by Bill Condon
'Cool! That's so good. What's he doing?'
'He's an usher at the Vista.'
'Okay.'
'I thought you'd want to know that things are finally going right for him – he was so down that day you visited.'
'I do – I'm glad you told me. I've been wondering what he's up to.'
'He only started yesterday. I can't wait to check out his uniform. He has to wear a bow tie and a red vest – he's going to hate it.'
'I reckon. I should go there and stir him up a bit – throw some popcorn at him.'
'Well now, there's a thought. I'm seeing him today. I said I'd drop off some keys. You could meet me there if you like. I'm not sure about the popcorn, but we could tease him a little bit. I'm going to stay on and watch the movie. You're welcome to join me.'
I stare at the phone. Did she really say that? She wants me to go to a movie with her?
'Neil?'
God. She thinks I've fainted.
'I'm here. And yes, count me in – for both. I'll check out Ray and his bow tie – and I'd love to see the movie. You say when and I'll be there.'
'Fabulous. Now is good. I've just finished my shift. I can be there in half an hour.'
'Half an hour. I can do that... not a problem. The Vista it is.'
16
'Yes!'
I rush through the house, throwing off my school uniform as I go. Into the shower for a one-minute wonder wash. Brush teeth. Comb hair. Check out the mirror – it screams and tells me to put some clothes on. Clothes on. Check out the mirror – it still screams. All this in fifteen minutes. My fastest time ever.
I fall out of the house and onto the street, doing up buttons – oh yeah, and my zipper – shoelaces can wait. Now where's the bus? I look at my watch and realise it left ten minutes ago. I start running. I'm going so fast, I'm burning. I'm flying. But I'm still going to be so late. My first date and I'm not even going to be there for it.
Then a miracle flashes towards me. Kevin on his motorbike. I leap in front of him and hope he doesn't run me down.
He stops. And swears at me.
'Sorry, Kevin. It's an emergency. I need a ride.'
He swears at me again.
'I'll never ask you for another favour as long as I live, if you just do this one thing for me.'
'Why should I?'
'I'm your brother.'
'And?'
'I have to meet a girl at the Vista. It's really important. I've never met a girl before – anywhere ...'
He keeps on looking angry.
'Kev, I'll be your slave. I'll clean your side of the room. I'll clean your bike. I'll clean your shoes. Anything you want.'
'Shut up or I'll thump you.'
I shut up.
He gives me a long dangerous scowl that makes me think asking him wasn't such a good idea. Then he kick-starts his bike and cruises down the street, only to chuck a U-ey on the corner and glide back to me.
'Go on then, get on.'
'Yeah? Thanks a lot, Kevin.'
'You can hang on to my waist, but you try stickin' your tongue in my ear and I'll rip it out of yer head.'
'Hang on to your waist? In yer wet dreams. I'd rather fall off.'
BBBRRRUUUUMMMM!
He revs it to about fifty times faster than he's ever done.
Before we reach the end of the street I have his waist in a death lock.
Shakily I climb off the bike outside the Vista.
'How was that?' Kevin flashes a smart-alec grin.
Think fast, Neil.
'Boring,' I say. 'Was the handbrake stuck?'
BBBRRRUUUUMMMM!
I charge up the steps and find Sylvie already there.
17
'Hey, Sylvie. I'm not late, am I?'
'No, you're perfect.'
She gives me the most beautiful smile I've ever seen. I nearly look around to see who's behind me.
'I'm so glad you could make it. Come on.'
I stride ahead to open the glass door for her. It's heavy and I almost can't do it.
Push! Push! But make it look easy!
'Ah. I see you're a gentleman,' she says. 'I like that.'
She walks with me when we go inside; not dashing off in front or hanging back, but beside me and close. It's like she's really my girlfriend.
'There he is.' She points at Zom. 'He hasn't seen us. Let's get in the queue and surprise him.'
My eyes carry out a lightning raid over her boobs – if she caught me perving I'd have to kill myself. I can't really tell much in a raid that lasts a fraction of a second, but I'm guessing they're just right. She could have six of them, all different sizes and colours and glowing in the dark, and I'd still be happy. Her head reaches up to just above my shoulder. It's the ideal height for holding and kissing. I've got no complaints in any area.
'Well, hello there, Mr Usher.' Sylvie grins at Zom. 'I hope you know what you're doing.'
'Nope – haven't got a clue. Hi, Sylvie. Hey, Neil – good to see you.'
We wait until everyone goes inside for the movie and then Zom has a break and sits with us on a black leather sofa in front of the snack bar, the smell of popcorn so strong you could almost choke on it.
He tells Sylvie about his job: 'The only thing I have to remember is, don't let anyone in without a ticket. It's not much of a job.'
'Aw, it's all right,' I say. 'Better than my brother Kevin's first job – he worked down at the greyhound track on Wednesday nights; had to walk behind the dogs as they went to the starting boxes and pick up any poos they did. I loved it when he had that job. I used to call him Poo Man.'
'I suppose this is a bit of an improvement on that,' Zom says.
'Well, I think it's great.' Sylvie pulls on his bow tie before letting it snap back into position. 'And I'm very proud of you.'
I should get her to give Kevin some tips about how to treat a brother.
18
Sylvie pays for my movie ticket. 'I insist,' she tells me. I compromise by telling her I'll buy the ice-creams. Zom says we still have a few minutes before the movie starts – we've only missed the ads and the cartoons – just enough time for Sylvie to duck off to the toilet.
'Looks like things are getting back on track now,' I say once she's gone. 'You've got a job and a place of your own to live. You're a legend.'
He grins and nods. A runaway clump of hair falls over his eyes. If I have wondered about Zom at all since I saw him last, it's only because of one thing ...
'You ever think of Brother Mick these days?' I say, making it as casual as I can.
'All the time. That won't change. I still don't know what I'm going to do, but the day will come.'
I look at him long and hard, trying to work out where the truth ends and lies begin. I'm a bit of an expert at lies, and I can't see any coming from him.
'Okay, Zom. Just wonderin'.'
I take a deep breath and move on. 'About this movie I'm seeing with Sylvie. Just so you know – it was her idea, since I was here anyway to see you. It's not like a proper date or anything ... actually I'm not really sure what it is.'
'Maybe she likes you, Neil.'
'Nah. No way... I hardly know her. I don't even know what she does for a job – she said something about shift work.'
'She's a nurse. In the Casualty ward at the hospital.'
'Cool. A nurse, eh. She looks a bit like a nurse.'
'Does she? What do they look like, Neil?'
'Like your sister, dopey.'
His face creases up when he laughs and his eyes just about disappear.
'Hey, Zom, be honest – do you think she might like me?'
'I wouldn't know.'
'Has she said anything to you about me?'
He mulls over the question like it's a problem deep and mysterious that needs to be untangled.
'Zom. I need an answer today. Sylvie's coming back. Quick. Has she talked about me – yes or no?'
'Not really ... except when she screams out your name in the middle
of the night.'
'Bull. She does not...'
I want to hear him say it's really true but instead he laughs. I didn't know Zom could tell jokes.
We go in to watch the movie. Zom said I'd like it. It's called Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush. Sounds pretty lame to me but I soon find out it's okay. It's set in England and there's good music and plenty of funny scenes and it has this hot blonde in it named Judy.
With the light shining off the screen I see Sylvie's face clearly. She's smiling nearly all the way through and laughing. Gleaming white teeth. Her lips are the ideal shape. And they look as soft as marshmallow. I think about sneaking my arm around behind her and casually dropping it onto her shoulders. Just as quickly I dismiss the idea. The closest I've been to a girl is a centrefold and now I'm talking about doing the arm drop manoeuvre.
Don't go there, Neil. It's like playing Russian roulette with all the bullets.
What if she slaps me or screams or just looks at me like I'm a low-life? What if she tells her mad father? There are far too many what-ifs. Forget that. I like living too much. Anyway, I'm happy enough just sitting next to her. On top of that, the movie is getting real interesting. Judy and her boyfriend run down to the river – it looks like something could happen – yep, they start stripping off their gear. I don't get too excited at first because for sure they'll cut to another scene. They always do ... but not this time. Jeez. Bit by tantalising bit Judy peels off every stitch. Totally nude. I mean, she stands straight in front of the camera and you can take the whole tour. Holy moley. You were right about this movie, Zom. It's Academy Award material.
At that moment something strange happens. Sylvie's leg bumps against mine. One bump I could understand, but it goes on three or four times. I ignore it, of course. I glance at her face and there's no change of expression. She's still watching the movie. Must have been an accident. She'd be embarrassed if I told her so I go on as if nothing happened. A few minutes later, when Judy has her clothes back on and I can prise my eyes from the screen, I take another peek at Sylvie. It's a different face now. Her smile has disappeared. She's frowning. I'm really puzzled.
For some reason Sylvie seems a little cool and remote when it's time to say goodbye. I tell her I had a good night and she says she did, too, but she fires it back like a reflex action, and I don't fully believe it. There's no mention of a next time. A kiss on the cheek is never a possibility. She gives me nothing, not even the offer of a lift.
On the way home I convince myself this is the best thing that could have happened. She's not only too old, she's too moody. I'm glad it wasn't a real date. If it had been, now I'd have the problem of working out how I was going to dump her without hurting her feelings too much.
At three o'clock in the morning I sit up in bed, suddenly wide awake and filled with horror.
What if those bumps to my leg weren't because she's clumsy? What if she was trying to send me a message?
It happened in the middle of a nude scene. That might have been a clue.
Jee-zus.
'Stupid, stupid – I am so STUPID!'
Kevin chucks a pillow at me.
Still half asleep, he garbles, 'Just because you're stupid, doesn't mean I won't kill you.'
19
I wish I had someone to talk with about Sylvie.
Usually I tell all my stuff to Troy, not that there's ever much to tell. This time I can't. He doesn't want to know anything about Zom, and I'm sure the same goes for anyone in his family.
I can't talk to Kevin because, well, for one, he probably wouldn't listen, and for two, if he did listen, he'd laugh. We hardly ever have serious conversations.
Dad would be happy to hear me out and give advice, but I'm too embarrassed to tell him. Same with Mum. The thought of me doing leg-wrestling with a girl at the movies might be a bit of a shock to her – she thinks I'm still her little boy.
I wait a few days, hoping maybe she'll ring, and then I can't wait any longer. I go around to Sylvie's flat.
This time when I stand at the door, I hear voices from inside. Sylvie and a man, not a gawky schoolkid like me, a man. They're only talking. It might be just a cousin or an uncle visiting for a cup of coffee. But then I remember something she said that first day I met her – I'm not the good Italian girl Dad was hoping for. All I have to do is knock on the door and I'll know for sure. I do want to know the truth, but not if it's going to hurt.
I walk away, come back, and then once and for all, I walk away.
I spend hours writing letters to her. In most of them I get stuck after 'Dear Sylvie'. I can't mention the leg thing because, what if it really was an accident? And if I take that out I'm not left with much more than the X at the end.
Is it okay to give her an X when I hardly know her?
Is one X a bit miserly?
Are two Xs over-enthusiastic?
What about a whole row of Xs? That's what I'd really like to give her.
Kevin walks past my door and stops to look in. Rose is with him. He's holding her hand; her head is snuggled into his shoulder. Looking at them, I see the truth. If I had any real connection with Sylvie I'd be able to talk to her, hold her. But I can't even write her a letter. I know it then. It's hopeless.
'Who you writing to?' Kevin asks. I screw up the last piece of paper and throw it into the bin.
'No one,' I tell him.
20
School takes over my life again. This morning we have Brother Hugh for Geography. He's old and fat and sometimes he dozes off – especially if you get him in the afternoon. Hughie's funny – but not on purpose. Instead of saying 'Hang on' or 'Wait a second', he says 'Wait a dick'. I think he means 'tick' but it always comes out as 'dick'. He grunts before he says it, as if he's on the toilet and he's having trouble. Once he was giving John Kellner the strap and the Angelus bells rang, so Hughie says, 'Errggh – wait a dick' and we bow our heads and recite the Angelus, then as soon as it's over he goes back to the strapping. Even Kellner thought that was funny – not immediately, but eventually.
We all pay attention to Hughie, not so much to learn anything, but to hear him say the famous words. He must be in on the joke because not a class goes by without him saying it at least once. When he does, you can hear it whispered all around the room. 'Errggh – wait a dick.'
* * *
Next up it's Brother Geoffrey. He is tall and skinny under the black robe all the Brothers wear. Not much hair clinging to his long bony head. Still, he parts his hair like the good old days, as if he's trying to tame a forest instead of four or five puny strands.
He calls his strap Louie. Like all the straps the Brothers use on us, it's got strips of lead sewn into the business end. But Geoffrey is all right. He doesn't hit you for the fun of it or lose his temper like some of the others. When he straps you there's always a good reason for it, and it's never personal.
Now he's roaming around the room checking homework. If you didn't do it, it's two cuts, maybe three or four. Depends on your record. Mine's bad. Troy looks at me and knows straight off I didn't do last night's homework. Hardly ever do. I can see from his expression that for once he did his.
I'm part of a group of regulars who just can't get into the homework habit. Troy is usually the same, unless his father stands over him, like he must have done last night. Geoffrey says the reason we don't do homework is because we're lazy. That's partly true, but there are other reasons ...
Homework is boring.
TV is much more interesting.
We've got too many hormones.
Of these three, hormones are my biggest problem. They're like the devil's soldiers. They won't leave me alone. In the past I've flitted from one fantasy girlfriend to another – a centrefold or a face and body picked out of a crowd. Now I find myself returning to Sylvie, no matter how much I vow to forget her. We have some really good times together. I only wish she knew about it.
'Psst.' Troy catches my attention. 'Here.' He holds out his exercise book for me to take.
'Nuh.' I shake my head. 'But thanks.'
Geoffrey perches on top of one desk after another, leaning forward and back, then swivelling from side to side, inspecting homework all around. Two more to look at before he gets to me. This is an emergency. Time to ask God for help. Is begging a prayer?
Please God, get me out of this. I'll be good if you do. I promise.
Paul Evans is strapped. One of the regulars. He doesn't flinch. Big burly second rower. Bounce him on his head and it wouldn't bother him. No one takes much notice as Louie strikes. It's part of every day, like the bell ringing, like the pissy smell around the toilets.
Troy shows his homework. Geoffrey doesn't care if it's right or wrong, only that it's done. He gives it a tick with a red pen and scribbles his initials. I'm next. He reaches over to pick up my exercise book. I half stand to take my punishment. But then he scratches his ear, runs a finger back and forth under his itchy nose. And lifts himself off the desk and strolls back to the front of the class. Forgetting all about me.
The word gets out about my great escape. It travels fast and by the time we're walking down the corridor I'm getting thumped on the back like I'm a hero. Bails wallops my arm as he passes me and calls me a lucky bastard. Trevor Findlay reckons Brother Geoffrey must be losing his marbles. Troy tells me to live it up while I can – 'Because he'll get you next time.'
Right now it seems like next time is a million light years away and not worth worrying about. I feel like I've won the lottery, and I didn't even buy a ticket. It's one of my very best days.
21
It's the first lesson after lunch. We're waiting for our new teacher but he hasn't arrived yet. We've seen him only once, at Assembly. Didn't give him a second glance. Just another teacher. It's raining heavily outside and hammering on the tin roof. Kind of loosens everything up when the weather's like this. Our school's all straight lines and do this, do that. But now in this howling rain no one's watching us. Kids out of their seats, kids shoving each other, throwing stuff. Me and Troy are sitting on top of our desks, talking in whispers about sex as if we're the only ones who know about it. That's all we're doing.