‘That is not the point,’ Margaret hissed, somehow managing to shout and whisper at the same time. It was frightening, but a little bit impressive too.
She started listing things. And from the way her fingers were twitching around my wrist, I could tell she wished she had a clipboard to tick them off on. ‘A four-year-old attacked with scissors at a children’s party,’ she started. ‘Another child left in the path of an oncoming train . . .’
Obviously Troy had found a less sticky way to take his revenge, the little snitch.
‘Come on – that train goes at the speed of a racing snail. And I didn’t tie him down!’
‘You encouraged dangerous behaviour in persons younger than yourself. Do you really imagine that is an improvement? Then of course there was the karaoke event, which you turned into an act of affray.’
I hadn’t been acting. I didn’t even know what a fray was. ‘I was just singing.’
‘I have run this park for three years, Mr Kershaw. Never before has one song contributed to the breakdown of civilized society. And what, exactly, do all these events have in common?’
Was she saying I’d started the karaoke riot? ‘I don’t know! I didn’t get onstage and start swinging the mic stand at people, if that’s what you mean.’
Trying to pull my arm free only dragged her in closer, until her face was barely an inch from mine. ‘Perhaps not. But what all these events have in common, Mr Kershaw, is definitely you.’
And when I opened my mouth to deny it, I realized she was right. OK, most of what had happened hadn’t been directly my fault, exactly. But I’d been there, every time, right in the middle of it.
I should have watched Jude better.
And blocked Jayden-Lee’s ball.
And told the twins it was wrong to threaten other children, even the really rubbish ones.
And picked a better song.
And just not come tonight at all. I should have known real life didn’t happen the way I dreamed it would.
I’d been blaming the hamster for most my problems so I wouldn’t notice the truth: it wasn’t Nibbles who was destroying my holiday – it was me.
At least now that my crush on Jayden-Lee had sunk without a trace, I might start being more aware of what was going on around me. It was like my brain had been on autopilot for days. I could still eat, and talk, and walk about like a functioning person, but all the time my only real thoughts had been about what it would feel like to hold his hand.
Now I was out here in the cold, holding Margaret’s. And I couldn’t even tell her she was wrong. I gritted my teeth. ‘Sorry.’
‘I’m afraid that’s just not good enough. You see, I simply cannot permit your endeavours to spoil this park’s prizewinning chances. We consider all our guests to be shining stars, but you appear determined to fall to earth in a destructive ball of flame.’
That seemed dramatic. ‘Are you kicking me out of the park?’
She let a breath hiss between her teeth: in the darkness it sounded like a snake rearing back to strike. ‘Not as yet. But I am hereby banning, barring and prohibiting you from attending any event within it, until the announcement of the Park of the Year Award. Should you fail to comply, I have some very interesting security footage of you vandalizing our advertising displays this morning. Perhaps your parents would be interested in watching that?’
She gave me a smile so sharp it looked like she chewed razorblades for fun.
The Stardance posters. I tried for a moment, but I couldn’t really regret ripping them down. Still, I wasn’t sure that Mum and Dad would understand that I’d been doing it for justice. ‘Fine. I’ll just stay in the caravan until we go home, all right?’
Margaret abruptly released my wrist. ‘Very good. This ban of course includes our prestigious, exclusive and glittering Stardance. You can discard your complimentary ticket.’
‘You mean the dance you already banned my little fire hazard – sorry, my little brother from?’ I hoped the darkness hid how close I was to starting another incident right there and then. ‘That’s fine by me.’
‘Wonderful. So long as we’re absolutely, positively clear. I shall look forward to never having to see you again, Mr Kershaw. Do enjoy your stay.’
Without another word, she squeaked round on her heels to clip back inside and clear up my latest ‘disturbance’. I thought I might hate her more than the hamster.
Actually, I was almost sure I did.
I tipped my head back with a long sigh, and tried to pick out patterns in the impossibly black night sky.
‘The trouble with being under the same stars as the people you love is that you also have to be under the same ones as people like her.’ Kayla stepped up beside me, nudging her shoulder against mine.
She’d redone her make-up, but seemed somehow paler than before, and she hadn’t managed to hide the rims of red around her eyes.
Carefully, I reached for her hand and tucked it into mine. ‘I heard they’re different in Australia, though. I’m up for moving if you’ll come with me.’
Without looking across to check, I could sort of feel her smile.
‘Maybe one day,’ she said. ‘Now come on, you great big menace to society. I’ll walk you home.’
THIRTY
We didn’t talk much on the walk back to 131 Alpine Views, but Kayla’s shoulder bumped against mine the whole way.
Breakfast the next morning was weird though. Mum and Dad usually had noisy arguments over who got to read which bit of the paper, but today they were being overly polite and giving each other fair turns with the crossword. I thought they might have been trying not to mention anything about my and Kayla’s fight, or the beefsplosion from yesterday. At least there was none of it left, except for a few gravy stains on Mum’s clothes, and a strand of carrot clinging to the outside of one window, too high up for anyone to reach.
Kayla had her head dipped low over a bowl of cereal. Her make-up was back to being as flawless as always, all signs of what had happened yesterday smoothed away.
I wasn’t sure the same was true for me. I felt different. I even worried I might look different. If my sexuality was usually a big gay elephant standing in the corner of the room, then last night Jayden-Lee had sent it on a stampede. Any minute it might burst in and start trumpeting again.
Which meant I was stuck. We had another whole day and a half at Starcross Sands, and I’d have to do what Margaret wanted and stay inside for all of it, otherwise I’d never know if I was talking to someone who’d heard Jayden-Lee call me a gayboy.
I’d always thought the most difficult thing about being gay was not being able to tell who else might be. I was so wrong. It was way worse feeling like the whole world had been given a free gaydar, and that the beeping noise it made was coming directly from me.
Luckily, Jude was happy to fill in the blank space of no one else talking. He loved his new tough-guy buzzcut and was looking forward to showing Nibbles that afternoon, when he’d been promised he could get a Hamster Selfie at the fair.
He only settled down when Mum and Dad went out for a morning of intensive crazy golf, after setting him up on the sofa with a pot of crimson paint and some glittery heart stickers. He was busily making what looked suspiciously like a Valentine’s card for Nibbles.
‘Dylan?’ he waved his paintbrush to get my attention. ‘Can hamsters get married?’
‘. . . Only to other hamsters,’ I told him, scooping the last of the cereal bowls into the sink.
His lower lip jutted out in disappointment.
‘OK, I’m off to salute the sun.’ Kayla swept back in from the shower, wearing sporty leggings and a cropped top. ‘I could really get into this yoga thing, you know, and I’ve met some great people. You should try it – it might help you chill out a bit.’
She threw the towel she’d wrapped round her head at me, and I caught it seconds after it collided damply with my face. ‘Thanks, but I think I’ll give it a miss for today.’ I watched her go to comb her
hair in the mirror. ‘You look . . . different.’
‘Do I?’ she asked.
‘Sort of.’ It’s not like it was something she could have missed. ‘You haven’t put your stuff back on.’
Usually redoing her concealer was the first thing she did in the morning, and after a shower, and she slept with it on at night in case there was a fire in the early hours and she needed to look her best while screaming for help. She’d had it on earlier. But her face was bare, now.
Turning towards me with a startled look, she started patting herself down as though she thought I was talking about her clothes. I sighed dramatically.
‘You know what I mean.’ After last night I expected her to be wearing a double layer from now on.
‘Kayla’s a different colour,’ Jude interrupted, looking up from his paints.
I winced.
‘Less orange,’ he concluded.
Kayla laughed, ruffling her fingers through her hair to fluff it up before going to sit next to Jude, pressing her finger to one of his stickers and attaching it to his nose. ‘You’re right. Does it look OK?’
He nodded.
‘Good. Because I think I’m going to be this colour more often. I was starting to feel like a hypocrite, covering it up all the time.’
All I could think of was the way her face had crumpled last night when Jayden-Lee said what he did. I couldn’t care less about her birthmark, I just didn’t want anything to make her cry again. ‘If it makes you comfortable, what’s wrong with that?’
‘Nothing at all – it’s just not how I want to be. Don’t you think people comment on other parts of me?’
‘Well, you have got pink hair.’
She clicked her tongue. ‘People do comment. All the time. Do you know how hard it can be wearing a swimming costume when you’re a size sixteen? I’ve heard all the whale jokes, and though I might know that whales are majestic ocean royalty, it still hurts.’
I’d had no idea. Kayla always acted so invulnerable, unafraid of anything except her dad accidentally drilling through a power cable when she was out. Again. She was always the first person standing up for other people, so I never thought about there being no one to stand up for her. I never realized she might need someone to.
‘Then why wear one?’ I asked.
‘Because the problem isn’t with me; it’s with them. Why should I have to hide who I am? I decided I couldn’t just stop swimming just because some idiots got upset that I took up a little more space in the pool. All my life I’ve been telling myself to do the things I’m afraid of – telling myself to act like I don’t care.’
She got up, sweeping a few of the glittery hearts that Jude hadn’t taken for his craft project into the palm of her hand. ‘But I do care. I just focused it all in on this one thing. In the end I stopped swimming because it was too hard to always keep my head above the water. I’ve just been hiding, Dylan, and . . .’
She paused, but I knew exactly what Imaginary Kayla would say. ‘If you pretend to be someone you’re not, you’ll never know who would have liked you for who you are,’ I said.
‘Exactly,’ Kayla said, with a smile. ‘Sometimes you’re smarter than you look.’ She looked down at me. I was in my oldest jeans and a Godzilla T-shirt that said ‘Big in Japan’. ‘Then again, that isn’t hard.’
I threw her towel back at her. She dropped the hearts as she reached to catch it, scattering them like an affectionate hailstorm.
‘You do look good though,’ I said. ‘Not just less orange. More glowy.’
She pinched her lips around a smile. ‘Thank you. And hey, it looks like that didn’t get broken after all.’
She was pointing to my T-shirt. One spangly heart had stuck there, right over Godzilla’s muzzle. It looked more like he was having a glittery nosebleed than some sort of mystical sign that I might one day be able to love again, but that was all right. I wasn’t ever planning to try.
‘So you’re never wearing make-up again?’ I asked, following her to the caravan door.
‘I’m not wearing make-up all the time,’ she said. ‘Just when I want to. I’ve decided to stop wanting to be normal, Dylan. I’m going to make normal want to be me.’
Then she was gone, off to do the lotus position with a load of strangers on the clifftops. What she’d said kept replaying in my mind. Maybe that was my problem too. Maybe I had to stop wanting to be like everyone else, and start wanting to be myself. Whoever that was.
Jaw set in determination, I even managed to close the caravan door without looking over to see if Jayden-Lee was home, waiting to catch me watching him. I’d be totally happy if I never had to see his face again.
Today was going to be a day off from the world: calm and quiet, just me and the four walls of our bronze-class caravan.
‘DYLAN!’ Jude cried out, just as the door clicked shut.
And I looked up to see him covered in red from head to foot.
THIRTY-ONE
Sparkly red poster paint, it turns out, is not very easy to wash off clothes. Or furniture coverings. Or the skin of small children.
After an hour of alternating between panicking and scrubbing, the inside of the caravan still looked like it had been the scene of a bloody battle between two vicious but glitter-loving warlike tribes. Jude’s clothes were hidden as deep as I could get them in the laundry bag, and we’d been in the shower until the hot water ran out just trying to keep him from looking like a hospital warning poster about extreme sunburn.
He was still a little bit rosy-cheeked, but I couldn’t tell whether that was from the paint or all the effort of rubbing it off.
The only thing that really came out undamaged was the card Jude had been making for Nibbles.
We were both shivering when we got out of the shower. As soon as I realized the stuff all over him wasn’t blood but an experiment in performance art, I’d rushed him under the water, fully clothed. My T-shirt and jeans were clinging to me, soggy and freezing. Even my trainers sloshed when I walked.
‘Can I have some towels?’ Jude asked.
I wrapped him up in three formerly white, fluffy towels, and settled him on the newly pink sofa.
‘Can I have Twinkle?’ he asked.
I turned on some cartoons.
‘Can I have blackcurrant and apple juice?’
‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘No. You can never have any form of coloured liquid ever, ever again. I’m not sure about you having liquid at all. You might have to be like a koala and rely on leaves for hydration. Maybe you could go and live in a tree, as well. No one’s going to care if you dye a few branches fuchsia.’
And then Jude’s bottom lip started to wobble in a precariously getting-ready-to-do-proper-goose-honk-sobbing sort of a way, so I got him the tin of Iced Gems, and some juice that was safely inside a carton with a straw.
Then I picked up the I LOVE YOU NIBBLES card that was behind the whole mess, and evacuated to the top of the ramp outside to let the paint on it dry, and to try to figure out how I was going to tell Mum and Dad that our mega-bargainous £9.50 holiday was probably going to cost a little bit more.
How much could redecorating a caravan cost, anyway? It wasn’t like it had been anything special to look at even before the beef and the paint had spattered it in interesting new shades.
Maybe it would be cheaper to buy the whole thing. We could install it in the back garden, and I could move in there when my parents disowned me for not being able to watch my brother for five minutes without something getting messed up or cut off. At this point I was probably lucky that Jude still had all his limbs.
Margaret the manager was right – I was a total incident magnet. Locking myself in my room and refusing to come out was almost definitely my best hope of surviving the rest of the holiday intact. It was only one more day. I could live like a tinned sardine for that long.
First, though, I was going to sit and feel sadly, damply sorry for myself for just a while longer.
There was a Starcross staf
f golf buggy rattling along between the caravans, and I thought I’d better wait for it to go past, just to make sure they weren’t paying one of those courtesy housekeeping calls, where they check that your curtains match and your heating works, and that no one’s accidentally tie-dyed the living area while trying to declare their love for a giant rodent.
If they were, I’d be waiting to tell them that everything was completely fine.
The sun was glaring off the front of the buggy like a searchlight, so I couldn’t tell whether Margaret and her clipboard might be inside, ready to inform me again what a complete degenerate I was, just in case I hadn’t been listening hard enough last night.
I studied Jude’s card and pretended not to care if she was. The hamster he’d drawn inside the big red heart wasn’t too bad, for four-year-old art. All right, it was sort of just an orange ball with a face, but it definitely couldn’t be a cat ball or a dog ball. If you knew Nibbles, you’d recognize him.
I knew I’d never be able to forget his big, furry face.
Somehow the hamster was always at the scene of my biggest traumas. Except he got to be the hero, not whatever Margaret had called me: the common denominator. I almost wanted to ask him if he’d noticed my life falling apart while he was busy doing silly dances and somehow saving the day all at the same time.
He probably had. It would show how low I’d sunk if a giant hamster thought I was the ridiculous one.
It was just lucky he couldn’t talk.
‘Hey!’ a voice called out of the golf buggy’s sunshine-glow, and I looked up to see a figure jumping from one of the open sides. Just my luck: they were definitely doing housekeeping calls.
The sun in my eyes meant I couldn’t see who it was at first, but the voice was much too deep, and the silhouetted outline much too tall, to be Margaret.
The hair was different, too. Instead of neat, crispy curls I could just make out a thick mane of dreadlocks, which hung to about his shoulders.
His shoulders were too broad to be Margaret’s.
When he got closer, I could see that his skin tone was too warm and too dark to be Margaret. His legs were too long, and he strode easily where Margaret clipped along on her pointy heels. He was carrying a giant rucksack, not a clipboard. And where Margaret wore a forced, tight little smile, he had a grin that curled wide enough to brighten his whole face. I could feel myself smiling back at him without even thinking about it, like it was contagious.
Boy Meets Hamster Page 13