Amy

by Mary Hooper

  ‘Well, that doesn’t mean a thing!’

  ‘And people get pulled out of chat rooms if they start talking dirty,’ I said. ‘There’s a sort of supervisor in charge.’

  ‘How does that work, then? You mean there’s someone in every single one of those chat rooms monitoring everything that’s said?’

  ‘Yeah, I think so,’ I said uncertainly.

  ‘Well, even if there is, they can’t vet everyone that’s speaking. I mean, you could be anyone. You can pretend you’re any age you like, or that you’re rolling in money, or you’re a film star or something. No one’s going to come round and check up on you, are they?’

  ‘No, all right!’ I said, getting irritated. ‘Anyway, I have met someone and he’s really nice.’

  ‘You’ve met someone!’ she gasped.

  ‘Not actually met. Not in person,’ I said. ‘I mean, I’ve met him online.’

  ‘Oh! You gave me a turn there!’ she said, fanning herself.

  ‘Look, he’s OK. His name’s Zed and he –’

  ‘That’s never his real name!’

  ‘No. It’s his web name. You always have a web name. Mine’s Buzybee.’

  ‘Well, how odd. And how old is this boy?’

  ‘Eighteen.’

  ‘Too old for you. That’s if he is eighteen. He’s probably fifty.’

  I groaned. ‘If you’re going to keep saying things like that I’m not going to tell you about him.’

  ‘OK, I won’t say anything else. Go on, then, tell me about him.’

  ‘He’s eighteen and he’s some sort of sales manager in an office.’

  ‘Manager! At eighteen? I shouldn’t think so.’

  ‘Mum!’ I said warningly.

  I didn’t want to tell her at all, really, but I wanted to tell someone and she was the only person I had. I told her all the things Zed and I had talked about and how we’d really seemed to hit it off. Funnily enough, when I finished telling her all that stuff she then switched into a different worry mode: from being a mum worried about her daughter meeting a pervert, she became a mum worried about her daughter not having any friends.

  ‘Amy, I’m sure this boy is perfectly nice, but you’re not going to spend the rest of your life in this bedroom talking to him, are you?’ she said. ‘It’s a lovely evening and it’s light until nine-thirty now. A bit of fresh air would do you good.’

  ‘What? You want me to go round the swings?’ I said.

  ‘Don’t be silly! I’m just saying that you’re always stuck upstairs these days. I thought it was supposed to be boys who were always playing games on their computers.’

  ‘I haven’t been playing games! I’ve been talking to a friend. And anyway, I’ve finished online for the moment. I’m going to do some school work,’ I said. I wasn’t, but I wanted her to go so I could have a quiet think about Zed.

  Her voice rose a little. It had that casual, uncaring tone that was so caring it was embarrassing. ‘Where’s Bethany these days? Not seeing any of your friends later, then?’

  I made a vague noise. Vaguely like no.

  ‘Oh, that’s a shame. Still … maybe you’ll be seeing someone at the weekend instead … ’ The sentence had a row of dots after it and I was obviously meant to say something reassuring in reply. Instead, I concentrated on logging off, seemingly intent on what I was doing. She didn’t know about the big bust-up with Bethany and Lou, all she knew was they didn’t come round any more. I’d told her we weren’t friends but I hadn’t told her the ins and outs because I didn’t want to have her saying, ‘Well, why did you say that to them?’ and, ‘You really shouldn’t have … ’ and all that sort of stuff.

  ‘I’ve got to get on now,’ I said meaningfully, dragging out my school books and spreading them along my desk.

  There was a ding! from downstairs which meant someone had come into the shop and this, at last, made her move. ‘Talk to you later, love,’ she said, going out.

  * * *

  We have a fruit and vegetable shop and we live in a flat over the top of it. The shop is with five others in a little row near a block of flats, and we do quite well with people who can’t be bothered to go into town to the supermarket. I try to keep quiet about it as much as possible because I think a fruit and veg shop is about as uncool as you can get. I wouldn’t mind if it was a delicatessen, or even a baker’s, but a fruit and veg shop just suggests dirty potatoes and limp lettuces. I try to stay out of it as much as possible, but in the school holidays I’m a sitting duck to help out in there.

  The shop used to be very busy and at that time Dad worked in it as well, but when an out-of-town shopping centre opened nearby a lot of the trade disappeared. Dad started an ordinary job then, and now Mum works on her own, with Saturday workers and extra people coming in when she needs them.

  As soon as she’d gone downstairs and I heard her over-polite ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Collins,’ to the woman who’d entered the shop, I stopped bashing the keys and started thinking again.

  Zed. He sounded really nice. He was eighteen. He had a good job. I knew what football team he supported (Liverpool), what music he liked (drum and bass), what food was his favourite (Thai fish curry). What did he look like, though? Where did he live exactly? Was it near enough to meet? Did he have a girlfriend?

  We’d said that we’d 1-2-1 again soon. I wondered if I’d find him. Cyberspace was big and there were an awful lot of people out there …

  Section 3

  Copy of text conversation (i) given by Amy to PC Miller, included as part of this report

  Text conversation (i)

  Zed: Hey! RU there Buzybee?

  Buzybee: LO Zed!

  Z: What’s going down?

  B: Not a lot. Done my last exam and started sorting out my reading plan 4 next year.

  Z: Lots of end of term booze sessions coming up?

  B: Probably.

  Z: Yeah, remember them well.

  B: You’re working. You didn’t want 2 go 2 uni, then?

  Z: Nah. Boring. Wanted 2 get 2 work and start earning mun.

  B: Whereabouts are you?

  Z: Small place on South Coast. Hurley-on-Sea. Near Hastings. Where you?

  B: Place called Watford. Heard of it?

  Z: Yeah. Average football team.

  B: Wouldn’t know.

  Z: If you’re going 2 make it with the lads, you should know about footie. You should at least know about your local team.

  B: OK. Tell me.

  Z: Well, a team has 11 players …

  B: I know that!

  Z: OK. Well, read your local paper, then. It’ll have the match reports. You just read them and memorise a few lines and then quote them. Impress the guys!

  B: I’ll try it.

  Z: But not yet.

  B: Y?

  Z: Because the season’s over. They won’t be playing again until August.

  B: ;-)

  Z: So … have U got a boyfriend?

  B: Not now

  Z: Same here. I mean I haven’t got a girlfriend, not a boyfriend!

  B: Phew!

  Z: What U look like, then?

  B: 5′2″, quite slim, long dark hair, green eyes.

  Z: U sound OK. GR8 in fact!

  B: U?

  Z: I’m about 5′8″, quite well built, cropped blond hair, blue eyes.

  B: Is Zed your real name?

  Z: Is Buzybee yours?

  B: Want 2 know my real name?

  Z: Nah. Let’s keep ourselves mysterious!

  B: OK. If you were an animal, what would you be?

  Z: Um … a dog, I guess. A short-haired terrier. What about you?

  B: I’d be a rabbit.

  Z: Terriers catch rabbits!

  B: :o)

  Z: Had anyone special in your life?

  B: Not really. Boys round here, the ones in my class R 2 young. Kids! And only interested in 1 thing. It’s all they talk about.

  Z: Football?

  B: Ha ha. That’s the OTHER thing.
<
br />   Z: But you’re not keen on it?

  B: Not in JUST that. It’s like in the chat rooms – all they want is 2 talk dirty.

  Z: So you’re not doing THAT in your spare time. What do U do instead?

  B: Not much. Have been revising a lot. And I help my mum in R shop.

  Z: Shop?

  B: It’s a deli.

  Z: Cool!

  B: And then I watch TV. Play music. Usual stuff.

  Z: Don’t you go out with friends?

  B: Sometimes. One of my best friends moved away, though.

  Z: Oh.

  B: What about U?

  Z: Same as U. Also work in spare time as a DJ on the local hospital radio. Do a L8 nite show on Thursdays and fall asleep at work on Fridays.

  B: What U do at work?

  Z: Sell stuff 2 banks and big finance houses.

  B: Interesting?

  Z: Well, it’s big, big money. And frantic. That’s Y I can’t log on during the day. I wait until everyone’s gone home.

  B: Do U go into chat rooms much?

  Z: Only when I’m bored.

  B: Find many 2 chat 2?

  Z: Not that I’d want 2 go 1-2-1 with. Only U!

  B: :-)

  So we did find each other again, and after we’d chatted three or four times we joined a personal messenger service where you could talk without anyone else barging in. You enrolled as messenger mates and as soon as you logged on you’d be told if your mate was online. You then clicked on a symbol and a special screen came up where you could talk to each other. It saved having to go through to the chat rooms with their ‘LO all!!!!!!!’ and, ‘Who wants to hear about my big one?’

  After chatting to Zak every day for over a week, I began to feel as if I really knew him. We spoke for an hour or so each time, usually between six o’clock and eight o’clock, and I usually took a printout of our conversations just so I could read them all back again later. I told him all about Bethany and Lou and what had happened when Josie had moved. I also told him that sometimes I felt as if I didn’t have a friend in the world.

  ‘I’ll be your friend,’ he said to me. ‘Zed the main man. You don’t need anyone else.’

  He’d just written that to me, and I was staring at the screen and thinking wow, what do I write now?, when Mum barged into my room. I instantly minimised the screen so that she wouldn’t see his message.

  ‘What’s up?’ I asked.

  ‘You couldn’t come down to the shop for half an hour, love, could you?’ she said. ‘I want to cash up and I don’t want to close just yet.’

  Mum always liked to stay open until about seven at the end of the week, to catch people as they came home from work.

  ‘Do I have to?’

  ‘No, you don’t have to,’ she said in the reasonable voice she always uses when trying to persuade me, ‘but it would be a great help to me if you could.’

  I groaned, but said I’d go. She went down and I quickly typed a message to Zed to say that I had to leave the screen but would messenger him again soon.

  ‘Don’t leave it too long, Babes!’ he messaged back, and I grinned to myself as I turned off my machine. Babes! He really liked me, I knew he did. Would he ask to meet up? How long would he take to do so? What was he really like?

  A year or so back we’d gone self-service in the shop. Before that it was really old-fashioned and you’d had to line up at the counter and say what you wanted. Now it’s still pretty basic, but at least customers can walk about and select their own stuff.

  Mum was in the little cubby hole at the back of the shop, reckoning up and putting change into bags, so I wandered about looking for something tasty to eat. That was the trouble with having been round fruit and veg all my life – I was bored with it. I always fancied something different. Something chocolatey.

  I was picking a few expensive cherries out of a basket when I heard a cough behind me, and when I turned, Beaky, a girl from my class at school, was standing there.

  Beaky was one of the loners. She’s very quiet, and tall, and wore her hair just scragged back from her face all anyhow, which just made her long, pointy nose look even sharper. That’s why she’d been named Beaky, of course. OK, it was probably a bit cruel to call her that, but she’d been known as that for so long that when I saw her in the shop I had to think about what her real name was. Sometimes, when they haven’t got anyone else to pick on, the boys will have a go at her, making bird noises and flapping their arms and cawing, but she never reacts now. She did react just once at the beginning, when we were in Year 7. They’d sung the Birdie Song to her non-stop for about a week and suddenly she went mental and lunged into them, kicking and punching and shouting at them to stop. That was ages ago, though, and I was with Josie, Lou and Bethany and secure in our cosy friendship. I’d just hooted with laughter along with everyone else, and clapped and cheered.

  Beaky had gone quiet since then. Only spoke when she had to. She’d gone round with a big girl called Darleen occasionally, but Darleen was away a lot and then she’d disappeared altogether, so Beaky just sat on her own in class, and had lunch on her own, and seemed not to bother about whether she had anyone to talk to or not. She was one of those people who seemed to slide into the background and never volunteered an answer to a question at school – if she was forced into it by a teacher you could bet your life that someone would call, ‘Tweet-tweet’ or say, ‘Pretty Polly’ in a budgie’s voice.

  She had to speak now, though, in the shop. ‘I want some very large baking potatoes,’ she said.

  I pointed to where they were. ‘There. Where it says potatoes,’ I said a bit bluntly.

  She shook her head. ‘They aren’t big enough.’

  So I went out the back and asked Mum, and she directed me to a box underneath the counter. ‘Is that a friend from school?’ Mum said, looking into the shop and recognising the uniform.

  ‘It’s a girl from school,’ I corrected her.

  ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘B … Serena,’ I said. I went back into the shop, found the potatoes and sorted out what Beaky wanted.

  ‘Done your homework?’ she asked, as she handed over the money.

  I shook my head.

  ‘I got stuck on that Pepys diary bit, but then I found a good site on the Internet,’ she said. It was the longest sentence I’d ever heard from her.

  ‘Oh?’ I said, not very interested in Pepys. ‘I use the Internet for better stuff than that.’

  ‘What stuff?’

  I was torn. I mean, I thought she was probably OK really, but she’d got this reputation as being odd and I didn’t want to chat to a weirdo. But I did want to tell someone about Zed. ‘I talk to friends on it,’ I said. ‘I’ve been chatting to this really nice bloke. He’s got a good job and everything. Lives near Hastings so we’re going to meet up soon. I’ll probably go down the coast for the weekend.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Have you seen a photo of him?’

  ‘Not yet,’ I said.

  ‘Only you want to be a bit careful … ’

  I’d already started mentally groaning to myself, thinking that I didn’t need another Mum in my life warning me to be careful, when suddenly Mum herself shouted through from the back. ‘Why don’t you take your friend upstairs for a cold drink? I’ll look after the shop for a moment.’

  I could have killed her. I mean, I might have been hard up for friends but I wasn’t that hard up. She didn’t have to go out onto the streets and haul them in.

  ‘That’s OK,’ I called back quickly.

  Beaky went red and I felt a bit awful. I just didn’t want to get lumbered with her, though: with her beaky face, her weird ways and her hair which looked as if it hadn’t been washed for a month. I thought that I’d rather not have any friends than someone like her.

  I turned away from her and began to re-stack some lettuces. ‘Thank you!’ I chimed. It was a dismissive sort of goodbye-thank you, from a shopkeeper to a customer, and Beaky just meekly put the bag of pota
toes under her arm and disappeared.

  ‘Who was that, then?’ Mum said, coming out of her cubby hole.

  ‘I told you. Serena. Better known as Beaky on account of the nose.’

  Mum gave a sigh. ‘Honestly. You’re all so horrible to each other.’

  ‘It wasn’t me who called her it.’

  ‘She probably suffers agonies because of her nose. And it’s not even that big.’

  ‘It’s huge!’

  ‘Amy, it’s not at all.’

  ‘Yeah. Whatever,’ I shrugged. I was anxious to get back to my room and chat to Zed some more. ‘Have you finished cashing up? Can I go back upstairs now?’

  She nodded. ‘I suppose so. Are you going on the Internet again?’

  ‘Yup!’ And I was out of the door and up the stairs before she could say anything along the lines of, ‘Why don’t you find some real friends?’

  Section 4

  Half-hour break before recording resumed at 12.10pm

  Before Zed, I’d had two boyfriends. Sort of. The first one, James, can hardly be counted because I went out with him when we were both twelve and there was no proper date on our own and no snogging or anything. The second, Sammy, was last year, before I’d had the big split up with Lou and Bethany. We three girls had gone skating one night (I’d sat on my own in front of them on the bus), and met up with a crowd of lads from another school. One had taken my phone number and rung me, and we’d gone out together four times altogether. I’d really liked him and I’d loved going on about him at school, ‘Sammy and I … ’ and, ‘Sammy says … ’, but when the Big Row happened I think Lou, who was going out with one of his friends, told all the boys about it.

  They then probably had a good old talk and decided there was something weird about me, because after that Sammy didn’t ring when he said he was going to, and when I tried to ring him, his mobile was always switched off. When I eventually plucked up courage to ring his house, someone who sounded suspiciously like him answered and said he wasn’t there. So that was that. Heartbreak. Or not really, because I was so miserable about Lou and Bethany that an extra bit of misery hardly mattered.

  But Zed … well, he wasn’t some school kid like Sammy who could be turned off by what his friends told him about me. He had an important job, he was buying a car soon, he had his own place, he was practically a man.