cheering and immediately I felt my stomach flip and my vision go hazy.