‘The orderly or nurse, when Precious was in the hospital.’
‘Oh my God, yeah. He was caliente,’ Rachel says. ‘Is Shane black?’
‘No.’
‘So how come you’re friends on Facebook?’ Alex asks. ‘I thought you hated the guy.’
‘I did. He was an asshole. But only because he thought I was, like, this Florence Nightengaley person? He’s OK now. We get on. Actually, Rache, could you send him a friend request?’
‘Why?’
‘Because I told Simon he was your friend.’ I see her face. ‘You know Simon. He’d just make a joke of the whole thing. And Shane isn’t a joke.’
‘OK, sure. No problem.’
‘Can you do it now, like, on Alex’s iPhone?’
‘Sure.’
After school, Simon wants to go back to the apartment before going to the cinema. He says he wants to change. But I know what he means by change and I want this to be about something more than that. I tell him we’ll miss the start. I tell him we’ll go afterwards.
We sit together on the DART. I try to think of something to say. He’s my boyfriend. I should have something to say. Outside of the fact that I got caught shoplifting. Or that I see a shrink. Or that I don’t love him, but I’m trying.
‘Geoff Wiseman is such a loser,’ he says, putting his feet up on the seat opposite.
I look at him. And wonder. If it was just us left in the world, would we have anything to talk about?
‘Geoff’s OK,’ I say.
He looks at me like I’ve lost it. ‘He plays chess.’
‘Alex plays chess,’ I say because suddenly it sounds like Simon’s slagging Geoff to make himself sound better, cooler.
He looks at me. ‘Do you fancy Geoff or something?’
‘No! I just don’t think he’s a loser.’ Could this be going any worse?
But then, when we get off the DART, Simon takes my hand, something he’s never actually done before. And I think that, maybe, it’ll be OK. Maybe that’s all we needed, someone to make an effort.
We get to the cinema.
‘Want some popcorn or something?’ Simon asks.
‘Nah. You go ahead. I’m not hungry.’ Fact is, I’m broke and don’t want sponge.
‘You’ve a great bod, Sarah. You don’t need to diet.’
I just look at him. Who said anything about dieting?
He gets a huge tub of buttered popcorn and a large Coke. He looks like a little kid. Kind of cute, actually. I take out my phone.
‘Say cheese.’
He makes a James Bond kind of face, raising an eyebrow and looking sideways. I laugh and click. It feels like we’re a real couple. Maybe we can be.
Inside, we sit up at the back. And, again, I’m stuck for something to say. He doesn’t seem to mind that we’re not talking, though, munching away on his popcorn and happily looking around him. He turns to me.
‘So, this is new.’
I shrug. ‘Just thought we’d do something different. For a change.’
‘I wanted to see this anyway,’ he says, like it’s not a total waste of his time.
I need chocolate.
The lights go down. It’s another end-of-the-world movie. Simon’s choice. I pretended not to mind but, actually, I do. Nature is taking over. Buildings are collapsing all round. I keep thinking, this could actually happen. I glance at Simon and try to imagine him in my hour of need. Leaping over flames. Jumping from moving vehicles. Springing over giant cracks in the ground. But the only image that comes to me is him pushing his way onto the last helicopter out. I look at him, beside me, fist submerged in his popcorn, chewing in time to the action. And I wonder. Can I really make myself love this person?
On our way out, he leaves his empty tub on the seat and gives the movie the thumbs up. He tells me he’s glad we came but looks surprised to be. And when he slips a hand into the back pocket of my jeans, I know he’s imagining himself as the hero. All muscle-y, hot and brave.
We go back to his place. Which is empty, as usual. If I owned it, I’d never leave. It’s just so gorgeous. Already, Simon is dragging me to his room.
‘Let’s have a Coke first,’ I say when really I mean, let’s snuggle on the couch and chat. About something. Anything.
He goes to the fridge. I sit on the cool leather couch, waiting for him. He hands me my drink. But stays standing.
‘Aren’t you going to sit down, hang out for a while?’
‘We’ve been hanging out since school.’ He makes it sound like a lifetime.
And I think, if we could just love each other. It would be so handy.
‘You’re acting kinda weird today,’ he says.
‘So, have you thought of a business idea yet?’
‘What? No. Jesus. We’re not going to talk about that now, are we?’
‘No. Just wondering.’
‘OK because you had me worried there.’ He knocks back the rest of his drink. ‘You finished?’
He can see that I’m not. But he reaches for my glass anyway, takes it from me, puts it down, then he’s dragging me up.
‘Come on.’
In his room, he makes straight for my shirt without even looking me in the eye or kissing me. I could be a total stranger and he’d never notice. I pull back.
He looks up. ‘What?’
‘I’m not feeling that well,’ I say.
‘You were OK a second ago.’
‘I wasn’t. I just didn’t say anything. Actually, I think I might go.’
He looks like a kid who’s just dropped his ice-cream cone. I start to tie my shirt. He looks like he’s trying to work out how to still get what he wants.
‘See you tomorrow, yeah?’ I say.
‘Yeah, sure. Whatever.’
I let myself out.
Next day, as soon as we get in to school, Simon comes up to us.
‘So, Rache,’ he says, and I know she hates him shortening her name. ‘Who’s Shane Owens?’
Automatically, she looks at me.
Then he looks at me.
‘A friend,’ she says quickly. ‘Why?’
‘Hot guy.’
‘So?’ Rachel says.
‘So, nothing. We’ll all have to get together some time.’
‘Why?’ Rachel asks.
He shrugs. ‘No reason. He just seems to know some cool people.’
Hot people, I think, miserably. Then I remember what Shane said. ‘He’s not the guy for you.’ Somehow, that makes me feel better.
SIXTEEN | ALLERGIES
On Thursday, at my locker, I turn on my phone. There’s a voice message. I don’t recognise the number. I put my finger to my ear to block the noise of the locker room. I close my eyes and try to hear the message. It’s someone enquiring about the pet-minding business. I rush over to Alex and Rachel.
‘A woman just called about minding her dog.’
‘Brilliant. Call her back.’
‘When I get home.’ I want to prepare what to say and call her on a landline. ‘Ready to go?’
‘Yup.’
On the DART, I start to make notes.
‘What are you doing?’ Rachel asks. I’m so not a note person.
‘Trying to think of all the things I need to ask her.’
‘The dog’s name. What type of dog it is. How long she wants him minded for. And when.’ You’d know Alex had a dog.
‘Hang on, slow down.’
‘Has he any allergies?’ Rachel asks.
We look at her and burst out laughing.
‘He’s a dog,’ I remind her.
‘OK, medical conditions, then.’
‘OK.’ I write it down.
‘Remind her to bring his food, his bed, his lead,’ Alex says.
‘This is just an enquiry,’ I say, not wanting everyone to get anyone’s hopes up. Especially mine.
‘Ask if she wants to bring the dog to meet you,’ Alex says.
‘That’s good,’ I say looking at them. ‘God, your businesses will
be great.’
They look at each other.
‘When we decide what they are.’
‘I thought you were doing the blood pressure thing,’ I say to Rachel.
‘I don’t know. I don’t want to do it on my own.’
‘I’ll do it with you,’ Alex says. ‘It’s easy, right?’
‘Yeah, you just got to invest in the equipment,’ Rachel says, sounding excited.
‘No problem. We’ll get it this weekend.’
‘Cool.’
I call ‘Betty’. When I ask if she wants to bring her dog over to meet me, she thinks I mean immediately. I don’t want to put her off so have to go on a mad tidying spree and print out the questionnaire and legal document. When the doorbell rings, twenty minutes later, I take a deep breath to calm myself. I open the door. Oh my God, Betty’s so cute. Tiny, like a little bird. Her anorak is the kind detectives wear. And I love that though she’s old, she wears her purple beret at a tilt. She’s carrying Paco in her arms. He’s a chocolate-brown cross between I don’t know what. One ear stands up more than the other. His eyes are full of personality and even more chocolate than the rest of him. His bum is white. I love him.
‘Oh my God, he’s gorgeous. Hello, Paco.’ Then I remember my manners. ‘Sorry. Come in.’
She does. ‘Ooh you go to Strandbrook,’ she says, looking at my uniform. ‘I used to teach there.’
‘Really?’
‘Music.’
‘Wow.’ She puts Paco down and he hurries around checking the place out.
‘Do you speak Spanish?’ she asks. I squint at her. She smiles. ‘Paco only understands Spanish. He grew up in Spain.’
‘Cool,’ I say, thinking my first pet will be international – if he is my first pet. ‘I speak Spanish.’ Just not very well. I learned it for a year when I was thirteen.
‘Oh, goodie,’ she says and I want to hug her.
I show her where I’d put his bed, his bowl and stuff. I show her the garden and how Paco would have plenty of room to run around but not get lost because it’s walled. We let Paco out and he sniffs around. His tail is wagging.
‘Look at him. He’s at home already.’ It’s all going so well until she asks, ‘So how long have you been running the business?’
I blush. ‘Actually, Paco will be my first customer. I’ve just set up.’ She’s going to back out, I think.
‘Wonderful,’ she says, and claps her hands.
She asks about the money. I tell her the fee, then worry that it’s too much. ‘I could give you a reduction – for being my first customer.’
She looks at me. ‘Not at all. Would you like money up front?’
‘No, no. It’s fine. Thank you. Whenever. After’s fine.’
‘Sure I’ll give you half now and half later,’ she says, like she’s ordering a hit.
I smile.
As soon as she’s gone, I call Alex and Rachel. Both their lines are engaged – which probably means they’re talking to each other. I have to tell someone. Simon won’t care. I run upstairs and go on Facebook. Shane is chatting, so I type: ‘Got my first customer today :)’
‘Let me guess, not a snake?’
‘A dog. Speaks Spanish.’
‘A talking dog?’
‘Understands Spanish. Smart ass.’
‘Congratulations :)’
‘BTW, my friend thinks you look like Lenny Kravitz.’
‘Really? Which friend?’
‘Alex.’
‘She thinks I look that good?’
‘U do.’ I’d never tell a guy he’s good looking. That’s what’s great about Shane. The whole boy-girl thing never comes into it.
‘Who’r u talking 2?’ It’s Simon.
‘No one.’
‘What?’ Shane types.
Oh God, I’ve sent Simon’s message to Shane. ‘Sorry. Someone else is talking.’
‘Who?’
‘Boyfriend.’
‘I’ll go.’
‘S’OK.’
He’s gone. Oh my God. I called him ‘no one’. Someone kill me.
‘Hello?’ Simon types.
I’m in such shock, I get out of Facebook.
Later, though, I go back. To see if Shane is on.
He is.
‘Hey,’ I say. ‘Soz about earlier. U didn’t hav 2 go.’
‘Yes I did. Lover boy wanted to talk.’ There’s a pause. ‘Has Lindsay Lohan had a nose job?’ he asks.
‘They say she had one in 2009 but no definite evidence – well, apart from her nose. Go into Google Images and see what you think.’
After a minute he’s back. ‘Definitely. See. You are making me gay.’
I love the way he types out all the words. Like an adult.
‘What u do tday?’
‘Facebook. Back in touch with mates. Only so many crackers a guy can make.’
‘Anything worse than Christmas crackers in April?’
‘Christmas crackers in January?’
‘U sound like a cracker joke.’
‘Is there a worse insult?’
‘Eh, no.’
‘Thought so.’
And I’m so relieved that I haven’t hurt him.
SEVENTEEN | JELLY TOTS
Friday morning and Miriam is at the breakfast table. She smiles and lifts her spoon in greeting.
‘We’ll have to stop meeting like this,’ she says.
I don’t know why but I’m suddenly convinced that she is actually married. I sneak a peek at her left hand. Hmm. No rings. No marks left by rings. Nothing.
‘Nope,’ she says, brightly. ‘He hasn’t popped the question.’
Oh my God.
‘It’s OK, I’m joking,’ she says.
To hide my embarrassment, I reach for the Coco Pops then sit at the table.
‘You know, you really should vary your diet. Growing girl like you.’
I look at her, surprised. ‘Are you serious?’ I laugh.
‘This time, actually, yes.’ She smiles again.
I pour my cereal and milk and for a while the only sound is my Coco Pops popping. I look at her, sitting there on her own.
‘No offence, Miriam, but it’s not, like, very gentlemanly of Louis to stay in bed while you get up.’
She smiles. ‘There’s nothing gentlemanly about Louis,’ she says, like it’s a compliment.
‘I’ll take your word for it.’
After school, I go to the home. Shane’s outside. Wearing a woollen hat with flaps down the sides. There’s a pom-pom at the end of each flap. It makes him look cheeky, like he doesn’t give a shit. He sees me, breaks into a smile and waves. It’s like he’s been waiting for me.
‘Hey,’ I say when I get to him.
‘Wanna go for a walk?’ he says.
I look towards the building.
‘It’ll be OK,’ he says.
‘I’ll just go tell Christina.’
‘OK. I’ll start off.’
Jesus. I run inside. Christina smiles when I tell her. She looks out the window at him disappearing up the avenue.
‘This is great. He’s never wanted to go out till now.’
I run back out and after him. He’s half way up the avenue.
‘Hey, thanks for waiting.’
‘You’re welcome,’ he says, speeding up.
We leave the quiet, leafy avenue. The street outside is busy, traffic racing past. Normally I’d jaywalk. That’s not going to work here. I look up and down the street. About a hundred metres up, there’s a pedestrian crossing. The path dips on either side.
‘Over there, I guess,’ I say casually.
‘Oh right, yeah,’ he says. ‘Then we can go down to the sea. Seems like ages since I’ve seen the sea.’
We cross no problem, then make our way along the path. It narrows at a bus stop and I let him go ahead. We turn down left, to the sea. There’s a shop on the corner, across the road. I’d love some Jelly Tots. But someone has thrown their car across the dip in the path. There’s n
o way Shane could get across. So I leave it. We carry on. People have parked cars up on our path all the way along. He goes first, I follow. We make it to the end of the road and have to cross another. It’s exhausting. I’m so not used to thinking where I walk.
‘There’s a pedestrian crossing,’ I say.
‘That’s miles away. Here, you take the handles at the back, tilt the chair, I’ll wheel across then you tilt again when we get to the other side.’
‘Will you be fast enough?’
‘Course I will.’ He takes off across the road. ‘If I’m not, they’ll just have to wait.’
‘Jesus,’ I mutter.
He laughs. ‘You should see your face.’
We cross and it’s fine.
‘Wow,’ he says. ‘This is amazing. Just to get out. Feel that air.’
Normally, I don’t walk. I don’t ‘feel that air’. I don’t look at the view. For the first time ever, I think I might be missing out on something. I breathe in the salty air. And do feel better. Finally, we get down to the sea. Shane stays on the path while I jump down onto the stones. I collect a handful and climb back up. I hand him most. Then from my own supply I start firing them, one by one, into the sea. Smiling, he does the same. Without anyone saying anything, it becomes a competition. I’m seriously losing. Some of my shots don’t even hit the water. One goes backwards and nearly hits him.
‘Oh, Jesus. Sorry.’
He laughs. ‘Clearly you don’t play tennis.’
‘Clearly.’
‘What do you play?’
‘I don’t.’
‘You play no sport?’ he says, like that’s impossible.
‘If you must know, I’m totally uncoordinated.’
He laughs.
‘What’s so funny?’ I ask, offended.
‘Some pair we make.’ He looks down at his legs.
I smile then, relieved. We give up on the stones and just stay watching a ship leave Dublin Bay.
‘What would you do if you’d only a year to live?’ he asks, kind of dreamy.
I look at him. ‘Oh my God, I love these conversations.’ They’re the kind I’d have with Simon if he wasn’t Simon. ‘OK, first off, I’d fall in love.’
‘I thought you were in love.’
‘I mean properly.’
‘So you’re not properly in love?’
The Butterfly Novels Box Set: Contemporary YA Series (And By The Way; And For Your Information; And Actually) Page 37