Luca, Son of the Morning

by Tom Anderson

  ‘Cool. Well, let’s make a plan then, fella!’

  Inside, as in right down, behind my chest where my rhythm gets set, it had felt all night as if the fact I’d need to go and find Ella Friday morning had knocked me off line. Now though, the way it was coming together so easy had given me a new thing to get anxious about. I’d shaken the morning in with the song, and all the risks that came with it, for nothing – put all that energy into building myself up, but for something that had turned out easier than easy. Surely there would be payback for this, some time, I told myself, because it seemed somehow against the rules for something like this to go smoothly.

  Ella laid out the plan – come to Bunkers, nine tonight, then I could walk off the beach with her and her mates to Jackdaw’s house where this party full of sketchy older kids was going to be in full swing. Gaby wouldn’t be at Bunkers with them, but she knew we were coming to Jackdaw’s and was going to meet us there.

  All of this gave me the rest of the day to worry and excite, with ‘La-la-la son of the morning’ rolling around my head, helping me take turns at being either Luca or the Devil himself.

  I thought about the whole good and evil thing, again. How much of it was in us all? I watched the boys in my Art class – which Gaby didn’t show up to even though I knew she’d been in her Reg group – jumping around and pissing off the supply teacher who was taking us because Mrs Rogoff had some meeting. I watched Mr Kleener when he came to collect Joe Poundes from DT for ‘stopping others learning’. I watched the History teacher, Mr Lloyd walk towards his car at lunchtime and drive off. I studied Skunk George at lunchtime, leaning back on another teacher’s car and fiddling with his phone. I wondered about the balance between devil and good that lay behind his shark eyes. I tried to imagine Rogoff or Kleener, Mr Lloyd or Joe Poundes, their devils and their gods and for a while it all helped stop me imagining mine.

  Ella had my number now, and she sent me a message that evening, as I was eating my parents’ leftover Indian and thinking about what music to listen to upstairs before going out.

  ‘You PUMPED yet LL Cool J? It’s on, gnna be a BLASSST ayeh!’

  My mum and dad were at the pub together, already, and that text from Ella came in somewhere around the time I started getting these quick, sharp rushes of something totally different from before. It was coming from the same, like, root, in my core, but this feeling, when it hit my fingertips and made my throat want to fill with cool air, was new. And this feeling was good. It was right.

  Breathing out short and hard, then in long and slow, I went upstairs and tried to control it. It was running down my spine and buzzing right back up to the top of my head. I stuck Toots onto my iPod and turned it loud. The tingling in the back of my head met the music in the front and I nearly yelled out. Yes! This is it! I was going to go, to be me, to find the best of my soul. I don’t know if it was my Lucifer, my devil, my goodness, or some other current – maybe even one I’d picked up under the dunes and sea, but it was going to take me through. Showered, dressed, no need to tell anyone where I was going – mum and dad would probably have had a skinful when they got back anyway – I looped my key over the inside elastic of my hoodie pocket, stuck the bronze and gold-leaf doubloon in my jeans and shut the house up behind me.

  It would take twenty minutes to walk over to Bunkers at the right speed, and all I needed to do was keep the rhythm in place. Everything else was perfect. I had the tunes, the air, and the dark of night.

  Ella was right. It was on.

  * * *

  Their voices reached me before the light of their cigarettes and torches. The laughter was running in little ripples across the sand. I could feel the wetness in the air – one of Bunkers Beach’s fog layers drifting in by night. It helped mask them from view.

  The voices of the boys were deep, and the girls could be heard shouting and chuckling. I saw a lighter flick on, then the flame turn into the single, orange point of a cigarette. The rushes of adrenaline, which had been coming and going to the rhythm of my tunes, were free to hit me and last – even after I’d taken the earphones out to be able to hear the group of people ahead.

  I was about ten steps away by the time I could make out their faces, and the dark edges of the bunker they were leaning against. There was seven of them. I recognised four boys, all friends of Jack Dooley, all from the year above me at least. Ella was one of the three girls, but I didn’t know the others.

  ‘LL-Jaaaaaay!’ called Ella, before I had to say anything. ‘Yes!’

  The others hardly seemed to notice me – until she made them. She introduced them all – her older sister Maya, her sister’s friend, Lizzie, and then the boys. ‘This is Henry, DK, Lewis and Taylor. Boys, Lukee’s in my BTEC class. He’s a legend. He’s comin’ with us.’

  ‘Yeah, man. Whatever you need,’ said the one she’d called DK.

  I was passed a small bottle of beer – like the ones Jeff used to bring my parents from Europe – and we all started walking off the beach almost straight away. The cold, wet air was punctured by the smoke and the tiny points of heat from their cigarettes. Ella and her sister chatted to me as we trailed the boys and Lizzie.

  ‘So, you’re the one who gets my sis into trouble with Pervy Powell then?’

  Before I could answer, Ella was laughing.

  ‘Yah man, he’s wicked when he wants to be, this one,’ she said, rubbing my hair so hard it pushed by head forward. ‘I need him in BTEC though, to keep me on the ground, like. Lukee pulls some of Mr P’s attention off me.’

  I loved that version of it. From where I sat, Ella was the one saving me from Mr Powell’s crappy moods, using her charms to the fullest in the process. Still, she could tell her sis what she wanted. Did it really matter? Ella went on:

  ‘Can you believe Poundes and those rugby mongs from my year give LLJ a hard time? How wrong it that! Anyway. I told them to wrap up or we’d get their legs broken.’

  Her sister laughed. ‘Legs broken! You can’t say shit like that to younger boys?’

  Ella gave her a gentle shove and said, ‘They ain’t younger if you’re me, are they, Maya. Come on. Sixteen minus sixteen. Can’t you count? Anyway, that’s such a good threat to make on rugby boys. They love their legs so much, and every other bit of their bodies too. And since they all think DK is a sketchy mo-fo anyway, and know I go round with him, then it works anytime I try it. I always threaten to get him onto people who are being dicks.’

  ‘DK? Ha! Yeah, that is funny, actually. He couldn’t hurt a fly.’

  ‘Still. No harm done. Can’t have the roiders messing with LLJ, can we.’

  ‘Roiders,’ her sister laughed. ‘The rugby boys in your year are cry-babies. They’ve probably never even heard of roids. Probably can’t even drink ginger beer without bricking it. That goes for all of you, mind. You lot are still kids.’

  ‘Nah, they do go out to parties,’ said Ella. ‘Who knows, those morons might even come tonight. The creepy little one is Jake George’s little bro in’t he.’

  ‘Him?’ said Maya. ‘Sylvester? He’s one of your “roiders”?’ She made the inverted commas with her hands, wedging her cigarette in her mouth to do so. ‘He’s a weasel! I always wind Jakey up about his little brother. Sylvester. Ha. Skunk they call him, innit? Yeah, that’s him. Jake reckons that kid can’t really be his bro, like. Reckons it’s impossible the two of them can have the same MDMA.’

  ‘DNA,’ corrected Ella. ‘Know your genes from your deadly disco drugs why don’t you.’

  ‘Ok. DNA. Whatever.’

  Ella and her sister may have been on about Skunk as if he was nothing, but listening to this I still dragged a deep breath in through my nose to ward off the fear. Ella noticed immediately.

  ‘Don’t worry about him, Lukee. You’re with us. He’ll realise you’re out of bounds.’

  Her sister grinned, and dropped her smouldering cigarette bu
tt into an empty bottle, winking at me as it made a hiss-sound. ‘It’s kid’s stuff, the lot of it,’ she said. ‘Just have a good time tonight, maan! And get smashed, too. That’s the important bit.’

  She reached into her handbag and pulled out another mini beer bottle.

  ‘Alright for beach parties, these, but not really getting me enough of a head-on for a Jackdaw house gig,’ she added. ‘Better knock one back quick each, or this shit is gonna be boring.’

  * * *

  I wondered what a party that Maya Bowen didn’t find boring would look like. As the ocean’s mists faded we arrived to an open door and a house which backed onto the dunes, not very far from where I lived. This house, though, was crammed from the front porch to the back garden with kids from the years above me. The girls led us in, and the boys followed. I was sandwiched between them as we pushed through the door in single-file, and the buzz of strolling into a place like this, one step behind Ella Bowen and her older sister, was racing through my veins.

  There was music on loud, and I liked it. Something dancey, with a soft beat and a woman’s voice. I couldn’t place it – not techno, not house, not pop – something unusual, something older and sort of… real, and that felt right. Whoever had put it on, it was their own sound, like saying ‘welcome to my space, come and share my rhythm’.

  Ella noticed my head moving with it and said, ‘Massive Attack. Eighties. You like?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Nineties,’ corrected her sister, shouting over the noise. ‘Hey, Luca. Ella says you got craaaizeeee taste in music?’

  ‘Uh…’

  ‘That’s good, man!’ she yelled. ‘Be bold! We got to be, eh?’

  Bold… The word echoed round my head. It was working. I had the buzz under control, and looked around. Boys and girls were mixing and laughing, as if egos and groups didn’t matter at all. The three main rooms of Jackdaw’s house were bustling with kids from the years above me. A bucket of water and ice sat in the middle of the main living room, with cans and bottles in it, and a group of much older boys stood by the window, blowing their smoke out into the cold night.

  Beyond the main room, I saw Lizzie, the other girl from Bunkers, walk through to the kitchen, where two more boys were leaning against the fridge. They were both slender, with almost identical dark hair, cut short around the sides and slightly longer on top. They both had loose T-shirts and tight jeans, and held bottles of beer in their hands. One of them had a tattoo going across his left elbow; this was Jack Dooley. Jackdaw himself. The host. So far, every single kid I’d seen in this building – girls included – had been someone who normally I’d be afraid of because they were older and had a reputation for getting pissed or getting high. But each of those kids had either smiled at me and said ‘Hi’, or not bothered looking my way because they were busy smiling at someone else. Now, when my eyes caught Jackdaw’s, I was sure that run would come to an end – but like the others, he winked, tilted the tip of his bottle my way, nodded and then grabbed hold of Lizzie to give her a big hug.

  Another wave of happiness ran across me. I existed. But I wasn’t important! How great did that feel? Just a wink, a gesture to say ‘hi’, and then on with whatever else was in his world.

  The motion and rhythm of the room was mine and everyone else’s at the same time. Each voice seemed to carry through me, but I couldn’t hear any of them. Ella was smiling and swaying gently, while her sister kept either waving at people she knew, or throwing a middle finger at people she knew and liked. I could stay all night, I thought. I would stay all night. I belonged. It was all fine. And that was when I saw Gaby, and then it all took an immediate, spiralling and awful turn.

  * * *

  She was half way down the stairs and shouting aggressively at someone. Whoever they were, they’d found a Gaby, a Gabe or a Gabo that didn’t exist to either me or Ella, or anyone else she knew.

  This Gaby, was poised on the steps like a soldier trying to attack uphill without a hope, only instead of armour, she was wearing a long, black dress that clung tightly to her thighs and was making it hard for her to keep her stance. She had one foot on a higher step, and was hurling abuse up at whoever was around the corner. I couldn’t hear the words, but whatever it was, she really meant it.

  The rhythm was slowing in my head, swinging back and forth as if it wanted to race off, out of control. When I saw who Gaby was yelling at, something jolted in my chest and it took all the noise of the room around to hide the sound of my gasp.

  Skunk George was stepping towards her. He had higher ground than her, and the cool sneer on his face knew it. Skunk’s purple shirt had been popped open at the top, and one of the buttons was hanging off on a loose piece of cloth. He was pointing at the tear, and now I could see, and hear, what he was saying.

  ‘You owe me a new shirt, rich bitch!’

  ‘I owe you a knife in the temple!’ Gaby yelled back, her eyes blazing, possessed.

  Something thumped into me, and I fell out the way. It was Ella, shoving me aside as she ran up the stairs to come between them.

  ‘Gabe!’ she yelled. ‘Gabe! GABE! Leave it!’

  Just as Ella was getting in front of Gaby, I saw who else Skunk was with. Joe Poundes was up on the landing, and he yelled down, laughing:

  ‘Hey Gabba-gabba. Get over yourself. You know you’ll be chasing us again if we want you to be.’

  Skunk laughed.

  My rhythms were fading, and I tried to listen for help – from somewhere, anywhere.

  Ella pushed Gaby against the wall, then turned to the boys; a fierce, cornered, sharp-clawed animal ready, it seemed, to do anything she needed to.

  Then Gaby’s eyes lit on me, and the situation dropped even further out of Ella’s control. Immediately, the second she recognised me, Gaby went off all over again:

  ‘No!’ she yelled, straight at me. ‘No-no-no, no, NO! No WAY!’ She was pointing straight at me. Ella began whispering something in her ear and pushing her hard against the wall again, and then Maya grabbed me hard and I was pulled into the kitchen.

  ‘Er, you don’t need to be in there right now,’ she said, even calmer than Ella in the other room.

  ‘But…’

  ‘Trust me, Lukee. Just hang in here. Ella can handle that. Those boys are terrified of her, and she can mellow that crazy mate of hers fine. It happens a lot.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That stupid “Gabe” girl. She does that all the time. Don’t worry about it. Probably won’t even remember who you are in ten minutes.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  Before Maya could answer, Skunk and Joe Poundes pushed through the kitchen, looking annoyed and puffed up. My skull was flashing white hot as they reached me. Poundes shoved forwards, as if to ram his forehead through me, and I flinched so hard that he and Skunk both laughed, then Skunk too stepped close and said, slowly, too quiet for anyone else to hear:

  ‘Bit of a thing for Gabbo eh, Lukee boy? Ain’t no PSE lesson now, brah. Crazy bitch is all yours if you’re that desperate. Gonna be her “after-everyone-else”, then, is it mate?’

  He shoved me against the fridge, and then turned to a call from further along the kitchen:

  ‘Oi! George!’ It was DK. ‘What you doin’, son? It’s friendly in here tonight.’

  ‘We’re being friendly, DK,’ said Poundes, and then the two of them walked away, quickly, out the back door, and DK turned back to his friends. I drew breath, slow and deep.

  ‘They’re such babies,’ laughed Maya, as if the whole thing was somehow over. ‘I said earlier, didn’t I? The weedy one’s older brother, Jake – haven’t seen him yet tonight – is a mate of DK’s, so they’re never going to do anything serious. But that’s why those gimps from your year think they can hang around here. What did they say to you?’

  I wanted to tell her, to repeat it, to say I needed to be outsid
e now except I couldn’t go in case those boys might be there. I didn’t speak at all, though. Maybe I didn’t really feel like trying to make too much sense of anything in case it brought more reality to the situation. I tried to hone my head into the music, but it too was changing.

  Gaby marched into the kitchen.

  ‘Where is he? Where is he?’

  Her eyes were still totally wild. Ella was just behind her.

  ‘Hey, DK,’ Gaby yelled. ‘Where’d that prick go?’

  DK turned to face us all again, looking tired, as if these younger kids were starting to threaten his buzz. ‘Who?’

  ‘Skunk. Where is he?’

  DK laughed and gestured towards the back garden. ‘Probably jumped a fence by now with you calling him out like that,’ he groaned.

  ‘His brother too.’ Gaby’s voice was rising to a shriek. ‘Where’s he gone? They together?’

  ‘Doubt it. Who cares?’

  ‘Leave it, Gabe,’ said Ella holding her elbow.

  Held back by Ella, and unable to run off after Skunk and Poundes, Gaby caught my eyes again and became immediately still, calm, full of thought. ‘Who the fuck is this,’ she said, and then, before I could do anything, she spoke straight at me, her voice back under control:

  ‘If you’re part of this,’ she growled. ‘I’ll kill you.’

  Then she shoved Ella away and stormed out into the night.

  The thing, whatever it was – the devil in me, call it what you want – was properly boiling now. It was low in my stomach, but rising quickly. Ella ran after Gaby, and Maya tried to calm me again, still with no idea:

  ‘Wow. You’ve copped all the luck there, Lukee dude. What a dick. That girl better say sorry when she comes round! Come on, let’s go and sit down.’

  She led me to a sofa, and fell back into it, laughing.

  ‘You guys have got some out there friends,’ said Maya. ‘Want another beer? Stay here and I’ll fetch us one. She gripped my knee to push herself back up, and the sensation gave me an electric jump. Still, she didn’t notice anything about me. I wanted to shout STAY but nothing came out, and Maya walked off calling, ‘Boys, who’s got anything to drink?’