by Chris Vick
She’d said she loved me. But could I believe her? Trust her? She hadn’t even remembered it was my birthday. And she was rambling. Did she even know what she was saying? Maybe she was like this because…
“Are you on something?” I shouted into her ear, thinking, Something. Not Rag’s sherbet.
“Yes, Kookasamasamakook. Hey, there’s an old singer called Sam Cook my dad likes and you’re Sam Kook, that’s funny, and yes…YES… I am on something. I’m on drugs. I’m the girl in the swing, Kook. My eyes are diamonds. I see everything.” Her eyes were diamonds, bright and fierce in the shadow of her face.
This was Super Jade. Believing she was ready for anything. But when she stood still she was swaying. Unsteady. Like she’d got off the fairground ride of Super Jade for a second and was feeling dizzy. Like she was too much to handle, even for herself. Like if she stopped moving, she’d fall over.
So she started dancing again. Heads turned. She looked a bit odd, madly going for it in this small marquee. People were standing chatting, not dancing. They’d gone there to chill out.
I reached out to hold her hand, to steady her a bit. She brushed me away.
“Having a good time then?” I said.
“Yeah, this stuff the St Wenna lot gave me is amazing. It’s a class A drug. I mean, why do they call it that if they don’t want you to take it? It’s class A, amazing, top-drawer, dead brilliant. They don’t tell you that, do they? Makes you wonder what else they’re lying about.”
“Who?”
“I dunno. You know. Them. The government, the police, teachers. I think they’re lying about a lot of stuff, like wars, the economy and shit. Shall we start a revolution… or just say fuck it all and go surfing forever?”
She was on one. She was intense. Making no sense, and knowing she wasn’t making any sense, but believing every word.
It was scary. It was hilarious. It was awesome.
Super Jade.
“Do you want some? Mick’ll sort you out,” she said.
Mick. Shit. He was here. And he’d given her the drugs. And no doubt he’d want to cosy-up to her. They’d be in their drugged-up little world. I’d be in mine. Shit.
“Come on, come on.” She pulled at my T-shirt, trying to get me back into the main marquee. I was worried she was taking me to see Mick. Looking at her I didn’t think I wanted to be on what she was on. Although…
But she just wanted to dance.
We were joined by the others. She danced with me, with them, with groups of people. Alone. With friends, with strangers, with girls, with guys. She never stayed with anyone for long. People got a quick light beam of Jade, before she moved on, leaving them blinded.
Like I said. Taking all the energy, spitting it right back out.
Jade was getting off on all the attention, high and happy.
It was great to see. But at the same time, I had a gnawing pain in my gut. Because all of a sudden we weren’t enough for her. I wasn’t enough.
After a specially mind-mangling bit of music, she stopped, seeing me looking at her, hypnotised by her. I felt embarrassed. Like she’d caught me looking at her naked.
She hugged me tight, shouted in my ear, “See you in a bit, yeah?” She ran off, into the ocean of bodies.
It was clear what she was saying.
I’m Super Jade. You can’t stop me. I can’t stop me. Even if I wanted to. You can’t join me. Don’t follow me.
I didn’t follow. I didn’t want to make a tit of myself. But the state she was in, it worried me a bit. At the same time, I felt angry with her. Why had she said see you later? And jealous. I didn’t know what I felt jealous of, or why. But that’s how I felt.
I spent some time with the others. Dancing. Standing on the edge of the main marquee looking at the rave. Dancing again. Pretending not to be thinking about where she was, who she was with, what she was doing.
After a bit I couldn’t stand it any longer. I wasn’t going to follow her, wasn’t going to interrupt anything. Didn’t want to be a sap. I just wanted to check she was okay.
I couldn’t find her. Not in the sea of bodies. So I walked around. She wasn’t in the chill-out tent. She wasn’t outside. I even went back to where we’d got in, where we’d left the coats and sleeping bags. Dreadman said she hadn’t come back. And her coat and sleeping bag were lying there, with the others.
I was sure she hadn’t left. There were a lot of people and she was likely in the middle somewhere, raving her perfect arse off.
But I had a nightmare image of her in my head, running off into the dark with Mick. And it was hard to get rid of. I hated feeling like that.
About twenty minutes after I’d last seen her, I saw Billy, Tel and some of the others from St Wenna. Behind them, right on the edge of the tent, was Jade, standing talking to Mick, holding on to his shoulder with one hand, and holding a glass of something with the other. She wasn’t hopping around any more. She was swaying and rocking. He had her round the waist, and was talking in her ear. Just like I’d been. Shit.
A girl passed her a spliff. She downed the rest of what was in the glass, dropped it on the floor, took the spliff, took a drag. Then another. She didn’t pass it on.
As I worked my way towards them, I saw Mick unwrapping a small foil package. Getting something out. For her? He stopped when he saw me, put it back in his pocket.
“Koooook,” Jade shouted out. “Here’s Sam. Youallknow Saaaam, right? He’s gonnasurf the Horns with me.”
I walked straight up. Right up so she could see me. She and Mick kept a hold on each other. Like they were a couple.
“I bintellingMickaboutislands,” said Jade.
“You really got this chart then?” said Mick, shouting over the music. “You know where they are?” He was friendly, trying to chat.
“Yeah, we are,” I said, looking at Jade, trying to get her to look at me.
“Not if we get there first,” he said. How much had Jade told him? I took the spliff off her, just so I could grab her hand. She slipped out of my grip.
“Whayadoing? I’m fine,” she said.
“She’s fine,” said Mick.
“I’m fine. I’m havingnicetime,” she said.
“Come on, the others are looking for you.” I got her wrist. Mick got her other arm. It was like a tug of war with Jade as the rope.
“I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine.” She was singing it, staring round, trying to focus.
“What’s your problem, mate?” said Mick. “I’m looking after her.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Jade said, she pulled her arms out of our grip, then patted Mick on the cheek. She pushed me away, to the edge of the tent. Now it was me she was using to help her stay standing, with her hand on my shoulder, shouting into my ear.
“What’syerproblem, Kook?”
“Let’s go get some water.”
“I’m having fun. These guysrokay, partfrom Billy, he’stwat. Mick’sallright.”
Maybe that was it then. It hit me like a cold wave. Sudden and clear.
Mick was ‘all right’. Course he was. So was I. But I wasn’t enough. No one was. Anyone was okay till she found someone else more fun. She’d hang out with any of us. She wasn’t fussy. Till she got bored. Then she’d move right along. A better wave. Some drugs. A rave. A new guy who fancied her.
“I’m girlinswing,” she said. Her eyes had been diamonds before. They were dead now. Great, dark pools of deadness. Her skin was scary pale. She was sweating.
“He’s getting you out of it,” I said.
“So what, Dad?”
“Are you with him? What about us? You said you loved me.”
She sparked at that. She was shocked. “Did I say that?”
“Yeah. You did.”
She looked straight suddenly. Sober. Afraid. Then she smiled. Mask back on.
“I loveeveryone, Sam.”
“You coming or not?” I grabbed her hand. She stood away from me. And behind the dead eyes, anger.
“You don’t fucking own me, Kook,” she shouted. She yanked her hand away, turned, went back to Mick. He moved in, pulling her towards him. Talking in her ear. Pressing. His body against hers.
I felt sick. Hot, and sick.
Jade clocked my face. She laughed.
I didn’t know her then. This was some other Jade.
I hated her. I hated myself too. I went up to her. Looked down at her.
“Fuck you,” I mouthed, right in her face.
“Fuggoff yourself,” she said.
Mick pushed my shoulder.
“Watch it, mate,” he said. It wasn’t much, just a nudge. I pushed him back, in the same way. But I pushed a bit harder. He pushed me again. Harder again.
“You heard her,” he said.
“You’re coming,” I said to Jade. He pushed me again. Right in the chest. Not just messing about now. “What you given her?” I said, thumping his shoulder. “What you doing to her? Arsehole.”
“Fuck off back where you came from. Kook.” He gave me a final, hard push. Sent me back a foot or more to make sure I got the message.
I did the same, straight back at him.
He beckoned at me, curling his finger, like he wanted to talk to me up close. I guessed to stop the pushing before it turned into a fight. I put my head forward, nodding.
“What?” I said.
When I was right up close, he slapped me under the chin.
Hot anger flooded into my head.
I punched him. Hard. In the face. I felt his nose crack.
IT KICKED OFF.
One second it was eyeball to eyeball and sarky smiles, the next a storm of fists, lashing out, kicking.
I couldn’t see what I was hitting; I didn’t feel anything; I was still drunk. I didn’t have any sense of what I was doing. I was numb to any pain, lashing out, arms flying. I’d keep doing it till he was off me. I wasn’t going to stop. I hated him. I wanted to kill him.
Then I was on the floor. I don’t know if I fell or slipped or was pushed. But there were feet kicking me. More than just Mick’s feet. I tried to get up, but they just kept on coming. I put my arms over my head, like when I got thumped by a wave. I was in a ball, rolling around trying to avoid the kicks. It was all happening above me. I was locked down. I kicked out with my feet. They didn’t hit anything.
It was dark down there. Dark, under the surface.
But all I had to do was hold on, come up for air when it stopped.
I rolled about, counted. One, two, three…
Ten…
And then it did stop. Suddenly. I looked up.
Rag, Skip. They were stuck in. Pushing, pulling, hitting, shouting in faces. Spitting with fury. Yeah, even Skip. I couldn’t tell who was fighting and who was trying to stop the fighting.
I couldn’t hear the music, just this high-pitched whine.
I looked around. For Jade. I couldn’t see her.
I tried to get up, but I only got to my knees, then fell back. I tried again, managed to get up this time. Just. I was looking for Jade, but for Mick too; I wanted to hit him again. To finish him. But I couldn’t see him either. Then I saw G, wading through the gobsmacked crowd, eyes fixed like a dog after a rabbit.
Billy was shouting at Rag, being shouted at by Rag. Rag had his hands up, not surrendering, just saying he wasn’t going to hit anyone any more, trying to stop it. Billy was squaring up, wanting to fight, trying to make him hit him. He didn’t see Big G’s fist coming. He went down like he’d been hit by a truck.
Then G sat down on top of Billy, quite casual, and began punching him in the face. Again and again and again.
People tried to pull him off. It didn’t make any difference. He was too strong. Too determined.
I weaved around people, looking for Jade.
I saw Ned and Sue. The looks of horror and pain, as they took it all in.
Ned saw one of the St Wenna lot holding Rag by the throat. Ned didn’t like that. He waded in. He got this guy by the neck, lifting him, pushing him. Then he saw G trying to kill Billy. He let go of the guy and threw himself at G instead, got his arms round him. Squeezing. He shouted out, and I heard him, just.
“Stop. You’re going to kill him. You’re going to kill him.”
G got off, stood, shaking Ned off him like he was a blanket. He’d done what he needed to. Billy was on the floor, eyes closed, blood pouring out of his nose. Ned went back to the guy who’d had Rag.
The bouncers turned up. They looked lost, confused. One got Ned by his arms, trying to wrestle him out of the fight and pull him away. Not easy, as Ned was now trying to hit the guy who’d had Rag by the throat. Sue was screaming in the bouncer’s ear, pulling at him to leave Ned alone.
The more dudes got involved trying to stop it, the more it kicked off. I stood, head numb, feeling hot and cold, vaguely aware of blood trickling from my nose. The iron taste of it in my mouth.
All this had started because of me, and I’d started it because of…
Jade.
There she was. Sat on a speaker stack, kicking her legs like the girl on the swing, looking at the floor, trying to focus, not even noticing the madness in front of her.
I saw shades man speaking into a walkie-talkie. A girl waded into the middle of it all, arms up, shouting, “This is a rave, this is a rave, this is a rave.”
Because if she repeated it, loud and often enough, they’d all see sense. Right?
It was too late for that.
I pulled Jade away, just to get her away from the fight. She stumbled. I put her arm around my neck so I could carry her.
The music was still playing. But everyone had stopped dancing. They were stretching their necks to get a good look.
Then the music did stop. The lights came up. Not flashing now, not oceans and rainbows, but hard and white. I could see the sweat. The blood on the faces.
And the police, marching through the crowd. Smiley.
Shit. He knew how old I was. If he saw me, he might leave the other police to sort out the fight and come straight for me.
I snuck Jade out of sight, behind the desks, right back where we’d started at the rave, what seemed a million years ago.
Dreadman was there. He was busy stacking up records in boxes. Like luggage for a holiday. He ran out with one under each arm.
I helped Jade put her coat on, holding her up and helping her put her arms in, hurrying her up.
“Wherewegoing?” she said. “Why leaving?”
“Police are here.” I wondered about Smiley. What he’d say if he saw me.
The others stormed in then, grabbing their coats and bags.
“Insane,” said G, grinning, like it was the most fun he’d had in months.
“Mad,” said Rag. He wasn’t grinning. “How did that fuck-up happen? Who started it?”
I kept quiet.
“Mental,” said Skip, shaking his head, “just full-on mental.” But weirdly, he was smiling like G. Skip. Nervy Skip. High as the sky. On the rave. The fight. On life.
We got out where we’d come in.
Dreadman was in the shadows, with his pick-up truck, one just like Ned’s. He was loading his boxes of records on to the back.
“Got any room?” I asked. He turned, took one look at the stumbling mess that was our gang and shook his head.
“Come on, man,” I said. “She’s in a bad way, and I really need to avoid the police.”
“You and me both,” he said. “Anyway. I can’t fit you all on the back.”
“Just me and her then. We’re underage, ain’t we?” I said glaring at him. Dreadman had helped get us in. Maybe it wouldn’t be so good for him if the police knew that. I didn’t like putting pressure on him, but I was desperate.
“Not all of you,” he said. We looked at each other. Big G didn’t look happy, but he had to see the sense in getting Jade away, and in me avoiding the police.
He pointed at Jade. “Get her out of here then,” he said, to me.
The others van
ished. I helped Jade into the back of the pick-up, laid her down gently as I could, then helped Dreadman get the rest of his stuff. Quickly though. I didn’t want to leave Jade.
I came back, lay down in the back, with Jade.
I thought what she’d had was meant to make you buzzy and awake. But she was only half with it. God knows what she’s on, I thought. Or what happened if you mixed it with loads of vodka and spliffs. I guessed I was going to find out.
Dreadman started the engine. As we drove off, I peeked over the edge.
We went straight past the police cars, pulling on to the verge to get round them. There was only one policeman, all the others were inside the marquees. No one came after us.
We drove into the night, leaving the marquees and the crowds and the police behind. The lights on the cars flashed in the dark, like they were part of the rave.
Jade sat up, looked at me without seeing me, then put her head over the side and threw up. I held her hair.
She came back up when she’d finished, gasping, but looking way better.
Sick glistened on her chin.
“Mayhem guaranteed,” she said, smiling weakly.
I HAD A BOTTLE of water in my bag. I poured some into her cupped hands. She washed her face, then drank the rest.
“Are you okay?” I shouted, above the engine. She nodded.
Then she lay down, using her sleeping bag as a pillow and burying herself in her giant coat. I laid down too. Down there we couldn’t feel the rush of cold air. The record boxes and our bags protected us.
She pulled the beanie down over her forehead and her coat collars around her, so I could only see her nose and her eyes. She stared up at the stars.
She stayed like that as we drove. A good half-hour. Longer.
As the time passed, the glaze on her eyes melted, and I could see she was really looking, seeing the stars. She looked calmer now, better. Being sick had done her some good.